Two White-Robed Strangers

Two White-Robed Strangers May 22, 2017

(Lectionary for May 28, 2017)

Here we are at the last Sunday before Pentecost, and the lectionary really gives us a couple of shots at Acts 1. May 25, a Thursday this year, presents us with the story of the Ascension of the Lord, that space age view of Jesus, after his resurrection, floating up into the sky in the sight of his slack-jawed disciples, who stand in shocked silence while their master disappears, a la Elijah, into the blue. It is, like the preceding story in Luke of the resurrection itself, a tale to strain the credulity of the most ardent of believers, willing to suspend the brains that God gave them in order to “remain orthodox” in the face of the terrors of a “creeping rationalism.” As I have said regularly in these columns, I find no contradiction at all between my inability to grasp the physical resurrection of Jesus and my conviction that the story is a vitally important one for me and my emerging faith. All that despite the recent near-1000 page defense of the physical doctrine by the ubiquitous N.T.Wright, who seemingly never has an unpublished thought. He is a very smart man, but on this matter we part company.

All the more is that true about the so-called ascension of Jesus to the heavenly realms. This has always sounded to me like some sort of pseudo-Gnostic idea where the Lord of Light has come to earth to spread some of that light around, to identify bits of that etBambergApocalypse10Ascensionernal light hiding within a few earthlings, and then to go back where he came from, dragging the selected ones with him. Indeed, modern Gnostics love this stuff, because it singles them out as special and offers them many opportunities to scorn others who are clearly by their definitions not one of elect: gay folk and black and brown folk and liberal folk and others of their unwashed ilk. Frankly, the whole notion sickens me as the fanciful and terrible nonsense that it has become. Of all people, the Jesus I know would hardly choose a few and damn the rest—such a repulsive Jesus is not worthy of any of our time, let alone our worship and praise! It is a Jesus molded in the image of the few who see themselves as “special,” like the old Dana Carvey church lady of Saturday Night Live fame. I do not mean at all to demean any of you who find beliefs like these crucial for your embrace of Christianity; I merely ask you not to exclude those of us from the tent who do not.
And that brings me to another part of the story that is too often overlooked but has been egregiously misused and hilariously exploited by modern mountebanks for their own sordid financial gain. I hope one day to see Acts 1:7 emblazoned in a stained glass window or at least crocheted on a pillow sampler or a kneeler in a church. The assembled disciples, gathered to ask their resurrected Lord about the future of their work in the newly forming Christian community, pose the following question: “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel” (Acts 1:6)? It is the sort of question you might imagine these knuckleheads would ask, something to do with their own power and glory. Lord, they query, is this finally when we get the goodies we long expected by following you? Because surely when Israel gets its power back as a great kingdom, and since we are chief parts of Israel, has our time of splendor at last come? The answer Jesus gives is distinctly dispiriting for anyone in search of worldly greatness.

“It is not for you to know the times or periods that the father has set by his own authority” (Acts 1JCH_at_Podium:7). Read that line to John Haggee of San Antonio, Garner Ted Armstrong, and a horde of others who have bilked and abused millions for nearly a century, claiming that THEY know perfectly well “the times and the periods,” and will be happy to tell you all about them if you fork over substantial cash for the privilege in this or that workshop or seminar. Ridiculous! Hokum! Nonsense! They know exactly as much as the disciples know, or as much as I knowGarner_Ted_Armstrong_1979, or as much as you know about all this: precisely nothing! The one thing that we all know, according to this story, is that “we will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and then you will be my witnesses (Greek word “martyr”) in Jerusalem, all Judea and Samaria, to the ends of the earth” (Rome in Luke’s day but the whole earth in ours). The power of the Holy Spirit may mean many things, but it decidedly does not mean worldly success: private jets, huge mansions, fast cars, expensive suits and the like. It means sharing with all the gift of God’s spirit, the announcement of God’s love for all creation, all God has made. Yesterday, in the church I attended, we prayed for all houses of worship, lifting the name of God in worship: synagogues, mosques, temples of many kinds, homes, tents, outdoor campfires. That, in my mind, was an example of what Jesus offered those disciples so long ago—the chance to witness to all, not the chance to make a fast buck on the news he came to share.

And the story continues. “When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, ‘Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven’” (Acts 1:9-11)? Such a hilarious picture! Disciples have always wanted to spend the bulk of their religious days gazing longingly into heaven, anxiously awaiting the return of the Lord, all the better to avoid the work that the Lord has given them to do. Hence, the persons I mentioned above wish to keep the eyes of their followers on the dates and times of the Lord’s return, so they will not lower their gaze to see the pain and struggles of millions of their fellow human beings, not to mention look more closely at their leaders who are prostituting the very gospel they claim to live by. But the two white-robed realists attempt to bring them back to earth and that witnessing work. Do not spend any more time looking with longing at the skies, hoping for some proof of Jesus’ return—a well-placed tortilla chip, a Jesus-faced screen door, an old burial cloth, a French grotto. Yes, yes, the two say, Jesus will return one day, but you do not know when or how. You know only what he has asked of you—so get at it!

My goodness, I love this great story! It speaks volumes about what we Christians ought to be about, as well as about what we spend far too much of our time actually doing. Christianity is about actions of love more than raw speculations, absurd ponderings about which we can know nothing. What ever led us in these false directions, these facile foolish fads that have made our faith the laughing stock of so many in our world, so many who need what we have, if we only knew what it is that we in fact have? I admit readily to being ashamed of too many of my fellow believers, but more ashamed of myself that I have not stood up for what I know to be right about the faith I profess and too reticent to call out those who claim a Christian faith that Jesus would not recognize. I want to stand with those two white-robed men who shout for us all to get our head out of the clouds and to see more clearly what is in fact happening on the earth, that same earth loved and redeemed by God in Jesus.

(Images from Wikimedia Commons)


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