the significance of ascension

Last Thursday I was invited to give the meditation at an Ascension Day service.

I chose to focus on the similarities and differences between the ascension of Jesus Christ (Acts 1:1-11) and an Old Testament ascension, the ascension of Elijah (2 Kings 2:1-18).

Both the ascension of Elijah and the ascension of Jesus take place in the company of others.  Jesus ascends from the presence of the eleven disciples on the Mount of Olives.  Elijah ascends from the presence of his disciple, Elisha, on the far side of the Jordan River.  In the Elijah narrative, however, it is not Elisha alone who is witness to the ascension of his master.  At each stage of the journey toward Elijah being taken up to heaven, a "company of prophets" meets Elisha and asks him, "Do you know that today the Lord will take your master away from you?" (2 Kgs 2:3, 5)  From Jericho, the last point of departure before the Jordan, the company of prophets follows Elijah and Elisha at a distance, presumably to see what will happen (2 Kgs 2:7).  While the company of prophets waits on the Jericho side of the Jordan, Elijah and Elisha cross over to the place from which Elijah then ascends in wind and fire.  Though it was only Elisha who crossed over with his mentor, the company of prophets also seems to have known that Elijah ascended.  When Elisha returns from the other side of the Jordan, the company of prophets recognize not only that "the spirit of Elijah rests on Elisha" but that "it may be that the Spirit of the Lord has caught [Elijah] up and thrown him down on some mountain or in some valley" (2:16).  Thus, even though the company of prophets recognize that spiritual authority has passed from Elijah to another, their proposal to Elisha is to search for Elijah, as though to restore Elijah to his prior role.  Elisha disapproves of their proposal, knowing that Elijah cannot return, yet under pressure permits the company to search.

The search of the company of prophets for the ascended prophet is mirrored in Acts 1 by the "looking up toward heaven" of the disciples after their ascended Lord.  And, just as Elisha warned the company of prophets not to search for Elijah, so "two men in white robes" admonish the disciples not "to stand looking up toward heaven?" (Acts 1:10-11).  Their message to the disciples left behind is a variation on Jesus' last words to them before he was taken up.  The two men assure the disciples that Jesus will come again "in the same way as you saw him go into heaven", which is to say that for the time being Jesus has really departed from them as a person of flesh and blood.  The disciples are not to look into heaven, for they cannot bring back the one whom God has taken away.  Jesus, similarly, had just previously told the disciples that "it is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority" (1:7); just as the disciples' gazing toward heaven could not bring Jesus back, so the disciples' longing for Jesus to now "restore the kingdom to Israel" could not make it so (1:6).  In either case, the disciples are looking for their leader and prophet to assume his prior position in their lives.  Their desire with regard to Jesus is as the desire of the company of prophets with regard to Elijah; they wish to bring back to earth the ascended holy man.

Jesus' plan for his disciples' lives is entirely different from their own.  Rather than doing the work of the kingdom in their stead, Jesus will empower the disciples to do God's work in his stead.  "You", he says to the disciple band, the New Testament company of prophets, "will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth" (1:8).  The work is no less Jesus', but the power for kingdom work and witness has been transferred from the one prophet of God to the many; witness moves from the flesh and blood body of Christ to the spiritual body of his followers.  By the power of his Holy Spirit, the church will do the work of the kingdom of God until Jesus comes again.   

Thus it is that the disciples realized in their lives what the company of prophets could not realize in theirs.  Because they did not wish to see Elisha's master, their master, taken away, because they went looking for him rather than assume the responsibility of his mission, they did not receive, as Elisha did, the spirit that once rested on Elijah.  But for the mercy of God through his messengers, the disciples of Jesus would have gone the way of the company of prophets.  As it was, however, they remembered and heeded the words of Jesus "not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father" (Acts 1:4).  Their commitment to follow Jesus was met with the power to follow Jesus from Jerusalem into the world at Pentecost.

In our own time, the church, like the company of prophets and the disciples gazing toward heaven, often rather cedes the work of God to holy individuals.  The church too would rather search for Elijah than take up his mantle (see 2 Kgs 2:13).  As a result, the spirit that might have passed to the whole company of God's people passes only to solitary Elishas.  The Protestant ideal of the priesthood of all believers goes unfulfilled.  In the words of John Howard Yoder, the church of "no one ungifted, no one not called, no one not empowered, and no one dominated" is "the reformation that has yet to happen."

One final word on the ascension of Jesus Christ: What is the significance of the ascension?  The ascension lies between resurrection and Pentecost.  The ascension makes possible the conferring of the power of the resurrection of Jesus to his followers at Pentecost.  If Jesus does not go away, he cannot come to us by his Spirit.  If he does not leave us empty through his ascension, he cannot fill us by his Spirit.  Perhaps then the ascension of Jesus is a call to the church for preparation and purification in anticipation of empowerment for service and mission in the world.

