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The Image of Man Has Been Raised Up: On the Feast of the Ascension of the Lord

The Image of Man Has Been Raised Up: On the Feast of the Ascension of the Lord | Carl E. Olson

"You ascended into glory, O Christ our God, and You delighted the disciples with the promise of the Holy Spirit. Through this blessing, they were assured that You are the Son of God, the Redeemer of the World."
—Troparion for the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, Feast of the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ

"Christ's Ascension is therefore not a spectacle for the disciples but an event into which they themselves are included. It is a sursum corda, a movement toward the above into which we are all called. It tells us that man can live toward the above, that he is capable of attaining heights. More: the altitude that alone is suited to the dimensions of being human is the altitude of God himself. Man can live at this height, and only from this height do we properly understand him. The image of man has been raised up, but we have the freedom to tear it down or to let ourselves be raised."
— Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, from Images of Hope: Meditations On Major Feasts (Ignatius Press, 2006)

Readings:

• Acts 1:1-11
• Psa. 47:2-3, 6-7, 8-9
• Eph. 1:17-23 or Heb. 9:24-28; 10:19-23
• Lk 24:46-53

"As he blessed them he parted from them and was taken up to heaven." (Lk 24:51)

With these simple, matter-of-fact words, Luke describes the Ascension of Jesus, expressed even more concisely in the Creed: "He ascended into heaven." This event is so important for Luke that the Acts of the Apostles opens with a description of the same event. As the disciples looked on, Luke records, Jesus "was lifted up, and a cloud took him from their sight" (Acts 1:9). Mark's account, heard today, is equally direct and succinct: "So then the Lord Jesus, after he spoke to them, was taken up into heaven and took his seat at the right hand of God" (Mk. 16:19).

This dramatic moment has been celebrated in the Church on the fortieth day after Easter since the earliest centuries. Some of the Church Fathers, including Augustine, said that the feast had been observed since the time of the apostles, although the earliest evidence of its celebration dates to the fifth century. In the Latin Rite in the United States the Feast of the Ascension is one of six solemnities, the others being the solemnities of Mary, Mother of God (January 1); the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (August 15); All Saints (November 1), the Immaculate Conception (December 8), and the Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ (December 25).

Despite being a solemnity and a holy day of obligation, the Feast of the Ascension is sometimes completely overlooked or not given much attention. Ask Catholics what is the significance of the Feast and answers aren't always immediate. The rather mysterious nature of the Feast is heightened in some ecclesiastical provinces by its transference from the sixth Thursday of Easter to the following Sunday. In a way, the Solemnity bears a resemblance to the sacrament of Confirmation, the exact meaning of which is not always understood well and suffers for not being more clearly explained and comprehended.

This occasional murkiness is unfortunate because the Ascension is such a joyful event in the work and life of Jesus Christ, as well as being a vital reality in the ongoing life and mission of the Church. To appreciate this joy and vitality we should keep in mind what the Catechism of the Catholic Church states about the liturgical calendar: The Church, "in the course of the year, . . . unfolds the whole mystery of Christ from his Incarnation and Nativity through his Ascension, to Pentecost and the expectation of the blessed hope of the coming of the Lord" (CCC, 1194).

Hinted at here are revealing parallels between the Incarnation and the Ascension and between the Nativity and Pentecost. In the Incarnation the eternal Son of God took on human nature in order to save mankind. By the power of the Holy Spirit, divinity and humanity were united in one Person; the Word became flesh (Jn 1:14) and lowered Himself to the level of dust and death. The Nativity is the physical, outward revelation of this reality: the Christ Child is born and history and the world are never the same.

At the Ascension the crucified, risen Son of God returns to His Father. Having descended to dusty earth, He now returns to heavenly glory. Having conquered death, He ascends to eternal life. But He returns to the right hand of the Father not just as the Word, but as the Incarnate Word. The doors of heaven are now open and humanity can now approach the throne room of God, the way having been paved by the life, death, and resurrection of the God-man. Pentecost, finally, is the manifestation of the God-man's Church, which is both human and divine. The Church was revealed to the world on that day—fifty days after Easter—by the power of the Holy Spirit.

