Nancy Enderle’s Homily from Ascension Sunday, May 21, 2023

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Ascension Sunday 5/21/23

Holy Wisdom Monastery Sunday Assembly – Nancy R Enderle, Homilist

Psalm 47    Acts 1:1-11

Ephesians1:15-23    Matthew 28:16-20

As I reflected on the beautiful passages shared for this, the last Sunday of Eastertide and the Celebration of Christ’s Ascension, I was reminded of something Ram Das, an inter-faith spirituality teacher said in one of his dharma talks which was recorded for the podcast Here and Now. (Podcast #68) The talk, which had been recorded years ago on a Saturday following Good Friday, included reflections about the painful loss and limbo those first followers of Jesus were experiencing, and how all spiritual traditions have stories about devotees  the absence of a beloved spiritual teacher. As an example, he shared the story of Ramana Maharshi, a gifted sage from India in the early 20th century, who announced to his followers and devotees that “this body is done, “ alluding to his impending death. Immediately the devotees replied in distress, “Don’t leave us teacher, please heal yourself, don’t go!” To which the sage responded, “Don’t be silly, I will always be here, where could I go?”

There was something about that story that resonated with me. Both from the perspective of the anxious followers who didn’t want their beloved teacher to leave, and the disarming response, “don’t be silly, where could I go?”

The exchange between Ramana Maharishi and his devotees made me wonder if those emotions were present in followers who served with and loved Jesus as he ascended out of their view? And whether Jesus may have had similar thoughts about the unnecessary concern they expressed? Afterall, he had told them that he would always be with them. The Gospel of Matthew emphasizes this in the last sentence of that Gospel, “Lo, I am with you now and until the end of the age.” Or in other words, “don’t be silly, where could I go?” That is the blessing we focus on this Ascension Sunday: the promise that those Jesus loves are blessed by his continuing presence, power, and hence, life with God.

Raimon Panikkar, a brilliant scholar and Roman Catholic priest, who was raised by a Roman Catholic mother and Hindu father, believes that the absence of Jesus was necessary for the evolutionary work of the Christ. He suggests that from the perspective of the apostles and disciples who were left behind, the future did not seem bright as he writes, “The Master is about to leave without having finished hardly anything while almost abandoning his disciples…He has not left them anything durable, no institution; he has neither baptized nor ordained, much less had he founded anything…He has sent his disciples as lambs among wolves and refuses to change tactics even at the end: wolves are still roaming about. He promises his followers only one thing: the Spirit.”  Christophany p. 122

Ram Das adds his unique perspective by noting, “When all the pins get pulled away, then we have the chance to see what resources we have.”

Indeed the pins got pulled away, but as Panniker notes, it was the gift of the Spirit that offered the resources and power necessary for them to continue in Jesus’ physical absence. Franciscan scholar Ilia Delio reframes this notion of life without the sacred teacher and messiah when she states poignantly that “Jesus’ departure does not signify the departure of God from the world but the release of God into the world.” Let me repeat that, “Jesus’ departure does not signify the departure of God FROM the world, but the release of God INTO the world.” Delio continues, “This release of God is the power of the Spirit who permeates our lives in the name of Christ and reconstitutes the body of Christ in a new way, the way of unifying love amidst the delightful diversity of God’s creation.” Christ in Evolution p.96 

And this is where we step into the story and ask of the ascending Christ, ‘what do we do now? How can we live into the way of unifying love?’ Are we like the followers in Acts who stand and look up to the sky, wondering where he went? Or do we lower our gaze to discover what he said all along was true: that he was not leaving them alone, but was with them, in them, all around them. And he is with us, in us, and all around us. These passages challenge us to ask ourselves, can we reconstitute our fellowship around his powerful teaching that he will be discovered in acts of mercy and kindness to the least and the lost?  That wherever two or three were gathered he will be an active presence in our continued life together, empowering us through Spirit to keep his truth evolving and serving in the powerful redemptive work of love?

It is clear from the Biblical story in Acts, that this notion of ongoing empowered work was intended to be maintained – and even to exceed in works worthy of wonder. Eugene Peterson, who authored the Message, a contemporary paraphrase of Scripture, wrote in his introduction to the book of the Acts this compelling description:

“It is Luke’s task in Acts to prevent us from becoming mere spectators to Jesus… The story of Jesus doesn’t end with Jesus. It continues in the lives of those who believe in him. The supernatural does not stop with Jesus. Luke makes it clear (in Acts) that these Christians he wrote about were no mere spectators of Jesus any more than Jesus was a spectator of God – they are IN on the action of God, God acting IN them, God living IN them. Which also means, of course, in US.”

Friends, this empowering, in-dwelling spirit is alive in us.  We are not spectators looking back upon a moment in history when Jesus ascended, but rather participants. Joan Chittister anchors this truth with her words, “Easter is about dazzling light—but only if it shines through us.”

And so we shine, the best we are able. And light moves through our cracked and broken lives because it shimmers with the Spirit, and cannot be deterred by what we define as our brokenness or limitations. And we listen together, in community for what is ours to do.

I recently discovered a profound description of discerning our path of discipleship written by a Native American writer from Oklahoma named Steven Charleston,

He writes:

“Draw near, when you are alone, when you are not distracted, draw near to the Spirit. There in the stillness of your own home, surrounded by the familiar, a shimmering presence will be with you, just a blink beyond your vision. The closeness of the holy is one blessing that sustains us all. So when you can, enter the silence and find the Spirit waiting for you to draw near.”

Ephesian uses bold words and a big vision of what is possible as people draw near to that very Spirit. How might that audacious vision of discipleship take root in our hearts, in our community?

I don’t have, and am suspicious of anyone who claims to have, a stock response to that question; a one-size-fits all description of good discipleship. The truth is how each of us responds to the Spirit’s nudge will look quite different. We each have a unique process that unfolds as we draw toward stillness and receive what the writer of Ephesians describes in vs. 17 as “a spirit of wisdom and revelation so that with the eyes of our hearts enlightened, we may know what is the hope to which Christ has called us.” It is holy work, a journey, a path, a way of looking at and listening to our lives and recognizing what Frederick Buechner called “the place where our deep passions intersect with the world’s great needs.” A path marked by what St. Benedict describes as falling and rising. Getting it right, getting it wrong, but always moving forward with the Spirit’s help and the community’s support.

One of the blessings of being in ministry for so long is that I’ve had the privilege of witnessing the way the Spirit accesses individuals and moves through communities.

It is inspiring to hear the stories of people who bravely follow the Spirit’s nudge, the small voice of compassion that guides them to do amazing and sometimes simple acts of compassion and love. My collection of stories includes medical doctors who walked away from lucrative practices to serve where resources are scarce, teachers who mentor students otherwise neglected by an over-strained system and over-stressed families, a bus driver who extends compassion even in the face of aggression in downtown Milwaukee, neighbors who show up in times of crisis, strangers advocating for an end to systems of injustice.

Our ordinary lives, our daily rhythms hold great potential for us to respond in love with Christ’s empowering Spirit unleashed in our hearts and our community.

He didn’t leave, where could he go? We live in a Christ soaked world, Richard Rohr says. So, let us be the body of Christ in a new way, the way of unifying love amidst the delightful diversity of God’s creation.

May it be so, with God’s help and constant grace.

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