In the closing lines of our first reading, we hear about the gathering of the early disciples. After the resurrection and ascension, they returned to Jerusalem. Specifically, they returned to the upper room, where Jesus had spoken to them at the Last Supper and where he had given the Communion of his Body and Blood. He had also appeared there after his resurrection, showing himself alive. 

That upper room was a holy place. They made it holier still by gathering for 10 days of prayer and dedication: 

“Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James…” along with the women who followed Jesus, along with Mary his mother, along with his relatives. That seems like a lot of people, but it really wasn’t. 

It was a small group. But they were the Church, then: expectant, hopeful, waiting in prayer, looking for the kingdom of God, longing for the moment of the Spirit’s descent. There was a lot they didn’t know. The apostles asked Jesus, “Is now the time that you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” 

He replied in his typical, frustrating way. It’s not for you to know. He directed their attention elsewhere. 

You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. 

When Jesus said this, he set the church’s trajectory for decades, centuries, millennia. The church then gathered in prayer, a small and uncertain group, enjoying the holiness of the upper room. But they did not stay there. The Church has moved ever outward. By the end of the first Christian generation, it had spread across the Mediterranean world, made inroads in Persia, reached India, and begun its journey into Africa and Western Europe. 

The Church has grown and shifted; it has changed appearance; it has struggled, suffered, retreated; it has triumphed. 2000 years is a long time. 

In each generation, the Church’s mission must be renewed. Things that were cast down must be raised up; things that have grown old must be made new; all things must be ushered toward the perfection and completion for which they were made.

That is as true at Emmanuel as anywhere else. Think of our history. One hundred forty-three years ago, there was a newly confident Episcopal congregation on this site. Its people had gathered for years in little rooms here and there in Champaign: in a school, in a shopfront. They eventually built a handsome wooden church on this site, filled it with an altar, pews, and beautiful glass. They named it Emmanuel. But that wasn’t the end. A generation later, they would raise the bricks and mortar that surround us today, partly because the congregation had grown. 

Then, a generation later, this church built the Mowry Building. Then, a generation later – some of you still remember these things – there were the rededications at the Jubilee and the Campaign for a New Generation. Renewal has taken place many times in this church’s history – each time, guided by God, inspired by prayer, following the example of those Christians in the upper room who prayed for the descent of God’s Spirit and then went out to a hurting world. 

Here we are, again, today. To use the words of Jesus, “The hour has come.” Something is happening in the world today. People are coming to faith; the tide of secularization has stilled. The hour has come! Our Lord said this when he was about to be glorified and finish the work he had come to do. He said it when he was handing his mission on to the disciples. He said it when he reminded them that he was their true life and salvation.

Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. 

And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence.

The hour has come – not for Emmanuel to rise again for its own sake, but for Emmanuel to serve the purposes of God afresh. 

Let us pray that Jesus Christ may be glorified in our midst. He has authority over “all people.” The hour has come for us to renew our life, to testify to his name, to bring the beauty of his Gospel to Champaign and beyond. 

As you know, we are launching today our Strategic Plan and Capital Campaign: Open Doors. It is meant to be a beginning, a start, a gathering of strength, and a first push toward a renewed mission. 

I won’t go over lots of details now because we’ll be talking about it at length after Mass, and Open Doors materials are waiting for you in the Great Hall; please pick up a packet.

But let me say a few simple things now about our mission, our vision, and our goals. 

They are ambitious. We want this church to grow significantly in the next 3 years and more after that. We want to share our worship and way of life in this area and beyond, not because we are full of ourselves, but because we proclaim Jesus Christ and we believe in the value of our Episcopal traditions. We want to build a community here that increases in strength, love, knowledge, and unity -- that has the confidence to offer leadership and service.  

I hope those ideas excite you. I hope we’re all a little daunted. It is a commitment to change; it means striving together for God’s kingdom; it means relying on each other and, especially, on God with whom all things are possible. 

After Christ’s resurrection, his disciples returned to the upper room. There, they remembered him; there, they prayed; there, they waited expectantly. By God’s grace, they received “power” to testify to the goodness of his name. They changed the world. 

We are their legacy; we share the same faith, the same life, the same Lord; we are one Body with those first disciples.

May the same Spirit that animated them and drove them out into the four corners of the earth come down upon us; that the hour may come and Christ may be glorified.

