He ascended into heaven.

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. Luke 24:51-53

From the Painted Prayerbook on Ascension Day:

In depicting Jesus’ ascension, medieval artists often painted Jesus with only his feet showing (one can almost see his toes wiggling), just barely visible as he departs, as in this thirteenth-century German Psalter or the St Albans Psalter. They wanted to emphasize his bodily departure from the earth. Yet, as Gail Ramshaw points out in Treasures Old and New, such a depiction does not suggest that “Christ has gone away from the church. The church fathers,” she goes on to write, “taught just the opposite: that as Christ went to God, his body became available to all the church.” And not only available to the church, but also enfleshed within it and by it, a point these same medieval artists emphasize by their attention to those who remain as Jesus leaves. Though Jesus’ departure poses the risk of profound disruption among his followers, his ascension becomes an opportunity for the community not only to reorganize and refashion itself but to become the very body of Christ in the world.

It's part of an interesting reflection on the meaning of the Ascension for communities dealing with loss.

I usually read the Ascension through my ecumenical lens--'Ascensiontide' as a time of preparation for when the followers of Christ will be gathered to re-member the body of Christ at Pentecost. A time for us to prepare to enflesh God's power so that we might be co-operators in the mission of reconciliaiton. Sadly, we are not there yet. As one blogger pointed out, we can't even agree on a time for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity (in the southern hemisphere, it's this week; in the north, it falls in January). Certainly, my own communion is not currently able to gather joyfully with each other under the Lordship of Christ. Yet, Christ's promise is given to us, his Body made available to us. We continue to try to gather in the midst of his blessing and staring up at his dangling feet. God continually and mysteriously sends the Holy Spirit to unite us as Christ's body in the world. We beg for it in the Eucharist, but do we really mean it?

On the road again

I'll be gone for a bit in April.

First, continuing ed at the Anglican Covenant Conference at the Tutu Center at General Seminary. I always love being back at General and I'm looking forward to staying in the 'new' building, though I still feel a little bad for William Eigenbrodt, who no longer has a building named after him. My blog collecting resources for studying the covenant is here.

Second, to the National Workshop on Christian Unity/Episcopal Diocesan Ecumenical & Irreligious Officers Meeting (see why we love jargon? so much easier to say 'NWCU/EDEIO' meeting. wait, not really.) That's part of my job as ecumenical officer for the diocese.

Third, to a board meeting of Episcopal Peace Fellowship. That's because I believe Christians are to strive for justice and peace. You can become a Peace Partner today. Right now.

"The Unity Declaration"

Project Canterbury offers this sermon (1894) by the Rt. Rev. Thomas Underwood Dudley, 2nd bishop of the Diocese of Kentucky.

"Adaptation there must be, and adaptation there can be, because adaptation there has been. Sometimes in visions of the night, to the soul weary with the din of controversy--controversy in general about matters of mere opinion--weary with the thought of disaster caused by division, of the slow progress of the Kingdom because of the lack of unity of movement, of the waste and weakness in the administration of Christian truth by reason of the jealous maintenance of opinions as principles, of practices and methods as the very essentials of the Gospel--to such a soul comes the vision of reunion, even here in America, of different administrations by the same Spirit, and in one Body."