
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Luke 24:44-53
Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.”
Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.
When I roll in on Sunday mornings at 9 am, this place is already a hive of activity. Choir members are gathering and vocalizing – you ought to hear that! Fellowship hour tables are being laid with goodies. Dawn Marchand is sprinting up and down the stairs between the office and the church school rooms. The Welcome Desk is rolled into the Parlor, where Joellen Jason takes her place. The flowers are brought into the sanctuary. The ushers are prepping for their many duties. The sound and video people are gearing up. And, perhaps most importantly of all, Kevin is getting the coffee ready.
In the midst of all this activity, we greet one another with a hearty “Good Morning” or “How are you?” But sometimes the conversation moves beyond mere pleasantries. Sometimes there is something that someone needs to tell me or to ask me. And
every now and again, a Sunday morning conversation will turn to something more serious or thought-provoking. That’s what happened last week.
A parishioner told me that a friend of hers had a question. This friend wanted to know what it meant when Jesus said: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26)
It’s an excellent question about a hard to understand statement. And there are some good answers as to why Jesus said this. Like this one: Jesus was using a rhetorical device known as “Semitic hyperbole.” It was a common teaching method in ancient Palestine that used purposeful exaggeration in order to make a point that would not be easily forgotten. Other examples include Jesus saying that if our eye offends us, we should pluck it out. Or if our hand offends us, we should cut it off.
Well, I thought that answer was pretty good. And I thought that was the end of it. But then I heard that this friend also wanted to know how I might explain things like Jesus walking on the water or Jesus turning water into wine or the Virgin Birth or the Resurrection. In other words, how might a Christian minister explain these things in a rational way.
Well, if there is a rational way, I wish someone would tell me! Because, as far as I can tell, there is nothing rational about the miracle stories of the Bible. There is nothing in these stories that line up with my own experiences of the world – at least in a rational sense.
And that’s OK. Because, as I like to say, theology is not arithmetic. It is not science. Theology is music and art. It is longing more than knowing. And theology is squarely based on the idea that not all truth is rationally perceived.
Which brings us to this story – perhaps one of the strangest in the life of Jesus. The Ascension of Jesus is not only strange, it almost seems superfluous. Why does a Resurrected Savior need to float off into heaven to prove who he was?
After the Resurrection, Jesus had been hanging around on the earth for weeks. He would appear and then disappear. He shared meals with his disciples. And he continued to teach them. And teaching them is the setting of this story. As they walked along, Jesus was teaching them about his life, death, and Resurrection. Then he told them that they should wait in Jerusalem for the Holy Spirit, who would send them into the whole world with good news.
Eventually as they walked along, they arrived in Bethany, a place rich with meaning. It was from here, on the slopes of the Mount of Olives, that the prophets said that God would appear at the end of days. It was here that Jesus’s friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus lived. It was here that Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead. And it was from here that something else stupendous was about to happen.
Suddenly, Jesus lifted his hands and blessed them. It’s the very same action that Pastor Alison and I do each week at the end of the service. We lift our hands and bless you, in what is a very ancient ritual. And isn’t worth pondering, in this angry and divided world, that the very last thing Jesus ever did on this earth was bless?
While Jesus was blessing them; while the words were still coming out of his mouth; before he could get to the “Amen,” he was airborne, carried up into heaven. The last thing anyone ever saw of him was soles of his feet.
So, that’s the story. But what do you think really happened that day?
I expect that if we took an anonymous survey, we would find answers as varied as you are. Some of you might shrug your shoulders and reply: “Well, I think it happened the way it was described.” You don’t really struggle with miracle stories. You think of God’s world as a wondrous and mysterious place. So why couldn’t Jesus ascend into heaven? After all, he was raised from the dead.
Others might say that this story, and all the miracle stories of the Bible, are not news reports. Instead, they are metaphors for some deeper spiritual truth. And they are valuable because they teach us deep and important lessons about life with God and one another.
And still others of you, if you were assured that this survey was really anonymous, might be brave enough to admit that stories like this one embarrass you. You think of them as irrational and primitive. You know that the ascension of Jesus defies the law of physics. And what is there to learn from a story like that?
All of those opinions and some others, swirling around this room. And yet, here we are together in a time when this kind of diversity is seen as weakness. This kind of diversity bothers some people. They want uniformity. They want people to line up; march in step; hold the party line – because somehow that kind of forced uniformity proves the truth of what they say – or so they think.
But that’s not what faith is. Faith isn’t about lining up and marching in step and parroting some answers. In fact, faith doesn’t have that much to do with the function of our minds. Instead, faith is long process that results in transformation. And how we are transformed is as varied as we are.
Luke opens this passage by saying that Jesus opened their minds to understand the Scriptures. But even that understanding was not about uniformity. Because human understanding is always run through the filter of our own lives and our own experiences. So how Peter understood the Scriptures in that moment was not the same as how John or James or Andrew did. But the result? Well, Luke says that the result was that they all had “great joy.”
We are all here for different reasons: community, engagement, reflection, worship. But in the midst of all of that diversity, there is a tie that binds us. Because of all of us, there is something about Jesus that compels us. His life speaks to us. His words call forth our own longings. He opens our minds to understand. And bit by bit, we are transformed.
So, what really happened on that mountaintop in Bethany? You tell me. But better yet, show me. Show me what life looks like when Jesus is raised up. Show me what church looks like when Jesus shines. In a world reeling from cynicism, hatred, and division, show me love. Show me joy. Show me forgiveness. Show me mercy. Show me forbearance. Show me peace. Show me grace. Show me Jesus. And let him shine.