This is the fortieth day of Easter and, as Holy Scripture tells us, our Lord Jesus ascended into heaven on the fortieth day. It is an article of both the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds. Other figures in the Bible were assumed into heaven. That is, their earthly lives ended by their being taken up into heaven. Enoch was one of those persons, as was Elijah, and there is an ancient tradition that the Blessed Virgin Mary was assumed into heaven. Yet, none of these persons’ assumptions into heaven are mentioned in the creeds, only the third of which is not scriptural, and therefore not required of us to believe. I believe we could safely say that Enoch’s and Elijah’s assumptions into heaven, while interesting, bear little if any relation to our relationship with God. Jesus’ ascension into heaven, on the other hand, is crucial to that relationship.
Do you remember when, a few years ago, it was fairly big news that astronomers had discovered that the universe is much bigger than anyone had imagined? That discovery opens up all kinds of possibilities for future scientific inquiry. It also opened up questions of a philosophical and theological nature. The discovery that a universe which we already knew was bigger than our minds can fathom is really significantly larger even than that, meant that our little piece of the universe is even a smaller fraction of the whole than we once believed. In Physics Today, Bertram Schwarzschild reports that the expansion of the universe is actually increasing. He quotes University of Chicago theorist Michael Turner: “If this observation is correct, a nonvanishing cosmological constant is, of course, the first thing that comes to mind.” I’m sure that was the first thing that came to your mind! He continues, “But that would be the least interesting explanation.” Dr. Turner, do I have an explanation for you!
There has been quite an evolution in the way we human beings view ourselves and our place in creation. Before Copernicus people generally believed that the earth was the center of the solar system—that everything revolved around us. Then we found out that the earth revolved around the sun, and that our solar system is part of a galaxy with many solar systems, and that our galaxy is only one of myriad galaxies. And now we find there is much more even than we had imagined before. The earth is indeed a small part of creation.
When this new information came out a few persons asked me, at different times, if this new information causes any problems for theology—specifically Christian theology. And in each case, what the person meant was, “How can humanity be in any way significant in the face of such immensity?” It is a most logical question, but it is certainly anything but a new question. David, writing hundreds of years before Christ, had the same question, as well as an answer: When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars you have set in their courses, what is man that you should be mindful of him? The Son of man that you should seek him out? You have made him but little lower than the angels; you adorn him with glory and honor; you give him mastery over the works of your hands; you put all things under his feet; all sheep and oxen, even the wild beasts of the field, the birds of the air, the fish of the sea, and whatever walks in the paths of the sea. O Lord our Governor, how exalted is your Name in all the world!”
David reveals something of the high calling of humanity, something about us that can be described even with the words glory and honor. We have lost so much of that understanding in our culture today, and I believe the loss of that understanding causes us to expect much less of ourselves, for if we see glory in humanity we are much more likely to strive to live up to that standard than if we see something much more mundane.
Yet, David does not have the whole picture. The incarnation, passion, death, and resurrection of Christ had not yet occurred—and Christ had not yet ascended into heaven. His psalm merely prefigures a glory that we could never have imagined. Almighty God has taken flesh—the Creator of a universe more immense than any of us can imagine—and become a human being. He has taken the sin of the world upon himself and died for that sin. He was raised from death, and one of the end results of the incarnation was the taking of human flesh into the Godhead, a glory given to humanity as immense and unimaginable as the immensity of the universe. Of course, none of this is provable. It is a matter of faith. It must be lived into in order to be experienced. A glory unimaginable has been bestowed upon humanity through the ascension of Jesus Christ to the right hand of the Father.
But that is not the only meaning of the ascension. It was only when the bodily presence of the risen Lord was removed from the earth that he could become present for all people for all time. This presence is available to all who call upon him to guide, encourage, convict, comfort. As John Keble wrote: “Till resting by the incarnate Lord, once bleeding, now triumphant for my sake, I mark him, how by seraph hosts adored, he to earth’s lowest cares is still awake. The sun and every vassal star, All space, beyond the soar of angel wings, Wait on his word and yet he stays his care, For every sign a contrite suppliant brings, He listens to the silent tear, For all the anthems of the boundless sky.”
What should be our response to the knowledge of such glory bestowed upon us as well as to such intimate care by our Creator? As members of his Body we are extensions of his compassion.
Once again, Keble says it beautifully: “And shall our dreams of music bar our ear, To his soul-piercing voice for ever nigh? Nay, gracious Savior—but as now, Our thoughts have traced Thee to thy glory throne, So help us ever more with thee to bow, Where human sorrow breathes her lowly moan.”
I cannot answer the question why God has chosen to honor so highly this part of his creation. I can only say that I have experienced and continue to experience his forgiveness, his love, his guidance, his very presence and I look forward to knowing the answer why when he so chooses to reveal it! In the meantime, I seek to live, by his grace, in such a way that my life reflects that presence.
Two lives that reflected the presence of Christ in a powerful way were the lives of George and Mary Ann Bloodworth. Tonight we will bless the new icon over the high altar arch that has been given in loving memory of George and Mary Ann. It is the icon of Christ the King of Glory and it is especially appropriate that we are blessing this icon on Ascension Day. The icon celebrates the kingship of Christ, which is one of the implications of the ascension of Jesus into heaven. Just as the disciples’ eyes were lifted to heaven as their Lord and ours ascended, so our eyes are lifted heavenward as we approach the altar, gazing upon the icon.
There is a moment in the liturgy that is the focus of the icon. It is the Sanctus, the point where we sing with angels and archangels, “Holy, Holy, Holy Lord, God of power and might. Heaven and earth are filled with your glory.” Surrounding the head of Christ the King of Glory is the phrase “Holy, Holy, Holy” in four languages: English, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh, Yaweh Sabaoth in Hebrew; Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, in Latin; and ‘Agios, ‘Agios, ‘Agios in Greek.
And just as music is such a large part of our liturgical life, we see that the angels are playing musical instruments, accompanying the singing of the Sanctus.
The icon begins on the right side, with the image of Jesus crucified, shedding his blood for the life of the world. It moves toward the center, with the head of Christ the King of Glory, and ends on the left, with the angle holding the chalice filled with the blood of Christ and the pelican, the symbol of Redeemer, feeding her young with her own blood. As we will approach the altar to receive the Body and Blood of Christ, the icon reflects the centrality of the eucharist in our faith, for the entire icon is bathed in the blood of Christ.
What a fitting memorial this is to George and Mary Ann, whose lives were centered in Christ, and who loved this parish, and I am sure continue to love this parish in larger life.