Jesus, following his crucifixion and resurrection has appeared to his followers, both women and men, sharing his peace, and reminding them of how the scriptures will guide them in their understanding of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Now after these 40 days, Jesus is going away. He tells them that he will send the Holy Spirit to comfort and guide them in his absence. He tells them to return to Jerusalem, to shelter in place, until God’s promise to them is received.
The disciples, being human, want to know how long they must wait. “Is this the time” they ask Jesus. Is this when we will be able to establish our rule in Jerusalem? Is this when we can finally reopen, get back to some kind of “normal,” advance our authority into the community? Is this when we can get back into the temple and claim it in your name? Is this when we can go out, and through your words, establish the power that should be ours? Jesus says, “No!” ‘It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But I will send the Holy Spirit to you and you will become my witnesses, not just in Jerusalem, but in Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.”
Today we celebrate the Feast of the Ascension. The Ascension marks the end of a poignant period when Jesus leaves his distraught and confused disciples looking up toward heaven. As he departs, Jesus says, “Wait until you are given the power you need. Don’t do anything now; just wait.” We know that their waiting will be rewarded with the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. But they didn’t know that, any more than we know what is on the other side of our waiting.
This is a tender in-between time. So much is unknown. We know that an unseen virus has upended life as we knew it. In what seems the blink of an eye, a novel virus has led to a massive loss of life and unprecedented loss of livelihood and security. To protect each other, we must shelter at home when possible, wash our hands repeatedly, wear face masks when we go out, and keep our distance from other people. In a matter of days, church buildings closed, schools and places of work closed, stores and restaurants shuttered, music, theatre, and art seasons were cancelled, the travel industry came to a shuddering halt. So much we took for granted about our lives has changed. How long will this last? Is this the time yet?
Waiting is hard. It’s like living in suspended space. When we are fed from our birth that we are in control of our lives, times like these shake us to the core. When we are asked to stay at home, avoid public gatherings, resist shaking hands or hugging each other for days and weeks on end, fatigue takes its toll and we can seek ways of coping that are not always helpful. What do we do while we wait?
One temptation of an in-between time is to scan the horizon for all information so we can know the future and act effectively. The disciples wanted Jesus to give them a timeline. He quickly told them no one, including Jesus, knew the times or the periods of God. But, we read everything we can. We watch news on TV and on our computer looking for something that will help us feel like we can understand. We try to wade through all the information and all the conflicting messages. Science is being pitted against politics. And this only leaves us anxious and exhausted because there is so much that is unknown about this novel virus.
Another temptation is just not to look. We can tell ourselves that what we don’t know can’t hurt us. That if we don’t hear the stories of young asylum seekers being sent back without their parents to the dangerous country they fled, we won’t have to feel bad. If we don’t hear the news that many people who are providing essential services, that means daily contact with persons who could infect them with the virus, still do not have the protective equipment they need to keep them and their families safe, we won’t worry. But what we don’t know can hurt us. Not knowing the actions taken on our behalf by our government, actions that jeopardize life and hope, hurt us all. We are witnesses.
Another temptation is to fantasize about a time before that was a beautiful normal that must be returned to as quickly as possible. That there was this greater time when all was right in our world. But this pandemic is showing us that there is much injustice in this land. That while some of us are inconvenienced because we cannot go to a restaurant with our friends, others have no food to feed their children. While some of us fret that we have not had our hair cut in more than 8 weeks, there are many who have no place to wash their hands or wash their clothes to protect themselves and their children against a predatory virus. While some of us rail that we are being deprived of our rights to gather on beaches, there are many who have no reliable housing. Many in a time of pandemic have no health care. And the ongoing drumbeat of racism continues to ravage the bodies of our brothers and sisters. As witnesses in the church, we know that we cannot return to what was once considered “normal.”
So what can we do in this in-between time? Wendell Berry, the poet and farmer says,
It may be that when we no longer
know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know
which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not
employed.
The impeded stream is the one that
sings.[1]
The disciples returned to Jerusalem. There they gathered with others who were “constantly devoting themselves to prayer.” They trusted that Jesus intended great things for them, not only in Jerusalem but to the ends of the earth. They could not know what God had planned for them, but they somehow understood that the only way they could prepare was to pray constantly, to be together in community, to wait patiently for the promised Holy Spirit.
William Bridges, the author of Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes says, it is in interim spaciousness that all possibilities, creativity, and innovative ideas can come to life.”[2]
What is God calling us to be as church in this in-between time? What are we learning about ourselves that will prepare us for after this time? What are we seeing that the world needs where we can play a part? In this time of waiting, how can we open ourselves to all the possibilities that God is creating even in this time of great loss and tragedy.
Loud voices cry for us to open up—”Right now!” despite the danger it presents to us all. We have already lost more than 96,000 mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, children and grandchildren in this country.
A temptation can be to see in our binary way—we are either opened full stop or we are closed full stop. But this week when President Trump said that houses of worship are essential. That what we need is more prayer and so all churches must be opened immediately. I thought immediately about you.
President Trump is right. Houses of worship are essential. We need each other. We need to share with each other God’s love, God intention for abundant life for all God’s children. We must do all we can to avoid hurting each other, and when we do we must stop and seek forgiveness. We must share Good News with everyone. We must love our neighbor, full stop. We must strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being. And we must be constantly at prayer not only with our lips but in our lives.
But what the President does not understand, is that while our buildings are closed, our churches have never been more open. We are reaching people who could not gather with us physically in our building. We are reaching people who may never have desired to join us inside our building. We may not gather in person in a building but we reach people far and wide to pray and sing and study and share the Good News together. We continue to listen and serve alongside those in need. We continue to feed people. We continue to prepare God’s good earth for planting so that nourishment of body and soul can happen. Our buildings are good, but they are not the church. The church is open!
The church is learning everyday how we are being called into a new world where God waits for us, where God has work for us to do that will spread beyond the Berkshires, to wherever people are hungry to wherever people are pushed aside, to wherever people are suffering, to wherever people are alone. This is where the church will be. A virus can change our venue, but it cannot change our desire and our responsibility to love and companion our neighbor.
This in-between time is hard, the news of the world is heart breaking, waiting seems counterproductive until you consider this was what Jesus did to prepare his disciples for their ministry to the ends of the earth. Even while we shelter in place, even while we cannot gather in person, even while we cannot hug those we love, God is at work in us.
Ascension is a liminal time. It is here in this ambiguity and disorientation that we are invited to practice learning the skill of loving God and loving neighbor. In a time that is uncertain, in a time when we are asked to wait in the unknown, we are being prepared to follow God and act as witnesses once this waiting is over.
May the Holy Spirit enliven our hearts and guide us in this fertile in-between time.
[1] Wendell Berry, The Real Work
[2] William Bridges, Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes (William Bridges & Associates, Revised Edition, 2019)