During the 50 Days of Easter, my blog will be musings by Joseph of Arimathea on the amazing happenings of the time between Easter and Pentecost--between the Resurrection and the Coming of the Holy Spirit on the disciples. Enter with me into this imagined series of recollections by Joseph. Ascension day is May 13 this year, so the image today is the Ascension of Christ by Salvador Dali, 1958.
After my
acknowledgement of Jesus of Nazareth as the Holy One of God, I felt different. It
was as if a weight was lifted from my shoulders. The grief of holding the man’s
dead body was gone. The questions about how a person can come to life didn’t
matter. All that mattered was that God had acted in a powerful way.
Nicodemus, too,
must have come to the same realization. He was not surprised when I told him I
was certain the Rabbi was alive, even though I had not seen him myself.
“It is what he
told his disciples would happen,” he agreed. “We too often try to confine the
Almighty to our rituals and our Temple. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob
cannot be contained. The One who parted the Red Sea and set our people on the
path to freedom continues to work through men and women to reconcile all
creation. Why should be think that an itinerant rabbi from Galilee is an
unlikely instrument. The Holy one of Israel always uses the least likely men
and women to act.”
“You are right,
my friend,” I grinned, almost giddy. “Will you come with me tomorrow? Peter and
John say that we are to gather on the Mount of Olives and that Jesus will meet
us there.”
Nicodemus agreed,
and so it was that I stood with the disciples and many others who had been
followers of the rabbi, and even some who, like me, were new to belief. Forty
days had passed since I found my tomb vacated. Jesus had been seen by his
followers several times. I had never been lucky enough to see the man, but I no
longer sought that gift. Now he stood on the small hill with the small crowd
gathered around. His closest disciples stood not far from the man. No one dared
approach him directly.
We heard Jesus
promise, “You will feel the Breath of God soon.”
Nicodemus and I
looked at each other. It was another sign to us that a new creation was being
born. The same Breath of God was present when all creation was brought into
being. Now it would be poured out on humanity.
“It is as Joel
prophesied,” I whispered to my friend, “I will pour out my Spirit
upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young
men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.”
He just nodded, staring at the man on the top of the hill.
“Will you now restore Israel?” someone called out.
“It is not for you to know the appointed time,” Jesus
responded. “For now, remain in Jerusalem. When you receive power from the
Breath of God, you will bear witness in Jerusalem, and to all Judea and
Samaria, even to the ends of the earth.”
This comment caused a lot of muttering around me as people
asked each other what he meant.
“Surely he doesn’t mean to go to Samaria and to the Roman
Empire,” I heard someone say.
Then there was a collective inhalation. I too caught my
breath. The man seemed to be rising from the ground. Indeed, as I watched he
rose higher and higher until all we could see was the soles of his feet. Then
he was gone into the clouds far above.
Then they too disappeared. We were left staring at each
other in confusion. No one seemed to have anything coherent to say. Slowly the
men and women drifted away in small groups talking to each other. They seemed
to have similar questions.
“What is the Breath of God?”
“How will I know when it comes?”
“When will Jesus return?”
Nicodemus and I looked at each other.
“Is this what Moses felt at the burning bush, or Elijah at
the cave entrance?” I asked in an awed tone.
“Or Elisha watching Elijah ascend in the chariots of fire?”
My friend responded with a raised eyebrow.
Slowly we returned to Jerusalem. The road looked the same as
it had earlier. People came and went through the city gate as if nothing
momentous had occurred. The breeze tugged at my turban. I thought of Jesus
telling Nicodemus that the wind blows wherever it wants. It was the same moving
air as an hour or a day ago.
But it wasn’t the same. We had seen astonishing things that
morning. Our lives would not be the same.
