Readings: Acts 1:15-17, 21-26
John 17:6-19
Let us pray: Loving, living God, open our hearts and minds
to hear your words, your prayer for us, your people. Amen.
Today is the last
Sunday of the Easter season within the Church year, the week before Pentecost,
the week where we remember the Ascension of Christ. The question comes early on in the sermon
today – how tempting is it to use Ascension as a time of longing for some
future place of thrones and heavenly hosts to the detriment of Christ’s prayer
for us, his disciples, his church to bring eternal life to this place, here and
now? In other words is the picture of a
Christ being drawn up into the clouds the predominant image of this act of
ascension or can we discover that there is more to this story. It’s no wonder that for much of my faith
life, there was no more than this image.
The words ascension in itself immediately conjures upwards, a physical
act of time and place which had completely captured my attention and left no
room for any perspective that Christ might bring to that moment of parting.
Moreover, we have in our art and our history, concentrated on the physical
details of our interpretations of this event –what might it have looked like,
where did it take place etc. You know a
long time ago I visited Jerusalem and have said for some time that the most
sacred place I visited was a little wooden church on a hill somewhere that was
known at the Church of the Ascension – it was a simple, unadorned, rectangular
place with no people in it and no one asking for money outside. Ah I thought, I have finally found the sacred
in the midst of this frenetic mayhem of religious tourism. Well imagine my surprise yesterday when I
went online for a photo of the church and discovered a completely different
ancient octagonal church building that was firmly established as the place
where Christ was said to have ascended to the heavens. I have no idea where I was and probably never
will. But that seemed to me a good lead
in to suggest that the ascension needs to been seen not so much through our
eyes of physical location, farewell, separation and hoped for images of future
glory but through Jesus eyes of hope and prayer and preparation for those who
are to be his people here in this world.
The Ascension reminds us of our
responsibility! Jesus is no longer in
the world – but we are, we who are the Body of Christ, we are in the world and
we have a job to do!
Why else do we remember Pentecost next week
– and the empowering presence of the Holy Spirit –if not to continue to do the
work that Jesus began to the purpose of God?
There is a posting on Facebook this week from Mark Johnston[1],
Auckland staff member of Knox Centre, where he ponders what the world might
look like if we had a stronger theology of place, that is that where we are,
where we live, what is in front of us here matters to God. He goes on to suggest that the Churches
mission only takes this seriously when there is a disaster – like an earthquake
- and what would it involve if
church actually took place and the ordinary and everyday of it all as a matter
of spiritual significance all the time.
Maybe this is what Jesus is looking for us
to understand as we listen to his prayer for his disciples that we heard read
from John’s Gospel. Perhaps we are being
encouraged to take our eyes off what we are assured is to be – as Bill Loader
said: to believe that death does not separate us from God and to trust God with
the detail – and to focus on what Christ commissioned us to be as his disciples
here in this place.
And so Christ prays for us. We, who choose to be in relationship with God
through Christ Jesus, and to pick up the task that the Father gave to the Son
and the Son gives to us are held in close prayer for a future that is not easy.
There seem to be three main threads for
concern that Jesus has for his disciples in this prayer.
The first is that living in the love of God
made known in Christ brings us into conflict with other values in the world and
brings dangers. And I don’t believe he
is talking so much dangers that other impose on us but rather where our
responses take us into ineffective spaces or, alternatively, places of
collaboration with those values. One
response to danger is to withdraw, is it not, into the safety and comfort of
known companions and familiar contexts?
From here we can sometimes venture out into the hostile environment that
we call the Mission Field – but it’s often a foray only, from which we return
gladly to our sanctuary. There is also a
danger of the opposite response to conflicting world values – and that is that
we conform to them, telling ourselves that, on the whole, societal rule, the
status quo gets it mostly right – from this place we can end up sponsoring,
colluding in all kinds of oppressive and unjust acts on a people and a world
that we hold in our care in the name of Christ.
The consequences of withdrawal or collusion are a church with its eyes
averted from the task that Jesus passed to us.
The second thread for concern is the loss of
holiness – the losing touch with the Son and the Father, trying to do this
thing on our own. Jesus prayer suggests
that it is only in the power of the relationship with God that we are kept from
betraying that which we have committed to as Christians. That is not to say, though, that as long as
we are in relationship with the divine, all is well, no more is needed. We need to underpin this concept of holiness
being found in relationship with God with the other great commandment – to love
your neighbour as you love God. Holiness
is living in God, and that means living in love. Where we do not live in love we are betraying
Christ and putting love to death, again.
And thirdly Jesus was concerned about unity –
‘that they may be one as you and I are one’, addressed also in the verses
following this morning’s reading. Well
in this we could say that the church has abjectly failed. Divisions came in the blink of an eye –
remember back to the reading last week of the differing opinions on how
Gentiles could be brought into the Christian family. The church throughout its entire history
speaks loudly of division and when there did appear to be unity, it was pretty
much achieved with an iron fist.
But maybe we have confused unity with lack of
division, with unity for the sake of unity or for the sake of peace. And I don’t think any of those are what Jesus
was praying for us. To be all one in
agreement and practice is denying our very humanity – and I do not believe
Christ was that foolish! We would end up
going underground with our beliefs or leave the church completely - in that
scenario of unity. Rather perhaps he was
praying that, if we are one in him and in the Father through the Spirit, then
our diversity and conflicts can be worked through and, if need be, lived with,
in a loving, non-destructive way. This
would speak volumes into this destructive divided world of how to live in
loving community in our diversity. Jesus
hope for us is that we model the resolution of conflict to the wider society in
a manner which will persuade people that there is something transformational
about the Christian message. How are we
doing at that? I would suggest we don’t
have a lot of kudos points in the bank for that one at this time. But for all that, it remains Christ’s prayer
for us, that we are one in the Father and in the Son, and in the Spirit, so
that our unity, our holiness, our very being is in the God who so loved the
world, not heaven but the world – and who tasks us with that same purpose
through the risen Christ. Thanks be to
God.
Margaret Garland.
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