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The Peace of Christ

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“It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (Heb 10:31).

We might think something like this when we hear today’s Gospel passage, which promises condemnation to those who deny Christ and blaspheme the Holy Spirit. We are told that nothing is impossible for God, and that the Son of Man came that all might have life, but we are also told that the one who blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven. What if we stumble into blasphemy against the Holy Spirit? What if we are not courageous in our public conversations, and so do not defend Christ when necessary?

Taken out of context, these verses are terrifying. Indeed, even in context, they still call to mind our verse from Hebrews. But given the surrounding readings, we have a broader perspective, allowing us to shed our anxiety and embrace the grace of Christ. We ought to be on guard against infidelity, cowardice, and blasphemy, but we ought not be anxious about them. Concern is warranted, even called for, but anxiety paralyzes. We can see the merit of this approach within the context, but also within the warnings themselves.

Denying Christ before others is self-explanatory.  “Blasphemy against the Holy Spirit,” on the other hand, is sometimes misunderstood. It is considered by a great many saints to mean final unrepentance, a hardness of heart that denies responsibility for sin. These sins are grave, but they are also uncommon. You would be hard-pressed to commit the act of renouncing Christ or blasphemy against the Spirit without a firm intention to do so. Still, we are told to be on our guard.

In the same breath that he warns against these things, Jesus reminds his disciples of the Holy Spirit’s assistance: “When they take you before synagogues and before rulers and authorities, do not worry about how or what your defense will be or about what you are to say. For the Holy Spirit will teach you at that moment what you should say” (Lk 12:11–12). This shows us a deeper truth than our fears offer: for the faithful follower of Christ, there really is nothing to worry about.

To be sure, there are things that should give us pause. It is still a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God, and sin is no joke. However, a view which narrows in on these elements of the Christian life fails to recognize the riches of God’s grace. Saint Paul speaks eloquently of this grace in our first reading, mentioning “the hope” of God’s call, “the riches of glory” that belong to the saints, and “the greatness of his power” for the faithful (Eph 1:18–19). The Psalmist picks up the thread, proclaiming God’s great glory throughout the entire earth.

With God’s grace so prominent for the Christian, anxiety becomes less significant. Sin and temptation remain, but their power pales in comparison to the victory of Christ. For the well-formed Christian, the assistance of the Holy Spirit is an assurance of peace: “the Holy Spirit will teach you at that moment what you should say” (Lk 12:12). This is the key: though we aim to avoid the judgment of God, we can rest assured in the knowledge that God is with those who believe in him. A vast array of aid is available to us, if only we look up to heaven and ask for it.

That being said, this takes some discipline. It is not enough to simply have good will and believe in Jesus. Saint Paul does not stop praying for the Ephesians, thinking that their faith and love are sufficient for a perfect life. Instead, he prays for a deepening of knowledge, that they may act even more in accordance with God’s call. The spiritual life, rejuvenating as it is, requires hard work and preparation, so that we can be well-equipped in time of trial. The disciple of Christ can rely on the Holy Spirit’s assistance when brought before rulers and authorities because he knows that he is in a state of grace, open to the promptings of the Spirit.

With this in mind, we can be assured that there is peace and joy for those who follow the Lord with heart, soul, mind, and strength. Though there are sins and enticements that we must avoid at all costs, this effort is made simple by the abundant grace of Christ. We need only to avail ourselves of the fonts of those graces: prayer, the sacraments, trust in the Lord, and docility to the Holy Spirit.

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David Dashiell is the Associate Director of Liturgy for a group of parishes in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When he is not spending time with his wife and infant daughter, he is writing on philosophy and theology for various online publications. You can find some of these in Crisis Magazine and the Imaginative Conservative, and you can contact him at ddashiellwork@gmail.com.

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He Must Increase

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“Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has risen no one greater than John the Baptist” (Matt 11:11).

