Witness to the Ascension: Philip, Apostle and Deacon

                       My name is Philip. I was one of the Twelve.  Later, I was one of the Seven.  I am an Apostle of Jesus Christ, Deacon of the Church, Baptizer of the first Gentile convert and Missionary to the Samaritans. 

            I am  Jewish by faith and birth-- Greek by tongue and culture. My ancestors had been scattered and driven from this land over a hundred years ago under the persecutions of the  Empire ruled by the descendents of  Alexander's generals.  Living in a world where everything Greek was good and noble, and anything else barbaric, my forefathers and foremothers did what the displaced  have always done-- we bowed to the needs of time and circumstance and culture-- we compromised, we adjusted, we assimilated.

              We dressed like Greeks. We acted like Greeks. We learned Greek and spoke it even in our homes, Some of us even forgot our native tongue. We read Greek poets and plays and philosophers. We began to think like the Greeks.   We proudly considered ourselves-- like all civilized folk-- "Hellenists".

            But we held on to our historic faith with our fingernails. We could no longer offer sacrifices in the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem. But we could come together on the Sabbath for prayer and instruction in our synagogues.  When the Romans conquered the Hellenistic Empire those of us who wished to returned to Judea. 

            But by now we were a different people-- strangers in the land of our ancestors.   Still believers, but not really accepted by our cousins who had remained here and kept the old ways, who still prayed in the old tongue and offered sacrifices in the Temple. 

            It made it hard to keep to the faith of your ancestors-- or at least, for me to take it to heart as fervently as the Hebrew-speaking Jews. I was prosperous enough to be able to spend my days in the synagogue studying and arguing with the learned rabbis. But that held no interest for me. I found it  equally hard to accept the preposterous stories of the pagan gods or the neatly laid out and categorized view of the world and the cosmos taught by Aristotle and Plato. 

            I was looking for something on that first day that I meant Jesus.  I sought an assurance that everything around me-- the world, the stars and planets, the sky and the earth and other people were not just the result of a cosmic accident-- or worse a joke. I was looking for assurance that this seemingly short and tragic life on this planet was not all there was to our existence as human beings.

            I had seen enough suffering and pain in the world that I wanted to believe that there was some kind of an ultimate justice in which sinners and war-mongers and exploiters would get their due and the suffering innocent would receive recompense.  I needed to believe that the universe was a friendly place, that I had a position in it,  that my life, my decisions, my actions counted for something. 

            I wanted to believe that the Creator cared about creation and that there was a point to life. But the senseless cruelty of fate, the dumb brutality of nature, the meaningless suffering of so many caused me to wonder and doubt. I couldn’t put it  into words-- but I was looking for more than reassurance-- I was looking for meaning and direction for my life.

            I found it.  And I knew I had,  from the start. I can recall that day as clearly as if it were yesterday.  Jesus had just called Andrew and Peter and the Zebedee brothers the day before.  It was in Bethsaida, my home town.  He walked up to me, looked me in the eye and said simply,  “Follow Me.”  and I did.

            The day after I threw in my lot with Jesus, I encountered my friend,  Nathaniel.  I told him that I had met the Messiah. I can’t even recall what I meant by that word at that time of my life.  But I invited Nathaniel,

             “Come and See” . And he did. He too, became a follower of Jesus.

            We all followed this teacher Jesus for our own reasons-- for different reasons.  We were after all, a group of very different people. All that we had in common was the call he had extended to us-- "Follow me"-- and our response.

             It was Peter who first confessed him as Messiah-- but that meant many things to different ones of us. Some, like Simeon, thought that Jesus was the leader, sent to us from God who would free our people from the Roman yoke and restore the earthly kingship of his royal ancestor David.             

            Some of the others-- the sons of Zebedee for example-- seemed to expect that the kingdom of God Jesus talked about was coming in the next world. They looked forward to a reward of eternal life in a heavenly kingdom to come. They looked for the day when Jesus would be recognized  and acknowledged as God's son. They expected that He would rule as king of the saints and angels while his faithful followers stood beside him in places of honor.

            Others of us simply saw Jesus as a great prophet and teacher-- a latter day Elijah calling us to lives of integrity and faith.    Some dared to believe he would overthrow the corrupt priests and Levites who controlled the temple and purify our faith like Moses reborn. 

            Some, I suspect,  weren't even totally sure that Jesus was human-- they wondered among themselves if this Rabbi of our might be an angel and not a man.  Some followed seeking a cure.  And like Mary Magdalene, once they found themselves made whole-- they followed out of gratitude, wonder, and love.

            And some of us-- like me-- most of us, I suspect-- were just content to be with him. We followed Jesus because something about his words touched us, something about the wonders we saw him work awed us, something about him as a man and a teacher and a friend drew us to him with a joyous intensity that could not be resisted.

            Like the Beloved one-- we followed because we loved him. And it was in that love that we knew him-- and it was through that love that somehow we knew that this Jesus came from God. And that was enough for us.  

