Not so easy to dismiss is the notion that Christ's Ascension into Heaven is akin to some form of ascending skywards, as in a hot-air-balloon. Partly responsible for this misconception has been the tendency of Christian art to portray his ascension as entrance to some celestial canopy both sumptuous and palatial. It is as though Ascension Day celebrates Christ's safe return from the harsh reality of this world back into the safe seclusion of heaven. What's wrong with this picture is the impression that Jesus simply leaves his earthly disciples on their own, while he returns to heaven with divine dignity intact. Indeed, maybe his triumph itself proves his divinity, as though it has finally been fully earned. He is now entitled to be called the eternal Son of God.

Not only is that a totally wrong understanding of The Ascension, but it totally mishandles our understanding of Christology. Christ's identity as eternal Son of God is never at issue: whether before the Incarnation, during, or after. Where the picture of ascension is helpful is in our understanding of Jesus as Son of Man. One of the things we learn from the Incarnation is that Jesus, as Son of Man, proved his oneness, his identity with God as Father, through his earthly obedience. As John puts it: His will is always to do the will of his Father who sent him. What The Ascension celebrates and speaks to is what Karl Barth calls "The Royal Homecoming of the Son of Man." What is presented with the incarnate Son of God's return to heaven is our now purified humanity, purified through Christ's sacrifice on the cross. Our purified humanity is embodied in His (hidden in Christ), as he ascends to the heavenly throne of God the Father.

In reaching a proper understanding of Ascension Day, Karl Barth advises us to address the experience of the disciples on the Mount of Olives by focusing on the key verse: "He was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight." (Acts 1:9). In biblical language, the cloud doesn't so much signify a hiddenness of Christ (i.e. his absence), as it does a new hiddenness of his presence. In so far as Jesus' ascension brings about an earthly hiddenness, it is not just any kind of hiddenness, but a new hidden presence of God. Among other things that God's hiddenness conceals is a heaven which for now is closed to us, but which will not always be closed to us. Christ's heaven awaits full revelation in the future. Yet, even here this hidden heavenly presence of Christ is not bound to an eternal future. It has present application as well.

Let me give an illustration of what might be involved here: how, after his ascension, the earthly absence of Jesus could be understood as overtaken by his new hidden presence. One of the highlights of my early childhood in England was the periodic visit of Irish uncles and aunts (my mother was Ulster born, one of 10 children). The Irish are often crazy but they sure are a lot of fun. When time came to say good bye we would go to the railway station and stand on the platform at the door of their carriage, waiting for the train to pull out of the station. Funny how everyone suddenly gets tongue tied at such moments. Have you ever noticed at an airport that it is only when relatives start going down the gangway that real farewells begin!? I can remember gazing at the train windows as uncles and aunts got smaller and smaller in the distance. Yet, as the train turned out of sight two strange things happened. First, I started to think of all the last minute things I should have said five minutes ago. Second, the large coin I had been nervously fingering in my pocket took on real meaning. I remembered the fairground we all went to days earlier, and my uncle with a wink giving me the coin for two last rides, after he'd distinctly heard my mother say we were already late getting home. Strange, isn't it, how only when loved ones have left that we think of all the things we forgot to say to them, how it is only then that real memories begin to flow. Have you ever noticed that happening at funerals?

I wonder if the disciples felt that way immediately after the Ascension occurred on the Mount of Olives. I wonder if it were thoughts of what they hadn't said, thoughts, memories surfacing, that the angel interrupted when he said: "Men of Galilee why do you stand looking into heaven?"

It surely puzzled the disciples when Jesus at the Last Supper announced that it was better that he should leave them, otherwise the Holy Spirit would not be able to come to them. During his earthly ministry Jesus could only be in one place at any one time. After the Ascension, and particularly after Pentecost when the Spirit of Jesus formally descended upon the Church, Christ was more powerfully present to the disciples than ever before. Testimony to that reality of that presence is the totally bold witness to their faith given by Paul and the disciples, and recorded throughout the Book of Acts.

The Christian truth to which the Ascension bears witness is the truth to which Paul testifies in Colossians. It is the ascended Christ who bears within himself our now redeemed humanity. As believers, (and spiritually already in the heavenly realm) "your life is hid with Christ in God." (Col. 3.3.) Initially, as Gospel message, the Kingdom of heaven starts growing like a seed within us. Yet in spirit, because our lives are hid with Christ in God we can anticipate heaven's future glory. We already taste its joy, participate in and experience the full rights of our future citizenship. This being the case, it is no wonder that Paul exhorts: "If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on the things that are above, not on things that are on earth." (Col. 3:1-2).

The fact of Christ's ascension helps us understand how all this is possible. And perhaps the psychology we encounter through purely human departures of loved ones, helps us understand both the meaning and importance of The Ascension, in the Church's year.

FOOTNOTE: On one occasion at the railway station as the train with its Irish relatives was about to leave, an aunt asked (me then aged 6) if I would like to go to Belfast. Before my parents realized what was happening, I had been lifted through the window and the train was off. It was 6 week before I got back home. Meanwhile, as the first grandchild in a family of ten, I returned with memories and an Irish taste of heaven. I was spoiled rotten. Because of The Ascension, and our now being hid with Christ in heaven, perhaps God wants to spoil us rotten.

---Peter J.A. Cook, MA is rector of St. Michael & All Angels Episcopal Church, in Lake Charles, in the Diocese of Western Louisiana