Brothers and sisters, we find ourselves in Ascensiontide, known to us as the nine days leading up to feast of Pentecost. We have now celebrated the feast of the Ascension and the Sunday after the Ascension with the appropriate festal shouts, and we await the coming of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter.
But before we are touched with tongues of fire and loud rushing winds, we must, if only for a moment, ponder the paradox of the Ascension.
And here’s what I mean: isn’t it a wee bit odd that the disciples who witnessed the Ascension (which at first glance seems to be the complete disappearance of the Resurrected Lord) actually returned with ‘great joy’? I mean, when loved ones depart from us, aren’t we saddened to see them leave? Unless they’ve been particularly dreadful houseguests (yes, I've been that guy), aren’t we somewhat melancholy when friends disappear for long periods of time? It seems, then, Juliet was right – ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’, that is, parting is no easy event.
For example, this week here at Nashotah House, together with the week that preceded it, is known as ‘Movingtide’, which means the graduates are departing. It is hard to watch my very dear friends, together with their spouses and children, load up their moving trucks and disperse throughout the country. Some of them had become our own extended family; Gus came in last night and said, ‘Daddy, I miss my friends’. Out of my own manly pride I certainly couldn’t let him know that I’d just been in the bathroom shedding more than a few tears, for I was missing them, too. My point is simple: when loved ones – those of whom we are most fond – flee from our sight, we are not filled with joy. We may be glad to bless them and send them on to do the Lord’s work, but we are not joyous, period.
But St. Luke’s gospel is clear: the disciples were ‘filled with joy’ after our Lord’s Ascension. We might be tempted to ask how was watching the Risen Christ – the one with whom they’d spent their best times, the one with whom they’d shared their darkest moments and the one whom they’d seen raise again from the dead – how was His departure from their sight a joyous moment in their lives. At first glance, let’s be honest; this looks like a low point. Knowing what we know of the Twelve, we might have expected St. Peter to say something like, ‘No Lord, I will never let you depart from our eyes’. Perhaps they felt duped, or so it would seem.
But they were ‘joyous’, and we need to ask why. We, too, are called to experience the joie de vivre. After all, the Ascension is a principal feast of the Church, not a time of weeping and gnashing of teeth! And it’s joyous for one reason: Jesus Christ has ascended to heaven, that is, has returned to glory everlasting and has also taken our lives up with Him.
You see, the Incarnation doesn’t end on Good Friday or even with the Ascension. No, our Lord’s Body went up to heaven not to disappear, but to foreshadow our own eternal vocation. His Ascension is not a disappearing; rather, it is the culmination of His Incarnation. It is not a prize for a job well done; rather, it is the reality that we, in Him, will be taken upwards into heaven. This upward call, this grace to share in the ‘image and likeness of Christ’ is both our earthly call and our heavenly destination, for we, too, are called to live as heirs of the heavenly kingdom and are given the grace so to do by fixing our gaze on Him who lifts us there.
Blessed John Henry Newman puts it this way:
My Lord, I follow Thee up to heaven; as Thou goest up, my heart and mind go with Thee. Never was triumph like this. Thou didst appear a babe in human flesh at Bethlehem. That flesh, taken from the Blessed Virgin, was not before Thou didst form it into a body; it was a new work of Thy hands. And Thy soul was new altogether, created by Thy Omnipotence, at the moment when Thou didst enter into her sacred breast. That pure soul and body, taken as a garment for Thyself, began on earth, and never had been elsewhere. This is the triumph. Earth rises to heaven. It was the triumph of redeemed man. It is the completion of his redemption. It was the last act, making the whole sure, for now man is actually in heaven. He has entered into possession of his inheritance.
Don’t miss this: our Lord’s glorious Ascension is ‘triumph’ – the actualisation of when ‘earth rises to heaven’! The Ascension is that most precious guarantee, which is the blessed promise of our ‘inheritance’ as redeemed children of the Most High.
I think now I can understand the Disciples’ joy; I think I can even be joyful for those who leave, not to disappear, but to draw the whole world to that blessed triumph of heaven. I think, above all, I can know that not only am I called to a heaven-ward vision, but, through Christ, I will be given the grace to focus thereupon. We all, in Christ, as John Keble reminds us:
Shall see Thee as Thou art,
For ever fix’d in no unfruitful gaze,
But such as lifts the new-created heart,
Age after age, in worthier love and praise.
And while we’re being lifted in ‘love and praise’, we should make my simple new summer recipe, creamed corn au gratin. Your guests will be praising your culinary acumen. I guarantee it!
Summer Creamed Corn Au Gratin
Serves 8-10 as a side dish
Ingredients
8 ears of fresh super-sweet summer corn
1/3 cup finely chopped shallots
4 TBSP finely chopped chives
4 TBSP of flour
6 TBSP of sugar
1 stick of unsalted butter
¼ cup cream
¼ cup half and half
½ cup grated gruyere cheese
½ cup micro-planed Grana Padano cheese (substitute Parmesan if need be)
Fresh cracked pepper
Salt to taste
Instructions
Use a knife to strip the corn kernels away from the corn and place in a large bowl. In a sauté pan over medium-high heat, sauté the butter and shallots for three minutes. Add the flour, sugar, a pinch of salt and pepper and stir constantly for one minute, almost as if making a roux of sorts. The mixture will thicken slightly. Remove mixture from heat, pour over corn, add everything but the Grana Padano and milk mixture and stir well. Pour mixture into a large baking dish, preferably one of French porcelain (a Pirex will work, however). Top with the micro-planed Grana Padano, pour the milk mixture evenly on top and bake for 50 minutes at 375 degrees or until the top is golden brown. Don’t over-bake; the butter will lose its constituency and the corn will be soggy. Remove from oven and allow to firm up, that is, rest for 15 minutes before serving.
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