All of this theology is nice enough, but what does it mean for us? It means the Feast of the Ascension is a celebration of salvation won. The Catholic Encyclopedia notes that "in the Eastern Church this feast was known as analepsis, the taking up, and also as the episozomene, the salvation, denoting that by ascending into His glory Christ completed the work of our redemption." The tendency is often to think of the Resurrection as the culmination of Jesus' salvific work, but it is the Ascension that places the final stamp of approval on the sacrificial and victorious work of our Savior. This is beautifully expressed in the first chapter of Paul's epistle to the Ephesians:

May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened, that you may know what is the hope that belongs to his call, what are the riches of glory in his inheritance among the holy ones, and what is the surpassing greatness of his power for us who believe, in accord with the exercise of his great might: which he worked in Christ, raising him from the dead and seating him at his right hand in the heavens ... (Eph. 1:17-20).

Now that the Incarnate Son of God has ascended into heaven and sits in the throne room of God, mankind can follow. United to the Son through baptism and deepening communion with Him through reception of the Holy Eucharist and the other sacraments, the hope of heaven is ours.

"The ascension of Christ is our elevation," declared Leo the Great in a sermon on the Ascension, "Hope for the body is also invited where the glory of the Head preceded us. Let us exult, dearly beloved, with worthy joy and be glad with a holy thanksgiving. Today we not only are established as possessors of paradise, but we have even penetrated the heights of the heavens in Christ." Where the sin of the first Adam closed the gates of Paradise, the righteousness of the new Adam has opened them wide.

Jesus promised His disciples that He would prepare a place for them (Jn. 14). Because of the Ascension, we know He has prepared a place for those who are His. Because of the Ascension, we have the hope of His return and of our future passage into glory. "The Ascension, then," Pope John Paul II explained in May 2000, "is a Trinitarian epiphany which indicates the goal to which personal and universal history is hastening. Even if our mortal body dissolves into the dust of the earth, our whole redeemed self is directed on high to God, following Christ as our guide."

Our Guide has come, died, rose from the dead, and ascended into heaven. Let us celebrate the Feast!

(This article was originally published in 2004 in Our Sunday Visitor in a slightly different form.)

Vultus Christi

Nos Tuo Vultu Saties

By

Dom Mark

on May 8, 2013 7:36 PM |

The Ascension of the Lord

Forty-one years ago, in the springtime of my monastic journey, my Father Master -- he must have been all of 34 at the time -- told me that of all the festivals of the Church Year none was more intrinsically contemplative than the Ascension of the Lord. He spoke to me of the virtue of hope, calling it the most monastic of virtues, and meditated with me on the Vespers hymn of the Ascension, the incomparable Fourth Mode, Jesu, Nostra Redemptio. The melody is perfectly suited to the text. It has been, in some way, the musical accompaniment to my monastic journey with its sorrows and joys, with its valleys of darkness and glimmers of light. It expresses better than any other hymn the prayer of yearning by which, already here and now, a monk can hope to be united to his love and his desire. I translated the metred Latin text into prose.

Jesu, nostra redemptio,
Amor et desiderium,
Deus Creator omnium,
Homo in fine temporum.

O Jesus, our redemption,
our love, and our desire,
God, Creator of all things,
become Man in the fullness of time.

Quae te vicit clementia,
Ut ferres nostra crimina,
Crudelem mortem patiens,,
Ut nos a morte tolleres!

What tender love, what pity
compelled Thee to bear our crimes,
to suffer a cruel death
that we, from death, might be saved?

Inferni claustra penetrans,
Tuos captivos redimens,
Victor triumpho nobili
Ad dextram Patris residens:

Into death’s dark cloister didst Thou descend,
and from it captives free didst bring;
Thy triumph won, Thou didst take Thy place,
Thou, the Victor, at the Father’s right.

