Ascending

“Why do you stand looking into heaven?”

Harry Anderson, The Ascension of Jesus (1976)

Prayer 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.

Scripture And while staying with the disciples, Jesus ordered them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to

wait for the promise of the Father, which, he said, “you heard from me; for John baptized with

water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.” So when they

had come together, they asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to

Israel?” He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed

by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you,

and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the

earth.” And when he had said these things, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a

cloud took him out of their sight. And while they were gazing into heaven as he went,

behold, two men stood by them in white robes, and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand

looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the

same way as you saw him go into heaven.” Acts 1:4-11

Sr. Mary Grace Thul, O.P.,

The Ascension,

Reflection

In his Farewell Discourse in the Gospel of John (which we have been reading in church the past

few Sundays), Jesus on the eve of his betrayal informs his disciples that He is about to leave

them. But this is a good thing, He insists, for He is going to the Father to prepare a place for

them and “if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so

that where I am, there you may be also.” John’s gospel does not include an explicit account of

Jesus’ ascension, but it seems clear that John has this event in mind in his recounting of Jesus’

last words. Luke, by contrast, recounts the event twice, once in his gospel and again in the book

of Acts. Though the two versions differ a bit in their details, both say that Jesus was with his

disciples after his resurrection, they were having an important theological conversation about

when God’s rule will be established on earth, and all of a sudden Jesus is taken up, rises right

before their eyes, up into heaven.

It’s not clear in Luke’s telling what we are to make of what

happened to Jesus. For, what does it mean to say that Jesus

“ascended,” was “carried up to heaven,” “lifted up to the

heavens”? Was it like a balloon that has been set free, rising

higher and higher, till he was little more than a dot in the sky? Did

he just disappear into the clouds, floating there in the upper

atmosphere? Or perhaps he was just beamed up by aliens? Most of

us no longer subscribe to a three-level universe— with hell

beneath the earth, and heaven above—so then where are we to

locate heaven? Where exactly does Jesus sit at the right had of the

Father? In what place?

To ask these questions is, however, to miss the point. The point of

the Ascension is not so much where or how as much as it is why,

for what purpose. The Ascension is not an act of levitation, a

magic trick, something to be admired and wondered at, as much as

it is about an “elevation of status.” It is, to begin with, about the elevation of Jesus’ status. As his

disciples witnessed, the man Jesus with whom they had walked and talked, eaten and drunk, was

lifted up, exalted to the divine throne, “seated at God’s right hand,” the recognized head of all

things, visible and invisible, far above all the creation within which he lived and died and rose

again. The Ascension is then, like the Resurrection, divine confirmation that Jesus is “the real

deal,” that Jesus is God’s beloved Son, for He would not be there at God’s right hand if He did

not deserve to be there. So it is not that Jesus disappeared at the Ascension into the impersonal

realm of the divine. Rather, at the Ascension, Jesus’ true identity as Savior and Lord is made

evident, is revealed, revealed in the flesh. The human Jesus does not disappear, but is now

glorified to a transcendent status. Jesus’ human nature, his human body and mind, is not left

behind in salvation, but is taken up into heaven, into God, where it is changed, glorified.

So, the Ascension is not just about the Jesus’ elevation, but also about the elevation of human

nature. In fact, we can say that the Ascension completes the work God began in the Incarnation,

where God dignified human nature by uniting himself in the flesh to humanity through Jesus.

Jesus, having been born human, having died a human death, and having been resurrected by God

in his human body, has now been taken up into heaven in bodily form.

From the Life of Christ in

Woodcuts by James Reid, 1930

Why is this important, that our Savior was ascended in his body? It is because Christ came to

raise not just part of the person, not just the soul only or the spirit, but to heal the whole person,

body included (John 7:23). Christianity insists that our body is not a creation of a lesser deity,

not a “cage for the soul,” but a “temple of the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor 6:19). That “temple” has been

sullied, desecrated by sin, and must be restored, cleansed and sanctified, but it is a temple

nonetheless.

By Christ’s body being taken up into heaven, the ascended Christ has opened to us the way

home, the way to perfection, to glorification in the Body of Christ. This elevation is the end of

the salvation Christ has prepared for us. Jesus came down that we might be taken up to God.

Or as St. Athanasius said in the 4th century, “God became human so that we might become

divine,” that is, godly.

