Annie Dillard in Teaching a Stone to Talk tells a disquieting story about a British expedition to the Arctic Ocean. The participants loaded their two ships with all the equipment one might find in a posh London club. There were excellent china, engraved silverware, cut crystal, etc. But unaccountably the foolish men took only enough coal for twelve days. Their ships became locked in the unforgiving Arctic ice. After many weeks, the desperate crew attempted to walk to safety. All perished. Two officers died near their sled. Their would-be rescuers found they had been dragging sixty five pounds of table silver.
It would be very easy to criticize this foolish group of men. However, do remember that many of our own selves are weighed down by many negative forces in our Christian lives – bad habits, unhealthy distractions of all kinds, an absence of spiritual structure in our lives, etc. These self-imposed weights prevent or at least postpone our own personal ascensions. It is right and proper that we make much of the Ascension of the Lord today. Yet, we must remember the Master would have us enjoy our own ascension in the now and here. If one can judge from our fascination with space flight, it would appear that we do have an inherent desire to fly into the heavens. We want to somehow transcend ourselves and reach that area where God dwells.
Years ago New York’s Hayden Planetarium in jest looked for volunteers for the 240,000 mile trip to the moon. 18,000 people volunteered within a few days. The Gospel angels would not ask of them, “Why do you stand looking into the sky?” Rather, these adventurers wanted most anxiously to penetrate the skies. Should not each of the baptized be as anxious to kick off the heavy weights tied about our spirits? Should we not experience our own personal spiritual lift-offs? Many of our ancestors in the faith did just that. Why cannot we ascend here and now? There are many people who look to us to see whether Christianity is genuine. They wish to see whether it has touched our own lives in a personal way.
They search to see whether it has caused us to ascend above the common place. For example, one convert was asked what prompted his conversion. He replied very tersely, “A Christian gentleman living on my block. He found time to take care of me when I was ill.” His benefactor had followed the advice of St Jerome, “Begin to be now what you will be hereafter.” That convert is but one of many searchers. Some of them are much younger than he. In recent years, Professor Harvey Cox offered a course at Harvard University in Massachusetts titled “Jesus and the Moral Life.” A staggering one thousand students signed up for the course. According to the busy record-keepers, it was the largest lecture series ever taught by a single professor at the prestigious university. I dare say that each of the students was examining the Christian Cox to see whether this Jesus whom he taught had in any way touched his own life. And why should they not? And, if circumstances allow, why should they not inquire after any ascensions in our own lives? As one sage puts it, “Christianity is not just Christ in you but the ascended Christ living His life through you.”
The nineteenth century Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard summed up our human plight and hopefully our upward direction in a beautifully concise prayer. “O Lord Jesus Christ, save us from the error of wishing to admire you instead of being willing to follow you and resemble you.” The story is told of the deathbed scene of Pope John XXIII. To those fussing about him, the amused Pope said, “Worry not about me. My bags are packed.” His ascension had been made a long time before. He had followed the advice of the savant to the letter: “When it’s time to die, make sure that’s all you have to do.” The recently beatified John XXIII has much to teach us. Perhaps we can begin our own ascension immediately by reflecting on these words of Charles Ghigna: “Do not let fear confine your life inside a shell of doubt. A turtle never moves until his head is sticking out.”