Last year, the Feast of the Ascension was one of the first weekday Masses I enjoyed here at Emmanuel. I believe Fr Fred celebrated; I remember that I preached. I asked the congregation and choir to remember something from our Gospel reading: the final image the disciples had of Jesus. Whatever we remember about the Ascension of Christ, we should always have in mind that image. Christ going into heaven with his hands lifted in blessing. That blessing and prayer remain for us. 

I’d like you to remember that still. But this year, indulge me in having some other thoughts about the Ascension, which relate to Christ’s presence and departure, his remaining with us and our rising with him.

Throughout the liturgy tonight, these themes recur in different ways. Our collect acknowledges that Christ has ascended “far above the heavens.” In it, we also prayed for “faith to perceive” that Christ “abides with his Church on earth.” Similarly, the reading from Acts narrates Christ’s ascension and hiddenness – “a cloud took him out of their sight” – while emphasizing his continued activity on earth, his teaching, and his sending of the Holy Spirit. So it goes through many biblical texts about the Ascension and many historic sermons. 

Christ is enthroned far above all things; Christ is also the Head of his body, the Church. Christ is at God’s right hand; Christ is everywhere, filling all things. Christ has withdrawn from the disciples; Christ is sending upon them what the Father has promised. 

Is he here? Is he not? 

In thinking about these things this week, my mind drifted in a silly way to the Clash’s classic song “Should I stay or Should I go” on the 1981 album Combat Rock. I’m not sure the voice of Christ dwells in the lyrics of Mick Jones. But here goes nothing:

Darling, you’ve got to let me know
Should I stay, or should I go?
If you say that you are mine
I'll be here till the end of time…

If I go, there will be trouble
And if I stay, it will be double
So come on and let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

Silly, I know. But the contrast is interesting. Christ did not ask us whether he should stay or go; his abiding with us is not dependent on our consent (“If you say that you are mine”). He went, and he remains. 

If I go there will be trouble, well that’s been true in the history of the Church, but why don’t we just say “Here ends the lesson from the Clash.”

More seriously, I thought it might be helpful to talk through some of the ways that Christ is present here on earth, as well as what it meant for him to ascend into heaven. 

I’ll start with some basics. Christ is risen from the dead. We know this; we’ve been saying it for weeks. What do we really mean? 

First of all, we are saying that the incarnation of the Son of God did not end at the Cross. He did not beat a hasty retreat to heaven, leaving his human body destroyed and in the grave. No. God’s Son went down to death, went down into the depths and proclaimed his victory in the grave; he then was raised in the fullness of human perfection, flesh, bones, soul, rising and made immortal; he took that same nature to the right hand of God. The cross did not end the union between God and humanity. Death did not break it; nor did the resurrection or ascension. There was no abandonment of the body, only its transformation and exaltation.

A second part of what Ascension means: Christ has been raised in power. One of the fundamental aspects of the incarnation is that the Son of God went about among us in great humility: he ate, he drank, he grew tired, he could be beaten, he could be killed. None of that is true now. Jesus of Nazareth has gone from humility to glory; he was invested visibly with power beyond all others. Our modern church is sometimes uncomfortable with this language, and it has become the preserve of scary people online: “Ortho-bros,” “trad caths,” and the like. But the conviction that Christ is filled with power now is part of the origin of the Church. If he’s not the king of the angels, we shouldn’t be worshipping him. If he’s not reigning in heaven, let’s stop asking him to hear our prayers and intercede for us in the heavenly places. Still, the humility and the power go together. 

Well, that’s a little on the exaltation involved in the Ascension. How is Christ with us today? How do we have faith to perceive that he remains?

I could cheat a little here. There’s a position associated with some branches of Lutheranism that simply says, the Letter to the Ephesians tells us that Christ ascended into heaven and fills all things, so that’s all we need to say about that. “He’s here, he’s there, he’s everywhere,” like Roy Kent in Ted Lasso, all over the soccer field.

But, I think it’s nice to be more specific. 

By the Spirit, Christ is present throughout his body, the Church. When we minister to one another, it is like a single organism or person. We are members one of another; we need each other. Christ is our Head and perhaps there are some hands and feet here, some eyes, some ears. This is true as we serve one another and worship together. It’s also true in every interaction. Christ is so present in us by the Holy Spirit, that it is like the soul animating the body. My soul is no less present in these hands than in the eyes, the heart, the mind. And present in every action. 

So it is with Christ. When we clean the Great Hall together, when we eat, when we laugh, when we help, when we lament, when we argue, when we reconcile, it is as the Body of Christ. 

