Until He Comes Again

I’ll admit that for a long time, I never gave much thought to the Ascension. The Resurrection of Easter morning was such triumphant ending; it was hard to think about all that happened after. But if Christ were physically still present, then obviously there had to be more to the story—visits with the apostles, traveling around, and ultimately, what happened to him/his body since he’s not walking around now.

It's not a hidden mystery of the faith—it’s laid out in Luke, John, and particularly Acts. I proclaimed it every Sunday: “He ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of God the Father almighty.” I just never focused on it, jumping from Easter to Pentecost. Now, when I do think about it, it makes sense to want to gloss over it; it’s wild, inexplicable, unfathomable.

No wonder the disciples were left there, gobsmacked, staring into the clouds.

The Ascension makes us look up, to contemplate the work of the Resurrection and how heaven has been opened. It makes us turned toward the skies and see Christ now ruling as king. It makes us contemplate the vastness of the universe as his human body rises beyond the firmament and time-space continuum. The Ascension seems so lofty, miraculous, heavenly.

But its message is very earthly: we have work to do. We are being left here, now, for a reason. Before he ascends, Jesus tells the disciples that they will be filled with the Holy Spirit and serve as witnesses, not just in Jerusalem but to the ends of the earth. Heaven is open, but they aren’t going there yet.

This Sunday the priest commented in his homily: how long do you think the apostles stayed there looking up that God had to send messengers down to tell them to go? We don’t know how long they stayed, looking, waiting for more. They had left the tomb and look what happened there. It seems reasonable to me to wait around a bit. Or maybe God knew they’d need an extra push, and the angels arrived immediately.

The angels say, “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky? This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven will return in the same way as you have seen him going into heaven.” At first, this seems like even more a reason to stay there; if he’s coming back the same way he left, we better keep an eye out, right?

But what’s more important than how he will return is that he will return. And he left us with instructions. And we better be at work when he comes back.

We can not be spectators to Christ’s work. We can not stand around waiting for miracles. We have been tasked with tending the kingdom on earth. We must be good stewards and strong witnesses. Now is the season of the Holy Spirit. He will light the fire, and we will tend the beacons until he comes again.

St. Germanus of Auxerre

Germanus was born into a noble family in Roman-occupied Gaul in the late fourth century. He was well-educated and studied and practiced law in Rome. It was there he met his wife Eustachia, who was from a popular imperial family. The emperor sent the couple back to Gaul; Germanus was appointed a duke, entrusted with the government of the Gallic provinces.

Germanus lived the life of a noble. He studied law, held large parties, and loved hunting. He even hung his hunting trophies on a large tree which had once been a scene of pagan worship. St. Amator, bishop of Auxerre, worried that by hanging trophies on the pagan tree, Germanus would led the people to associating success and paganism and slip back into pagan practices. When Germanus was away, Amator cut down the tree and burned the trophies.

When Germanus, angered by Amator’s actions, entered the church to kill him, Amator instead locked the doors and gave him the tonsure against his will. The tonsure was the haircut that signaled a life of piety and devotion to God. Amator told Germanus to live as if he would one day be a bishop and ordained him a deacon right there.

The incident had a life-changing effect on Germanus who did indeed start living a life more focused on ecclesiastical matters than imperial ones. When Amator died in 418, Germanus seceded him as bishop of Auxerre. He distributed his wealth to the poor and built a monastery dedicated to Sts. Cosmas and Damian.

In 429 after the Romans withdrew from Britain, a group of Gaulish missionaries went there to address the Pelagian heresy among British clergy. Germanus’ law background came in handy as the Gaulish and British bishops publicly debated and he rhetorically defeated the Pelagians. He also assisted the Britons against a Pictish and Saxon attack. When he went to tomb of St. Alban to give thanks to God, St. Alban appeared to him and told him of impending martyrdom. Germanus took a handful of dirt from St. Alban’s grave back to Gaul.

Sometime around 437, the Armoricans in Brittany rebelled against imperial rule. The Roman government sent in soldiers to severely punish the people. Germanus went to Italy to seek an appeal from the emperor. In Ravenna, he was able to plead his case to empress Galla Placidia and obtained the pardon.

He died in Ravenna of natural causes, having cared for his people as both an imperial and ecclesiastical leader. His feast day is July 31.

So That You Might Believe

“Now Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came” (John 20:24). Thomas was not at the first encounter the disciples had with Jesus after the resurrection. And he is often remembered for his doubt and then touching the Jesus’ wounds in order to believe. While reflecting on Thomas’ story this week, I realized that Thomas is quoted several times in the Gospel of John, and in each instance, it is in regards to following Christ.

First is just after the death of Lazarus. When Jesus wants to return to Bethany, the disciples don’t want to go. There were leaders there who wanted to stone Jesus for blasphemy; it was dangerous. “Then Jesus told them plainly, ‘Lazarus is dead; and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.’ Thomas, called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him’” (John 11:14-16).

Thomas doesn’t understand that Jesus is going to raise Lazarus from the dead. But he does know that Jesus is doing something for them, for their faith. And if Jesus is going to Bethany, Thomas wants to go too, even if it means risking his life.

Then, at the Last Supper, Jesus talks about the betrayal and death that is to come. But he also offers words of comfort: “‘Let not your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me…. I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way where I am going.’ Thomas said to him, ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?’ Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but by me” (John 14: 1, 3-6).

Thomas comes off as logical, but not doubting. He doesn’t follow blindly. He wants clarification, explanation. But he is not looking for loopholes or a way out; he wants to follow Christ. He just wants to understand.

Finally, after the resurrection, Christ appears and speaks to the disciples, who are in hiding. But Thomas isn’t there. Maybe he was the one brave enough to go out and get food. Maybe he was out looking for answers after a horrific week. “So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe’” (John 20:25).

Eight days later, Thomas does see Jesus. “Then [Jesus] said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side; do not be faithless, but believing.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe’” (John 20:27-29).

Jesus lets Thomas touch the wounds so that he can believe. And Thomas immediately recognizes Christ, not just as his friend and leader Jesus, but as God.

Thomas gets the bad rap of being “doubting.” He was the only one not in the room when Jesus first appeared to the apostles after the resurrection. Who’s to say what any other apostle would have done in his position? It’s an incredible claim. The others had seen Christ themselves; Thomas was asked to believe on their testimony alone. Thomas doubts, but Christ gives him the evidence to believe that he asks for. And once provided with the presence of Christ and touching his wounds, Thomas does believe.

Most of us don’t get such tangible, concrete assurance. We are asked to believe on testimony. Where Thomas doubted, we are asked to believe. It doesn’t seem fair that Thomas was left out the first time, and it doesn’t seem fair that we can’t have such tangible evidence now. But even though he had a moment of doubt concerning an unprecedented, cosmic miracle, Thomas was a faithful believer. When Jesus calls for belief, Thomas is right there, seeking understanding but ready to go. He loved Jesus and wanted to follow him, even when it was dangerous or confusing. His is a faith worth emulating.