Since we’re now in Ascensiontide (you can look it up), I’m reminded of one of my favorite icons of the Ascension: The disciples are gathered in a circle with their eyes gazing into heaven. And just at the top of the icon one can see just the feet and ankles of Jesus as he ascends. That icon serves as a cautionary tale for the Church. We can spend much of our time figuratively looking into the heavens. We can focus so much of our energies on the fine details of liturgy or the intensity of committee work that we fail to look out at a world that’s dying for the Gospel of Jesus. There’s an old Johnny Cash song that sums this up well. It’s called “You’re so heavenly minded, you’re no earthly good.”

Now there’s nothing wrong with looking into the heavens. We all need time for rest and retreat so we might gain wisdom and perspective on our lives. The temptation, however, is to stay there. As long as we look up, we don’t have to look out for one another. We don’t have to deal with the hard work of human community. With our eyes to the heavens, we can honestly report that we can’t see the pain and struggle of others.

That’s why, I believe, those two men approached the disciples as Jesus disappeared from their sight. They pointedly asked the disciples: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” Nineteen Centuries later, Bishop Frank Weston asked a similar question as he addressed the Church of England at the height of the Industrial Revolution. He asked: Can we claim to worship Jesus in the Church if we do not show Jesus compassion in the street? Can we worship Jesus in the Sacrament of his Body & Blood while we are ignoring Jesus in the suffering of his sisters and brothers?

A poem written by the Orthodox nun, Maria Skobtsova, illustrates this charge. She practiced and lived radical hospitality in her ministry in Paris during World War II.

I searched for thinkers and prophets who wait by the ladder to heaven,
see signs of the mysterious end, sing songs beyond our comprehension.

And I found people restless, orphaned, poor, drunk, despairing, useless,
lost whichever way they went, homeless, naked, lacking bread.

There are no prophecies. But life performs in a prophetic manner;
The end approaches, the days grow shorter; You took a servant’s form — Hosanna

When the Nazis invaded, Jews began coming to her convent in Paris to get baptismal certificates, which she gladly provided them to fool the Nazis. Later, many came to live in her convent and she helped most escape. Eventually the Nazis closed the convent and took her to a prison camp in Germany. On Holy Saturday, 1945, just days before the war’s end, she was executed. As Maria suggests in her poem, we can wait by the ladder to heaven for all sorts of “signs, thinkers, and prophets.” But if we do, we’ll miss the restless, the lost, and the despairing ones. Our Lord’s Ascension proclaims to us that you and I have the privilege of leaving the safety of our church buildings to follow Jesus into this beautiful, yet broken and hurting, world he so loves. 

+Scott

 

 

Mind the Gap (eCrozier #223)

As the Church, we’re now in that period between our Lord’s Ascension and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. It’s a time of the “already,” but also the “not yet.” The “already” of the Resurrection and Ascension has “not yet” produced God’s clarifying mission for the Church at Pentecost. The disciples realized the old had passed away and something new was coming. But it wasn’t there yet. Although their spiritual adrenaline was pumping fast, they were unsure just what this new thing was going to be.

Our culture actually has been going through this for some time now. We’re now living in what many people are calling a “Post-Modern” world. That name alone should indicate our confusion and anxiety. We don’t even have a name for the time in which we live. It’s not modern. It’s whatever is going to be after modern. That defines what it no longer is, but it tells us nothing about what the future will be like.

The Church is facing this gap experience along with the culture. Spiritually, we’re right there with the disciples between the Ascension and Pentecost. Now, there are different ways people react to living in this gap of the already, but not yet. Some, reacting with fear and anxiety over the chaos and confusion, refuse to accept that God’s world is changing. These are the fundamentalist groups in all religions. Their refusal to live hopefully in the gap shows itself in their anger born of their fear, anxiety, and confusion.

In facing this gap experience, some self-medicate with drugs or alcohol. Billions of dollars are spent on anti-depressants in this country. Now, there are quite valid reasons for taking anti-depressants, but not all depression is due to chemical imbalances. Many are depressed because they struggle to live in a world that’s changing so rapidly. Still others, reacting out of their constant need for novelty, have embraced every new thing that comes their way. These folk have no depth in any tradition. They’re set loose in this gap time steering their course with multiple maps and navigational forms. In their minds, everything is up for grabs and there is no faith in anything.

There’s a better way to live and we have it with one another in the Church. We’re a people who are equipped to handle the future and its uncertainty. We worship a Lord who says, “Behold, I make all things new.” St. Paul tells us that if we’re in Christ, we’re “new creations,” therefore “the old has passed away and the new has come.” We’re people who are equipped to welcome the new thing God is doing. We’re a gap people living in a world experiencing a major shift from what’s been to what will be.

In this gap experience, we wait patiently for what God will do. We’re called to have compassion for those rocked by the rapid change of the world and to love our enemies in a world where many anxious and confused people actually think hate is the solution. It’s in the gap between what was and what will be that we have the opportunity to become more faithful disciples of Jesus. That will require us, however, to stay and wait patiently in the gap, not running away. While many others may react with fear, violence or confusion, we will hold fast to the love, compassion, and mercy of Jesus. Mind the gap.

+Scott

 

In our church year we are in Ascensiontide, that time between the Feasts of the Ascension (this year on May 17) and Pentecost (this year on May 27). Our theological understanding of the Ascension, made manifest in the two collects the Church has for that feast day, exposes some of the historic breadth and comprehensiveness of Anglicanism.

The first of two collects from which we can choose in the Book of Common Prayer is this: Almighty God, whose blessed Son our Savior Jesus Christ ascended far above all heavens that he might fill all things: Mercifully give us faith to perceive that, according to his promise, he abides with his Church on earth, even to the end of the ages; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

The second collect is this: Grant, we pray, Almighty God, that as we believe your only-begotten Son our Lord Jesus Christ to have ascended into heaven, so we may also in heart and mind there ascend, and with him continually dwell; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

How we pray shapes how we believe, as the old saying goes. These two collects reflect two distinctive, historic parts of our Anglican Tradition. It should not surprise anyone who knows our Anglican history that each is somewhat at odds with the other. The first collect asks God to give us faith so that we might perceive Jesus abiding with his Church on earth even to the end of the ages. This is classic Anglican incarnational theology. Jesus does not ascend into heaven as an escape from earth. He ascends that the Holy Spirit will infuse the Church with his eternal presence on earth. The Church then becomes the ongoing Body of Christ in the world continuing the Lord’s incarnation until he comes again at the close of the age.

The second collect asks that, through our belief in Jesus as our Lord, Jesus will take our heart and mind with him into heaven so that we might dwell there with him eternally. This is classic Anglican pietistic theology. It reflects that, while we are in the world, we must never be of the world; that our true home is heaven, where our hearts and minds truly dwell.

Both collects are true and are needed to keep us honest in our theology. Incarnational theology, taken to its extreme, can shape us in all too worldly ways where we get far too comfortable with the world as it is. Likewise, pietistic theology, in its extreme, becomes escapist where we ignore the importance of the Gospel’s declaration that “God so loved the world.” In our comprehensiveness, our theology places us in tension with one another and this example from the Feast of the Ascension exemplifies that. If we find ourselves naturally gravitating to one of these two collects, I hope we honestly name that, and then open ourselves up to listen to what important truth the other collect is saying to us.

+Scott