Ascension
John 16: 24-33
Ascension, Garofalo |
All this I have given to your souls in imagery. But
the hour is coming when I will no longer speak to you in pictures, but will
tell you openly and unveiled about my Father, so that you can grasp it in full,
knowing consciousness. Thus will I proclaim to you the being of the Father. On
that day you will ask out of my power and in my name. And no longer will I ask
the Father on your behalf. For the Father himself will love you because you
have loved me, and have known in your hearts that I have come forth from the
Father. I have come forth from the Father and I have come into this world.
I leave the sense world again and return to the
world of the Father, of which you say that it is the world of death.”
Then Jesus’ disciples said, “Now you are speaking
in clear thought and without imagery. Now we know that all things are revealed
to you and that you do not even need to have anyone ask you questions. This
makes us believe that you came from God.”
Jesus answered, “Do you now feel my power in your
heart? Behold, the time is coming, and has already come, when you will be
scattered, each to his own loneliness. You will then also leave me alone. But I
am not alone, for the Father is eternally united with me.
All this I have spoken to you so that in me you may
find peace. In this world you will have great fear and hardship. But take
courage. I have overcome the world.”
Ascension
Ascension
May 17, 20, 2012
John 16: 24-33
The bees fly through light and air. They are collecting
pollen grains to feed their young. For the blossoms, however, this visitation
signals the beginning of their own death. Once pollinated, the blossom dies
away to make way for the fruit.
Christ ascends into the light and air. He is both bee and
blossom. He does not leave; He expands. He spreads Himself out both up into the
heavens and down into the earth. He becomes the True Vine, the great World
Tree, rooted in the earth, leaves reaching into the heavens. The poet describes
this event:
Ascension, Mengs |
Lightly in His upraised hands
was Heaven, Wideness,
Space, oh space!
Oh, astonished He felt the
lavishing
Of this great light. Yet by
storm-broken tree
His disciples could not grasp it,
How their Master now in silence,
radiant
Now in ever bluer terraces
Climbed this heaven
Exceeded Himself.
Yet already a glance gave Him goal
and direction,
And they were amazed, how He found
the steps
Until He, in ever deeper light
He himself the light, now
disappeared from their view.[1]
He expands into the far reaches of both heaven and earth.
For His disciples however, this signals a kind of death—for He whom they love
is lost to their sight. For ten days they will grieve the apparent loss. Like
all who grieve, they will be absorbed in their memories of Him. But in ten
days, at Pentecost, their pain will begin to bear fruit. What is germinating
within them through His ever-presence will become in them soul fruits: the
fruits of joyful understanding, fruits of tolerance, fruits of love for all
fellow human beings.