-Joe

The quote from John Howard Yoder comes from Body Politics: Five Practices of the Christian Community Before the Watching World (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1992), pp. 59-60.

sign of protection

As we did in 2010, we're leading a discipleship class at a local congregation, Harvest Time Ministries, on Wednesday evenings.  Since largely the group has changed since we last taught the class, we're again beginning with lessons from the gospels, primarily from the parables of Jesus.  The insight I'd like to report on here, however, comes not from my lesson but from the testimony of a man who was given a chance to speak after the lesson.  The purpose of his speaking was to clarify some things to the church about why he had been absent recently, and to reaffirm his support of the pastor.  Within that explanation, making a connection which I did not fully understand, the man narrated part of the story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal on Mt. Carmel (1 Kings 18).

The man's narration climaxed in the detail about the self-lacerations of the prophets of Baal in their plea to their god.  He contrasted their blood that flowed to no effect to the blood of Jesus which is "all that we need".  I don't know all that was in the man's mind when he made this application; I do know that to even make the application suggests a need within the cultural setting to hear such a message.  That need, I would guess, is the desire for healing of which the shedding of blood is often involved.  The story describes how the prophets of Baal, "as was their custom . . . cut themselves with swords and lances until the blood gushed out over them" (1 Kgs 18:28).  I immediately thought of the many people from this context who exhibit scars on their faces, signs of their own, or perhaps their parents', attempt to insert protective or healing traditional medicine (muthi) through incisions in the face.  In such a setting, the blood (life) of Jesus that protects us without the shedding of more blood is good news indeed.

-Joe

the grace of sheer silence

During this period of relating to the North American church while away from South Africa, I’ve attended two sessions of a men’s Bible study in which we read the texts from the lectionary. Last week we read 1 Kings 19:9-18, the story of Elijah’s encounter with God at a cave. The study group discussed a number of themes elicited by the story, one of which—the problem of violence and the will of God—I will comment on below.

The violence surrounding the text, of course, is Elijah’s slaughtering of the prophets of Baal after they have been defeated in the great contest on Mt. Carmel (1 Kgs 18:40). It seems to be Elijah’s violence, in fact, which has led him to the cave. As the story goes, setting the context for Elijah’s wanderings after his triumph on Mt. Carmel, “Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword (1 Kgs 19:1). To this report from Ahab, her husband, Jezebel responds by swearing that she will make Elijah’s life “like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow” (1 Kgs 19:2). In other words, because Elijah acted to kill the prophets of Baal—after Yahweh had already defeated them by fire on Mt. Carmel—Jezebel now vows to kill Elijah as he killed others. Perhaps Jezebel would have acted to destroy Elijah on the basis of the results of the contest alone, on the basis of her wounded pride that her gods were not as powerful as Elijah’s God. Even so, the text seems to emphasize that it was the violence following Yahweh’s victory—Elijah’s decision to take up the sword against the false prophets—which further incited Jezebel, Elijah’s enemy, against him. That explains, therefore, why the text seems to separate the simple results of the contest in the preceding narrative (1 Kgs 18)—“all that Elijah had done” (19:1)—from Elijah’s activity following the victory of Yahweh—“and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword” (19:1). It also explains why Jezebel justifies her intent to kill Elijah on the basis of the fate of the prophets of Baal at the hands of Elijah. Elijah’s act of violence, not the victory of his God over false gods, is that which has put him to flight—and led him now to the mouth of the cave.

Against that background, one does not read Elijah’s case before God in the ensuing story as a righteous plea but as a plea of self-righteousness. For when Yahweh summons him at the cave—“What are you doing here Elijah?” (1 Kgs 19:9)—Elijah lists not the violence he’s committed but the violence committed against him and his people: “for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away” (1 Kgs 19:10). It is also to such a response that God responds in turn with, as on Mt. Carmel, a demonstration of God’s power—though not as Elijah expects. Having just received, on Carmel, wind which brought a drought-breaking rain (18:44-45), “a great wind” passes before Elijah in the cave—“but the LORD was not in the wind” (19:11). Having just received, on Carmel, fire from heaven, fire passes before Elijah in the cave—“but the LORD was not in the fire” (19:12). Rather, it is only after a “sound of sheer silence” that the voice of God speaks (19:12ff.).

