Ascension of the Lord Observed
Acts 1:1-11; Ephesians 1:15-23
May 4, 2008

Ascension

If I’d had my way, this morning’s liturgy would have taken us in a different direction. Instead of observing the Ascension of the Lord and reading from Acts, Ephesians, and Luke, we’d have read from the Old Testament prophets – Micah perhaps, or Jeremiah – and from the 25th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew – that passage about the final judgment. This morning, I must admit, I do not find myself gazing up into heaven as our Lord ascends beyond the clouds, but at the daily newspaper which records the dismal performance of the Florida State Legislature.

The Legislature left town on Friday, having cut 4 billion dollars from the budget. Most of those cuts came from programs for school children and Medicaid patients. No pay raise for state workers, except for 1500 state troopers. And no attempt to fix our loopy tax structure, which relies so heavily on sales taxes, but exempts such items as stadium skyboxes, charter fishing boats, golf courses, and yachts docked in state harbors.

Florida still ranks about 20th in per capita income amongst the states and near the bottom in per capita spending for social services and education. Pleading a form of poverty which is in fact self-induced, the majority of our legislators voted to balance the budget on the backs of the poor, the disabled, and those least equipped to help themselves – those whom Jesus called "the least of these, my brothers and sisters."

I’m singing Evensong with the St. John’s Choir this afternoon. After a rehearsal over there yesterday morning, I came back to our church to write this sermon. There I met a woman pounding on the door of our church. She and her family were trying to get to Sarasota where a job is awaiting her husband. They were broke, hungry, and out of gas. "I went to some other churches," she said. "They all said to come here. They said this church would help me."

I’ll be honest with you. I’m just not "into" Ascension this morning. I’m angry and discouraged, and fed up. Like Representative Loranne Ausley, whose picture was on the front page of yesterday’s paper, I just feel like crying. No one in the Legislature could have worked harder than she on behalf of poor families and families with disabled children, but even she found herself voting "Yes" on a bill that does far too little for far too few of "the least of these."

The great wisdom of the lectionary, however, is that it doesn’t rely on the preacher’s vacillating disposition. There is a word from the Lord to be heard today, if the preacher can just get out of the way.

Our passage from Acts closes with the disciples straining to catch one last glimpse of the risen Christ, and two messengers admonishing them not to get cricks in their necks. "Men of Galilee, why do you stand there looking up toward heaven?" Jesus has gone. He’s coming back, but as he just told you, it’s not up to you know exactly when. He promised you power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. So why, exactly, are you still standing here, squinting toward the clouds?

For Luke, the author of Acts, the story of Jesus’ ascension into to heaven to sit at the right hand of God is a necessary prologue to the story of the church. Jesus is no longer present with us in his resurrection body, but he is present with us through the Spirit. More than that, he has taken his rightful place as Ruler over all things. The story of the risen Christ, the Christ who has defeated death, does not end with his ascension. It goes on, and will go on, until the whole creation acknowledges his rule, walks in his light, and conforms to his vision. This ascension story, strange as it is, points us toward the Cosmic Christ, who stands at the end of history, drawing the whole creation towards him.

The problem with staring too long into heaven, or for that matter, too long at the morning headlines, is that doing so distorts the larger picture. As Christians, we long for justice, as we should, and justice will come. We long to see the mighty put down from their thrones, and they will be put down. We long to see the first last and the last first, even if that means that we must step down from our places of privilege, and it will be so. Jesus is Lord. Jesus sits at God’s right hand. His kingdom shall come and his will shall be done on earth, as it is in heaven.

This is the promise of the gospel, and without it, you and I, of all people, are the most to be pitied.

One of the most important accomplishments of what has come to be known as the "liturgical renewal movement" has been the recovery of hope. Theologians have a fancy word for it. "Eschatology," they call it – the doctrine of the age to come. You and I are not stuck in the present, this doctrine teaches us. Instead we are living toward God’s future. We’ve seen what that future will be like because Jesus showed it to us. Every time we gather round this Table we claim our place in that future:

Christ has died.
Christ is risen.
Christ will come again.

        When we sing those words we declare that God has not finished with this world. Christ is not shut up in his tomb, but is risen. Christ is not aloof in heaven, but present through the Spirit. Christ will come again, and will draw all creation toward himself.

        Meanwhile, you and I are called to be, in the words of the Reformers, "the provisional manifestation of the kingdom of God." By the way we live, by how we order our lives, by the love we show for God and neighbor, we demonstrate to the world what God’s future will be like.

        I know. We don’t always do a very good job. We get sidetracked, distracted, discouraged. That’s why we need the Holy Spirit Jesus promised us. In the words of the spiritual,

            Sometimes I get discouraged, and think my work’s in vain,
            but then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.

        As it turns out, it’s probably a good thing that today we are observing the Feast of the Ascension. Doing so forces this preacher to get a grip, to place his personal feelings in the larger context of the gospel.

        We saw last week on the national news front what can happen when preachers let their own egos get in the way of their calling. Just because your name is Jeremiah doesn’t mean you’re right. A servant of the word is no more than that -- a servant. The fall of Jeremiah Wright should be a lesson to all of us who stand in pulpits: It’s not all about you.

Men of Galilee, why do you stand gazing into heaven? People of the church, why do you stand gazing at the newspaper? Is Christ not risen? Is Christ not ascended? Has Christ not promised the gift of the Spirit? Today’s headlines do not have the final word. Pentecost is around the corner. God is not finished yet.

            Lord, enthroned in heavenly splendor, First begotten of the dead,
            You alone, our strong defender, Now lift up your people’s head.
            Alleluia! Alleluia!
            You are here, we ask not how. You are here, we ask not how.

                                                                                (Hymn No. 154)

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