“I tell you the truth: it is better for you that I go”(John 16:7). Over the past several months, I’ve been praying with this simple verse as I face the reality of my eldest son’s high school graduation and transition to college. My wife and I are living our own version of the Ascension — the way we relate to our son is changing, bringing both grief and anticipation. The boy we have been raising for 18 years is gone; now he is a man. I can imagine the disciples feeling the same way when Jesus ascended into heaven — Jesus’ parting was, initially, heartrending. It became, however, a doorway for the Spirit — a surprising, unspeakably powerful presence that changed the world. In my son’s “ascension” to the next stage of his life, he will develop his gifts in service to the wider world. This will allow his fruitfulness to return to us all, in a way we can only imagine. But first he must “go away.”
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The story of Jesus’ Ascension and the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost has captivated the imagination of every generation of Christians because it is an archetypal story. It’s a pattern that is repeated in the human experience again and again. Understandably, we want to cling to what we know, as Mary Magdalene did when she saw Jesus raised (John 20:17), yet life requires that we let go and trust that something new will reveal itself. I have experienced this in many areas of my life — as I’ve struggled to come to terms with the deaths of ones I love, when a colleague departs for a new job, or when a friend moves to a far-away city. Part of me resists the change, and I grieve the loss of what was. With patience and time, however, I have unfailingly experienced the blessings that come with these ascensions — for example, a deep sense of abiding spiritual connection with those who pray for me from their heavenly place, or satisfaction of seeing the growth and success when an old friend flourishes in new circumstances.
The theologian and writer Ronald Rolheiser, OMI, says that the spirituality and theology of the Ascension can be summarized like this: “Refuse to cling to what once was, let it go and let it bless you, so that you can recognize the new life you already have with and within you and receive its spirit.” He observes that the Ascension is a symbol of a paradox of the human condition: “we all reach a point in life where we can only give our presence more deeply by going away so that others can receive the full blessing of our spirits.”
Jesus’ parting on that first Ascension Thursday paradoxically allowed him to be present to the Church in a way not previously possible. His inspiration could now be known in the Spirit, the one who stands beside us as a helper, counselor, and comforter. What’s more, by his Ascension, Jesus becomes our advocate before the Holy One in the highest heaven; a brother who stands before God on our behalf. So much grace was born of his parting!
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I am learning, achingly, that our children are making their own ascension journeys when they leave us — when they take the nurturing we gave them and ascend to a more mature, more abundant life; when they take another step toward becoming the people they were created to be. Watching them blossom into young adults will bring many blessings back to us. I anticipate the pride of seeing them in their first professional job, being invited to dinner at their first apartment, or watching them use their gifts in service to God’s dream for the world. Yet sometimes I feel like the disciples, looking up at the sky, astonished (Acts 1:6-11). I’m sure they wanted to cling to the Jesus they knew, as I want to cling to the boy I know. Yet they were compelled by the Spirit into the next chapter of the story, trusting in God’s dream for them, trusting that God’s grace would be enough — just as I must do now.
