Curate’s sermon Ascension Day 2025 Acts 1.1-11

The recent launch of the Blue Origin New Shepard spacecraft with an all-female crew on board, Katy Perry among them, generated a number of heated debates in the media. Opinions are dramatically divided, but what is difficult to argue with is that this launch now has its place in the long history of humankind’s fascination with what is above the Earth. Even with all the controversy surrounding it, it marks the point when going beyond the limits of the atmosphere is promoted as a safe and accessible experience, be it only for the extremely wealthy – at least for now. Following in the footsteps of the mythical Dedalus and Icarus who wanted to soar as high as the sun, the much less mythical Leonardo with his flight apparatus, the Wright brothers who succeeded on their mission to take man off the ground, the Soviet and American engineers who sent first humans into space and others who followed, the modern engineering continues to indulge in human fascination with flight, space and all things above the environment we live in. I think it is fair to say that we are more curious about what is up above us than what is down below.
This is also true of the Bible, not just of modern engineering. Mountains have a particular meaning because they are removed from the ground and are closer to the sky. Moses had to go up a mountain to receive the commandments from the Lord. The tower of Babel was constructed so that humans could be closer to heaven. Elijah was taken up to heaven as Elisha was watching in awe. Way before this, in Genesis, something similar presumably happened to Enoch when the Lord took him as well. In Jacob’s dream, the angels were ascending and descending a ladder up to heaven. Everything that is above is the ultimate mystery and the dwelling place of God. It is perceived but unseen. Following this tradition, for the disciples, Jesus’ ascension also would have been seen as him passing through the boundary no ordinary human had ever breached – the ultimate horizon separating the ordinary from the extraordinary. But for us, in the light of the experiences I have mentioned, what is above is fascinating but already significantly demystified. Yuri Gagarin, on his return from space, allegedly said that he had not seen God up there. So how do we understand the Ascension and where does Jesus go when he is lifted up on a cloud?
We cannot and should not dismiss the idea of Jesus literally being taken up to heaven as a fantasy. We were not there, and I think we should always take witness accounts seriously. This is what the disciples saw. At the same time, the narrative of Ascension completes a series of other narratives where Jesus appears to the disciples after his Resurrection. In all of those encounters, he is physically present, but his physicality seems somewhat altered: he appears out of nowhere and disappears again, and nobody seems to recognise him straight away, even if, as Luke tells us describing the supper at Emmaus, the hearts of those speaking with him were burning all along as he was talking. In all post-resurrection appearances of Jesus, there is a sense of knowledge and mystical encounter which cannot be understood in strictly physical and familiar terms. Why should the same not be true of Ascension? The greatness of God’s mystery is such that attempting to translate it into our ‘earthly’ experiences will always be inadequate. However we describe Him and His presence with us, it will probably always have to be metaphorical and allusive in some way.
The ultimate significance of Ascension is the completion of Christ’s earthly journey and the continuation of his eternal union with the Father. It is an event beyond the edge of what is real and tangible to us, and we face an impossible task of putting it into words based on our knowledge and experience. In one system of coordinates, that edge is defined by the sky above which nothing is known; in another, it is defined by quantum physics and the Higgs boson particle; in another, by near-death experiences and heavenly visions. Christ ascends to the place above what is seen and known, whether this is marked by physical altitude or conceptual proximity, and the two are not mutually exclusive. In fact, I imagine many of us don’t think that God is right above the clouds, but even in our liturgy we all affirm that we lift our hearts up to the Lord, suggesting that he is above us. Both can be true at the same time.
Perhaps more importantly, as part of the narrative of Ascension, we are promised that Christ will return the same way, but next time transcending any horizons that separate us now, however we define them, and making that which is now a mystery an overwhelming reality. The disciples are reassured that he will come again and told not to keep staring into the sky. So they stop looking and turn to their ministry. They don’t know it yet, but soon enough they will receive the most precious gift, the promised comforter, the Holy Spirit. The Spirit may not remove the curtain of the unknown but it gives the disciples and, with them, us the freedom to continue living in our current reality but according to Christ – in his light, his joy and his love. As Paul says in Romans 8, those who believe in Christ live in the realm of the Spirit and not in the realm of the flesh. We may not see beyond the horizon but we can taste the sweetness of that union with the Father – through having faith in Christ and entrusting our life to the Spirit. Amen.