Today we celebrate a great saint, although he never refers to himself that way. He sets out to point to the Lamb of God and keep himself as inconspicuous as possible: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (Jn 3:30). While John’s ministry is important, he recognizes that his existence is oriented toward Jesus Christ. He has done his duty so long as the crowds move on from a baptism of repentance to Baptism in the name of the Trinity.

Even the liturgy witnesses to John’s role in salvation history. As some of you may already know, the Birth of Saint John the Baptist is celebrated on June 24th, very close to the Summer solstice. This is when the sun reaches its highest altitude, making for the longest day of the year and the shortest night. The days begin to shorten and the nights begin to lengthen as we approach the Winter solstice, just before December 25th each year. On this date, we experience the shortest period of daylight and the longest night of the year.

At Christ’s birth, the night seems all-consuming, but we know that the light is about to increase. The days begin to lengthen again just as John’s ministry is concluding. Christ the light is increasing, as John, represented by the darkness, is decreasing. John is gradually stepping back, recognizing that the light has come into the world. The universe bears witness to the relationship between John and Jesus.

For John, his decreasing is accomplished by preaching the truth in and out of season, telling the crowds to repent and exposing Herod’s wrongdoing. He only speaks about himself to explain that he is not the Christ.

Though he drove attention from himself, he managed to attract large crowds and win many for Christ. Saint John the Baptist is a shining example of the lesson that “God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong” (1 Cor 1:27).

The life of Saint John is a life radically oriented toward the kingdom of God. How can we imitate this dynamic in our own lives? It begins with the same recognition, that Jesus must increase while we must decrease. This does not have to be a self-deprecating resolution. As after the winter solstice, we decrease by drawing attention to the light and by rooting out the darkness in our lives. This does not mean losing ourselves. Rather, it means finding ourselves in Christ the light, who shows man who he is meant to be.

We can take more concrete steps to “decrease” by imitating John’s defense of the truth. Notice that in John’s ministry, he managed to decrease while remaining an extraordinarily prominent prophet. This seems counter-intuitive, but it tells us that our enthusiasm and effectiveness are not contrary to humility if they are oriented toward Christ. What we speak about, explain, and defend should be centered on Jesus. We ought not to be afraid to proclaim the “hard sayings” of the Gospel as John did, knowing that our gaze ought to be fixed on heaven. If we focus on heaven and not ourselves, we can be assured that we are on the right track.

This is the terminus of Saint John’s ministry, and it is what we celebrate today: birth into eternal life. John recognized that the most worthwhile endeavor he could undertake would be to direct everyone to God, to an eternity in heaven. He stuck with this call even to the end, because he understood that Christ would conquer death. Seeing that his words would anger many and cause him to beheaded, he continued to press on. His reward was similar to many saints: martyrdom, a speedy entry into the kingdom. Today we celebrate his birth into heaven.

Let us celebrate this great prophet’s heavenly birthday with joy, striving to follow his fearless example of courageous humility.

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David Dashiell is the Associate Director of Liturgy for a group of parishes in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When he is not spending time with his wife and infant daughter, he is writing on philosophy and theology for various online publications. You can find some of these in Crisis Magazine and the Imaginative Conservative, and you can contact him at ddashiellwork@gmail.com.

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Parish Priests: Saints or Sinners?

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Today is the memorial of Saint John Vianney, patron saint of parish priests. We frequently discuss our pastors and their associates, especially when it comes to difficult or controversial decisions that they make. Given my role working for a parish with four priests and four deacons, I think that it might be good to discuss parish priests from the inside.

Depending on your background as a faithful Catholic, you might have one of two attitudes towards parish priests. You may see them as wonderful men who can practically do no wrong, entrusted with sacred faculties to act in the person of Christ. The pastor is both leader and servant and is able to manage all things through the strength of the God who has empowered him to exercise ministry. With a little prayer, he can handle any challenge of parish life. At times, it seems that he can do no wrong.

On the other hand, you may see priests as fragile, flawed men whom God has unfathomably graced with power beyond their merits. They can do amazing things, but at the bottom, they are human and broken like the rest of us. They have divine assistance, but they desperately need our help. At times, it seems like they are no better than the average person.

