“The hardest thing is to be where you are.” Last week I read this quote from Rowan Williams. Rowan Williams used to be the Archbishop of Canterbury.
“The hardest thing is to be where you are.”
Some people and some churches find it easier to live in the past: “Remember the glory days when the pews in the building were full every Sunday and there were lots of children in Sunday School?” Or, “When will we get back to normal, to the way it was?”
Some people live most of their lives in the future: “When we both retire, then we shall really live the life we want to live.” Or, “Once we have our own people taken care of, then we’ll deal with the poverty in our community.”
“The hardest thing is to be where you are.”
That is especially true when you live in a ‘time between the times’ — which is where we are these days. One way of life is disappearing; another is just beginning to emerge and it is not very clear yet what that will look like. Someone has said that we live in a time of ‘unravelling’. He writes about his wife who loves to knit. He watches her knit row after row and then, sometimes, she’ll realize she has made a mistake several rows back. She’ll unravel the knitting she has just done, reaching a point where she has part of a sweater and a pile of wrinkled wool beside her waiting to be knit together again. That’s ‘where we are’— in a time of unravelling.
Some people have said that we are in an apocalyptic time — apocalypse meaning ‘an unveiling, a revealing’. The pandemic has revealed — made starkly apparent — a number of issues that have been hovering just below the surface for some time: a broken economic system; our culture’s neglect of our elderly; the fragile mental health that is produced by the way we have organized our lives.
One common characteristic of living in a time between the times is that most people feel inadequate to dealing with it. I can’t count how many times I have heard teachers and ministers say, “We weren’t trained for this”. I can’t count the number of church leaders who have said to me, “We’re too old. We’re tired. There are too few of us.”
In today’s scripture reading, Jesus’ disciples are also living in a time-between-the-times. They have experienced Jesus’ death. They are still processing the startling news and experience of Jesus’ resurrection. They do not yet know the impact the resurrection will have on the rest of the world. They don’t even know what they will do next. They just know that the world as they knew it has unravelled. Something new is emerging, but it isn’t yet clear what that is.
The Christian Church names this ‘time between the times’ Ascension Day. Ascension Day used to be a well-known event in the Christian year. It isn’t now, perhaps because the Church doesn’t quite know what to make of it in our culture. How are we to host this story? Do we take the story literally? During his resurrection appearances, Jesus had told them that they were to wait in Jerusalem for the gift of the Holy Spirit to be given to them, although they probably didn’t know exactly what that meant. So, the disciples are together in Jerusalem. And then, Jesus is with them again, talking with them, answering their questions, telling them that they were going to be his witnesses not just in Jerusalem but throughout the whole world. That’s it. Suddenly, he is ‘taken up’ and disappears into a cloud.
How do you picture that? Is it like he stepped onto an invisible elevator? Or was he transported into a waiting UFO?
It gets difficult for many people to know how to understand what is happening here. It’s easier to avoid dealing with this passage. At least, that’s how much of the church has dealt with it.
I want to invite us to come at this story from a different angle. As you know, we have talked for the last year or so about ‘hosting’ the scriptures week by week. You treat the story like it’s a guest in your home. You offer it gracious hospitality, listening, responding, entering into conversation with it.
Today’s guests come with a story of something they witnessed. They struggle to describe what happened to them, putting into words something that is perhaps beyond words. Whatever happened, they experienced the risen Christ rising to God, the ruler of the cosmos. What they know is that the suffering, crucified Jesus not only was raised from the dead by the power of God; this same Jesus now exercises power in the world that is greater than all other powers.
In telling us that story, they are not focused on making sense of the ascension — they are not trying to explain how it happened. They are trying to tell us how the Ascension of Jesus makes sense of their lives. The disciples are “men of Galilee”— they are humble, country folk. None of them were from the movers and shakers of society. Over the three years they spent with Jesus, we have seen that they are not the most courageous or adventurous sorts of people. More than that, at the time when Jesus needed them the most, they betrayed him. They denied him. They abandoned him. Yet, when Jesus was raised, the first thing he did was return to them. For forty days he told them:
You have within you now the power to forgive sins.
I am sending you out into the world and you’ll be doing the kinds of things I have been doing; you’ll be healing the sick and setting prisoners free and preaching good news to all sorts of strangers.
You’ll be impacting people’s lives ways beyond the little corner of the world you have known all your lives.
What he did not tell them, but what actually happened, was that they changed the world. Within a couple of hundred years, small groups of these humble, unqualified, inadequate followers of Jesus had shifted the character of the Roman Empire.
How do you make sense of that? How do you make sense of the transformation that happened in and through the lives of these disciples? How did they become radical revolutionaries who changed the shape of the empire?
“Well,” they said, “our leader conquered death. Our leader was raised to new life. Our leader was taken up into the life-giving, world-transforming power of God. And he passed his Holy Spirit on to us so that we share in the same power. That’s how we make sense of what has happened in our lives.”
That’s our story. That’s the story that makes sense of our lives. We have been baptized into Christ — which means that we, too, have been gifted with God’s Holy Spirit. We have been given power beyond our own. We have been given courage to speak truth and hope and grace into very troubled situations. We have been given words that heal; words that bring the power of forgiveness into broken and damaged lives. We have been given the strength to set people free from systems and addictions that oppress them.
That is the truth about Christ’s Church at all times. It is even the truth about us in this time-between-the-times’ when we feel inadequate, weak, weary, anxious, uncertain about our survival. That didn’t stop the risen Christ working through the first disciples. It isn’t stopping the risen Christ working through us now.
Do you remember the story of Volusianus living in the in-between-time at the fall of the Roman Empire. He asked, “Is this the end of all things? Is time dying? Is God dying?” And his bishop, Augustine, replied, ““Rome may be dying but time is not dying. God is not dying. And, even as the City of Man dies, there are those within its streets who are called to be the builders of the new city.”
That’s who you are — those within the streets and villages and county roads who are called to be builders of God’s new city — a city where the poor are cherished; where the hungry are fed; where the wounded are healed; where forgiveness and reconciliation restore damaged relationships; where God’s generosity and God’s grace transform people’s lives; where truth is spoken so that we can trust each other again.
You may not feel adequate to such holy work. That’s beside the point. This is where God has placed you. This is the reason God has given you the Holy Spirit. The risen Christ, ascended to God’s powerful right hand, is at work in you and through you and among you — as certainly and as mysteriously as he promised. You get to “be where you are” through the power of his grace. Thanks be to God.