Ascension Day
As a student years ago here at St Peter’s College, I remember being asked in a Year 8 ‘Divinity’ class (as ‘Theology and Philosophy’ used to be called) to draw a picture of God. The task was set by the School Chaplain of the day, the Reverend Roy Gilbert, who was challenging us to use our imagination. It turns out that he was also using the exercise to demonstrate the fact that human language reaches its limits when we start talking about the divine. In other words, no one can possibly describe God with absolute certainty – we know what God is like (through the person and teaching of Jesus, for example) but we cannot describe God in exact terms. There is a limit to language. This is the ancient ‘apophatic’ tradition: acknowledging the limits of language and knowledge to describe God.
As a Year 8 student, I drew what I would now call a fairly unimaginative picture of God: a bearded figure dressed in a white robe with his arms extended in a gesture of welcome. The figure was glowing with light and looked like he was suspended in the sky. Looking back, I suppose the picture more or less illustrated my childhood image of God. These days I would attempt to draw a picture of energy and power; energy or spirit are the main ways I now think of God.
When I showed my father the drawing, his reaction was very interesting. In fact, that brief discussion with him remains one of the most influential discussions about God in my life. He initially thought it was a picture of Jesus’ Ascension: indeed, the picture did look like Jesus ascending to heaven. It was not dissimilar to our Chapel window in fact, except not nearly as good. When I explained that it was supposed to be a picture of God, Dad very gently led me in a discussion of the fact that no-one knows what God looks like. My theology was changed forever.
However, as a picture of Jesus at the Ascension, my drawing did accurately portray St Luke’s description of the event in The Acts of the Apostles (Acts 1: 6–11). Jesus is described as being lifted up into the air until a cloud obscures him from the disciples’ sight. Our School Chapel has a striking portrayal of it: the half-superman, as I like to think of it.
What is St Luke trying to tell us in his description of the Ascension? It’s obvious, but worth saying, that we should not interpret St Luke’s writings as suggesting that Jesus is up in the sky somewhere, still floating around. The first Russian cosmonaut in space ruled out that possibility!
Luke is using the description of the Ascension to give us a different message. Jesus is no longer confined to a particular time and a particular place. Jesus is no longer confined to 1st Century Palestine. Jesus is no longer limited to an earthly body. And he’s not like an elf: in some fantasy traditions elves live forever, in other traditions they just live a really long time. If Jesus were immortal in the sense that elves are immortal in fantasy literature, then he would still be wandering around the Middle East, sorting out the conflict between Israel and Palestine. That would be helpful, but Jesus would not be the eternal spirit who brings comfort to all people everywhere, not just in one particular location, at one particular time.
Christians believe that Jesus transcended time and space. His ministry on earth, even after the resurrection, had to come to an end. According to Church tradition, Jesus appeared to the disciples, on and off, for a period of forty days after the resurrection. He appeared on the beach when some of the disciples were fishing. He appeared, but was initially not recognised, when two of the disciples were walking to Emmaus, a town described as being seven miles from Jerusalem. He appeared suddenly to the disciples in locked rooms, which were locked from the inside for fear of persecution.
However, human beings live in particular times and in particular places. This is the point St Luke is trying to make. Human beings simply do not float around forever. Likewise, Jesus, as fully human, could not simply hang around forever. He had to transcend the boundaries of time and space, so that he could be available to all people everywhere.
Jesus, then, is the friend who is available to all people, wherever they are. He is the quiet presence by our side, when we face a difficult task. The Spirit of Jesus is also gentle voice of reason, when every other part of our conscious and subconscious mind is screaming at us to lash out in anger. He is the silent encourager, present with us while we hike through the Flinders ranges or walk along the beach: a presence we might barely discern. Yet his presence is real nonetheless, in the same way that love is real, despite being invisible and intangible.
Jesus ascended to heaven, but his Spirit lives on, both in us and all around us. Like the disciples who were left behind, we are the physical beings whom Jesus uses to do his work. We are his hands now. He has no-one else but us. We’re it! We are the ones, who have to do God’s work here on earth: a terrifying thought, but an incredibly life-giving one at the same time.
The Reverend Dr Theo McCall
School Chaplain
