The door and more

The Festival of the Ascension admits no simple or single ‘explanation'. There is a beauty to the wonders and wildness of these Ascensiontide texts with which our Western minds may struggle, whether it be cinematic images of Superman ascending into the stratosphere in his Lycra or Scottie being beamed up to the Starship Enterprise in Star Trek.

Fortunately those images are inadequate portrayals as we reflect today on a vital mystery.

Christ's ascension is full of significance for us in his representation of us and for us. In Christ's descent at Advent we see God revealed in the Logos. Now through the Ascension God gets a true glimpse of us . Christ's salvific conclusion is uttered on the cross - ‘It is finished' - and now Christ's ascension confirms further its completion.

Marriage is never easy, but all wise men know that the key to a successful marriage is always to have the final word – that is ‘Yes dear', ‘of course dear' or ‘you are always right dear'. But Christ represents his bride, the church, in heaven before the throne of God with the last word in our defence, relating our earthly cause in the heavenly realms. Christ our representative or advocate pleads our frail case to the eternal architect of the heavens.

Eric Clapton once sang: “I'm not knocking on heaven's door.” Christ is the door and more – he is our committed counsellor and is supremely qualified through knowing our pains by having walked the same path as we walk, or – to put it in the phraseology of today, ‘He has been there, done that and got the t-shirt'. Christ knew intensely the fetters of time and space but now triumphantly rules and reigns pleading our worldly issues and strains to the Godhead as our intercessor and friend. Christ's priestly and mediatory merits are forcibly proactive as our supreme advocate ascends and bends the sovereign's ear on our behalf.

A soldier in the Federal Army lost both his father and elder brother, killed in the battle of Gettysburg in 1863. He was not bereaved but worried about who now could run the family farm left in the care of his mother and sister. He asked his commanding officer if he could have leave to go home and sow the spring corn. Permission was refused, so he left his unit and travelled to Washington to seek permission from the President.

At the gate of the White House he was refused admission. In disconsolate misery he strolled over to the nearby park and sat on a bench near to tears, wondering what to do next. After a while a small boy came up and asked what the matter was. He told the youngster his sad story.

‘I think I can help you' he said and, taking him by the hand, he walked back up to the White House. The sentry opened the gate without comment, and they walked up the drive to the front entrance where a tall guard clicked his heals and opened the door for them. They walked down corridors, past important offices, till they came to a door marked PRESIDENT. The small boy opened the door and walked straight in. There, behind the large desk, was Mr. Lincoln with one of his senior Generals, poring over a map working out military strategy.

‘Hello, Todd,' said the President, ‘Who's your friend?' Todd Lincoln explained to his father the story told him by the stranger on the park bench, whereupon Abraham Lincoln granted immediate permission for the soldier to return home and care for the family farm.

Ascension highlights Christ's priestly role of representation of us to the father, taking our limitations not to Downing Street or the White House but transporting our needs and petitions to the very throne of grace and to none other than the One who encompasses all eternity.

Ascension points us upward and onward. Note: not ‘education, education, education' but ‘relocation, relocation, relocation', a citizenship that is immortal and eternal, a spiritual habitation. As Paul wrote to the Philippian church, ‘our citizenship lies in heaven where we await a Saviour'.

Note too that Christ sits : a sense not of passive relaxing but of conquest and command. A deep sense of completion that is on-going and daily operative, as heaven deploys its moves on earth from the divine throne. Mary sits at Jesus' feet – an image of calm contentment, where the ‘right portion that shall never be taken from her' finds its true realisation in its eternal inheritance of heaven. Our portion is to be invested for heaven, our commonwealth lies there and our citizenship is sealed through the merits of the Risen, Triumphant and Ascended Lord.

This is not to jettison our Christian responsibility

At theological college I often escaped to Evensong at Gonville and Caius College Chapel. Caius is magnificent in its architecture and we are reminded there of the three gates: the ‘Gate of Humility' as you enter the standard entrance as a shy and nervous fresher, then the second court you enter through the ‘Gate of Virtue', then finally on graduating from the college to receive your degree next door at the Senate House you pass through the ‘Gate of Honour'.

There is no honour without humility, pivoted by virtue that sustains everything in the centre.

Christ's ascension as he takes earth (the Latin humus is where we get the word humility ) to heaven reminds us that we are on earth to serve, where the standards and values of our secular world are quite topsy-turvy to the values of God's Kingdom.

I enjoy the privileges of an MCC member – not something I inherited from my father, (though he always encouraged my cricket at all times and in all places!) but something I had to work toward as a player gaining player selection to the MCC over two years travelling the country and playing 24 games. It was not handed to me on a plate or through a family member. However there are privileges of attending Lords and sitting in advantaged membership enclosures. I remember one year meeting my father (who does not have MCC membership) at a Lords test match v Pakistan and he had an ordinary ticket located in a humble part of the ground. The view of the game was not great, you were exposed completely to the heat of the sun or the rain and this day like many days at Lords was a freezing day and there was a postponement of play due to the weather (surprise surprise!) so we met up behind the pavilion. He was freezing cold, wet and shivering. I wished I could take him into the sheltered members' enclosure or even the Pavilion and warm him up, but regulations are regulations and they wouldn't let him in. So we did what we could to get the feeling in his hands back and revive him. It's a memory of my Father I will never forget. It spoke to me of Christ – Christ the marginalised, often kept out of the warm, never complaining, always investing in our interests beyond his own. Christ - certainly no member of some elitist club but ever seeking the best for us his children, graciously and generously. At Ascension the true servant of all finds his rightful place at the right hand of God - no less - and remembers us even in his Glory.

The three gates of Gonville and Caius that have stood there for centuries remind us of the kingdom of God's values. There can be no honour without humility, the paramount rule of St Benedict to his monks. In an upside down world you ascend by descending. In our secular culture it is the reverse: He swiftly rose through the ranks', ‘She climbed her way to the very top', ‘he worked his way up the ladder'. RAF recruitment advertises: ‘Rise above the rest'. The Army: ‘Be the best'. You can even detect such promotional climbing in the Church.

In Durban where I lived for a year there was considerable flak aimed at the moving escalation of financiers in Johannesburg that sought to reach the top in business by any means possible! The slogan for such city slickers was ‘Even if you win the rat race, just remember: you are still a Rat!'

Ascension Day reminds us that to ascend we must descend: a nudge again to clothe ourselves in humility. Rising through falling is necessary. Promotion through demotion, graduation by degradation; a lesson James and John needed to apply as they jockeyed for position and status at High Table at the Messianic Banquet in Mark.

The upside-down, topsy-turvy values of God are fashioned in service and humility. A pearl of treasure in a field that few find. Is that not because that is the crazy wisdom of Calvary? The insane sanity of the cross where at Golgotha he takes the world's hatred on to himself and gives back no malice? Christ descends to ground zero and below and takes on himself all things base that wreck and disturb our lives, and then ascends to God, graciously promoting and pleading our case.

This is wonderfully encouraging to us all as we proceed to the Eucharist, to the bread and wine, symbols of Christ's humility and love for each of us. A meal that confirms his representation of us, our confirmed citizenship and relocation sealed in heaven and yet our call to serve, for it is in serving that we find true ascension.

John assists our worshipful response in his inspired vision in Revelation :

Then I looked, and heard the voice of many angels surrounding the throne and the living creatures and the elders; they numbered myriads of myriads and thousands and thousands, singing with full voice ‘Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honour and glory and blessing!'