Transitions are hard
I remember arriving in Australia, 22 years ago. I knew exactly two people on the continent - big transition! I remember sitting in my little flat at Archbishop’s House, having gotten my first view of the surrounds: a great park up the road from me, the Swan River below, and the Indian Ocean just a few miles away. And I thought, What now?!?
That’s the question that often comes up in the midst of transitions: What now? It’s an important question because transitions are hard. People stumble, get confused, make mistakes, and sometimes give up altogether. The stress and the strain of transitions is real, it’s serious, it’s difficult and troublesome. And it’s hard to know what to do with the question, What now? with all that confusion and uncertainty.
We are in a time of transition now. Nearly every day seems like a day for a new transition. We transitioned as the virus was becoming a threat and we realized we were in a pandemic. We flattened the curve. Now we are supposed to be thinking about re-opening, resuming, re-starting things. It feels like a time of significant transition, and we want it to be that, but what now? What now?
The people who built this church knew that we’d face moments like this. It’s interesting that at the focal point of the church, right here at the east end of the building, above the High Altar, they chose to place this big stained glass window that depicts the Ascension of our Lord. You can’t see it all right now, you can only see the bottom part, where the apostles and Mary are gathered, looking up at Jesus as he is taken up into heaven. Why did they choose this image to dominate this view of the church?
You read the end of Luke’s Gospel and you see that the apostles were at a time of transition. They had followed Jesus in his ministry. They had abandoned him as he went to his Passion. They rejoiced in his resurrection, and had spent these forty days with him, one way or another. And now, all of a sudden, he is leaving them, being taken up to heaven. It must have been perplexing and vexing, and sad, and nerve-wracking, to see him begin to go this way. What were they supposed to do? Grab the hem of his garment? Take hold of his feet? They weren’t expecting him to leave; what would they do now? What now?
Nearly everything now is discombobulated. They have no plan, no way forward, had not been prepared for this eventuality. But Luke tells us something very interesting. It looks like he has it out of order. In fact, some ancient authorities omit the detail that I think is so important, so telling, and so helpful for us. Jesus is blessing his disciples, and as he is doing it, he is carried up into haven, taken away. And then, after he is gone, Luke tells us, “they worshiped him.”
The first thing they did, when the question “Now what?” must have been burning in their minds, was to worship the Lord. They worshiped him. At this moment of profound transition when they had no idea what might come next, they worshiped him.
When I try to ask What now? I find myself perplexed and vexed, uncertain and anxious. I know we are at a moment of great transition, which brings all kinds of uncertainty, and in so many ways I don’t know what to do. It is stressful, and confusing, and I’m off kilter. I know we will make mistakes, and I expect that some people will want to give up as a result of this transition. Everything seems like it is up in the air. But one thing seems clear, even at this moment of transition: we are called to worship the living God. We don’t know what’s coming, but we know one thing: we are going to worship him.
What now? Who knows. But in this place, like those who came before us, amid all the things we don’t know, and all the confusion, we are absolutely certain about one thing, whether it happens on your side of the screen or mine, on you side of the closed doors or mine, whether its in small groups or a great congregation, we are going to worship him. What next? Who knows. We’ll worship him, and we’ll take it from there.
Notes for a sermon preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
The Feast of the Ascension, 2020
Saint Mark’s Church, Locust Street, Philadelphia