Christ remains with us, too, in his mysteries. I mean of course those central sacramental actions we all acknowledge: baptism, confirmation, Eucharist, ordination, marriage, confession, holy unction. Christ is surely present in the baptismal waters, as we are united with him. Christ is surely present as we receive Communion. It is why we bow, genuflect, or kneel in holy silence -- to receive the Body and Blood of Christ. But Christ is present also in the Holy Cross, in the images we make of him, in those Scriptural figures where we suddenly see him. When we read the story of the sacrifice of Isaac, when we recall the parting of the Red Sea, when we remember Elijah’s ascension into heaven, and we see Christ in these stories – it is not just our imagination. It is Jesus showing himself to us through all of sacred history.

Let me name just one more way Christ is with us. That is as our companion in our labors. In Matthew 28, when he assures the disciples he is with them to the end of the age, it is as he gives them the command to go into all the world, to baptize and teach all nations. In the Acts of the Apostles, the disciples receive the Spirit as they follow his command to wait in Jerusalem to become empowered as his witnesses. In Luke 24, his presence is assured as he opens the disciples’ minds to understand the Scriptures and to proclaim forgiveness to all people – and as they worship him and go to the temple. 

His presence follows those who do his will, who share in his mission, who enter the same path of service he trod. Do you want to feel the presence of Christ? Follow his commands: preach, testify, pray, read and understand holy Scripture. You will find him there. 

In another sermon I might say something about how Christ is present in creation or in the stranger or in our sufferings or…many other things. Another time. Another year.

For now, let us give thanks, that Christ has risen from the dead, that he has ascended far above every power and authority, that he remains with us until the end of time, that he gives us this community in which to know and love him, that he has given us a Gospel to proclaim, a mission to fulfill.

I wonder how Paul felt as he stood on the Areopagus in Athens. He hadn’t been in the city long. He had fled Thessalonica, where he barely escaped persecution and violence. In Athens, he was alone, without his friends. He could have mused quietly as he passed through the city, taking in its sights. He could have indulged in some self-pitying thoughts, like “What was he doing in this Greek capital? How had his life come to this lonely exile, so far from home? Why was he wasting his time preaching, when everywhere he went, he was beat up and nearly killed?”

Paul could have done that. But if you read the text of Acts, he didn’t. Our first reading contains his address on the Areopagus. And there he told his hearers that, God had made all the nations. Moreover, God allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us. For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we too are his offspring.’

Paul gave a little summary of Christian teaching. Why were you born in your hometown, your country? Why are you alive in this century? What are you doing here today? 

The answer to each question is the same: so that you can search for God and find him.

This is the purpose of human life. This is the reason you encounter your daily blessings and challenges. This is the structuring principle for the world in which you live: so that you can search for God and find him. 

God is not far from each one of us. We live, we move, we have our being in him. We did not grant ourselves life or motion or being, nor can our parents or people claim total responsibility for us. We are all the products, the offspring, the children of something greater, of someone greater: the God who made the world and everything in it, the parent of all, the one who is beyond our imagining. This God has also: fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed, [that is, Jesus] and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.

Our lives have a horizon to them, a day to which they are heading. St Paul knew this, and so I don’t think he spent much time wondering about what he was doing in Athens. He was there for the same reason he was in every place: to be someone who sought God, and (crucially) to be someone who proclaimed God.

It was not enough for Paul to be found. He had been converted and saved for a reason. We read in Acts 9 that the Lord declared of him: “He is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel.”

The Apostle knew this, and so he was prepared. He was prepared in the way that our second lesson says we should all be prepared. “In your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord.” And the Scripture says: Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you…

This is a tough calling, but it is ours. We were made to find God, to hold him holy in our hearts; we were also made and saved to help others find him. There is no Christian living who has been saved just for themselves. Not one of us is free obligations to others. We must “bless God” and “make the voice of his praise to be heard” (Ps 66:7). We must be ready to speak with whomever wants to know about our hope. We must convey our faith well.

Are we ready for that task? Are we prepared?

I think the Episcopal Church has sometimes forgotten its obligation to preach the Gospel to all nations. Once upon a time in our church’s history, we would have read the account of Paul’s sermon in Acts and thought, “That is my responsibility.” It’s why our forebears launched the Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society, proclaiming every Episcopalian a member of an effort to preach to every nation under heaven. It’s why the dioceses of Illinois were established on the frontier, why this parish was organized in the 1880s in the growing town of Champaign. 

People thought, “It’s my responsibility.” God has placed me here, now, in this time, in this culture, with these opportunities and challenges, with my personality and gifts, so that I might know him and make him known. 