Ipse te cogat pietas,
Ut mala nostra superes,
Parcendo, et voti compotes
Nos tuo vultu saties.

'Twas a tender love, a costly compassion
that pressed Thee our sorrows to bear;
granting pardon, Thou didst raise us up
to fill us full with the splendour of Thy face.

Tu esto nostrum gaudium,
Qui es futurus praemium:
Sit nostra in te gloria
Per cuncta semper saecula.

Thou art already the joy of all our days,
Thou Who in eternity will be our prize;
let all our glory be in Thee,
forever, and always, and in the age to come.

Vultus Christi

Cenobites, Anchorites, Sarabites, and Gyrovagues

By

Dom Mark

on May 9, 2013 12:59 PM |

Chapter I. Of the Several Kinds of Monks and Their Way of Life

8 Jan. 9 May. 8 Sept.

It is well known that there are four kinds of monks. The first are the cenobites: that is those in monasteries, who live under a rule or an Abbot.

Cenobites

The word monk (Latin: monachus; Greek: μοναχός) is, in itself, a whole program of life. The word means a solitary or one who, seeking God, lives alone or apart. By extension, it can refer to a man whose heart belongs to the one imperishable treasure revealed in Christ. "Where thy treasure is, there is thy heart also" (Matthew 6:21). The monk is that man of the Gospel (Matthew 13:44-45) who, having found a treasure hidden in the field, went, full of joy, and, having sold all that he had, bought the field. Again, he is like the merchant seeking good pearls, who when he found one pearl of great price, went his way, sold all that he had, and bought it.

Saint Benedict's monk has one focus in life: the Unum Necessarium (one thing necessary) that Our Lord revealed to Saint Martha at Bethany when He said, "Martha, Martha, thou art careful, and art troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her" (Luke 10:41-42).

The word cenobite is derived from two Greek words: κοινός, meaning common, and βίος meaning life. Some commentators would say that the first cenobites were the Christians of the primitive Apostolic community, insofar as they lived together, under authority, following the teaching of the Apostles.

And all they that believed, were together, and had all things common. Their possessions and goods they sold, and divided them to all, according as every one had need. And continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they took their meat with gladness and simplicity of heart; praising God, and having favour with all the people. (Acts 2:44-46).

A cenobite, or cenobitic monk, according to Saint Benedict's description, lives in community with other monks, under a rule and an Abbot. Today, the Holy Rule of Saint Benedict is, more often than not, interpreted by a complementary text called Constitutions or Declarations. In a small monastery, such as ours, the Father of the community is called a prior, rather than an abbot. His responsibilities, however, are the same as those of an abbot.

There are, then, three components of cenobitic monasticism: 1) life together in a single monastery; 2) corporate submission to a rule; 3) under the authority and care of an abbot.

Solitaries

The second are the Anchorites or Hermits: that is those who, not in the first fervour of religious life, but after long probation in the monastery, have learned by the help and experience of many to fight against the devil; and going forth well armed from the ranks of their brethren to the single-handed combat of the desert, are able, without the support of others, to fight by the strength of their own arm, God helping them, against the vices of the flesh and their evil thoughts.

Saint Benedict presents anchorites or hermits as veterans of the cenobitic life. The experience of bearing patiently, day after day, and year after year, with other men marked by "infirmities of body or mind" (Chapter LXXVII) is precious and indispensable. It constitutes the best purification of the heart, the most fruitful ascetical exercise, and the highest school of charity.

Only after long years of manfully struggling, in the midst of his brethren, against the eight principal vices enumerated by Saint John Cassian -- gluttony, lust, greed, hubris, wrath, envy, listlessness, and boasting -- is a monk in any way prepared for a life of complete solitude. The monk who enters the solitude of the desert prematurely will find himself vomited out of it, for the desert is a severe and uncompromising host for the man who enters it tainted with self-absorption and not entirely resolved to die to the world and and to all things passing.

