Whenever I think of Jesus
ascending on a cloud, I picture a stately progression, like a really slow
elevator, or maybe a ship sailing up into the sky, Jesus looking back at the
disciples onshore, giving a little wave, or just letting his gaze rest upon
them one more time. Not at all like the ascension of Elijah, who was jolted off
the ground by a whirlwind. No: it’s majestic,
regal, lordly, wholly befitting the newly-installed King of Heaven. No
out-of-control, in-the-grip-of-forces-beyond-him craziness for Jesus. No sir!
God transporting God’s son – as gently as cut-glass crystal, or the most
delicate Fabergé egg. And it takes time – Jesus’ follower stand there, watching
him go . . . they get cricks in their necks as he gets higher and higher, and I
wonder if it sinks in that he’s really gone? Maybe not . . . if I was a
disciple, I wouldn’t be sure of anything
anymore. After all, he’d been crucified and killed, but he’d appeared to them
anyway, against all hope, when they were gathered for supper. Maybe he isn’t
gone for good this time either, maybe somebody will run into him on the street,
like that time on the Emmaus Road.
Luke tells that story in
his previous book, which we call the Gospel of Luke, and he also describes the
ascension as well, which Donna just read, and in Acts, he’s recapping the
Gospel to remind his reader – one Theophilus – of where he left off. His gospel
was written to Theophilus too, and all we know about him is his name, and we
can’t even be sure of that – it could have been written to those in general who
love God, because that’s what it means: Theo
(God), philus (lover) – God-lover. I like to think it was written to you and me –
we love God, don’t we?
Anyway, in the beginning of Acts,
he gives us a summary of what happened in the last book – he says he “wrote
about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning until the day when he
was taken up to heaven.” Now we know
that Luke didn’t write about all that Jesus did and taught, but we can
forgive him the hyperbole . . . he was just following a convention of Greek
rhetoric that calls for amplification to emphasize the importance of a topic.
And Luke knew that Jesus’ actions and teachings were of paramount importance to
his followers, and actually the whole world . . . But in addition to his
teachings and actions, Jesus gave instructions through the Holy Spirit to his
chosen apostles, and this foreshadows the actions of the apostles and later
converts, who spread the gospel through the power of the Holy Spirit, which –
according to Luke – will be given to them in just a few days.
And further, Luke says, he proved
himself alive by “many convincing proofs,” and in Greek that’s a technical term
for an argument that can’t be refuted, that leads inevitably to one conclusion,
and that’s the resurrection. For Luke, the resurrection has been proven beyond
doubt. But when he was ready to go, he told them not to leave town, but to wait
there for the promise of the father, which is, of course, the Holy Spirit. “For
John,” he says, “baptized with water but you will be baptized with the Holy
Spirit not many days from now.”
In response, they ask him a
question: “Is this the time when you will restore the Kingdom to Israel?” And
it’s a natural question – Luke seemed to believe that the Spirit’s coming would
signal the Kingdom’s coming, and it was also believed that the kingdom of
Israel would be restored when that happens. And Jesus doesn’t deny Israel’s restoration,
or the Kingdom’s coming . . . he just says it’s not for them to know when. It’s not for them to understand when the end
times are to be, just as, presumably, it’s not for us to know it either.
Basically, Jesus tells the
apostles that it’s none of their business when it’s going to happen, all they
need to know is when they get the Spirit, they’ll be his witnesses to the
ends of the earth. Never mind that man behind the curtain . . . he does his
job, you do yours. And note that he doesn’t say “if you choose to, you can be
witnesses” or “if you feel like it,” or “when you’re not busy doing something
else” – he says that the Holy Spirit will come . . . and you’ll be witnesses. Period. End-of-story. Now obviously, this goes against our precious
American values – free will and free choice and all that . . . and maybe he is
just making a prediction. Maybe he’s just telling them how it’s going to be,
what’s going to happen to them. It surely foreshadows, because that’s what Acts
is all about, the witnessing of the first Christians.
But what if it’s not only
predictive but prescriptive . . . what if we have no choice, what if we are
witnesses whether we like it or not? What if just receiving the Holy Spirit
makes us witnesses? If whenever we’re driving in our car, yelling at the RV
ahead of us, or telling one of those little white lies that seem to get out of
hand, or whenever we snub somebody who asks us for help, what if whenever we do
these things, we are witnessing to the Gospel? Makes me shudder to think about
it . . . I had a pastor one time who wouldn’t put a Christian bumper sticker on
his car because he didn’t want to embarrass Jesus, and that’s stopped me every
time I thought about doing the same thing. What Would Jesus Do? Well, he sure
wouldn’t cut some poor slob off coming out of Kroger’s . . .
