Homily for Ascension Day, 2005.

The Ascension of the Lord is the last act of the Easter drama. The departure of Jesus changes the relationship between the disciples and their Master. In 'the days of his flesh' that relationship was obvious: the Master taught, the disciple listened and sometimes learned. Now that he is 'glorified' and alive with the Father, the demands on the disciples are altered utterly. They are now on their own, in the most literal sense at least. Relating to the Master on a new plane will be a challenging and painful transition. The extent of that challenge is obvious from today's readings. The Acts of the Apostles gives us an insight into the confusion that reigned in the minds of the disciples: 'They asked him, "Lord, has the time come? Are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel?" 'They had been with him for three years. He had consistently renounced political ambitions. He had declared publicly before Pilate: "My kingdom is not of this world." He had rebuked Peter for drawing his sword in an attempt to prevent his arrest. And yet they come up with this question on the eve of his departure. In human terms the Master had not been a very effective teacher. They still looked to him to liberate Israel from the yoke of Roman rule. His message had passed right over their heads. This is both amusing and consoling. If his 'close band' was as confused as this, we must be patient with our own frequent incomprehension. But a greater source of consolation still is his promising reply: "You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you, and he will lead you into the fullness of truth." This is the key to the change in relationship: the disciple will grow to be a witness, not an abandoned witness, but an empowered one. As our Preface says, 'He has gone ahead of us, not to abandon us but to be our hope'.

The disciples are being challenged to change. Their relationship with Jesus must necessarily change. The departure of Jesus was like the severing of the umbilical cord. The days of his flesh are over. He will no longer be with them to hold their hand in an earthly way. They must now become mature witnesses. They are literally told to stop 'staring into the skies'. The emphasis has shifted from listening to preaching, from contemplation to action. The task facing them is no less a one than establishing the Church which is, as St Paul informs us, 'his body, the fullness of him who fills the whole universe."

But with the Easter event the process of 'incarnation' has only begun. When 'the days of his flesh' ended, the responsibility for this ongoing process passed immediately to his disciples, and subsequently to their successors. We ourselves are the latest in that long and sometimes distinguished line. Like the disciples in today's readings, Jesus is no longer with us in the flesh. We cannot hope to relate to him as the disciples related to him in the days when he walked this earth. Had we known him in the flesh, in all probability his message and meaning would have passed over our heads too. After his departure, Jesus relates with his people in new ways, on different planes. His presence is different, but no less real. He is present to us in both consoling and challenging ways. He supports us sacramentally at key points in our journey to him, like birth, marriage and death. Through the weekly Eucharist, he is present with us on our journey.

But he is present to us in a variety of challenging ways as well. He is present to us in those in trouble. Through their cries for help, he invites us to involve ourselves in his work of incarnation and redemption. He is present to us in those who are ill and suffering: Through our sensitive response to their pain, he humanises us and redeems us. Through the plight of the poor he challenges our selfishness and our lazy presumptions that all is well with our world. While his presence consoles and supports us, it also challenges us to draw deeply on the noble reserves that lie dormant within every human being. Ours is both an awesome responsibility and a truly humbling privilege. Like the men from Galilee, we must cease looking to the skies for our God. He is truly incarnate in our brothers and sisters. His pledge to us has been honoured indeed: 'Know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time'. But unless we make our own the prayer of Paul, his message will elude us too: 'May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, give us a spirit of wisdom and perception of what is revealed, to bring us to a full knowledge of him. May he enlighten the eyes of our mind to see what hope his call holds for us, what rich glories he has promised the saints will inherit." With the ascension, the great project of real humanisation begins. And it begins anew for each generation. As Irenaeus put it in the fourth century: "God became man that man might become God."