Elijah might have learned, first from Carmel’s fire, then from Carmel’s wind and rain, that God’s grace was sufficient for him. Through no effort of his own, the fire fell from heaven to put his enemies to flight, the wind and rain to water a dying land. In the narrative, however, Elijah uses grace as a cause for sinning; he capitalizes on the defeat of Baal to slaughter his prophets “with the sword” (19:1). Elijah turns a victory of the Spirit into a battle against flesh and blood (see Eph 6:12). Fleeing from grace, Elijah finds himself within the wrath of retribution—the vow of a wicked queen to kill him as he himself killed.

But God is persistent. Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more (Rom 5:20); though Elijah might have known the character of God in fire and rain, God visits him again in the “sound of sheer silence”. If Elijah does not yet understand, God continues to reveal Godself to Elijah, waiting for the day when he—when we—might understand.

The “sound of sheer silence” also did not awaken Elijah to the fullness of the presence of God. Following the sound, Elijah repeats his prior speech and, within the permissive will of God, is commanded to anoint others for further acts of violence (19:14-17). Because Elijah, like Moses before him, could not break the cycle of retribution, he was not declared—by the voice that came after him on another mount—to be “my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased” (Mt 17:5). That was reserved for “Jesus alone” (Mt 17:8), the Word who spoke to Elijah in “sheer silence” and speaks to us through Elijah’s story.

-Joe

“a little cloud”

In his parting words last week to three churches which had gathered for a weekend of study and fellowship in the Northern Cape, Pastor Ntapo of Harvest Time Ministries in Mthatha referenced the story of Elijah following his showdown with the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18). At Elijah’s command, his servant finally spots rising from the sea “a little cloud no bigger than a person’s hand” (1 Kings 18:44). It was, of course, from that same “little” cloud that “the heavens grew black with clouds and wind; there was a heavy rain” (18:45). The cloud was, for Pastor Ntapo, a sign of the way in which godly relationships grow—starting small, they grow to bring refreshing rain to a drought-stricken land. Whether or not that word was signifying a growing cloud of relationship between the three specific churches gathered on that day, it does signify for Pastor Ntapo the relationship that has been forged over the last four years between his congregation and Mennonites, represented by us. That relationship, like the cloud, at first seemed insignificant—scarcely visible to those outside and growing beyond the comprehension of those within—but is now above the horizon. Like Elijah, we have heard the “sound of rushing rain” (18:41), and we’re trusting God to bring the “heavy rain” in God’s own time.

-Joe

Glory of glories

More than a year ago, I recorded some discoveries I had made on the transfiguration story from the gospels (Mk. 9:2-8; Mt. 17:1-8; Lk. 9:28-36) in conversation with African traditional religion. That entry reflected preparation I had done for teaching the story at Bethany Bible School. Finally, in May, that opportunity came to pass. I used the story as the Bible Study text for my lesson on the synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke.

The story is a good one for getting at some of the thematic differences between the gospels. Taking Mark as the narrative baseline for the synoptic tradition in general, one can see through the transfiguration story the distinct ways in which Matthew and Luke built upon the story. Matthew, for example, adds to Mark’s account the description of Jesus coming to the disciples, touching them, and telling them not to fear after they have witnessed the dramatic scene, entered the cloud, and heard the voice. Jesus comforts the disciples because they have fallen “on their faces” in response to the cloud and the voice. This is the second usage of “face” in the text; the first occurs at the outset of the story when Jesus’ “face” begins to shine a brilliant white. Whereas in Mark it is Jesus’ clothes which turn white, Matthew adds also that Jesus’ face shines. In doing so, Matthew intensifies the comparison between Jesus and his prophetic predecessor, Moses, whose face also used to shine when communing directly with God. Matthew’s intensification of the comparison between Jesus and Moses is commensurate with his gospel’s broader emphasis of Jesus the Law Giver/Teacher who gives the new law which fulfills the law that was given to Moses.

Luke’s account, on the other hand, reveals his own emphases. Jesus is transfigured while he is “praying”, something he did regularly according to Luke. Moreover, the city of “Jerusalem” again figures in this story as it does throughout Luke. Luke alone informs the reader of what specifically Moses and Elijah were talking about with Jesus: the exodus that he was about to accomplish “from Jerusalem.”

It is also from Luke that I was able to make my major connection between the world of the text and the traditional thought-world of my Xhosa audience. As pointed out in my earlier entry, an African reader might quickly notice in this story what a westerner might not, namely, that Jesus is communicating with his dead ancestors. Traditional African Religion was/is based upon communication with the ancestors. The story then might be read as a justification of communication with the dead.