And yet we have at times abandoned that calling. There are many reasons that mainline churches have been shrinking. This is one of them. We looked around and thought, “Our job is done.” We’re part of a proud church, a worldwide Communion, one of the largest Christian bodies in the world. We have a lot of social and political influence in this nation and around the world. What’s left to do? 

In reality, we do not stand at the dizzying pinnacle of Christian life. We are part of a global Communion, but in America the Episcopal Church is a small denomination in a huge country and world facing incredible change.

Let’s acknowledge the decline, the change, the pains and difficulties that both bring. But like St Paul, let’s push past any self pity. Now is the time to bear witness. 

As our catechism says on page 855 of the Book of Common Prayer: “The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.” We pursue this mission in all that we do: in prayer and worship, in proclaiming the Gospel, in promoting justice, peace, and love. 

We need every member for this work. It’s not just my job or Deacon Chris’s or the work of Fathers Joe and Fred. It’s not just a calling for a small group in our congregation. This is our common falling. As part of our parish’s strategy for the next several years, we have adopted the statement from the catechism as our mission statement. Why is this congregation here? What is our mission? To restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.

I ask you to take this to heart -- this call, this challenge, this responsibility. And as we prepare to unveil our Open Doors strategy next week, please pray.  God has allotted to us this place and this time in which to know him and to work for his kingdom. Ask him what you may do for his glory. And pray for all those who may become part of Emmanuel in the coming years.

I’d like us imagine ourselves on that Athenian hill, standing with St Paul, as he prepared to address the crowd. He knew the purpose of his life. He knew God. He took a deep breath. And then he spoke.

"I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now."

The Lord does not mean that the Spirit will bring later what he has withheld now. He means that what he has already given is more than the disciples can yet receive. A chapter earlier he has said it plainly: "I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father." Nothing is held in reserve. There will be no second gospel, no later word that revises the first, no fresh disclosure from the Spirit that improves upon the Son. The Spirit does not come to add to Christ. He comes to give Christ.

"He will take what is mine and declare it to you." The verb means to re-announce, to proclaim again. Christ is the one Word in whom the Father has said himself entirely, and the Paraclete makes him audible in each generation's own hour. The Nicene Creed confesses no Christ other than the one the apostles knew. It is the Son said again, by a Church learning how to say him without losing him. Every age receives, by the Spirit, the same Christ for its own time.

"He will guide you into all the truth." The word for guide keeps the word for way. The Spirit does not teach a syllabus. He walks the Church along Christ, who is the way, until what was once an article of belief has become the manner of a life. And the truth Christ has given asks more than understanding. It asks to be borne, and we are not yet strong enough to bear it.

God does not change. His communication is his own self. What he gives, he has always given, which is everything. We are the ones who change. We are slowly enlarged by the Spirit to bear what was already ours in Christ.

So the Church waits. Not for more, since there is no more to come. We wait for the day the same Creed begins to mean what we have always said. We wait to be opened wide enough to receive what has never been withheld.

Today is the fifth Sunday of Easter. The season does not have many more days remaining in it this year. While we are still proclaiming alleluia and ringing the special bells, the flavor of today’s lessons has turned a bit. Instead of just hearing what God has done for us through Jesus’ death and resurrection, we now are reminded of our place and purpose in God’s world. First, we have received God’s immense love, and how we have rejoiced! But the Easter message does not end there. We are not only receivers of God’s love; we recognize that we have an important part in God’s world, and an important message to share with others.

Before I begin to look at some parts of today’s lessons, I ask you to think about a question. “What does the word house or home mean to you? For now, I use the words interchangeably. What image comes to mind when you focus on the word home?

I will tell you a brief personal moment. Mike and I were away for a couple of weeks this winter. Even though we talked with family often, our house, our home was empty. When we returned, Theo came over for an afternoon. While I was preparing a meal, I overheard him as he set the Alexa to watch a show. He said quietly to himself, “Aaah, mama’s house; it smells so good; I love mama’s house.”

Can you visualize your special place, or remember a certain feeling of home?

For many of us, home is a place of love, of comfort, of security, and a place of belonging. Now I recognize this is not true for everyone. The place some recall first, might not have been a safe place. But I hope there are other homes where peace has been found by each of us.

Also, I remind us, there are those in our community who are not as fortunate as we are to have any physical space to live.