Each of these conceptions has a grain of truth to it, as we can see from the special readings for Saint John Vianney. On the one hand, priests are given “authority over unclean spirits to drive them out and to cure every disease and every illness” (Matt 10:1). They are sent as God’s messengers to admonish his people, spread the good news, and proclaim liberty to the captives. Parish priests are given abundant grace to overcome every situation, priming them for holiness.

On the other hand, “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few” (Matt 9:37). Priests may have power, but they can be outnumbered. They cannot always bear the weight of their duties. The first reading from Ezekiel speaks of a priest’s immense responsibility for those who turn away from God: “I will hold you responsible for his death if you did not warn him” (Ezek 3:20). Priests have awesome power, but they also have a grave responsibility. Sometimes it is too much for them to handle gracefully.

An accurate perspective on parish priests needs to take account of both of these attitudes. Yes, priests are given immense power, authority, and grace. They have been privileged for holiness. Yes, priests are flawed, fragile human beings with responsibilities too great for man to bear. They are much like the rest of us.

As a liturgist working under an eight-man clergy team, I see both sides of this reality routinely. There have been many times in which a priest is being casual and lighthearted one moment and stoic the next. When discussing logistics or community life, jokes are frequent. When preaching from the ambo or explaining the Sacraments, the tone becomes loftier and more serious. Some of the priests I would consider the most simple and unintelligent have given the most profound homilies. Behind the unassuming personality and need for assistance lies an icon screen in an office, or a frequent habit of Adoration. The priests with whom I work are fragile and human, but they are blessed with grace and authority. In the less serious moments, the fragility is front and center. In the context of priestly duties, the sanctity is showcased.

Priests are men like the rest of us, struggling to maintain a life of prayer and sacrifice. Each of them has his own quirks and imperfections, and each is uniquely challenged by different aspects of parish life. Yet, while parish priests are human, they have been changed by God in their very being. They are priests after the order of Melchizedek, and nothing can take that character away from them. Their souls have been marked.

It is important to remember these things about our parish priests. When a complete picture of the priesthood informs our actions, we begin to treat these men differently. Knowing the authority and power of the priest, we address him as “father” and make every effort to avoid insulting the Lord whom he represents. Knowing the humanity and fragility of the priest, we are unafraid to converse with him as a companion on the road to heaven. We recognize that at times he will need our help and that at all times he needs our prayers.

With these things in mind, let us give thanks for our parish priests: human, yet acting in the person of the divine. Saint John Vianney, pray for our parish priests.

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David is the Associate Director of Liturgy for a group of parishes in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When he is not spending time with his wife and infant daughter, he is writing on philosophy and theology for various online publications. You can find some of these in Crisis Magazine and the Imaginative Conservative, and you can contact him at ddashiellwork@gmail.com.

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Do Not Forget the Lord

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Today is one of those days where we can feel chastised by the readings. We first hear of how the Lord will “allow the pride of Judah to rot, the great pride of Jerusalem” (Jeremiah 13:9). By the time we finish the Psalm, we have heard “You have forgotten God who gave you birth” four times (Deuteronomy 31:18). Not exactly the most encouraging words for a Monday morning. The passages are clearly about idolatry, but we still hear the words as meant for us.

While we might not be worshiping idols of wood and stone, we still turn to things other than God to fulfill us. For many, sweets, games, or sexual pleasures fill the void. For others, it is the good things that are loved beyond their worth: food, conversation, travel, the list goes on. In both cases, something else, whether good or evil, is put in place of God. We forget the Lord and put created things in His place.

We often forget the Lord when things are looking bleak. Faced with a tragic situation like the death of a loved one, some come close to worship of the deceased, placing them at the center of all thoughts, words, and prayers. Others become angry with God, living as if He did not exist. When in crisis, we can either turn toward God or hide from Him. This is the difference between praying for healing and failing to pray at all during a pandemic. One response acknowledges the power and goodness of God, while the other pretends that He is powerless, or at least uninterested, in time of trial.