It is not always or perhaps often appropriate to make comparisons between Jewish religion pre-Christ and African religion pre-Christ. There are significant differences, the main one being that Jewish faith was oriented toward the one God, Yahweh, to the exclusion of other gods, whereas African religion was oriented functionally toward many spiritual mediators or “gods” in spite of the fact that a concept of the one Creator God did also exist. Still, for the purpose of proclaiming a text, in this case the transfiguration story, it works to place Moses and Elijah in place of the ancestors of African traditions. Indeed, in this story, Moses and Elijah appear personally to the disciples whom Jesus had led with him up the mountain--as a deceased African grandfather might appear to his progeny in a dream. Peter’s response to the sight, likewise, is functionally equivalent to the decisions many African Christians have made with Christ—put him alongside, not necessarily in place of or even higher than, the other spiritual authorities in one’s life (we must also say that westerners have not often placed Christ in a superior position to the particular “powers and principalities” of their cultures).

But back to Luke. What of his contribution to the story? Luke, alone among the synoptic evangelists, dwells with suspense upon the characters that turn out to be Moses and Elijah. That is, Luke initially does not say, as Matthew and Mark do, that “there appeared with him Moses with Elijah” but rather, simply, “two men”. Who are these two men? Only then does Luke answer: Moses and Elijah. Going on: “they appeared in glory and were speaking about his exodus which he was about to accomplish from Jerusalem”. Luke returns to the appearance of glory once more thereafter: “Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep, but because they stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him.” Whereas in the first appearance of glory to the disciples, glory includes three—Moses, Elijah, and Jesus—in the second appearance of glory only one remains. He alone is glorious; Moses and Elijah are again, merely, “men.”

Of course, this is also how all of the synoptic evangelists conclude the narrative. The voice with the cloud acclaims “my beloved Son; listen to him” after which only one—"Jesus alone”—remains.

The ancestors used to look glorious to our eyes. But when Jesus came, we saw true glory.

-Joe

prophetic loneliness

I have an excess of material in my heart and mind from studying in preparation for teaching a lesson on "the prophets" for Bethany Bible School earlier this month. I gave a shortened version of what I did at BBS for our Tuesday evening fellowship group this week. The last two Sundays at Mandela Park I preached on the experience of two different prophets, Elijah and Isaiah. In the case of Elijah I focused on his showdown with the prophets of Baal (1 Kings 18). In the case of Isaiah I found myself preaching on his call vision of the Lord in chapter 6.

Perhaps the unifying theme of the stories of Elijah and Isaiah is their loneliness. As people called to stand for their God, to speak his words to a rebellious people, they experience widespread, nearly total, rejection.

"To be a prophet is to be alone"--this is how I put it.

It is, therefore, precisely in their loneliness that the prophets embody the faithfulness that God intends for all his people. Standing for God, the prophets can no more rely for support on a people who have rejected God. The only thing, the only one, left for the prophet is the One. The prophet's support has been reduced to God. The prophet's only dependence is God. The prophet thus is privileged to know in his or her own person or very being that which is fundamentally true: that God is the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer of the universe. "There is no other", as God put it through Isaiah (Isa. 45:5).

One of the biggest dangers for my noble faith tradition, the Anabaptist, is mistaking the God who holds our life for the human community. Our language sometimes suggests that the community of the church is God. "We discern together," we say, "in the gathered community of believers". We speak as if this in itself is a safeguard against sin and the running amok of injustice, a balance of powers of sorts not unlike the set-up of the democracy in the land in which I have heard these words (America, the land of my earthly citizenship). We forget, however, that the early Anabaptists from whom we have inherited were not so much in their beginning an established faith community as they were a coming together of convicted individuals rebelling each in his own sphere against the rebellion of the established church. The Anabaptists were first and foremost lonely individuals, rejected at large by the culture in which they were born, eventually coming together to form an alternative community in the world. In the land of my birth, that alternative community is no longer alternative; it is dominant. The community has triumphed over the individual alone before her God.

The irony of all this is that the health of the community is dependent upon the holy loneliness of every one of its members. Every person needs to face that place in which they are rejected, in which the only one they have to go to is God. Each person needs to confront that one nagging fear, the avoidance of which has become his dependence, his security, his god. Only then, having found himself alone, does one discover that he is not alone. He is with his God. She is with her God.

In this light the cross of Jesus is the witness of prophetic loneliness par excellence. The crucifixion is the final cycle of prophetic loneliness opening up to holy communion. Jesus experiences on the cross that which he experienced numerous times on the way to the cross. Alone with the tempter in the desert, eventually finding strength in the Word of God. Deserted by companions in Gethsemane, persevering in prayer to his "Abba". Finally, on the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me" ends in "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit" (Mk. 15:34; Lk. 23:46). The final experience of human loneliness is God's fullest embrace. Loneliness and communion are two sides of the same coin in the life of God.

The prophet knows that life, and he is desperate for others to know what he knows.

-Joe