It is little wonder then why the Churches in the East regard

the Ascension as one of the Twelve Great Feast Days, and

why St. Augustine of Hippo considered the Feast of the

Ascension the “crown of all festivals.” In commemorating

Jesus’ ascension in the body, it celebrates the fact that, just as

God took Jesus’ broken, scarred body to himself, God will

take our broken bodies to himself and glorify them as well.

This is our destiny in Christ!

And yet as wonderful and amazing and exciting as that gift

and calling are, we are, like the disciples, admonished not to

spend all of our time gazing up in the sky, waiting for Jesus

to come back and for us to be glorified. As Jesus had told his

disciples who awaited his return, “It is not for you to know

the times or periods that the Father has set by his own

authority.” Until that time, we have a commission to carry

out. Before Jesus “takes off,” he tells his disciples that “you

shall be my witnesses.” We, who await the return of Christ

and the renewal of our bodies in all creation, are given the

task of witnessing the power and mercy of God, “to the ends

of the earth.”

We are not on our own in carrying out this commission, however. Though Christ has gone up to

be with the Father, he is not absent from us. Jesus promised to be with his followers always.

Jesus had to leave one place so he could be in all places. So we needn’t fear, for Christ is with us,

strengthening us, sustaining us and empowering us to be his people, his witnesses.

And so, as we commemorate Christ’s ascent into heaven, whereupon Jesus was raised up body

and soul, and we with him, we are reminded of our mission—to tell others about the wondrous

gift and calling we are given in Christ—and the promise that Jesus has made that he will be with

us in the power of the Spirit. Which leads us to next week’s topic…

Further Reflection

1. QUOTES TO PONDER:

“The ascension is so central [to Christianity] because it assures us that the Incarnation

continues. Christ didn’t just come among us for thirty-three years, slumming, as it were,

and then when his work was done, say, “Phew! I’m glad that’s over! I’m going to unzip

this skin suit and get back to heavenly living,” leaving us here on our own. He went into

heaven with a pledge of all that we are going to become. Tertullian, I think, was the first

one to put it that way. The Spirit, in scripture, is the pledge of Christ’s presence in us, but

Christ’s continuing body is the pledge of what we’re going to have in heaven. So the

ascension tells us that Christ has not let go of our humanity. He truly wants to take human

beings where we’ve never gone before: into the very life of the triune God.”

—Gerrit Scott Dawson, author of Jesus Ascended: The Meaning of Christ’s

Continuing Incarnation, from an Authors on the Line interview

As important as the Ascension is, Christ’s ascension into heaven is only one part of the grander

drama and action of God, as Peter Leithart reminds us:

“Heaven is not our home, our ultimate destiny. Heaven is where things happen first,

where our nature is first enthroned in Christ Jesus. But the last part of our journey slopes

downward, from heaven to earth. Ascension is not the endpoint of the human story. We

ascend in order to descend, and the end comes when heaven breaks through the

firmament to couple with earth, when heaven comes to earth to heavenize it.”

Consider, too, John D. Witvliet’s “Ten Reasons to Celebrate Ascension Day”

2. VIDEO: “AMA,” a short film by Julie Gautier: This wonderfully expressive silent film shows

French free diver and underwater artist Julie Gautier dancing

in a single breath for several minutes inside the world’s

deepest swimming pool, Y-40 Deep Joy in Montegrotto

Terme, Padua, Italy, to a minimalist piano piece. The final

shot shows Gautier slowly rising to the water’s surface while

releasing a giant air bubble, her pose evocative of the

crucified Christ (and her upward movement an Ascension of

sorts!). Titled “Ama” (Japanese for “sea woman,” the name

given to Japan’s pearl divers), the film is “dedicated to all the

women of the world,” Gautier says. The choreography is by

Ophélie Longuet.

3. SONG: “God Ascended” | Words by Joseph Hart, 1759, add. Bruce Benedict and Sarah

Majorins | Music by Sarah Majorins, 2012 | Performed on Ascension Songs, a Cardiphonia

compilation album (listen to others on this album too!)

In this short choral work, Sarah Majorins extracts the final verse from Joseph Hart’s “Come, Ye

Sinners, Poor and Needy,” setting it to a new tune. On the one hand, Christ’s ascension is

something to celebrate, tied up, as it is, in his exaltation at the right hand of God on high, where

he intercedes for us; Luke even tells us that the disciples ultimately responded “with great joy.”

But on the other hand, there must have been a solemnity to the occasion, as the disciples were

saying goodbye to the physical presence of their friend and teacher. (We know from John’s

Gospel that Mary Magdalene, for example, had to resist her desire to not part with Jesus.)