The Holy Spirit cuts both ways, I
think . . . it gives us the power to proclaim the Gospel, to do marvelous
things in God’s name, but it changes us at the same time . . . we’re no longer
the same, we’re different whether we like it or not, whether anyone knows we’re
Christian or not, we’re witnesses . . .
It’s the real you’d better watch out, you’d better not shout, only it’s
not Santa Claus who’s watching, it’s the whole world. Every time we do something petty, every time
we think of ourselves and not others, every time we talk behind someone’s back,
we’re witnesses . . . all I can say is oy
vey!
As the disciples look upward, as
they watch in awe as Jesus dwindles to the size of a speck in their eyes, they
notice they’re not alone. There’s a couple of guys in white robes standing next
to him, and they all know what that means. White robes, sudden appearances, miraculous
events . . . they’re angels, that’s
what they are, and the apostles – and Luke’s reader Theophilus – can’t help but
think back on the last time angels had had appeared. Remember?
It was at the tomb, to the women who’d come early on Easter morning, and
that time they’d asked a question . .
. “why do you seek the living among the dead?”
And here the angels are again, and
here Jesus is gone again, and they’re asking questions, again –
“Men of Galilee,” they say, “why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” And it’s the same kind of question they asked
the women at the tomb – once again, they’re looking for Jesus in the wrong
place! We disciples seem to have a habit of doing that . . . And then the
angels continue “This Jesus, who’s been taken up from you into heaven, will
come in the same way as you saw him go.” And the apostles are
reassured that just like that other time when he came back from the grave, he
will come again. But they get the rebuke, as well, especially remembering what
Jesus had just said . . . Why are you looking up into heaven? It is not for you
to know the times and seasons of God’s appointed hour . . . he will
return, just like he left, right back here to good old Earth, so get on with it
already, get on with the job of being witnesses for God.
And they did – they got on with
it. The whole book of Acts tells us about it, about the carrying of the Gospel
to the four corners of the earth. We
follow Peter as he preaches the good news, we see the Pharisee Saul become
evangelist Paul, we see Ananias and Sapphira, and Phillip, and the early
church’s struggles to live out Jesus teachings . . . and we see the dark side,
too, as Stephen – full of the Holy Ghost – is stoned to death by an angry
crowd, and we see the persecution grow, until in the end, as Paul reaches Rome,
it’s bittersweet, because we know he’ll be killed there by the Emperor
Nero . . . this witnessing business has it’s ups and downs, and it’s no wonder
we’ve made an English word for sacrificial death – martyr – from the Greek word for witness.
And so the temptation is always
there for us to keep our eyes on the prize, to keep them on heaven . . . early
Christians looked forward to the next life because their earthly one was so
miserable, and the thought of heaven as a reward sustained and comforted
generations. When Christianity became the official Roman religion, and
persecution stopped, focus on the hereafter was still encouraged, promoted,
even, because it kept them under control, down on the farm, snugly at the
bottom of the Roman Catholic hierarchy . . . with their eyes on the next world,
they didn’t worry so much about inequities in this one . . . it was no accident
that the Roman Catholic hierarchy was often from the upper class . . .
And so, over the centuries,
Christian thought and preaching, at least at the lay level, became focused
sharply on the question of salvation . . . are you or are you not saved? And if you aren’t, how can you be? And if you
think you are, then how do you know for sure? If you have to somehow accept
Christ, how can you be certain you are sincere when you do it? Were you
sincere when you did? Better do it
again, just to make sure . . . And on and on and on . . . until pretty soon,
proclaiming the Good News became synonymous with saving souls, and the number
of notches on your belt, the number of souls in your bag, became the sum total
of your witness. I can see it now . . . St. Peter at the pearly gates, grading
on the stair-step method. He throws your
bag o’ souls on the scale – weighing’s faster than counting, you know, souls
average 10.3 ounces – and if it’s not heavy enough, back you go . . .
But Jesus defined the Good
News by what he did here on earth, what he taught and what he preached and the
signs he did. And although he spoke about the kingdom of heaven, and who’s out
and who’s in, he spent many more words on good old mother earth, telling us how
to live and how to be with one another. He redefined community and
taught us who are our neighbors and how to depend on God, and not on ourselves.
All stuff about our earthly existence, never mind some heavenly one.
And so it’s no accident that here
on the border between Jesus’ ministry and ours, after the triumph of Easter,
and “Christ the Lord has Risen Today!” and we’re flush with victory and we’ve
watched Jesus float upward on that cloud, on the Glory Train into heaven, we get
a reality check in this passage. We get some wiseacre angels, standing on good
old terra firma, and asking some very pointed questions. Why are
we gazing up into heaven? Don’t we know that this Jesus who has been taken away
will come back here again? Don’t we realize that this Kingdom will be on Earth?
We’d better get cracking. Amen
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