SQUINT
Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord (Year A)
Acts 1: 1-11; Ephesians 1: 17-23; Matthew 28: 16-20
How’s your eyesight? I have to admit that lately I’m doing a lot more squinting than I used to. I’ve been nearsighted most of my life and wear glasses or contacts to see at a distance. But lately, I’m having more and more of a problem seeing those things that are closeup – the print in a book, the text on my phone, the images on my computer. Even the teacup or the pen that I just laid down on the table or desk in front of me seems to have disappeared when I go to pick them up again. Once I was told that, when that happens, it’s the playful spirits of children who are playing a practical joke on you. I like that! It’s a lot better than having to admit that I’m getting old and I can’t see what’s right in front of me anymore. But invariably, if I squint, I ultimately see what’s been there all along. How’s your eyesight?
Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord, when, Jesus, “as he blessed them, parted from them and was taken up to heaven” (Luke 24:51). It’s interesting, if you think about it, that our Easter season seems to begin and end with similar questions. On Easter Sunday, we heard of two men dressed in white at the tomb of Jesus who ask Mary Magdalene, “Who are you looking for? Why search for the living among the dead?” And in today’s First Reading from the Act of the Apostles, we hear that, after Jesus ascended into heaven, the Apostles stood staring up at the sky. Two men dressed in white appear to them and ask, “What are you looking at? 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.”
The early Christians spent a lot of time looking up at the heavens for Christ. The earliest Christian writings reveal a general expectation that Christ would return soon, perhaps even before those who knew him firsthand had died. There’s a legend that, in the early Church, someone (probably a deacon) was appointed to go outside during the celebration of the Eucharist to see if Christ had returned. But gradually, the Church learned that it should be concentrating on building up the Kingdom of God here on earth rather than gazing at the heavens.
But sometimes, we're guilty of doing that too, aren’t we? It occurred to me that maybe a lot of us are like Mary Magdalene and the Apostles . . . often we’re looking for Jesus in the wrong places rather than squinting to see someone that’s right there in front of us.
We pray and ask God to reveal Himself to us in dramatic fashion. We search the sky for a new Miracle of the Sun, or cloud formations in the shape of angels’ wings, a cross or an image of our Blessed Mother to affirm that we’ve been heard, that God is with us. We look at the ordinary occurrences in our lives and sometimes see the phenomena that surrounds them to have supernatural elements in them. Now don’t get me wrong, I believe in all those things. I do believe that God still reveals His presence to us in the extraordinary, the supernatural, the miraculous. And probably we could all share beautiful stories of occasions when those things have happened in our lives. But notice what I just said. “OCCASIONS.” Because if you’re looking for that as the norm – two things: One, you’ve hoping for something that not even the saints experienced; And two - boy, you’re really missing out how God IS with you every day, in so many ways, as your constant companion, guide, Lord, and Savior.
Remember what we sang over and over again during the season of Advent, “O Come, O Come, Emanuel?" Remember the prophesy of the Isaiah, “Behold the virgin shall conceive and bear a son and shall call his name Emmanuel?” Remember how the angel reminded Joseph about that prophesy in his dream when he was told not to be afraid to marry Mary? Jesus is EMMANUEL – GOD WITH US. He still is. Not just at the Incarnation. Not just during biblical times. Not just when He chooses to reveal Himself through dramatic, mighty deeds. God IS with us. And like the disciples in today’s First Reading, maybe we too are being asked, “Why are you looking up at the sky? Don’t look UP . . . look AROUND. This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven may be out of sight, but he’s not gone. He’s here! Now! Always! You just need to squint sometimes to see Him.”
Squint and you will see Him in nature: In the purity of a winter’s new fallen snow. In refreshing spring rains. In the gentleness of a warm summer breeze. In the splendor of autumn’s colors. In the power of an ocean wave. In the tranquility of a clear blue sky. In the brilliance of sunshine. In the majestic splendor of a mountain range. In the vastness of the stars and planets. In the complexity of atoms and cells that make up the human body.
Squint and you will see Him in the words of Sacred Scripture. In their wisdom. In the truth they put forth. In their ability to inspire. In the consolation they bring. In the challenge they offer. In the love they reveal. In their eternal relevance.
Squint and you will see Him in the Church. In the liturgy and sacraments it celebrates. In the Gospel it proclaims. In its continuity back to Jesus, through our bishops – the direct successors to the Apostles. In the two or three, or two or three hundred gathered in His name. In the holiness of the saints. In the blood of the martyrs. In the truth and wisdom of its doctrines and teachings. In its concern for the poor, the sick, the outcast. In its unfaltering respect for human life. In the diversity of gifts of its members. In its openness to all who seek salvation through it.
Squint and you will see Him in others. In the neighbor who rings your doorbell and says, “Hey, I was just going to ShopRite. Do you need anything?” In the family member, friend or fellow parishioner who calls or texts, “I was just thinking about you. You doin’ okay?” In the affirmation of a spouse. In the affection of a child. In the selflessness of our frontliners and first responders. In anyone who’s there for us with good advice, an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on.
Squint and you will see Him in the Eucharist. In ordinary bread and wine that has become divine. In the bread of life. In the cup of eternal salvation. In spiritual food that nourishes both body and soul. In bread for the journey down the pathways of life, as well as for the walk through the valley of death.
I once heard a story about a monk who rode on an ox into town and came to a group of people. The people asked him, “What are you looking for, monk” He said, “I’m looking for an ox.” They all laughed. He rode his ox to the next group of people. They too asked him, “What are you looking for, monk?” He said, “I’m looking for an ox.” And they laughed. He rode his ox to a third group of people and they also asked him, “What are you looking for, monk?” And, again, he said, I’m looking for an ox.” They said, “This is ridiculous! You are a man riding on an ox, looking for an ox!” The monk said, “So it is with you looking for God.”
And so it is with us who look for Christ in the clouds when all the time he is here among us. To see him, sometimes all we need to do is squint.
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