Majorins bends the tune of this song toward the latter mood and, with Bruce Benedict, has added

a second verse that expresses a feeling of longing for and complete reliance on Christ’s return.

Its refrain is the cry of the church that’s voiced in the penultimate verse of the Bible: “Come,

Lord Jesus!” (or, in Aramaic, Maranatha!).

Lo! th’incarnate God, ascended,

Pleads the merit of his blood;

Venture on him, venture wholly,

Let no other trust intrude:

None but Jesus, None but Jesus,

None but Jesus

Can do helpless sinners good.

Lo! th’incarnate God, ascended,

Enters now the heav’nly realms,

Angels singing alleluia

As they receive their Lord and King.

Maranatha, Maranatha, Maranatha,

Maranatha, we on earth still sing:

Come, O come, Lord Jesus, come.

4. POEM: “Ascension Day,” By Christina Rossetti

“A Cloud received Him out of their sight.”

When Christ went up to Heaven the Apostles stayed

Gazing at Heaven with souls and wills on fire,

Their hearts on flight along the track He made,

Winged by desire.

Their silence spake: “Lord, why not follow Thee?

Home is not home without Thy Blessed Face,

Life is not life. Remember, Lord, and see,

Look back, embrace.

“Earth is one desert waste of banishment,

Life is one long-drawn anguish of decay.

Where Thou wert wont to go we also went:

Why not today?”

Nevertheless a cloud cut off their gaze:

They tarry to build up Jerusalem,

Watching for Him, while thro’ the appointed days

He watches them.

They do His Will, and doing it rejoice,

Patiently glad to spend and to be spent:

Still He speaks to them, still they hear His Voice

And are content.

For as a cloud received Him from their sight,

So with a cloud will He return ere long:

Therefore they stand on guard by day, by night,

Strenuous and strong.

They do, they dare, they beyond seven times seven

Forgive, they cry God’s mighty word aloud:

Yet sometimes haply lift tired eyes to Heaven–

“Is that His cloud?”

Two other poems:

“Ascension,” by John Donne

“Ascension,” by Denise Levertov

5. ART:

While depictions of Christ in majesty, which show the resurrected

and ascended Christ in heaven, appear earlier, the Ascension itself

is not depicted in art until about 400. In early scenes Christ is

shown striding up a mountain, at times the Hand of God reaching

from within the clouds to assist him. Here is one such example:

Ascension of Christ and Noli me tangere, c. 400, ivory, Milan or

Rome. This piece visually connects Jesus’ ascension to last

week’s subject, Jesus’ declining Mary Magdalene’s embrace (Noli

me tangere): “for I have not yet ascended to the Father.”

(Below) The 6th-century illuminated Syriac manuscript known as

the Rabbula Gospels (after the signed name of its scribe) contains

one of the earliest depictions of Christ’s ascension into heaven. A

full-page miniature, it illustrates the narrative from Acts 1:6–11—

but not strictly.

One embellishment to the story is the centralized presence of

Mary on the bottom level. She is not mentioned in the biblical

account of the event, but her attendance was likely. Here she stands in a straightforward, hands

in prayer pose, and, unlike the other disciples, is haloed. Whereas those around her are wracked

with confusion, she understands the deep mysteries of her son’s birth, death, resurrection, and

ascension, and she stands ready for his return. Among the crowd is the apostle Paul—an

anachronistic insertion, as his conversion occurred after the Ascension. The book he holds,

signifying his contributions to the New Testament, is one of his identifying attributes. Also, the

“two men . . . in white robes” mentioned in Acts 1:10 are interpreted as angels. All these

elements became standard in medieval iconography of the Ascension.

The upper register shows Jesus inside a mandorla (a ring or almond shape) being borne upward

by angels. Two more angels with covered hands present golden crowns, a reference to the

ceremonies of the Hellenistic world and/or the acts of veneration recorded in Revelation 4:10–

11. And in the top corners are personifications of the sun (Sol) and the moon (Luna), characters

from Roman art that were especially popular in portraits of emperors.

What is most unique about this painting is its borrowing of visionary imagery from Ezekiel:

namely, the four winged creatures which serving as a chariot for the divine throne. Each of the

creatures had four different faces—human, eagle, lion, and ox—and their spirits turned the

gyroscopic wheels beneath them, which flashed fire. This is Ezekiel’s inaugural encounter with

God’s glory. The artist of the Rabbula Gospels has incorporated several details from Ezekiel’s

vision into his rendering of the Ascension: the four faces, the wheels within wheels, the human

hand under the wings (v. 8), and the flames of fire. He also has Jesus holding an unrolled scroll,

a possible reference to Ezekiel 2:9–10. John had a similar vision involving four living creatures.

