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.