In the Creed we profess that Jesus “ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.” What does that mean? The Catechism calls the Ascension “the irreversible entry of Christ’s humanity into divine glory.” Pope Benedict wrote that “Ascension does not mean departure into a remote region of the cosmos…to some distant star. Jesus,” he wrote,“… is no longer in one particular place in the world as he had been before the ascension; now, through his power he is present and accessible to all—throughout history and in every place.” To be “seated at the right hand of the Father” is not to say that he is resting but that he is reigning. It is a symbolic way of speaking of God’s kingship: his ultimate authority and control over all creation. Jesus is not only a king but also a Priest. He possesses sovereignty but also sympathy. He understands us and intercedes for us before the Father. We are never alone. His care for us never ends.
So, the Ascension points us to heaven—our great hope. As the Collect of the Mass expresses it: “Where the Head has gone before in glory, the Body is called to follow.” We all want to go to heaven but we’d prefer to take our time.
How do we imagine heaven? Pearly gates? Floating along on a cloud in a flowing robe, with a trumpet, or harp? Floating by family and friends—“There’s Joe! He worked at the Department of Taxation until he moved to Florida. At funerals, people speak about the deceased now playing a perfect game of golf, or Nonna now preparing her superb lasagna for expectant angels or Uncle Joe, now at heaven’s poker table. Such poor images might be consoling, but they hardly do heaven justice. Theologians speak of heaven as the “beatific vision.” But it is not merely a vision of God but a union with God.
Here is Fr. Leo Trese’s description of heaven:
“As the soul enters heaven, the impact upon it of the Infinite Love that is God would be so shattering as to annihilate the soul, if God did not give the soul the strength to endure the happiness that is God. It is an instant of pure bliss that will never end. Other joys will be ours—the company of our Jesus and our Mother Mary, the angels, and saints, including our family members and friends. But these joys will be only the tinkling of little bells compared to the crashing symphony of God’s love that beats upon us.”
But perhaps St. Paul expressed it best: “Eye has seen, ear has not heard, nor has it even entered into the mind of man, what things God has prepared for those who love him.”
While the feast moves us to look to heaven, it also moves us to look here below because the Lord also gave the apostles, and us, a mission. The mission is to share with others the hope that is ours, which is evangelization. We think of mission as a foreign venture for priests and religious, but every baptized person must be a missionary. For most of us, our mission is on the domestic front—our homes and workplaces. There is certainly enough work in our own backyards where we find ever growing challenges. We all have a part to play in the evangelization of our culture which is intent on relegating faith to the periphery of life. It seems a mission impossible but we must be vigilant, courageous, and persevering. We can begin by pondering a few questions:
Do I ever express to others that my life would be impoverished if I did not come to Mass each week?
Do my conversations ever reveal that my decisions, my outlook on life are guided by the precepts of my faith?
Do I ever share with others my positive experiences of Mass and Confession?
Have I ever invited anyone to come to Mass with me?
Do others notice the joy my faith gives me?
Pope Francis gives us a great counsel on this feast day:
“We must meet the apathy of the world with the joy that comes from our relationship with God and the Church.