On the other hand, we can forget the Lord when things are looking up. In times of prosperity, we can easily forget the struggle and the grace which enabled us to reach such heights. Having received glory, wealth, or power, we begin to rely on it and it alone to remain secure. We forget that without the Lord’s constant care, holding all things in existence, our good fortune would pass away. When we do not think we need help, it is easy to forget that God continues to act.

Though we can feel chastised, today is also one of those days when we feel confident that we are on the right track. After all, we follow the Lord’s commands when we hear them. We are more like the mustard seed or the yeast, humbly yielding to the growth which the Lord intends for us. We remember to rely on the Lord both in time of trial and time of peace. We can lean on God in distress and thank Him in prosperity. Even so, when we hear readings such as these we must be careful not to become too complacent. We must look for the truth in both feelings – shame and confidence –arriving at a view of reality that is balanced and accurate.

Our Gospel can help us to synthesize these reactions. Both the mustard plant and the leaven begin small. If neglected at this stage, they will remain minuscule, shriveling up and rotting like Jeremiah’s loincloth. If we forget God when we feel insignificant and downtrodden, we will only sink to lower depths. With the grace of God, we can move out of this state, just as the seed and yeast begin to grow with a little care. Though we cannot always see the growth happening, the end result is magnificent. The plant becomes a home to the birds of the sky, and the yeast becomes a large batch of dough. On the other side of the struggle, we see the constant providence of God and can rest in His peace.

Still, this time of prosperity is not the end. We can still forget the Lord, bringing us to a worse state than the first. A dead plant is worse than a live seed, and stale bread is worse than active yeast culture. It is not as if the mustard plant can become a seed again, or the loaf of bread can become yeast again. If we do not continue to cultivate our relationship with God in times of prosperity, we can stagnate and grow cold.

The first reading and Gospel remind us of the power and presence of the Lord. He is always there, watching us and providing the growth until the end of the age. Even when we turn away from Him, He cares enough to call us back. Though we can forget these things, we know that God never forgets us.

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David is the Associate Director of Liturgy for a group of parishes in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When he is not spending time with his wife and infant daughter, he is writing on philosophy and theology for various online publications. You can find some of these in Crisis Magazine and the Imaginative Conservative, and you can contact him at ddashiellwork@gmail.com.

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The Lord is in Charge

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“God’s in charge.” This may seem like a trite phrase, but it’s the substance of our readings today, and it has a real impact. It’s easy enough to see this in the first reading, where God causes a multiple-year drought through the prophet Elijah. The drought is a direct response to Ahab’s sin of idolatry, taking the Baals as gods instead of the true God of Israel. It is a reminder that not only is God real, but He sees our infidelity and acts swiftly.

This is an important message, especially today. Many Catholics (myself included), shrink from embracing the full demands of the Gospel. This could mean not living up to the moral teaching of the Church, not witnessing to the Faith in front of family, or growing lethargic in our devotion. Coming out of quarantine, most of us are not technically required to attend Sunday Mass. But will we continue to keep holy the Sabbath day? This commandment was never revoked. Even if the Sunday obligation is suspended, we are still bound by the third commandment. If we keep the commandment, will we do so eagerly, or begrudgingly? Now that we have had months to stay at home, it is easy to come up with excuses not to go out and live the Gospel.

It is even easier to do this when we consider the economy (as in arrangement) we are in. Before the time of Christ, the Lord dealt swiftly and decisively with sin. He was ready with drought, famine, earthquake, plague, you name it. These would often come immediately after the sin had been committed, to make the connection between sin and punishment abundantly clear. In the New Covenant, God is no less watchful, but He has decided to save much of our punishment for either Purgatory or Hell. As a result, we can be tempted to forget that God still plans to seek justice for the sins committed against Him. Let us remember that the Lord is still in charge.

