Sermon, 8 May: Ascension

Today's readings:

Ps 47

Acts 1:1-11

Luke 24:44-53

Let’s pray:

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts, 

be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and redeemer, Amen.

BEGINNING AT JERUSALEM [1]

Begin in the brightly painted kitchens.

At the table set for supper and 

on the wide couches where we watch TV. 

Begin while we are sorting

the laundry, writing out the shopping list.

And in front of our bathroom mirrors.

Begin in the barns among the warmth of animals

and the smells of grain and manure.

Begin in the growing fields, and in the flooded

pastures, and where the rains have not come

and the soil is cracked    and hard.

Begin in the gleaming office towers, the shiny

shopping malls, the sweaty factory floors.

Begin on crumbling sidewalks and amid

the rumble of subways. 

At machines, 

at our desks,

by the coffee makers and computers.

Begin with the rich, the comfortable.

Begin with the poor, the desperate.

Among the successful, the self-assured.

Among the failed and the floundering.

In the glitter of the halls of power,

and in the cold and shadowed corners

of tragedy and defeat.

Begin on a day when the sun is brilliant;

on a day when the sky is gray.

In a time when economies are favorable;

in a time when all is rust;

at the moment when leaders are caring;

or amid indifference, hostility, despair.

Let us begin beginning again. And whether

we have begun and triumphed, or begun

and struggled and faltered, 

we will continue

our beginning, 

as we have from our beginning,

at Jerusalem,

which is wherever

and whoever we are ...

----------------------------------------------

Endings.

Endings and beginnings.

They are often tricky things to get right.

And if you get them wrong, 

you can be remembered for all the wrong reasons.

We’ve been, in these last several weeks, on an Easter journey:

a journey that began with a man,

on a donkey,

riding into the city of Jerusalem;

a man, 

cheered at,

waved at,

carrying the weight of so many 

expectations on his back –

expectations of what a messiah 

should look like,

should be,

should do.

Expectations that, for the most part, were based upon 

definitions bound by a very human understanding of what success - 

of what deliverance -

should look like,

should be,

and of how it should be done...

but not necessarily definitions based upon God’s understanding of messiahship 

and of power

and of how to overturn principalities and powers:

not by might.

Not by force.

But by humility -

by self-giving love.

We know the story of how that man’s journey 

into Jerusalem seemed to end:

betrayal,

torture,

and death.

But then, a beginning:

a few days later, 

the very definition of death was overturned –

an empty tomb,

folded grave-clothes,

a cry of ‘I have seen the Lord!’

Shock, pain, and fear...turned to joy.

A new beginning.

Meeting with friends and explaining again

the parts of the story that they’d not understood

the first time around.

The Teacher, teaching them once more.

Forty days of seeing him, until, 

another ending at Bethany.

Precious, last words:

urgent reminders.

If they remembered nothing else 

of his mission,

of his message,

of the meaning of his life...

these last words were a litany,

a list:

‘this is why I came;

this is what you saw;

this is what you do next:

Go. 

Wait in Jerusalem.

Wait for my Spirit to fill you with courage,

to fill you with strength – 

to go tell my story to everyone.’

And then, mid-blessing,

lifting up his hands,

he was lifted up,

away from sight...

It was nothing, if not dramatic.

But instead of the fear and desolation they’d

experienced on that previous ending on a Friday,

this ending filled them with hope;

filled them with joy.

This was an end.

But it was also a beginning.

And if they were in any doubt,

white-robed men dispelled it –

told them to get on with it:

‘don’t just stand there, looking up, do something!’

And so they did.

They remembered his ‘to do’ list 

and went up to Jerusalem.

Knowing that, in this new beginning, 

they need not fear:

instead, they were filled with joy...

and, as they waited, 

in the beginning part of this new beginning,

they worshipped –

blessing God.

Beginning that transformation of what it was –

what it is

to be Christ’s body here on earth.

to be his eyes and ears,

arms and legs...

diverse and gifted and called to share his story:

a story of love,

of beginnings and endings 

and beginning again;

a story of presence,

of being with and alongside one another

in joy and sorrow and laughter and pain;

a story meant for everyone to hear –

whether friends, or neighbours, 

or those who we think of as enemies:

our version of Samaritans – 

and not the good variety.

A story to take, and to share, and to rejoice in –

wherever our own starting point, 

our own Jerusalem, may be.

In his ascension –

in that ending,

there was a beginning:

where followers began to take up the responsibility of what it meant 

to be Christ’s own for the world –

to go,

to be with those that he would seek out:

the vulnerable,

the least, the outcast, the poor, 

the hungry – in body and in soul.

In his ascension was a mandate:

to go and do as he did,

to actively be him,

to continue his work –

to continue his story...

a story that could only continue

in his ending

and our beginning –

a beginning marked by openness to change –

of new things;

a beginning marked by waiting 

for God’s Spirit to move; 

a beginning not undertaken alone – 

but within community, 

as his body – supporting and tending 

and caring for one another;

learning together of God’s love,

and being God’s love in the world...

'Because Jesus ascended 

and sits at the right hand of God,

a new world has broken into ours—

a world in which justice does come for the poor,

freedom comes for the prisoners,

and healing for the sick.

Because Jesus ascended 

and sits at the right hand of God,

a new community has been formed—

a community that loves 

and cares for all members,

a family that welcomes all 

who are abandoned and rejected,

a place where all find a place of belonging.

Because Jesus ascended 

and sits at the right hand of God,

a new creation has begun— 

all that was distorted is being restored,

all that is corrupted is being renewed,

all that was broken is being made whole.

...Because Jesus ascended 

and sits at the right hand of God,

God’s new world has begun...'  [2]

--------------------------------------

Is this the time

that we expected, as we lived,

ejected from home and country,

objected to by powers that see

not the humans here before

their violent arrival?

It is not for you to know, 

but yet to hope, sing on although

the songs stick in your throat, to

dream on, envisioning a shape

for the shadow dancing on the wall,

showing you the light.

Why stand you there, looking heavenward? 

In a cloud he left you, in a cloud

he comes again: the cloud is you.

'You will be my witnesses,' you heard

him say – crowd in around the story,

shout loud the invitation from the hills,

the time is now and always, see heaven

here, be heaven here on earth.  [3] 

Amen.

1/ poem by Andrew King

2/ Christine Sine

3/ [Sarah Agnew]