By Way of Review

In the fine tradition of cinematic semi-colons, this story is a sequel in the making. You know how that works: a story ends, without really ending – or closes in such a way that leaves plenty of narrative room for a reopening of sorts. It's over – but not really. Let me explain what I'm talking about.

Though we weren't thinking about it at the time, we established the context of this story a few weeks ago. You will remember the story of the two travelers from Jerusalem on their way to the nearby community of Emmaus on Easter evening; the two disciples who belatedly recognize the risen Jesus when he breaks bread with them.

According to that story, Jesus somehow disappears and the two disciples immediately returned to Jerusalem where they report their experiences to the other disciples who were gathered together behind locked doors. While they were talking, Jesus appeared among them, and after eating some fish that was left over on the table, spoke the words we heard read this morning. “You are witnesses of all these things happening that were foretold in scripture. “ Which is to say that according to Luke's chronology of things, Easter Sunday was a whirlwind of a day, beginning with the discovery of the empty tomb and ending with the ascension. “He blessed them,” Luke records, “and while he was blessing them he left them and was carried up to heaven.” Luke's account ends with the report that the disciples were subsequently found in the Temple blessing God.

All of which is to say that there is a lot of blessing going on in this story. Ascension and blessing. As to the former, we might describe it as simply a way of leaving without really leaving. Ascensions – of which there are several in scripture – serve to remove the note of finality from a person's ending, leaving room, as I suggested before, for some kind of return. It’s a way of telegraphing the fact that, despite all appearances to the contrary, the story isn’t over. But what about all this blessing going on, and what does any of it have to do with us – especially to do with us on a Sunday preoccupied with a capital campaign?

The ascension of Jesus is, for me, if not quite a “so what” story, is at least something of a “now what” transition. OK, Jesus has lived, Jesus has died and been resurrected, and here on the far side of the grave has had the opportunity to help his disciples rethink and newly comprehend all that had been written in the scriptures. And then he leaves. Sort of.

Where, then, does all that leave us who, like the disciples, know our lives to have been completely transformed by his appearing? Is this whole experience with Jesus – his life and death and resurrection and ascension nothing more than our personal road map and ticket to heaven? Or is there something else involved? Is Jesus' concern limited to our personal salvation, and having set that pattern in motion he was then free to take his leave?

I would argue, “no.” Which is where all this “blessing” comes in. Having reviewed for the disciples the core of scripture, including the urgency for repentance and forgiveness of sins to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, Jesus then says to those he is leaving behind, “you are witnesses of these things.” And he blessed them.

It seems a small point, I'll admit, but I have been fascinated by the repetitive use of that word in this story. Perhaps you, as I, associate the concept of blessing with the beatitudes – that list of pronouncements that Matthew records as the overture to the Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the poor in spirit...” “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness...” “Blessed are the peacemakers...” and so on. But the word used in those observations is different from the verb used here. In the beatitudes, “blessing” is a description of a particular state of being. In the story before us, “blessing” is a behavior – an act. Jesus “blessed” the disciples, and later the disciples “blessed” God. Behind this word for blessing is a compound Greek word that means “to speak well of.” It is, in a sense, to affirm, to encourage, to bolster and praise . It is the same word from which we get the word “eulogize”, which in its narrow sense means to speak well of – to say good things about – one who has died. To bless someone, then, is to call one's own attention, at least, to the positive attributes that person brings. It is to recognize and affirm one's perception of value and worth.

But it isn't mere flattery. To bless is to bolster; it is to name one's significance and to encourage one's still greater contribution. It is what parents do just before their children step out onto the stage or onto the playing field: “I believe in you. You can do it.” It's what mentors accomplish with a simple smile and nod of the head. It's what adult children do for their parents when they affectionately sit, fully present with them, and listen without looking at their watch. It is conveying a recognition of value and worthiness. “I see you as someone worth my attention.”

And here's the thing: in the biblical tradition, blessing isn't a mere nicety; it is a power. Blessing sets goodness in motion. Blessing creates positive movement. Think of it as the fertilizer of human dynamics and performance – not the thing itself, but rather that which stirs or enhances the thing as Miracle Gro enhances the growth of the plant. Blessing really... blesses! More than anything else, perhaps that is what Jesus reviewed with his disciples just before he left them – not just the years of messianic expectation, but the actual experience of the messiah. Blessing: setting the good in motion. Calling attention to that which is praiseworthy, and calling it out into the open.

“And you ,” Jesus reminds them, “have seen it first hand.” Which sort of sets the tone for the sequel, doesn't it? “You,” Jesus seems to be saying, “have been blessed, and seen blessing, in order to bless.”

That, it seems to me, is what comes next – that is the sequel prefigured by this conclusion: the power of Jesus' blessing continued by Jesus' disciples. And it is a ministry no more important then, than now. For let's be frank: blessing is not the only power unleashed in this world. There is plenty of cursing going on as well – cursing, the spiritual “blunt object” that beats people and peoples down with diminishment and shame and disregard. There are plenty of voices shouting people into being and behaving less than they have the capacity to be and do. God knows how desperate the world is for those who would call each other into the more that God has intended. When Jesus taught us to “bless those who curse us,” it was not his way of simply telling us to be nice. It was his recognition of the power to transform that blessing carries with it.

With the ascension of Jesus, it becomes the vocational stewardship of every disciple: to use every moment, every resource, every tool at our disposal – no matter how humble it may appear – to bless.

A hug. A word. A sympathetic ear.

A prophetic call to justice. An act of forgiveness. A casserole in grief.

A letter. A song. A smile or an encouraging glance.

A sanctuary. A fellowship hall. A kitchen. A chime.

“You,” Jesus told them, “are witnesses of the power of these things.” And then he left them.

Leaving us to be the sequel.