On the other side, Jesus reminds us in our Gospel that we will be abundantly blessed when we defer to God’s providence. Once we acknowledge that the Lord is in charge in our attitudes, we are set to receive abundant graces. The Beatitudes represent the characteristics of a saint: poverty of spirit, mourning, meekness, desire for righteousness, mercy, cleanliness of heart, peacemaking, and persecution for righteousness’ sake. In each of these, there is an acknowledgment that God is in control. We step back and allow Him to act, rather than stepping forward to run the show.

By poverty of spirit, we allow ourselves to detach from the things of this world. Realizing that all things exist in order to turn us to heaven, we embrace the heavenly and dwell on the things that are above. This invites God to take a more active role in our daily lives.

If we mourn properly, we do so acknowledging that the Lord is the master of our fate. He holds the souls of the just in His hand. In meekness, we allow the Lord to increase while we decrease, giving Him the glory. By desiring righteousness, we align our priorities with God’s, recognizing that His values and commandments ought to be followed at all times. He is given charge of our action.

Showing mercy to others opens our hearts to God’s direction, but it also leaves justice to God, whose prerogative it is to avenge at the end of time. Cleanliness of heart and peacemaking help us to avoid tainting our souls with sin or staining the world with unnecessary conflict. They allow God to reign in our hearts and our world. If we bear persecution for the sake of righteousness, we silently but humbly acknowledge that this struggle is not the final horizon. Pain on this earth will come, but ultimately we know that God commands our destinies.

With this perspective in mind, we can see the difference between king Ahab and a follower of Christ. The king thought his own way to be best and likely did not think that his deeds would be seen and avenged by the Lord. He relied on himself and on the Baals, and for this, he was punished. A follower of Christ lives the Beatitudes, enabling himself to be open to God’s providence and to recognize His sovereignty. He does not follow his own designs, but God’s. As the Psalmist proclaims, “My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:2). Let us all adopt this same attitude.

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David is the Associate Director of Liturgy for a group of parishes in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When he is not spending time with his wife and infant daughter, he is writing on philosophy and theology for various online publications. You can find some of these in Crisis Magazine and the Imaginative Conservative, and you can contact him at ddashiellwork@gmail.com.

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High Standards

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It is striking how little our readings today speak about anyone other than God. Saint Paul tells Timothy to “remember Jesus Christ,” and to be faithful to God by presenting himself as a “workman who causes no disgrace” (2 Tim 2:8, 15). The Psalmist sits humbly before the Lord, asking to be taught. Jesus reminds his listeners that God comes first and that we ought to love Him with our whole selves.

This serves as a good reminder of why we should do all that we do. Being a father of a nearly six-month-old daughter and a husband working overtime, this can be easy to lose track of. There are many things that can shift my focus away from the Lord. Many of these are actually good, but they can take too central a place. Pleasing my wife, providing for my family, caring for my daughter – any one of these can become the reason that I do anything else.

It is easy to get so caught up in financial concerns, personal growth, and my relationship with my wife that God is barely present in my thoughts. I seek to serve the Lord, but I am usually thinking of my family or myself. This is not terrible, but our readings today remind us that we ought to have higher standards.

Today, we are reminded that the reason we should be doing everything that we do is love for God. This is more simple than we might think. It is not that we need to stop loving our neighbor or working for the good of our families. We simply need to do these things in a specific way, with the proper perspective and goal. We can still do things for the usual reasons, but it should all be directed to God. Practically, our readings can give us some tips:

We can take our first cue from the Psalmist, whose only desire is to learn God’s ways. He recognizes that guidance and wisdom come from the Lord. Sitting before the Lord in a humble posture of listening is essential for putting God first. Without first desiring to learn from God, we cannot truly love Him with our whole heart, soul, mind, and strength. We must sit at His feet, hear His Word, and carry it out. His ways should be our own; His Word should inform our words. Without this, we set the wrong foundation for ourselves.

