The Hope in Absence

Gospel: Luke 24:44-53

Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised, so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple blessing God.

Sermon: The Rev. Dr. Maryann Amor

Think about those times when you’ve experienced absence. Maybe you had house guests who filled your home with chatter and life—and then they leave, and everything is quiet again. Maybe it’s someone you love who passes away or moves away, then you find yourself cooking dinner for one instead of two. Maybe it’s the loss of a pet, their bowls sit empty and their toys are untouched. The house feels different, sad, and lifeless. These moments of absence can overwhelm us. They bring grief and a deep sense of loss.

Today, on the Feast of the Ascension, we are invited to think about absence, but in a new way…in a hopeful way. The Gospel reading we just heard comes from the very end of Luke’s Gospel. Jesus has risen from the dead. He has appeared to his disciples many times. And now, he is about to leave them for good. He leads them out to Bethany. He lifts his hands and blesses them. And as he is blessing them, he is taken up into heaven.

Luke doesn’t give us details about how this works—there is nothing about the science or mechanics of how he rises or what it looks like. All we are told is that he leaves and the disciples are left behind. Jesus’ risen presence is replaced by his absence.

Based on our own experiences of absence, we might expect the disciples to be heartbroken. We might expect grief, confusion, maybe fear. But that’s not what happens. Instead, we are told they worship him, return to Jerusalem with great joy, and spend their days in the temple praising God. Surprisingly, their response to Jesus’ absence is joy—there is no sorrow at all. That doesn’t mean they felt no loss. Their joy doesn’t erase the reality of absence; it means they saw beyond the loss to a deeper truth. Why does Jesus’ leaving—his absence—not crush them? Why does it not fit with our own experiences of absence?

It is in wrestling with these questions that the deep hope of the Ascension might be found.

To understand their joy, we have to consider what the Ascension actually means. One theologian writes: “The ascension of Jesus into heaven alters our picture of God. We can no longer define God in a way that leaves God completely detached from human experience.” In other words, when Jesus rises to heaven, he doesn’t leave humanity behind. Instead, he takes it—takes us—with him into the very presence of God.

His wounds, his suffering, his love for the world, his entire experience of what it means to be a human being… all of this he takes to heaven, all of this goes into the heart of God.

And this changes everything. God is no longer far off, living up in heaven, untouchable, but now God is profoundly close to us, united with us, through Jesus’ experience of being a human being, God knows our struggles in the flesh, God knows the ache of grief, the joy of friendship, the challenges of everyday life.

If we view the ascension in this way, we can see how Jesus’ absence is not a complete loss, but it institutes a new way for the disciples and us to relate to God. God now becomes a source of comfort and strength, because God understands us so deeply, both in the good things we go through and the bad.

Jesus’ absence is, then, overshadowed by this new awareness of God…who deeply knows and shares human experiences…God who is with all of humanity, even if we can’t always see it. And in this there is so much to be joyful about, so much to praise God about.

So when we experience pain, when we confront absence—when the house is too quiet, when we ache with loneliness, when loss feels like it is just too much—our call today is to remember the ascension, remember the disciples’ joy. We need to remember that Jesus took every difficult experience of broken humanity into the life of God, and this connects God with us on a deep, profound level…all of our moments of emptiness are held in divine hands. And this is why Jesus’ absence doesn’t have the final word…not in the disciples’ story, and not in ours.

Let us pray, Gracious and loving God, You are not far off. You are not absent from us. Because Jesus has taken all of who we are into Your heart, we know You understand us completely. You know what it is to be human— to rejoice and to weep, to hunger and to hope. You know exactly what each of us is going through, even when we struggle to put it into words. Thank You for being present with us— in our pain and in our joy, in our questions and in our faith. You are with us, all of us, now and always.

Amen.