Sermon for the Feast of the Ascension
“And when he had spoken these things, while they beheld, he was taken up,
and a cloud received him out of their sight”
It is called the sursum corda – “Lift up your hearts.” It signals an essential feature of the liturgy. It is about the lifting up of our hearts in Christ. It is prayer: our seeking from God what God seeks for us. The Feast of the Ascension, so often overlooked and under appreciated, is the culmination of the Resurrection and its meaning for us in our lives of prayer and service. Luke, in Acts, gives us a profound image of the ‘event’, as it were, of the Ascension which complements Mark’s equally explicit account of his being “received up into heaven.”
Throughout Eastertide, as we have seen, Jesus has been preparing us for his twofold departure from us, first, in his Passion and Death and, second, in his Resurrection and Ascension. These motions, we have suggested, signal the gathering of all things into unity in God from whom all things come; in short, the redemption and restoration of creation and of our humanity. It is not something static but shows the dynamic of God towards us and the direction of the motions of our hearts and minds towards God. The images of hearing and seeing are instructive about the classical faculties of human character. Both Luke and Mark call attention to what is spoken and heard and to what is seen and behold. Hearing and seeing are the two most spiritual and intellectual of the human senses that open us out to what is known and grasped in thought; essentially, we are spiritual creatures defined by the faculties of knowing and willing or loving.
“A cloud received him out of their sight,” Luke tells us in Acts. That cloud is the shekinah of God, an image of the overarching cloud of God’s glory that embraces the whole of creation within itself. It, too, is an image of the radical gathering of all things to God, namely the idea of the whole of creation as embraced in the dynamic of the life of God as Trinity. It is not about a flight from the world as if it were something evil in its materiality and being. Heaven, after all, is not a place, but rather, to use a Jewish expression, the place of all places, in short, God.