Once we take the Lord’s instruction as our starting point, we can serve Him with fidelity. As Saint Paul explains in his letter to Timothy, we should be conducting ourselves honorably, “imparting the word of truth without deviation” (2 Tim 2:15). Rooted in the Word, we should speak what we hear, remaining in the Truth. Our relationship with God will be the basis for how we approach our lives, from our attitudes to our actions and conversations. All of these things should correspond to God’s commands and admonitions, and we should be sharing them with others.

Letting ourselves be formed by God and His commandments is great, but the fact is that we are not always thinking or talking about the Lord. Because of our duties of state, we cannot always speak directly about the Lord, teach the truth at every moment, or soak in Scripture for copious amounts of time. More often than not we are changing diapers, dealing with conflicts, planning for the future, or engaging in other mundane responsibilities.

Though it may seem like these moments are unrelated to our service to God, this is not the case. As with letting ourselves be formed by God, it is a matter of putting God first. We can still do our duties of state, but we can do them for the glory of God. As Christ points out by naming the second commandment after the greatest, the call to love our neighbor is not incompatible with the love of God. It simply needs to be subordinated to it.

Simply, what this means is that we ought to do all things for God’s glory. In offering it to God, everything that we do can become a prayer, however mundane. Once this is put into practice, every aspect of our lives will point to God. By listening to God, we set Him as our foundation. By speaking of His truths and commands, we share Him with others. By dedicating even a load of laundry to Him, we continue our sacrifice and give Him glory. If we can live in this way, we can truly love the Lord with all our heart, all our soul, all our mind, and all our strength.

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David is the Associate Director of Liturgy for a group of parishes in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When he is not spending time with his wife and infant daughter, he is writing on philosophy and theology for various online publications. You can find some of these in Crisis Magazine and the Imaginative Conservative, and you can contact him at ddashiellwork@gmail.com.

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A Heavenly Perspective

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It can be easy to get bogged down in the struggles of daily life. Even when we are not dealing with a global pandemic, fear, anxiety, and depression can quickly creep in. Uncertainty leads to fear, fear leads to anxiety, anxiety leads to disorientation, and disorientation leads to depression. Once we enter into this state, tunnel vision ensues. Our gaze remains fixed on the earth, unable to see anything beyond the immediate.

When we hear the readings at Mass, we sometimes skip over the Alleluia verse. Pay close attention to it today: “if then you were raised with Christ, seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God” (Colossians 3:1). Seek what is above. This is a call for all experiencing uncertainty, fear, anxiety, and depression, but it is also a perennial call. No matter what the circumstances, we ought to look up, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.

Saint Paul had to remind the disciples in Ephesus of this. As we hear in the first reading, they did not even know that the Holy Spirit existed. They had only been baptized with John’s baptism, and they did not realize that something greater awaited them: “‘John baptized with a baptism of repentance, telling the people to believe in the one who was to come after him, that is, in Jesus’” (Acts 19:4). The Ephesian disciples didn’t realize it, but they were always meant to look beyond earthly baptism. They were meant to be baptized into Christ, turning their gaze to the things that are above.

Christ reminds the Apostles of the same thing in the Gospel. Even when the Apostles are confident that they have reached the heights of faith, Jesus reminds them that there are trials ahead: ‘“Do you believe now? Behold, the hour is coming and has arrived when each of you will be scattered to his own home and you will leave me alone.’” (John 16:31-21). Each scattered into his own home, left alone…sound familiar? By now, I’m sure that we can all relate to that experience.

In these dark times and in the brighter days beginning to follow, Jesus tells us how to move forward: seek what is above. “But I am not alone, because the Father is with me. I have told you this so that you might have peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world.’” (John 16:32-33).

Take courage: Christ has conquered the world. The Father is with Him in heaven, where He has ascended in glory. This is simple enough to say, but how can we keep it in mind? How can we seek what is above, always focusing on the things of heaven? How can we have a heavenly perspective and experience the peace that Christ promises?

