Deacon Ray - Wait and See
“What are you looking for?” These were the first words of Jesus in John’s Gospel, and they were addressed to His first disciples. The funny thing is that they did not know how to answer Jesus’ question, so they dodged it by asking “where are you staying?” To which Jesus replied, “come and see.” Three years later, when Jesus was taken up out of their sight, two angels posed essentially the same question as the disciples gazed up at the empty sky: what are you looking for? Again, they had no answer. Three years at Jesus’ side and they STILL did not know what they were looking for.
The closest that they came to articulating an answer was with their last question to Jesus, when they asked if He was then going to restore the kingdom to Israel. From this question we may surmise that the disciples were looking for some sort of national renaissance, or rebirth, under Jesus’ messianic rule. A settling of old scores, perhaps, so that those who had been oppressed would rule over their oppressors? A vindication of good over evil, perhaps, or of their faith? Or maybe a participation in the triumphant power and glory of God? These are all emotionally satisfying hopes, up to a point. But they were still only abstractions: vague on details and silent as to their part in the realization of such hopes.
And now it was Jesus’ turn to sidestep their question by answering the question they should have asked. That unspoken question was, or should have been, “what do you want us to do now?” To which Jesus replied, “wait and see.” Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to wait and see. It is not only the disciples — or even only the Church — that struggles to answer the question, “what are you looking for.” That is the perhaps the central question that the world today grapples with, and each of us in our own way. It is intrinsically tied up with the question, what is the meaning of life or — more personally — what is the meaning and purpose of MY life? It is a daring question. Daring, because to ask it is to confront both our joys and our griefs, our hopes and our anxieties: our dreams for the best life possible and our secret fear that those dreams will lead only to disappointment and disillusionment.
Let’s look at this conundrum for a moment from the perspective of the disciples when Jesus ascended. Over the course of mere weeks they had begun with the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, when all signs appeared to point to the realization of an earthly messianic kingdom, where all wrongs would be righted instantly and Israel would rule over all the nations. But those hopes were dashed when Jesus was crucified, and replaced by the gripping fear that they would be the next victims of a world hell bent on destruction of all they held dear. And yet three days later, they came face to face with the Risen Lord and their hopes were rekindled while their fears receded. But now, at the Ascension, when they dared hope again for Jesus to establish a messianic kingdom, Jesus suddenly left them alone. In that moment they were dumbfounded. Were they hopeful or fearful? Maybe a little of both. I think mostly, however, they were bewildered. Everything was coming at them so fast, who could blame them if they got dizzy staring up at the sky? What did they most need in that moment? Time. They needed relief from the roller coaster of the past several weeks and time to reflect. Time to move beyond the philosophical and elusive question, what do I want, to the moral and practical question, what do I do now?
Jesus, of course, knew this, and as ever He gave them what they needed. He told them to wait. Wait together. Wait and pray for the answers to God’s questions (for a change). And wait for the Holy Spirit to show you what to do and to give you the capability of doing more than you ever imagined possible.
Nearly 2,000 years later, the Church is still reflecting upon the lessons of the Ascension. This morning, our monthly Vatican II document series focused on the document known as Gaudium et Spes — the pastoral constitution on the church in the modern world. Gaudium et Spes in Latin means joy and hope. But the first sentence of the document juxtaposes joy and hope with grief and anxiety. All are part of the human condition in this age, and both the Church and the world must face them (just as the disciples did). The central thrust of the document, however, is that we must face them together — because the world needs the joy and the hope of Christ that only the Church can offer — and the Church needs the world so she can fulfill the mission entrusted to her by Jesus.
The disciples asked Jesus, are you going to establish the kingdom of God now? He told them to wait and see because they weren’t ready for the answer; they had to discover it for themselves. Only by waiting first and then receiving the Spirit at Pentecost, and thereafter by continuing to ask, what do we do now, did the answer finally begin to emerge. And it is more glorious and amazing than they would dared to have hoped. The disciples asked Jesus, are YOU going to establish your kingdom now? And Jesus in essence replied: no, WE are! You will be my witnesses and I will be with you. That is the assurance of the Gospel.
But how can we help establish His kingdom? What can I do? Now we are on the right track with our question, because it presupposes trust in God’s plan, even if it asks more of us than we might think ourselves capable of. Today’s Epistle gives us a great place to start. We help build the kingdom of God through humility, gentleness, patience and love. We build the kingdom every time we draw closer to God and closer to each other, united in our hopes and dreams, united in a spirit of peace, and united in faith. Those who oppose the kingdom seek to divide. But our mission is unity. And our destiny is God.
