If you were to stand on a busy sidewalk, pick an empty spot in the sky, and stare at it for a full minute, what do you think would happen? Most likely, most people would walk past without glancing up and virtually no one would stop to stare with you. Now, go to the same place the next day, and take along four friends with you to look upward. Within 60 seconds, a crowd of passersby will have stopped to crane their necks skyward with the group.
This was the result of a study conducted in New York by three social psychologists in 1969. In their experiment, 80% of all passersby, at the very least, lifted their gaze to the spot that was being looked at.
“Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?”
The Ascension is tough. A person just doesn’t float up into the sky like a runaway balloon or Mary Poppins. Beaming someone up only happens in Star Trek. The Ascension of Jesus is illogical, irrational, and impossible. Isn’t it?
It certainly is when we find ourselves wrapped up in the mechanics of how it could have happened. Physics isn’t much help here; nor is astronomy. And don’t even think about bringing in Isaac Newton’s apple and his laws of gravity. Science will not and cannot solve the mystery of the Ascension. But when we get caught up with them, we often miss the larger picture of why it matters. The temptation is to dwell on the impossibility rather than the extraordinary possibility. And when we start in a place of doubt, it keeps our minds closed to the wondrous mystery of the divine.
When I was a kid, I loved to watch the cartoon called “Underdog”. It featured an ordinary dog who, when called upon, would become Underdog and exclaim, “There’s no need to fear, Underdog is here!” His other catch phrase, and the reason I bring this up today was, “Up, up, and away!” (Because he could fly!)
It’s hard for me to hear the story of Jesus’ Ascension into heaven without hearing Underdog proclaim, “Up, up, and away!” In the Acts of the Apostles, we hear that Jesus was standing in the midst of his disciples when he was suddenly lifted up in a cloud and vanished from their sight.
The problem with my profound theological comparison between Jesus and Underdog – besides the potential heresy – is that Underdog’s statement doesn’t hold true. The Ascension doesn’t lead Jesus up, up, and away but rather it leads him into a new relationship with his disciples. He is not up and away; he is present with them in a new way, one that transcends physical presence; one that is based exclusively on the experience of faith. In other words, it’s the same way that we relate to the risen Christ: through our own experience of faith, through our own Christ-like actions toward others, and through the sacramental mystery that we know as the Eucharist.
But of course, the disciples don’t immediately get this. You can easily picture them staring up at the sky in utter silence with bewildered looks on their faces wondering what in the world just happened. And as they are staring into the sky, these two angels happen to walk by and look up at the sky with them. And then they ask that wonderful question: “Why are you standing there looking up at the sky?”
And how often do we get caught looking for faith in all the wrong places? We look up hoping to see God when perhaps God is right in front of us. Or we look down, failing to see the wonders of creation all around us. That doesn’t make our life of faith some sort of cruel game; it just means that in order to fully know the presence of God, we must look in those unexpected places. Like in our homes, in our workplaces, in our relationships, at the mall, at the Starbucks, in our own souls, and even in our own church.
At first glance, the Ascension does reinforce our notion that heaven is up, up, and away. But that’s why I love the line spoken by the two angels after Jesus ascends, because they remind us that God isn’t just up, but everywhere. Stop looking up, they suggest, and see the love of God right here, in the here and now, present among us, abiding in you and me. Our time in heaven will come; but right now, Jesus is in our midst in a whole new way.
And while the mechanics may be hard to grasp, they’re not really the point. The point is that Jesus is not taken away from us but that our relationship with him is simply transformed. Jesus continues to remain with us and desires to work through us and to be one with us. And that’s the power and the promise of Jesus’ ascension into heaven.
