Reading: Luke 24:44-53
Like the other Gospels, the Gospel of Luke ends with stories about the raising of Jesus from the dead, his appearing to his disciples, and his ascending to heaven. But in Luke, this is not the end of the story. It’s just the end of Part One.
The same person who wrote The Gospel of Luke also wrote the Book of the Acts of the Apostles, and clearly intended them to be read as Part One and Part Two of the bigger story of the kingdom of God beginning to change all the world. What begins with Jesus, is continued after his departure by those who follow in his way and live by his Spirit.
The end of the Gospel, then – which is our reading
today – is like the end of Act One in a play.
The risen Jesus appears to the disciples, and what he says and does sets
up the final working-out of the story after an intermission.
Then Jesus said to his disciples, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so, stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.”
Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.
Meditation
“He led them out as far as Bethany and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them.”
This part of the story makes me think of the huge statue of Christ the Redeemer on the peak of a mountain overlooking Rio de Janeiro. The statue is 30 metres high, and stands on a pedestal another 8 metres high. The arms stretch 28 metres wide – helping us imagine the risen Jesus reaching out to embrace, hold, and bless all the world, its people, all life. The statue has been voted one of the New Seven Wonders of the World.
The image of hands lifted up in blessing over us also makes me remember being twelve years old standing in a tankful of water in the sanctuary of McDermot Avenue Baptist Church, to be baptized, blessed and welcomed into the church. Twelve was the age at which many of us felt a need for God’s salvation of our souls, and ready to give our lives to following the way of Christ. About a dozen of us were being baptized and welcomed into the church that night.
The minister waiting for each of us in turn to wade out to him in the middle of the tank and to stand in front of all the congregation, was Rev. Stein. I had mixed feelings about him. I was twelve years old, and on one hand he represented order, authority and judgement; he seemed old; he preached about the evils of rock-and-roll. On the other hand, he was the one who phoned in to a local radio talk show to criticize a decision of City Council to reduce funding for support programs for families in poverty; he cared about the poor.
In all his ambiguous fulness of meaning he reached out that night to welcome and to steady us all in the water of baptism. In turn, he asked each of us to affirm our faith in Christ, and our willingness to follow and serve Christ in all our life. Then he held each us tight, lowered us under the water, raised us up out of it, and lifted up his right hand over us to declare a blessing and welcome us into the fellowship of the church.
With me, though, he added one more thing. “This one is going to be a minister,” he said. Eight words that have stayed with me all my life, and have shaped my life. Eight words that have been a surprising joy to hear, a burden to bear, a light to guide, and a call to grow into.
That, I think, is how we need to read this story of the risen Jesus lifting up his hands to bless his followers. Blessing and being blessed are often understood as a matter of gifts given and received. We sing “count your blessings – name them one by one,” making blessing just another word for “gift” – some nice thing God gives us, like any generous and rich parent gives their child. A blank check. A winning ticket. A get-out-of-jail card when we need it.
But blessing also has something to do with being ordained to service, like when a king or queen consecrates and raises a soul to the ranks and responsibilities of knighthood with a ceremonial tap of a sword upon the shoulders of the one kneeling before them.
More than just “I am lucky to have so many good things,” being blessed also means “I am called to a way of life, invited into partnership with Christ, and empowered to live out God’s will in the world in his name and in his stead. I am given an identity and a purpose in life that I would not have apart from Christ lifting up his hands to bless me as I follow him, and God laying a holy hand upon my shoulders as I kneel before and submit myself to the Holy One.” It’s an unexpected joy to receive, a heavy burden to bear, a holy light to guide you, and a life-long calling to grow into and live up to as best you can.
I recently read of someone who has borne this kind of blessing, and who in her own little way stands out in the world as remarkably as the statue of Christ the Redeemer does in a big way.
Wilma Derksen’s 13-year-old daughter, Candace, was assaulted and murdered in 1984. It took weeks for her body to be found, and when Candace’s body was found, Wilma and her husband Cliff consented to a press conference. Wilma describes the end of the press conference in the book she has written about her soul’s journey from that point on. The book is titled The Way of Letting Go: One Woman’s Journey towards Forgiveness.
Lights from the TV cameras had dimmed, and I thought the press conference was over. We had spent the entire time talking about our daughter – relieved that we had found her, shocked that she had been murdered, and thankful for everyone who had been searching for her.
Just as we were about to leave, someone asked the question. “And what about the person who murdered your daughter?”
The reporter who had asked the question was standing in the back, his black note book in his hands, pen poised. The question hung in the air for quite a while as we just sat there deliberating about what we should say…
Cliff … was the first to answer it. And he said it with a kind of fait-accompli assurance: “We forgive.”
…I envied my husband’s confidence. I still do [she is writing 33 years later]… I answered honestly. “I want to forgive.”
The lights that had dimmed had come back on as they asked us what forgiving meant. I have no idea how we answered them. But to me it felt like I had dissolved into a conversation with friends as Cliff and I began to explore the concept with them.
I was stunned the next day that our choice and our attitude was what had grabbed the attention of the city. I had thought the stories would focus on the murder. They didn’t. The articles highlighted our statement of forgiveness.
And Wilma’s life from then until now and probably until the day she dies has been focused on an incredibly hard journey of learning about, growing into, living out, and writing about what forgiveness really is, what it means, what it costs, and what it gives. Like a knight charged with a particular responsibility in the world, like a disciple blessed with an identity and a mission they would not have had otherwise, Wilma and her husband felt the hand of God on their shoulder, and knew the hand of the Christ lifted over them blessing them with an identity and a purpose greater than any they would have known otherwise.
Not as big as one of the Seven New Wonders of the World. But clearly one of the myriad wonders of the New World – the world that Christ the Redeemer calls us all to bear witness to.
And Wilma does not say we should all respond as she did to the violence done to her and her family. When she writes, she is not a doctor writing a prescription for us all to follow. She is a fellow patient suffering the human condition, describing as honestly as she can her own experience, strength, and hope. And maybe that too is faithful to the way of the Christ, and the kind of relationship with others and witness to others that he blesses us with.
Aiden Clarke, a bishop to the Lindisfarne Community in Northumbria, England tells a story he read “about a boy who lost a dog in New York City. As he walked up and down the streets, systematically and slowly, a friend complained that he wasn’t even looking for the dog.
“He answered, ‘I’m not looking for him. I’m letting him find me. Sooner or later he will discover the trail I am putting down and follow it until he comes to me.’
“In the same way, Jesus is not looking for converts. He sets down a trail which different people pick up at different points and follow until they find him. The person who bears witness is also not looking for converts but setting down a track which others will find and follow to Jesus. Maybe a perfect evangelist is one whose work and love is never recognized, who is never acknowledged or thanked by anyone this side of the grave. May Jesus bless the millions who bear witness quietly and humbly in secret.”
We are not all Wilma or Cliff Derksens; thank God we don’t find ourselves in that extremity of sorrow. We are not all ordained ministers; there were a dozen others besides me baptized that night into following Jesus. And all of us in our own way stand under the outstretched arms of Christ the Redeemer who blesses us with a way of living we would not have otherwise. All of us at times feel the hand of God upon our shoulder, and hear the voice of God calling us to rise where we are to an identity and a purpose of God’s design, that we would never have apart from being blessed with it.
There’s only one statue of Christ the Redeemer; one is enough. What’s needed beyond that is simply people who know the gracious joy, the constant burden, the guiding light, and the ennobling call of his blessing upon their life.
Can you see yourself as someone going up and down the streets of your life and of your community, step by step laying down a track of God’s love, for others to be able to find it and follow it until they too find God and God’s love for themselves?
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