Why Are You Looking There?

Acts 1: 6-14; John 17:1-11

May 4, 2008

Have you ever found something completely unexpected when you were looking for something else? This happens to me all the time when I go searching through old files looking for something that I just know is in there someplace, but I find something else altogether – an old photograph, a note stuffed away years ago that carries me back to some far away place and time, an undergraduate essay that I have no recollection of writing and no clue why it’s been saved all these years but why toss it now. Or I go looking for a book on a shelf and find one that I forgot I had. Or go searching for information on the web and wind up finding such fascinating – and completely unrelated – information that I forget what I was looking for in the first place.

People who live more orderly lives probably don’t understand this at all, but I assure you: it happens more often than you’d think.

It seemed to happen with Jesus’ followers with surprising regularity.

As we’ve mentioned a time or two already this morning, next Sunday is the Sunday of Pentecost – the so-called “birthday of the church”; the day when the Spirit descended upon the first disciples in the midst of their fear and grieving, and empowered them to begin the Jesus movement.

We know why they were afraid. Jesus has been executed by the empire, and the hunt is on for any of his trouble-making followers who might try to continue his work. We know why they are grieving. Their beloved friend is dead.

None of that is any surprise at all. But what were they looking for? Why were they looking where they were looking? And, most important of all, what did they find instead?

This scene from Acts is so typical. Amidst the post-resurrection rumors and sightings, Jesus is in their midst. What are they looking for? What is the trajectory of their search? The limit of their imagination? What, again, are they looking for?

A sign that their time has come. “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom of Israel?”

Listen to that question again – “is this the time when you will restore the kingdom?” In other words, “are we going to win now? Are we going to take over? Are we going to reclaim the throne of David? Are we going to kick out the Romans? Are we going to clean up the temple? Are we going to win? Are we gonna kick some butt?”

Sigh. Deep sigh. They still haven’t found what they’re looking for; indeed, they’re still looking for the wrong things.

It’s as if Jesus says to himself, “oy, vey. I can’t deal with these guys right now.” And so he leaves them; simply disappears.

And the disciples look around as if to say, “what just happened? How’d he do that? Where’d he go this time?” They’re all craning their necks, looking up, and then, in the midst of them, on their own level but not where they’ve been looking, two men appear and say, “uh, dudes, why are you looking up there? Jesus? Well, he’s coming back the same way he went.”

One of the great and historic errors of the Christian church arises right there, in the historic misinterpretation of this small message. “Why are you looking to the heavens? Jesus will return to you in the same way that he was taken up.”

For the better part of 2,000 years – at the very least, since the time of Constantine and the birth of the imperial church – Christians have looked for a triumphant return from on high, for a restoration of the kingdom, just as the disciples anticipated. It’s as if they, as all of us since, missed out or forgot all of Jesus’ teaching about the nature of that kingdom. In our search for the kingdom of God, we’ve been sidetracked, distracted and bogged down in the various and sundry kingdoms of earth.

It’s as if we googled salvation – seeking salvation (that is to say, wholeness, communion with God, healing, shalom) and found a visual programming software, a business that can find your lost data, or a German microbrew. I actually did that: the beer sounded delicious: “… luscious apricot and peach aromas delicately interwoven with spicy suggestions of nutmeg and cinnamon. This heavenly soft, champagne-like elixer is cellarable for 3 years.”

Uh, where was I? Oh yes, looking for Jesus.

Sometimes, when we are searching for something lost, it helps to go back to the beginning. Of course, sometimes – and certainly in this case – the beginning and the ending get confused.

Why are you – why are we – looking to the heavens? To the places of power and prestige, of affluence and achievement, of dominion and authority? How – and where – was Jesus, in fact, lifted up?

On a cross … between two thieves. Amidst the lowest and the least, the outcast and despised, the poor and dispossessed. Precisely there, Jesus was lifted up. Precisely there, Jesus was glorified. Precisely there, Jesus found his kingdom.

If we seek it still, if we seek him still, that’s where we have to look.

Of course, we don’t want to go there most of the time. It’s really not too pleasant, and it certainly does not feel like triumph. There are no “mission accomplished” banners. There are no fawning crowds of admirers. There are no bright lights of celebrity.

Indeed, sometimes, the people in such places are neither pleasant nor pleased to see you. I got a call the other day from someone seeking food assistance. I explained that we work through the Arlington Food Assistance Center to provide that help, and then told him where AFAC is. I was going to offer him help in getting down there, but he simply said, “oh, that’s down there where the niggers and Mexicans live,” and hung up on me.

Whether we are feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, clothing the naked, visiting the imprisoned, making peace in the empire, doing justice with the outcast and marginalized, healing those with AIDS, welcoming and empowering GLBTQ people of faith – that is to say, when we are trying to follow Jesus and do the work of his kingdom – chances are pretty good that we are going to encounter human ugliness. Whether it is in the anger of those impoverished and cast aside or the anger of those whose power and authority are called into question by our witness, chances are pretty good that we are going to run into opposition, anger, resistance, or, perhaps at best, apathy, cynicism and sheer exhaustion.

So, why bother? Because those shades of resistance are not all we find when we go to the margins as a disciple. Indeed, we go to such places as disciples – as followers – because we know that’s where Jesus went before us, and if we want to encounter him again, risen and decisively powerful in our own lives, we have to go to such places ourselves.

“Men of Galilee – sisters and brothers of Clarendon – why do you stand looking up to heaven? This Jesus … he’s out there now in the places where he always was; go there, and you will find what you are looking for.”