Ascension of the Lord

God has put "all things under his feet." Shouldn't we be worried about such a portrayal of absolute power? 

From Easter morning until Ascension Thursday, Jesus is present and absent, enfleshed and distant, there and not there. He breaks bread and disappears. He shows up like a ghost, and then eats fish like everyone else. At the end of the story he blesses them, and then he withdraws.

It’s striking that the disciples’ response, rather than to be confused or bothered by this yes and no of resurrection, is to head back to Jerusalem and worship with great joy. I think I would have wanted more.

Painter Sawai Chinnawong saturates the outpouring of the Spirit with the colors Thai art traditionally associates with the holy.

In many ways, the Ascension story is too literal for our postmodern sensibilities. We know that the space station is circling the globe just above the clouds.

The preacher faces several challenges in these Ascension texts. How can we present Jesus’ departure from the earth as an occasion for not sorrow but celebration? How to translate the kingship and hierarchical language into imagery that speaks to a world no longer governed by kings and monarchs?

Feminist biblical scholars note a third challenge: How can we counter Luke-Acts' use of the Ascension to exert a degree of social control?

What is it those angels invite us to see on the earth from the Mount of Olives?

The one who puts all things under his feet is doing something in the world.

A few homiletical observations on Acts 1:6-14:

• Luke is always concerned about place. Now, oddly, when it comes to Jesus' ascension, he's not.

When Acts says Jesus is "taken up to heaven," this is not a spatial claim.