One practical way to cultivate a heavenly perspective is extemporaneous prayer, or prayer in the moment. Each time we encounter a difficult situation, an upcoming challenge, or even a great joy, we can quickly say a prayer to the Lord. “O God, give me courage and wisdom.” “Lord, be with me.” “Father, I give You praise for Your goodness.” These quick prayers keep us from getting stuck on earth. Each time we send up an extemporaneous prayer, we turn our head towards heaven, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Turning back to the earth, we carry His light with us.

Simply speaking about heavenly things is another good way to seek what is above. The more we talk about the Faith, God, and Christian life, the easier it is to see things in light of them. Having good friends who are willing to talk about their experiences with living the Christian life and are willing to engage the meatier topics of the Faith is a great thing. Even a quick mention of faith in a conversation, telling someone that we will pray for them, can turn our gaze upward. The more we are talking about heaven, the more it will permeate our lives.

In both troubling and good times, we are called to seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Armed with the grace of the Holy Spirit, we can use extemporaneous prayer and spiritual conversation to remain with the Lord. He has conquered the world; we need only to keep His victory in sight.

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David is the Associate Director of Liturgy for a group of parishes in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When he is not spending time with his wife and infant daughter, he is writing on philosophy and theology for various online publications. You can find some of these in Crisis Magazine and the Imaginative Conservative, and you can contact him at ddashiellwork@gmail.com.

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It is better for you that I go

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“But I tell you the truth, it is better for you that I go. For if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you” (John 16:7).

Jesus speaks these words to His disciples before He enters into His Passion. They do not understand it then, and they do not understand it now when He is about to ascend to the Father. How can it be a good thing for Jesus to leave? He only just rose from the dead. Forty days of precious moments were not enough for the Apostles. After all, He hasn’t even restored the Kingdom to Israel!

At this decisive moment, Jesus speaks His last words while walking the earth: “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8-9). With that, He disappears into the clouds. Why has He left so soon? What does this mean?

It may seem that Christ has left His disciples in confusion, in the dark. He is gone, after all. But He is not simply leaving; He is going somewhere, to where He belongs, at the Father’s right hand. With His Ascension, Christ reigns triumphant and completes His mission on earth. He has trampled death and conquered sin, and now He ascends resurrected into heaven.

Going up with shouts of joy, He carries both His natures intact: divine and human. Taking His rightful place, He sends the promised Holy Spirit and charges the Apostles: continue my mission on earth. Receive the power promised to you. Be my witnesses. Restore the Kingdom. “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age” (Matthew 28:19-20).

It may seem, especially in these times, that the Lord has abandoned us. Though many states are re-opening and public Masses are beginning to return, it is not the same as it once was. It can feel as if Jesus is distant. Even so, the Ascension reminds us of something important: the Lord intends to do something great with this situation. We may not be able to notice Him as easily, but He remains seated on His throne, triumphant and guarding His Church until the end of time. He has sent His Spirit to empower us and strengthen us.

We do not need to understand everything that is happening to experience this grace. We need only to trust in the promise of Christ. King triumphant, He has raised our human nature to divine heights, all the while giving us the grace to experience this magnificence here and now. In our Baptism, we received the Holy Spirit, and in Confirmation, we were sealed with His gifts. These gifts are always available to us, even though we may have forgotten them.

We know that something great awaits us. Christ gives us the Comforter in this life, and at the same time, He shows us what we will become in the next. In our struggles on this earth, we are given grace and peace to weather storms. But in the end, we can look forward to something even better. Christ has left the earth, but He is alive and reigning in the heavens. When all has been accomplished, He will come again to take us with Him, and then all will be as it should be.

“Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky? This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven will return in the same way as you have seen him going into heaven” (Acts 1:11).

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David is the Associate Director of Liturgy for a group of parishes in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When he is not spending time with his wife and infant daughter, he is writing on philosophy and theology for various online publications. You can find some of these in Crisis Magazine and the Imaginative Conservative, and you can contact him at ddashiellwork@gmail.com.