Uplifting

“One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

Thus spake Neil Armstrong when he set foot on the moon, marking a major threshold for the human race.

His touchdown confirmed that we could do something we had never done before; something many had never even dreamed of.

Today marks a similar milestone for the human race.  Christmas was big—the Annunciation debuted in open sight: God had become a human being.  This stunning transition revealed how much God loved us, that he wanted to be with us.

But the story doesn’t end with Jesus showing up, snagging some gold, frankincense and myrrh, and going hiking in Galilee.  He’s here to transform human potential, and today we see that potential unleashed.

Having taken us through death to life by his own entry in hell, he now stands on top of the Mount of Olives with his disciples.  This is where we see the giant leap: a human being, one of us, lifts off and enters into heaven.  He’s completely changed our tickets: our itinerary used to read Nowhere, Fast, and now the sky’s the limit.

Wait, not even the sky is the limit.

For today’s solemnity of the Ascension we had Mass on the top of the Mount of Olives, where the foundations of an ancient church marking Christ’s going up to heaven still remain.

Masses had begun at midnight and were continuing through the morning.  As we waited for the solemn liturgy at 9:30, pilgrims came to pray, each in their own way.

The Poles, always present for major church events (‘Where there’s a Pope, there’s a Pole’), literally embraced the simple dome present today:

Others spent time in silence:

The interior of octagonal room had been decorated by the Franciscans for the celebration:

The famous stone (see the account of the visit of Saint Ignatius—scroll down to 67) enshrining the final touch point for Jesus was ringed around by candles:

 

Even though the space was tiny, some of us concelebrants were able to stand inside, while many more, in a Mark 1:33 sort of way, were gathered outside the door.

You know you’ve climbed a mountain when you make your way up from the walls ringing Jerusalem—maybe that’s why, a friend commented, Jesus chose this spot, because he’d be closer to his destination . . .

One small post for Father Avram, one giant mess-o-blogdacity for the planet.