Open Minds
A Sermon by Brent J. Eelman
Abington Presbyterian Church
May 24, 2009 (Ascension Sunday)

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.

As many of you know, I grew up on the campus of Rutgers University. My father was a professor at the seminary, and I was what was affectionately known as a “seminary brat”. In 1961, when I was ten years old, my father was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship to study in the Netherlands, the country of his birth. He would spend 9 months at the University of Utrecht completing his doctorate in Historical Theology. Professors were not highly paid at that time and the family did not have enough funds for all of us to go with him and so he went by himself. I adored my father and his leaving for nine months surely had an impact on my life. If I were to do a psychological autobiography, that would be one of the pivotal life changing events.

On a September morning of 1961 our family gathered at the dock in Hoboken to see my father leave on the Nieuw Amsterdam, a large passenger ship. I can remember the food that I ate later that day, macaroni and cheese at Howard Johnson's restaurant. In the evening, for the next nine months, I would put myself to sleep imagining the ship, not going out to sea, but returning with my father. I was ten years old, going into fifth grade, and that was the year I did a lot of growing up. It was a year for me to learn a lot. I discovered the joy of reading. I became an avid newspaper junkie, (in part because of my father’s proximity to the Berlin Wall). I discovered football and became an ardent fan of Rutgers University of Football. I developed a prayer discipline, praying each evening for his return. And I learned the meaning hope… During that time my mind and spirit literally opened up and bloomed.

When someone leaves our lives, (whether it be to spend time abroad, to serve in our military in war overseas, or through death), we, who are left behind, experience a trauma of sorts. It is a time of sadness, tears, grief and introspection. But, it is also a time for growth, creativity, and maturation.

Today is the Sunday of the Ascension. It is not something that we Protestants pay too much attention to, but it was one of the four primary feast days in the history of the Church. The gospel of Luke tells the story of Jesus, saying good bye to the eleven disciples and then ascending into the heavens to be with God. I believe that it was an event that was sad, even grief filled. They had spent three years together and it was coming to an abrupt end. But I believe that it was also a creative moment. It enabled the disciples to move from dependence upon Jesus to maturation. It also created the foundation for the church that has existed for 2000 years hence. Today, I want to examine this story, with these two points in mind: 1) The gift that is given through in absence, and 2) The opening of the mind.

I

Luke does not tell us what was going through the minds of the disciples, or Jesus at the moment of his ascension into heaven, and so we can only imagine. The disciples were probably afraid. They had gone through his death and they thought it was the end of things, but now they knew he was really leaving. They were wondering, “Can we get along without him?”

I imagine what might have gone through Jesus’ mind. Was he wondering if this motley band of followers, (11 guys who heretofore didn’t “get it”), would be able to get along without him? Was he concerned about them continuing his work? Did he worry that things would fall apart in his absence? Those concerns and worries would have been legitimate. Think about it. The biggest concern that James and John had was who would be sitting on Jesus’ right hand in eternity. Peter, the leader of the group, might also have been cause for concern. Six weeks earlier, he cowardly denied that he even knew Jesus. Three times! When Jesus spoke to them about the necessity of his suffering, Peter argued, “You don’t have to suffer.” This was the leader of the group!

But Jesus was not concerned about leaving. He knew that if these disciples were to spiritually mature and his message was take root in their lives, he would have to leave. He knew the power of absence.

We clergy often talk about the importance of being present. We even call it the ministry of presence. We know the importance of being there at special moments in people’s lives: birth, death, marriage, baptism, illness, confirmation and other moments. We are deeply aware the power of merely being there.

Presence is important….. but we forget the power and importance of absence. I believe that there is also a ministry of absence which was modeled by Christ at the event of his ascension. Growth, maturation, and the embodiment of hope often take root in that rich gulf of absence.

One of the archetypal moments in my relationship with my daughter occurred when I taught her to ride a bicycle. It was not easy…. Daddy’s don’t like to see their children fall and scrape themselves. Yet in the events of that day, I learned that she would only learn to ride the bike if my steadying hand was absent from the fender. If I may extend the metaphor: in the ascension, Jesus let go of the bike and the disciples were given the freedom to pedal on their own. The church today, in all its forms, witnesses to the wisdom of Jesus leaving. It was, in truth, a gift.

II

The gift of Jesus ascension is contained in the 45^th verse of Luke’s account: “then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures.” We Presbyterians usually interpret this passage to be about developing the intellectual prowess necessary to understand and interpret the Bible. But that is only part of it. Christ opened their minds to understanding and interpreting the world and the events around them in terms of the scriptures. He opened their minds so that they could see in history, in relationships, in the mundane moments of life, the gracious work of God. He opened their minds so that they could understand their lives as living parables, so that they could see the graciousness of God in ordinary and every day moments of life.

That is the challenge of the ascension for our generation. Christ opens our minds to see, to hear, to understand in the ordinary moments of the day, the work of God. This gift, is one that comes through absence.

A year ago, I was in the midst of my sabbatical and was spending a lot of that time writing. I was writing fiction, much of it humorous, which examined the moments of every day life and saw within those moments, the grace of God. I learned in prayer that this can only be done when our minds are opened to understand the incredible grace of God that surrounds us. My spiritual director constantly led me to ponder the strange, sometimes annoying moments of ordinary life and see within those moments and events, the grace of God.

One event in particular is worth sharing. Our home abuts a wooded area and there are a number of woodpeckers there. These birds can be quite annoying. It was spring time and there was one who, without fail, would perch on the top of our chimney and peck away at the metal cap on it. He did no harm to the chimney, but it was loud and annoying. Very loud! The worse part of it was that it occurred at 6 o’clock in the morning. I would wake up to this drumbeat that sounded like garbage cans rolling down an alley. Of course, he was calling a mate, and I am sure that he found the loudest drum in the area to spread his amorous message. But it bothered me. My spiritual director would not let go of this… “What is going on there?” she would challenge. And then my mind was opened, to listening to that drum beat and I heard it each morning not as an annoying woodpecker, but as a call to prayer. It no longer brought the clenched teeth of frustration, but a smile and thanks to God for reminding me to begin my morning in prayer.

The challenge for modern disciples, for you and for me, is to allow our minds to be opened by the ascended Christ. The challenge, in the absence of Jesus, is to hear the words of Christ in the silence, in the loneliness, the sorrow and grief, in the laughter and smiles, that are part of our lives. The challenge is to allow Christ to open our minds to the hope that comes from knowing, even in his absence, that the future is in God’s hands, that history will ultimately be redeemed, and God’s purpose will be done and fulfilled in time.

It has been almost fifty years since I stood on the wharf in Hoboken, New Jersey, and saw the ship sail away, carrying my father from my life. It is the closest analogy in my life that comes near to capturing the moment of Christ’s ascension. I remember the terror and fear that gripped me. I remember the salty taste of the tears that fell from my cheek…. And I also remember what a wonderful year that was…. Filled with special and maturing moments… and I remember that hope, genuine, realistic hope, became the core of my existence: hope, that someday he would return. We live today, after the ascension of Christ into heaven…. The challenge for us is to allow our minds to be open.. to allow our spirits to grow and mature, and to live in hope that he will return. This is the Good News. Amen.