In the meantime, Benedictine life, such as we live it, offers hours and spaces of solitude that provide the cenobite with a prudently measured experience of the desert. Unlike the Cistercians, who often privilege the common life at all times and in all places, to the point of sleeping in a dormitory, and of reading and studying in a scriptorium, our observance would be marked by a certain affection for the solitude of the cell: the monk's ordinary place of lectio divina, study and, sometimes, work.

Sarabites

A third and most baneful kind of monks are the Sarabites, who have been tried by no rule nor by the experience of a master, as gold in the furnace; but being as soft as lead, and still serving the world in their works, are by their tonsure to lie to God. These in twos or threes, or even singly, without a shepherd, shut up, not in the Lord's sheepfolds, but in their own, make a law to themselves in the pleasure of their own desires: whatever they think fit or choose to do, that they call holy; and what they like not, that they consider unlawful.

The Sarabites have no reference outside themselves: no rule, no abbot, no received tradition. They are "cafeteria monks", choosing from among things monastic whatever strikes their fancy, and sneering at the rest. Lest one become too smug in one's judgment of the Sarabites, I must add that there is in every monk -- myself included -- at least at certain hours, a touch of the Sarabite. The devil can fill a cenobite with loathing for the rule, antipathy towards the abbot, and a biting criticism of tradition. The Sarabite syndrome can be summed up as: "I want to do what I want to do, when I want to do it, in the way I want to do it."

Gyrovagues

The fourth kind of monks are those called "Girovagi," who spend all their lives-long wandering about divers provinces, staying in different cells for three or four days at a time, ever roaming, with no stability, given up to their own pleasures and to the snares of gluttony, and worse in all things than the Sarabites. Of the most wretched life of these it is better to say nothing than to speak. Leaving them alone therefore, let us set to work, by the help of God, to lay down a rule for the Cenobites, that is, the strongest kind of monks.

The Gyrovagues described here by Saint Benedict are restless wanderers, never content with what they find in one place, ever itching for novelty. The temptation to seek out a change of scenery, of diet, of brethren, and even of liturgical praxis is a classic demonic ploy. The Gyrovague is a man incapable of submission or, if you will, a kind of monastic philanderer ever moving from cloister to cloister, the way some men move from one relationship to another without ever making a life-long commitment.

This being said, one must be careful not to judge one's brother (or sister) a Gyrovague, because one is never in full possession of all the facts. I think immediately of Mectilde de Bar (1614-1698), the "Teresa of Avila" of the Benedictine Order in the 17th century, a reformer and mystic of outstanding significance in the history of spirituality. Mectilde began her religious life as an Annonciade, in an Order of Franciscan obedience. Forced out of monastery by the vicissitudes of the Thirty Years War, she and her companions took refuge with a community of reformed Benedictines; there Mectilde discovered the Rule of Saint Benedict, asked to be received as a novice, and made profession as a Benedictine. This profession was later contested by the Friars Minor who judged her a "fake Benedictine." It took a decision of the Holy See to silence those who questioned the validity of her Benedictine profession.

Benedictine though she was, and this to the very core of her being, stability and enclosure were not to be the lot of Mother Mectilde de Bar. Diverse circumstances, in which it is permitted to see an action of Divine Providence, swept Mectilde from one place to another. At one point she was sorely tempted to drop out entirely, to disappear by running away to a mountainous desert place in the south of France. Once she accepted God's will that she should, even in the face of poverty, political intrigues, and virulent opposition, establish monasteries of Benedictine life marked by perpetual adoration of the Most Holy Sacrament, her interior stability became immovable. Her stability was in the Sacred Host. Until the end of her life, like Saint Teresa of Avila, she traveled extensively, consumed with a burning desire to offer Our Lord victims of adoration and reparation who would, like so many grains of incense, consume themselves in the fire of His Eucharistic Love.

