Sunday Sermon - 3 June

This past Monday I came into work my usual way. I parked at the Rectory and walked across the sidewalk towards the Regent Street entrance to the church. On the walk is a big bush, right on the corner by this doorway here. I heard some rustling. I didn’t think much of it but it was pretty persistent so I bent down and looked into the bush and there were these two little baby raccoons - they were so cute! I enjoyed watching them for a minute and then went on my way assuming that their mother was somewhere nearby (no one wants to be on the receiving end of an angry mother raccoon).

Just as I was arriving at the door to go into the church, I heard car brakes screeching and horns honking and I knew exactly what was happening. The little rascals were trying to cross the street. So, I quickly dropped my bag and ran outside. They were literally in the middle of the road. I tried to coax them across but they were running in circles. I ended up picking one up, praying that I wasn’t going to get bitten, and the other one followed and I got them to the hedge line across the road. They were chirping and squeaking away at me and, as I tried to leave them, they started following me. Seriously, I thought to myself, have these guys imprinted on me that fast?

Then I realized, they likely didn’t have a mother. I stopped and scooted them back into the wooded hedge under some branches for protection and was able to leave them to their own devices. It felt terrible to leave them there but I had no means of collecting them to take them to a shelter and, like I said, did not want to get bitten. I felt terrible for abandoning them. Where was their mother?  Had she abandoned them too?

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt abandoned but if you have, it’s a profound, character-altering experience. Abandonment, though it has some similarities to loneliness, is not to be confused with feeling lonely.  

Loneliness is the feeling we have when we are missing a loved one, a partner, friend, or even pet. Not because they’ve ‘abandoned’ you, necessarily, but because they are no longer with you. Mostly for reasons that are beyond their control, like passing away.  

Abandonment is the intentional departure of someone that you relied on for care, safety, and protection. Someone who has a responsibility to you and they opt out, leaving you on your own, to fend for yourself. Much like I did with those baby raccoons (for the record, growing up in the country it is my understanding that baby raccoons should not be relocated for at least 24 hours to ensure the mother is not coming back for them, but still, I felt terrible).

Today, Jesus leaves. He walks his disciples to Bethany, prays over them, blesses them, and then “withdraws” from them, ascending to heaven. I don’t know about you but I actually have a harder time believing that the disciples respond with joy and go happily back to Jerusalem than I do believing that Jesus rose into the heavens.  Let’s think about this for a minute.

Jesus was crucified for challenging the religious order of his day. His disciples are hiding after his death, cowering in fear for their own lives. He is resurrected, He comes back, they see Him, they physically touch Him, and they are relieved and reinvigorated - literally inspired, spiritually strengthened to continue as Jesus’ emissaries, spreading the Good News.  

Then He leaves them again, to fulfill their mission of evangelism all alone, and instead of feeling abandoned they feel joyous? Really? Wouldn’t they feel like “Hey, where are you going now? You just got back? We still have work to do? Has the Kingdom arrived as is supposed to be the case with the return of the Messiah, the one you are to be? Those guys still want to kill us for following you!”

I think this is one of the reasons that the Feast of the Ascension has been overlooked in contemporary liturgy. It’s actually an optional feast day on Sundays.  It’s the low point between the power of Easter and the fire of Pentecost. According to our Church, it’s negligible. But it is, in my opinion, a vitally important part of the Messianic story. We need to understand why the resurrected Jesus left.  Or did He?

As I’ve said, I often feel that Jesus’ ascension carries the weight of abandoning His disciples and leaving them in the midst of in a hostile environment. But although it may seem, at first glance like abandonment, Jesus’ ascension is not a departure but a transformation, foreshadowing our transformation that is to come (that’s a teaser for next week’s sermon, so you’ll need to come back for part 2.)

On the Feast of the Ascension, Jesus is not departing - He isn’t going to be absent - rather, He is exalted, exalted to reign as the spiritual King and leader of His people and this is why they worship Him before they return to Jerusalem. They are not feeling the fear of abandonment, but feeling the comforting presence of their reigning King who has promised them that they will be “clothed in power from on high.” They are promised their own transformation.

Christ has ascended. Christ now reigns. The Kingdom is near.

As you may know, I’ve been away at the annual Clergy Conference this past week. In fact, the raccoon incident happened just as I stopped into the church to get some things for the conference. So I was also a bit rushed for time. As you now know, I expect that anyone who goes to a conference comes back to share “the juice” or the spiritual energy that one gets from these experiences. I must say, it was a very, very good conference. I’ve not had the chance to attend this conference for the past almost 30 years because of the demands of my role at the Grove and I was overwhelmed by how good it was to see colleagues and friends - some that I haven’t seen since seminary back in the early ‘90’s.

Okay, I digress, sorry.  

The speaker for the conference was the Dean of Canterbury Cathedral, David Monteith, and his theme was the “Good Shepherd” based on the Gospel of John, chapter 10. It was incredible, it was so worthwhile. 

 One of his quotes really stuck with me, especially when preparing for the feast of the Ascension and Pentecost:

“There are some places that feel as if there is more God.”  

This got to me because, really, when we hear these words we cannot help but think of them in the transverse way. If there are some places that feel as if there is more God then there are obviously some places that feel as if there is less God. Then I thought about today. Today, June 1, is not just Ascension Sunday, it is also the Sunday when we pray for and uphold Jerusalem and the Holy Land.  

Jerusalem and the Holy Land, arguably the most sacred place on our planet, the cradle of the Abrahamic religions, today feels as if it has “less God.” As I contemplated this further, I found myself challenged. Does the Holy Land really have less God or because it is the most sacred of the sacred, the holiest of holies, perhaps it is the place that attracts more evil? Doesn’t this seem to be the case, especially today but also throughout history? Those places that we believe are the holiest, where God should be most present, tend to be the same places where evil is also the most prevalent. The coliseums, built to honour the ancient Roman Gods were temples of violence and death. The persistently embattled and destroyed temple in Jerusalem, the constant wars in Syria, Mount Athos in the Balkans, Amritsar, India the site of Indira Gandhi's assassination and the place of anti-Sikh riots…I could go on. There are indeed places where it feels as if there is more God and there are those holiest of places where it seems as if there is no God – there is just more evil.

I speak of this point from Dean David today, on this Ascension and Jerusalem Sunday, to remind us that there isn’t more God anywhere on earth. God has not abandoned anyone, anywhere, on this glorious planet of ours. It is us, it is us human beings who have abandoned God and have allowed the evil of human greed and lust for power to take hold in those places where God should be most felt, in places like our Holy Land. It is our responsibility to do something, no matter how little, about it.

As we exalt our Ascended King, we wait, just as Jesus asks of His disciples and of us, this morning. We wait to be “clothed with power from on high.”  We wait for the fire of Pentecost - our call to action.

Let us pray:

Gracious and exalted Lord,
On this Ascension Sunday,
we lift our hearts to you in awe and in hope.
You have taken your place at the right hand of the Father,
not to leave us, but to reign over all,
and to prepare our hearts for the gift you have promised.

As your disciples once stood looking to the heavens,
now we look to you —  not in longing for your presence,
but in confidence that you are with us still,
calling us to go, to witness, and to wait.

So now, in this holy in-between time,
make us patient and expectant.
Help us to trust your timing and your power.
Clothe us, O Lord, with the Spirit’s fire,
that we may burn with courage, compassion, and clarity.

Teach us to live not in absence,
but in anticipation.
Not in fear,
but in faith.
Not in silence,
but in the bold joy of the gospel.

Come, Holy Spirit—
fill us, your Church once again.

In the name of the risen and ascended Christ we pray,
Amen.