In Revelation 4:8 he mentions them having eyes on their wings, another detail our present artist

takes up. Because the biblical account of the Ascension doesn’t really describe the majesty of

Christ, the artist chose to borrow his imagery from elsewhere to evoke a sense of the glory into

which Christ was ascending.

Ascension, fol. 13v from the Rabbula Gospels, Syria, 586.

Christ Leaping

The Ascension, from the Benedictional of St. Æthelwold , England, 963–984AD

Dr. Eleanor Parker lectures on medieval literature at Oxford University and runs the excellent

blog A Clerk at Oxford, where she often shares her translations of Anglo-Saxon poetry, with

commentary. In one posting, she shares a poem (“Christ the Bird and the Play of Hope”) which

reflect on Christ’s ascension—the disciples’ grief, the angels’ joy. To me the most remarkable

section is the one that, indirectly referencing a sermon of Gregory the Great, describes Christ

“leaping” up to heaven, taking an active bound toward his homeland, a movement read in light of

Song of Solomon 2:8: “Behold, he comes, leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills.”

This leap is one of six he took: from heaven (1) into Mary’s womb, (2) into a manger, (3) onto

the cross, (4) into the tomb, (5) into hell, and finally, (6) back into heaven. “Prince’s play”!

Parker pairs the poem with an exquisite, near-contemporary manuscript illumination, also from

England.

There’s also a lot of resonance between this poem and the short film “Ama” (above) and the

Ascension image by Bagong Kussudiardja, which shows a more balletic ascent:

Bagong Kussudiardja (Indonesian, 1928–2004), Ascension, 1983

Compare these depictions of Jesus as an active (athletic) figure to the more stately, majestic

Christ in the Renaissance period. This reflects a shift in theological emphasis from Christ as

Savior to Christ as Monarch, with all attendant dignities. This began to shift again after the 16th

century Reformations.

Rembrandt, The Ascension, 1636 (For analysis of this piece, see here)

Pietro Perugino, The Ascension, 1495-8 Benvenuto Tisi (il Garofalo), Ascension, 1540

Dosso Dossi, Ascension of Christ, 16th Century

Renaissance Period

Hans Süss von Kulmbach, The Ascension of Christ, 1513

16th century, German "disappearing feet"

A rather late (1597) version of the "disappearing feet" depiction in wood relief, 1597. Pulpit, Ribe Cathedral. The Latin inscription reads "Omnes traham ad me ipsum" (“I will draw All people to myself”)

Disappearing Feet

In Romanesque depictions sometimes just the feet of

Christ are shown as he disappears up into the clouds;

this depiction became the most popular in Northern

Europe, where it lingered in German painting and

provincial wood reliefs until well after

the Reformation, as seen in these three pieces.

Fritz von Uhde, The Ascension of Christ, 1897

Peter Howson, Ascension, 2006

The Ascension of Christ, 1958 by Salvador Dali

Salvador Dali’s stunning 1958 “Ascension of Christ” (sometimes called simply “Ascension”).

belongs to a series of images of Christ that came to Dalí in a dream in 1950. As was Dalí’s

custom, he has positioned the figure of Christ so as to obscure his features.

This picture combines two of Dali’s abiding interests of the 1950s: his obsession with a mystic

form of Catholicism and his fascination with nuclear physics. Inspired by the nucleus of an atom,

the artist imagined Christ’s ascent unifying heaven and earth. The sunflower-like corona of the

atom overlaps the divine sphere of the Holy Spirit, symbolized by the dove with outstretched

wings. Though Christ’s body is recumbent, his hands rise tensely on either side. These are

mirrored, however, by the portrait of Gala—the artist’s wife and muse—that hovers above the

composition. She is often portrayed as the Holy Mother. Here she mysteriously watches from

the heavens, tears shed to perhaps convey the sadness of seeing her son departing the familiarity

of the earthly world.

The unconventional perspective prompts questions: Where is Jesus coming from and moving

towards? Is he ascending or descending? Is Jesus traveling back into a distant vanishing point?

Or could it be that Jesus is descending toward us? Is the prominence of Christ’s feet suggesting

he’s about to set foot on a temporal plain? Or are the feet of Jesus the last thing one would have

seen before he ascended toward what is here an electrified sense of heaven? Surely the soiled

feet symbolize the walks Jesus made with his Disciples.