Some years ago, the number one nonfiction best seller in the New York Times Best Sellers list was a book by James Van Praagh entitled, Talking to Heaven. In it this self-described world-famous medium discusses communication with the ‘other side.’ He talks about making connection with those who have gone before us in death. His book skyrocketed in sales following his appearance some time ago on the then very popular, Larry King show. I must admit, I saw that show and was utterly taken aback as caller after caller shared with Mr. Van Praagh their desire to make contact with a loved one who had died. Apparently, knowing nothing of these individuals, Van Praagh spoke of details in their life as well as death that supposedly were known only to their family and friends. Subsequent critiques of Mr. Van Praagh’s so called “medium skills” have highly questioned his methods.
For my part, I remain skeptical, yet one could not but be moved by the gratitude of those for whom these messages where a tether, a long-desired connection, with a loved one taken in death.
My brothers and sisters, there is no question that part of the wrenching anxiety that comes with the death of a loved one is that sense of absence - the void that will now be left in our lives by the ones who were so much a part of our lives. There is that sense of utter emptiness that comes in the face of the death of a loved one.
No wonder then that the disciples of the Lord were so crestfallen as they walked away from the hill of Calvary knowing that their master had been taken from them. Who could ever take his place? Yet, in the Resurrection experience that sense of absence was radically transformed as the risen Lord stood before his loved ones and spoke words of peace, ate breakfast, and challenged them to move from doubt and unbelief to a certainty that comes from “seeing with one’s own eyes”.
But now at the Ascension, the Lord once again speaks of leaving them and once again their hearts are filled with anxiety as they fear this moment of ultimate leave-taking. Yet, the deepest meaning of the feast that gathers us in celebration this morning, is one that paradoxically speaks more of presence than absence; hope rather than despair; promise rather than dread.
As recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, Jesus final words to his disciples empowers them to be his witnesses “in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, yes, even to the ends of the earth”. As these words are spoken, Luke tells us that the Lord was taken from their sight. To underscore the significance of these final words, Luke speaks of two men dressed in white - perhaps angels - who remind the speechless disciples, motionless as they gaze heavenward - to get on with doing the work of the Gospel. They remind them that the Lord will indeed return.
My brothers and sisters, one of the most prized titles given to us by the Apostle Paul is our identity as the Body of Christ. Bound together through the life-giving waters of baptism and strengthened for the work of the Gospel by the power of the spirit - we are now to fill the void and darkness of this world with the presence of Christ who is forever light in the midst of darkness.
The mission and ministry of Christ, risen in Glory and now seated at the Father’s right hand, is now placed into our hands. We must now be his voice of hope for the hopeless, his words of healing to the brokenhearted; his promise of forgiveness to those imprisoned in the selfishness of sin. This is precisely the meaning of the sacred ‘accompaniment’ that Pope Francis speaks of as the duty of every Christian.
Just as so many today yearn to make contact with their loved one’s taken in death, that desire on our part as Christians to stay connected with the Lord of Heaven and Earth is placed within our hands and in our hearts.
As a priest for 46 years now, I am continually amazed as I hear the stories of conversion as men and women of all ages come to experience the presence of the Lord in their lives. Invariably the door to that presence has been opened by another - perhaps a husband or wife whose own deep faith and love has mirrored the face of Christ; perhaps it was a relative or close friend whose patience and acceptance revealed the Holy One; perhaps it was a stranger reaching out to another at a time of incredible personal loss or darkness, bringing consolation and hope that revealed the Christ of mercy and compassion.
As we gather then on this Ascension day, let us be renewed in our resolve never to underestimate the gift that has been given to us to reveal the presence of Christ to another. The mission and ministry of the Risen Lord is now in our hands - let us rejoice and be glad.