With effects no less devastating than those of the Thirty Years War in the 17th century, monastic life in the West, with very few exceptions, was struck by a kind of revolution. The year 1968 is often cited as marking the beginning of an age of "bare, ruined choirs." Many men of that time who, like myself, entered monastic life in search of the pax benedictina safeguarded and fostered by fidelity to tradition, were told, instead, that there were no absolutes and no certainties, and that everything, beginning with the sacred liturgy itself, had to be re-invented. Benedictine stability was, in many places, stripped of the very elements that made it possible and desirable. Some took to the road like Saint Benedict-Joseph Labre. Others sought out small communities where there appeared to be a glimmer of hope; most of these ended in delusion and heartbreak. Still others entered the few continental abbeys where the classic Benedictine life was alive and thriving in its most traditional expression.

The post-Conciliar years were profoundly destabilizing. The men and women whom critics were quick to label Gyrovagues may have been poor destabilised seekers of God, spiritually homeless, waiting for the return of the serenity without which a true discernment and an enduring commitment to stability are not possible. "Let us go forth therefore to him without the camp, bearing his reproach. For we have not here a lasting city, but we seek one that is to come. By him therefore let us offer the sacrifice of praise always to God, that is to say, the fruit of lips confessing to his name. "(Hebrews 13:13-15)

Are there still Gyrovagues then? I leave that to the judgment of God and of Saint Benedict, giving the last word to the prophet Jeremias:

Blessed be the man that trusteth in the Lord, and the Lord shall be his confidence. And he shall be as a tree that is planted by the waters, that spreadeth out its roots towards moisture: and it shall not fear when the heat cometh. And the leaf thereof shall be green, and in the time of drought it shall not be solicitous, neither shall it cease at any time to bring forth fruit. The heart is perverse above all things, and unsearchable, who can know it? I am the Lord who search the heart and prove the reins: who give to every one according to his way, and according to the fruit of his devices. (Jeremiah 17:7-10).

Regnum Christi

I Am a Witness to You

| SPIRITUAL LIFE | SPIRITUALITY

Ascension Thursday

Luke 24:46-53

And Jesus said to them, "Thus it is written that the Messiah would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And behold I am sending the promise of my Father upon you; but stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high." Then he led them out as far as Bethany, raised his hands, and blessed them. As he blessed them he parted from them and was taken up to heaven. They did him homage and then returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the Temple praising God.

Introductory Prayer: Lord, as I begin this prayer I offer you my whole self: my thoughts, desires, decisions, actions, hopes, fears, weaknesses, failures and petty successes. I open my entire being to you, aware that you know everything already. I’m certain of your mercy and of the purifying power of your penetrating, loving gaze.

Petition: Lord, help me to praise you and spread your message everywhere.

1. We Too Are Witnesses to the Work of Jesus Christ: What a beautiful scene. Our Lord suffered, died, rose on the third day and then spent 40 days with the apostles and the disciples. Now, just before he ascends into heaven, he leaves his Church with this message of love — mercy and forgiveness. The apostles experienced Our Lord’s mercy. Now he gives them the commission to go out into the whole world and preach forgiveness of sins in the power of the most holy of names: “Jesus.” Because the apostles preached as Christ had told them, we are all beneficiaries of Our Lord’s mercy. We have experienced this in our hearts. We, too, must bear witness to the work of Jesus Christ.

2. Clothe Me with Your Holy Power, Lord Jesus: We know that an apple seed, if given proper nourishment, will become an apple tree and produce many apples through many seasons. We know this through experience. God made the apple seed, and he gave it power to become an apple tree. Now Christ tells the apostles he will clothe them with power from on high so that they will be blessed with something that is well beyond their own human nature and power. They will be given the power to bear abundant fruit for the kingdom of Christ. Two thousand years later, Christ is still clothing people with this power from on high: with the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which we received when we were baptized and in greater proportion when we were confirmed. Through prayer we begin to see with supernatural vision the person we can be and the fruit we can produce.

