From the Rector

Dear Friends in Christ,

“That our flesh should be seated in the heavens and be worthy of worship by the Angels, Archangels, Seraphim and Cherubim is truly a great, astonishing and marvelous thing. On contemplating that, I am often struck with amazement, and I entertain exalted thoughts about mankind, for I see God’s great and abundant care for our existence.” —Saint John Chrysostom

Dear Friends in Christ,

May 9 was the Feast of the Ascension which marks the traditional close of the Easter season. One medieval custom, for example, was to observe an all night vigil which ended with the Paschal greeting, “Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!”

Of course it took on a different meaning in that moment and marked the completion—or perhaps more accurately—a new phase in the Easter miracle.

Christ was risen and by this second rising would show us not just the path to a new earthly life in the Resurrection but to a new heavenly life as well. It is the full circle of the drama of the Incarnation—the return to the Father of his only Son who returned not with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh but with his newfound and newly bought treasure: each and every one of us.

Other customs marked this transition, as well.

For example in older customs, the Paschal Candle, burning since the Easter Vigil and marking Christ’s resurrection return, was extinguished during the reading of the Gospel on Ascension, marking not Christ’s disappearance from us but marking his body’s rising and his promise to take ours, too.

Modern customs have changed a bit and now Pentecost is often viewed as the consummation of the Easter season. With the descent of the Holy Spirit, the new life of the Body of Christ, us, is emphasized.

I tend to be a little suspicious of theological trends that elevate our importance overly much. That’s been the thrust of much modern theology—the centering of our story as the fulfillment of the Gospel somehow and the prioritization of our work and our action.

I’m dubious of such a turn because it doesn’t take much investigation to find reasons to doubt our deserving of a place at the center of the story.

Evelyn Underhill, in a letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury, once wrote, “God is the interesting thing about religion.” She was reacting to the tendency of many churches to feel more like group therapy or social action committees obsessive about what we do and how we feel.

Underhill’s letter continued, “The Church wants not more consecrated philanthropists, but a disciplined priesthood of theocentric souls who shall be tools and channels of the Spirit of God.”

She was lamenting the fact that the Church of England had come to invert the Church’s mysteries. It had made its bureaucracy a thing of byzantine inconceivability and mysterious wonder, and it had made of its Sacraments a kind of spiritual passport stamp given with all the grace of a tin of fish being slapped with an expiration date.

Underhill’s primary concern was for the state of the interior souls of the clergy whom she observed as lacking a sense of awe and wonder at the thing they stewarded.

She said, “In public worship they often fail to evoke the spirit of adoration because they do not possess it themselves.” This is her challenge to all Christians: to live and minister with a spirit of adoration.

If God is the interesting thing about religion then Christ is the interesting thing about the Church.

A relentless focus on where he leads will teach us how to follow. We watch for signs and wonders he gives so that we might yet grow into his likeness. This is the heart of adoration, a wordless and rapt attention given to the movements and call of Christ.

But I guess I shouldn’t be too down on humanity! After all, that John Chrysostom quote at the beginning of this essay points toward an exalted place for our human nature. But it is an exalted place bought not with our own worthiness but purchased with the blood of Christ. It is a seat near the throne carved from the wood of the Cross. It is a pew in the heavens carved from the rock of the Tomb.

All that we are and will be is found in the worthiness of Christ. We can only follow where he leads for he is the thing that gives the Church her meaning and not the other way around. The Ascension is yet another milestone in that leading and in that meaning.

So this Sunday, when we mark the Ascension, note the moment in the Gospel when he leaves. Because his departure, his last moment here with us is his first moment with us there, beyond, where he has promised to prepare a place for us. He does leave but has promised to be with us always.

By his rising the course of his earthly ministry is changed not ended. He leaves us with the sure and certain hope that we, too, no matter how winding our path, will find our home in the heavens. And he sends the Holy Spirit to give us the courage to follow where he leads. Such is his great and abundant care for us.

Such is his love.

May we respond to it with a focused, loving, and living spirit of adoration.

Yours in Ascension Hope,

—Fr Robert