            We must have traipsed up and down every dusty road,  visited every tiny village, stopped at every well from green and hilly Galilee to the parched deserts of the Dead Sea-- and then back. I lost count of how many times we crossed the Jordan River.  I lost count of the number of people I saw Jesus heal. 

            Once, I recall I was privileged to assist him, when he fed over 5000 people with just a few scraps of bread and a couple of fish. Later, when we arrived in Jerusalem,  some other Greek-speaking Jews came to me, asking permission to approach the Rabbi. I knew-- what they were really asking was if Jesus had come as Messiah for them-- for us-- for all the people of our God-- as well as for the Jews of Judea.

            “Sir,” they said to me, “we would like to see Jesus”. When I told Him that-- it was like their coming to him was a sign to Jesus. Not just a sign of another step on the journey-- He saw if as a sign of the completion of His ministry.

            “Now“, he said “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.”

            And the very next night, we found ourselves gathered together with Him for the last time, at that last Seder we shared  in that borrowed attic.

            I won’t dwell on that night,  or my role in it, or on the Rabbi’s betrayal and arrest and torture and trial.  Suffice it to say I was there. I saw it all-- right up to the moment when to my shame, I lost heart and fled. 

            I was there that morning after the Sabbath,  when He returned among us.

I didn’t understand how it had happened. I still don’t understand it all. I didn’t even recognize him at first. But when he spoke-- I knew-- we all knew it was Jesus. We all knew at last who He was-- Messiah, Savior, Son of God-- our friend and Rabbi had risen from the grave.

            In those few days and weeks various ones of us encountered him again-- in the garden outside his tomb, once more in that upper room, on a beach at early morning,  even walking on the road. It was a wondrous and holy period of time. I  recall the last time we were with him. That too, was a day I’ll never forget.

            We had been in the Upper room, eating, talking, sharing, listening as he taught. Once he had baptized us in water in order to forgive our sins. Now he promised us a new baptism of power and authority from God. He ordered us to remain in the city,  waiting for the fulfillment of that promise. 

            After a while, Jesus rose up from the table, and  led us out into the street, and out of the city . I thought we were perhaps on our way to the home of Lazarus and his sisters in Bethany.  But at the top of Mount Olivet, Jesus stopped.  He turned to us as if he were about to began to teach us. But something was going on-- you could sense that something was about to happen. Recalling what Jesus had said about God’s promises-- someone asked,  

            “Lord, tell us. does this mean that you’re about to re-establish the kingdom in Israel now? Is this the time?”   And he replied,

            “Never mind about times and dates. You have no need of knowing any of that. Timing is the Creator’s business-- not yours.  What you are about to get is power through God’s own Holy Spirit. Once that happens you’ll be my witnesses--  witnesses to my teaching, my life, my death, my resurrection. Not just in Judea.

Not just in Samaria. No, you will be my witnesses to the ends of the world.”

            And then he raised his hands to bless us, just  as he had some many times in the past. Then in the blink of an eye, Jesus was gone from our midst.  If you ask me what I saw or how that happened, I can only reply that there literally are no words I can use.  Later, some among us claimed they had seen him rise up into the air. Others thought they’d see him enter into a heavenly chariot like Ezekiel.  Some said he’d been taken up on a cloud,  or vanished in an explosion of light.  It seemed as if each of us there, saw what happened differently. 

            And I realized that it had come to an end.  But before any of us could do or say anything,  two strangers,  dressed in white spoke to us.

            "Galileans,  what are you doing staring into an empty sky?  Get you heads out of the clouds. Just as certainly and mysteriously as Jesus has left you, you can be sure that He will one day return to you." 

           

            As soon as they spoke to us, I understood.  Jesus had been with us as a man-- but now He was gone. Yet I didn't feel any grief or sense of loss. I could still feel His presence with me-- but now in a new and totally different way.

            From that moment to this--  Jesus has never left me. Once, in his human face, I had looked upon God’s face. Now, in His presence within my heart,  I know God's continuing presence within me From that moment to this-- He has been with me-- in the deepest part of me. He has been a model, a friend, a challenge,  a comfort,  a hope, a strength, a solace for me.

            Now, I understood what Jesus had meant that day about the Son of Man being Glorified. The Gospel would go forth into the world. His time among us was complete. Jesus had come to us from God-- and now he had returned in glory to God.  Like a mother bird who knows when to push her chicks out of the nest to fly, Jesus knew the time had come to step out of the way and allow me, and all of us room to grow unhindered more and more in love and holiness into his image.

            And from that moment to this-- my hunger, my search for meaning and justice in creation has been met. My questions have been answered-- not with words, but through the ultimate act of love.  In Jesus' life and ministry and death and Resurrection and Ascension,  I came to know that the Creator does care, that our existence is blessed, that this world is but a stage on our journey, that the universe is a welcoming and holy  place for me and all  human beings.

            I know now that my own actions in this world are not trivial or meaningless-- but of ultimate value. Jesus, the Eternal Word of God, the Cosmic Christ dwells-- not only in highest heaven-- not only at the very center of the Universe at God’s right hand-- but also in me. And I know that one day, I shall look upon Him and be with Him once again.                                                                               Amen.