3. May I Give You Only Praise and Adoration: The apostles were sad and dejected when Our Lord told them he would be leaving. Now, they are filled with awe and praise. The scales have fallen from their eyes. The shadow of the cross no longer strikes the same fear in their hearts. Christ has conquered sin and death, and they are witnesses to this, for they have experienced it in their own lives. This past Lent we accompanied Our Lord during his passion and death. We then witnessed his resurrection. Now we see him ascending into heaven. Like the apostles, we, too, are so moved to stand in awe of so great a God that we are compelled to sing his praises day and night. This attitude goes hand-in-hand with being messengers of his love to all peoples.

Conversation with Christ: Lord Jesus, I want to be a holy dwelling place for the Holy Spirit. Your gift to me is your Spirit of truth and love. You nourish me with the things of heaven. May I decrease so that you may increase.

Resolution: I will speak well of others today and shun all tendency to judge others or speak badly of them.

Where Is God?

by Food For Thought on May 9, 2013 ·

In today’s Gospel, we see that the disciples do not understand what
Jesus has been saying. In particular, they do not understand what Jesus
is talking about when he tells them that they will not see him, and
then a little later they will see him again. They do not know what he
is talking about.

It seems obvious to us that Jesus was talking about his death and
resurrection. But we Christians today have the benefit of hindsight. So
what seems obvious to us would not have been so clear to the disciples.
They could not have understood that Jesus was talking about dying, and
then rising again and appearing to them.

Some of the most difficult moments in our lives are when we do not
understand what God’s plan is for us, like times when life is filled
with suffering, and we do not understand why God would allow this
happen to us. Or times when we feel that Jesus has deserted us, right
at the moment when we really need him. Or when a crushing blow
unexpectedly threatens to derail us. Or when we struggle with that
all-important question: Its is during these moments we seem to ask
ourselves “Where is God?”

We do not always understand Jesus. If we did, then he will not be God.
Perhaps, if we can always understood his plan for us, then perhaps we
will not be living by faith. Faith is believing in Jesus even though we
do not see him, even when we do not always understand his plan for us.

Let us continue to trust Jesus in good times and especially in
difficult times. Let us be reminded to ask him to help us, to strength
our faith and trust in him, especially during those times when we need
him the most.

One Bread, One Body

<< Thursday, May 9, 2013 >>

Acts 18:1-8
View Readings

Psalm 98:1-4

John 16:16-20

HELP WANTED

"When Silas and Timothy came down from Macedonia, Paul began to occupy himself totally with preaching the word." —Acts 18:5, RNAB

St. Paul came alone to the Greek city of Corinth (Acts 18:1-3). Paul had been given the spiritual gift of teaching. However, he was an outreach team of one, and so his impact was limited. He found work as a tentmaker to support himself (Acts 18:3). It is certainly possible to work a full-time job and evangelize effectively; for example, many in Presentation Ministries have full-time secular jobs and still volunteer our free time to evangelize. Nonetheless, it is clear that Paul's evangelistic outreach was multiplied when his co-workers Silas and Timothy arrived (Acts 18:5).

Paul's two co-workers were exercising the spiritual gift of assistance or "helps" (see 1 Cor 12:28). Their practical and financial support apparently freed Paul from having to spend so much time as a tentmaker. Now that Silas and Timothy were in Corinth to round out the outreach team, Paul could be totally occupied with evangelization, preaching, and teaching (Acts 18:5).

Some of you who read this have also been called by God to be helpers or assistants (1 Cor 12:28). When that gift is not being used or welcomed, the spread of God's Word will be limited. Preachers, evangelists, and teachers need spirit-filled assistants and helpers. If you have this calling, you generally won't receive top billing on the program. However, "be content with what you have" (Heb 13:5) and use your gift bountifully. Those who minister cannot be as fruitful without the Spirit working freely through their helpers.

Prayer: Father, during the upcoming Pentecost Novena, raise up many assistants and helpers to bring our nation back to You.

Promise: "You will grieve for a time, but your grief will be turned into joy." —Jn 16:20

Praise: Juan repented and went to Confession for the first time in fifteen years. Now he leads a Bible Study at his workplace.

Celebrate the Sanctity of Life!

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