The Empty Sky

The 11 men stood staring at the now empty sky long after they had watched the resurrected Jesus ascend above their heads.

Rooted to his spot, each man thinking, pondering, wondering at the last words of Jesus:

"Thus it is written that the Christ would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And behold I am sending you the promise of my Father upon you; but stay in the city until you are clothed with power on high."

Astonished, stunned, bewildered, fearful, and bewildered, they were rooted to the spot, paralyzed, long enough that the angels were sent to get them moving again:

"Men of Galilee, why gaze in wonder at the heavens?

This Jesus whom you saw ascending into heaven

will return as you you saw him go, alleluia."

I think I can understand how they felt.

I had been a Christian Catholic only a very short period of time and took advantage of confession as often as I could.

There was a particular pattern to my confessions: I would begin with a few words maybe a sentence or two but then begin to cry; overwhelmed with so many conflicting emotions that I was rendered speechless; deep contrition and sorrow but gratitude and joy in equal measure it seemed, to finally find SomeThing Worthy of adopting the only sensible posture, on my knees.

During one of these times, I was able only to get out a few words and then began to sob; not just cry, but sob, I could not stop.

My confessor was Spanish with a heavy accent and in the order of the Legion of Christ.

Patiently, he waited for me to regain some control over myself and then said only a very few words:

"The apostles lived with Jesus for 3 years. Even they could do nothing until they received the gift of the Holy Spirit: they understood nothing, they feared everything, and they were powerless."

Almost 16 years later, I think of the deep wisdom of this priest, a total stranger, whom I had never met before and likely never will again. The gift of that Confession, his kindness and generosity of spirit in providing these words which pour out to me as I ponder the eleven apostles on this Ascension Sunday.