Luke 24:44-53
Ascension Sunday is a strange day in the life of the church. First, it’s not really a Sunday; it’s a Thursday. Historically, the Day of Ascension (or in the Catholic Church, the Feast of Ascension) takes place forty days after Easter. This is because in the Book of Acts, we are told that Jesus appeared to the disciples and taught them for forty days before ascending to heaven. So the church celebrates the ascension of Christ forty days after Easter . . . or, for us, forty-three days after Easter because we don’t have church on Thursdays and it would be a difficult task to get anybody to show up to (metaphorically) “wave goodbye to Jesus.”
The second reason this is a strange day is that in addition to the passage from Acts, the lectionary also gives us the story from the Gospel According to Luke. And Luke doesn’t have Jesus sticking around for forty days. In Luke, the “day of ascension” is Easter. Jesus rose from the dead, appeared to the disciples on the Road to Emmaus, and apparently to Simon Peter, although we don’t get that scene; appeared to the disciples and ate with them, then led them out of town, blessed them, and was carried up into heaven. And I thought my Easter Sundays were busy!
In Leisurely Lectionary this week, we talked about which passage we preferred—the one in Acts where Jesus stayed 40 days, or the one in Luke, where Jesus ascended on Easter. Although I think we all liked the idea of Jesus sticking around for a while, I admitted that I prefer the Luke story . . . not because Jesus leaves so soon, but because of how he leaves.
Luke says Jesus led the disciples “as far as Bethany.” Do you remember Bethany? Bethany is where Jesus often went when he needed some time alone. Bethany is where the woman with the alabaster jar broke it and poured out a valuable oil on his head, anointing and blessing him. Bethany is also where Jesus’ friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus lived, and where Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead.
“Bethany stands as a place of healing, restoration of life, hospitality, and friendship. . . . For Jesus’ companions who witness his ascension, Bethany conjures memories that Jesus means for them to draw upon as they begin to live without him. Bethany was a place where hospitality, friendship, and the miraculous intertwined in the community around Jesus. The fact that he chooses it as his place of departure suggests that he intends for them to remember that these gifts will remain with them.” Of course it would happen in Bethany.
But there’s another thing about Bethany that I didn’t know until this week. Many scholars believe that the name “Bethany” meant “house of affliction” or “poor house.” This suggests that the village “may have been used as a center for caring for the sick and aiding the destitute and pilgrims to Jerusalem.” And there are several biblical references that support this claim. So this is where Jesus takes leave of his followers: in one of the places they will be needed the most. They place they have found community, yes; but also the place they will be community as well.
I have seen this community in many places and in many times. Years ago I saw it come to life during a visit to Epcot, in Disney World. It had been a long day, and I was hot and tired. Actually, it was the second or third long day we had spent within the Disney complex, and I was feeling a wee bit cranky. I was taking a break from the heat and the lines when I saw them—a group of people all in blue t-shirts that said on the back, “Prayer Warriors for Nicole.” They had their backs to me as they posed for a photo. When they parted, I saw her. She had the same color blue shirt, but hers just said “Nicole.” With the look of love on her face, it could have said “Jesus.” I hadn’t expected to see Jesus there at the China exhibit in Epcot. I hadn’t expected Jesus to be young and pale and bald, sitting in a wheelchair. But there she was, looking exhausted but grinning at her “prayer warriors” full of joy and gratitude. And they looked so happy to be giving her the gift of that day.
Or was it the other way around? I remember how very pale she was, how very tired she looked, and I wonder . . . was this trip to Disney World not their gift to her, but her final gift to them? Was it her way of blessing them before she leaves them? blessing them with the chance to fulfill her dream, blessing them with these memories they will hold dear, blessing them with photos of them gathered together in front of what looked like China but may as well have been Bethany? Did she bless them as she left? And although I pray she won her battle, I have no way of knowing if she did. Either way, she was Jesus, rising and ascending to God.
This week we lost another woman who knows something about communities of healing. Maya Angelou was an amazing woman, a fabulous poet, and an unstoppable voice. According to her official website, Dr. Angelou was “a celebrated poet, memoirist, novelist, educator, dramatist, producer, actress, historian, filmmaker, and civil rights activist.” When she died this week, she left behind a heritage of fighting for justice and speaking truth to both pain and power. She spoke for all who have suffered oppression when she wrote:
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise. . . .
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries. . . .
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your lies,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise. . . .
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak miraculously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the hope and the dream of the slave.
And so I rise
I rise
I rise.
This is only a brief excerpt of one of her most famous poems, but it speaks so eloquently of her indomitable spirit. And I find it no coincidence that on her website, her family referred to her death as her ascension. Surely her soul ascended to heaven – I rise, I rise.
But did you notice how beautifully that poem could also speak for Jesus?
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries. . . .
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your lies,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise. . . .
On this day of ascension, we remember how Jesus overcame death and rose again, and how Christ’s spirit overcame earthly life and rose to heaven. On this day of ascension, we remember a young girl named Nicole whose loving community surrounded her in preparation . . . and we remember an older woman named Maya whose words teach us, still, to rise above the pain. On this day of ascension, we remember the saints in this room and listed in our bulletin who teach us, again and again, to rise, to meet the challenge of each new day. No matter what comes our way, together we can say: I’ll rise. I’ll rise. I’ll rise.