From a point-in-time survey conducted on Jan. 22 this year, the total unhoused people in Champaign County was 355. Of those, 169 were sheltered in emergency sites, 130 in transitional housing and 56 were living outdoors or in cars. And included in that total there were 75 children under the age of 18 experiencing homelessness. While this is not a sermon about homelessness, when we think of houses, we should not forget those who do not have one.

Looking at today’s Gospel passage, these verses are a part of Jesus’ farewell discourse to his closest disciples. Scholars believe these words were spoken on the night before Jesus’ death, after Judas had left the group at supper and before the remaining disciples went to the garden with him.

It was a time of great emotional tension. Jesus has just told them he will die and the horrible way that will take place. This passage is part of Jesus reassurance to his dearest friends and companions.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled”, Jesus says. And yet at that moment, they are filled with fear and disbelief. They are deeply troubled.

Jesus highlights for them his promise of eternal life and uses words to assure them of a beautiful hope filled with love where they will be with God. Jesus says, “In my father’s house there are many rooms. Or depending on the translation, many mansions, or many dwelling places. The Greek word is monai which means loosely money so mansions might seem the better word. It is not a corner or a pull-out bed, but rather a beautiful place with room for all. There are many mansions to hold our uniqueness. God’s house is a place of love, lasting, and eternal love.

Jesus tells them he is going ahead of them to prepare a place so that they may be with him in glory forever. He assures them that he will continue to act on their behalf.

In this passage, Jesus offers hope as he prepares his disciples for what is to come. He invites them to a continued relationship with him. Despite his physical absence, his love and guidance will remain.

This comforting passage is often read at funerals to offer the same hope to those who may be deeply troubled, as were those original disciples. In this Easter season, we current followers of Christ, hear these words of comfort as spoken to us now.

In this season, we recognize that this is God’s initiative, not our intellectual reasoning that brings us to Him. We may identify with Thomas’ questions as we come to terms with what the resurrection means for us. How can we know the way to God? Thomas says, “Lord, we do not know the place you are going, how can we know the way?” And Jesus answers “I am the way.” And he adds to this, I am the truth, I am the life. His words are for this targeted audience, closest to him, those he will depend on to carry out his ministry. Jesus offers reassurance that they don’t have to figure it all out by themselves. While Jesus is leaving them in his physical presence, he will still be with them, leading them and guiding them.

Can we read those words and know that they are meant for us today? Jesus still is with us. He still leads and guides us. We need only to ask for his assistance.

Think back to your image of home. While the actual structure of the place, or the smell, or sound or look of the space came to us, what we really remembered was the love contained in that building. And what we really cherish is the person or persons embodied there.

Jesus is that person for these early disciples. They have followed Him and they are beginning to understand that Jesus will continue to be with them to lead them to God the father. This is the comfort today’s gospel.

Let’s look briefly at the first letter of Peter, probably written some thirty to forty years after the dialogue that John describes.

This was a time of growing persecution of the Jews and of the early church which eventually led to the second temple in Jerusalem being destroyed by the Romans in 70 AD. The Temple was the “sacred home” of the Hebrews. All sacrifices could only be done in the Temple by priests who served there. After the Temple’s destruction, worship for the Jews changed. There were no more sacrifices and there was no central place to come together. Those who were followers of Christ separated themselves from the Jewish traditions and worshiped in secret.

The message of I Peter was to encourage Jesus’ followers to persevere in the middle of suffering and to remember the hope found in Jesus. Hear this phrase: “Come to him, a living stone.” Jesus is that living stone, the corner stone who they follow. It is not a particular structure, they worship, rather it is the living stone. Their spiritual house, their spiritual home is grounded in and on Jesus.

That verse doesn’t end there. “Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.”

We become those living stones to carry out God’s work. We are the ones being built into a spiritual house.

The passage today finishes with these words,

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”

We who have received God’s love and mercy, now have a purpose. We are to demonstrate in our words and actions that it is Jesus we follow. We are God’s people so that we may proclaim the mighty acts of the one who loves and redeems us.

Our lives are different because of the gift of Jesus and his resurrection. The specifics of that difference and how we act post resurrection varies from person to person. After all, “in my Father’s house there are many mansions”. There is a space for each of us as we pattern our lives after Jesus. We have the comfort of today’s gospel as well as the challenge of becoming the living stones that God will build into his spiritual house. God is the builder; we open ourselves to being those living stones in response to His love. We are not passive recipients of God’s love but rather actively sharing that love with others. This is our part in God’s story.

The season continues!

Alleluia, Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed, alleluia!