That “Wondrous Exchange”
May 17 or 20, 2007

Readings for the Ascension of the Lord

Reading 1: Acts 1:1–11

Responsorial Psalm: Ps. 47:2–3, 6–7, 8–9

Reading 2: Eph. 1:17–23 or Heb. 9:24–28; 10:19–23

Gospel: Lk. 24:46–53

Link to Readings

By Monsignor Michael Magee

In one of the prayers that is recited in the Liturgy during the Christmas season, the Church speaks of our redemption as a wondrous “exchange”—the Latin says commercium—between God and man. That “exchange” had begun in mystery in the womb of the Virgin Mary, when the Eternal Son of God took our own humanity from His mother, so that by the union of that humanity with His own divinity, He might give us a share in God’s own nature.

From the earliest centuries, the Church spoke of that wondrous “exchange” between humanity and divinity that became evident at key moments in the life of Our Lord. When He sat at table with His disciples, He gave us His own sacred Body and Blood not only so that we might receive in return the gift of His very self, but also so that we could offer to the Father in our own name that same, most perfect sacrifice. On the Cross, the exchange became even more wonderful and mysterious, when Jesus took all our sins upon Himself, and gave us in return a new life of freedom from those sins.

Today, the mystery of that “wondrous exchange” between God and man approaches its completion: after taking our human nature to Himself, Jesus ascends in triumph after His Resurrection to the side of the eternal Father, so that in Him, the human nature that He took from His mother—one of us—is raised up forever to the glory of God’s own heavenly throne.

Taken from Their Sight

Ironically, it is precisely when He seems to take His presence away from us that Jesus’ presence to us becomes more constant and more intense. In fact, today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles is worded in an interesting way. It says that while the disciples were watching, Jesus “was lifted up, and a cloud took him from their sight.”

Those words are reminiscent of what the Gospel of Luke said about the moment when the disciples were at table with the Lord after meeting Him on the road to Emmaus: that just as Jesus had broken the bread, the disciples recognized Him, and suddenly “he vanished from their sight,” or as the Greek says more precisely, “he became invisible to them.” In neither case does the writer tell us that Jesus was no longer there, because in fact, He was still there. It is just that His presence was there in a new way: in the Eucharist and in the Church that He joins so closely to Himself that it can truly be called His own Mystical Body.

Today’s feast is an occasion for us to reflect on what it means that Christ has made us His own Body by the power of the Holy Spirit, whose coming we will commemorate on Pentecost. The prayer at the beginning of today’s Mass, which is a very ancient one with roots all the way back to the fifth century, says it beautifully, taking us back to our theme of the “wondrous exchange” between God and man that takes place in Jesus’ life and Paschal Mystery.

Christ’s Body—In Heaven and on Earth

In fact, maybe it’s helpful to give a closer translation of the same prayer in the Latin Missal, or at least of the part that says: “The Ascension of Christ is our own way forward, because where [Christ our] Head has gone, there [his] Body too is called in hope.”

All of us have experienced what St. Paul suggests when he speaks of any body: when one part, even a small one, is in pain or infected, the whole person suffers, not just the one part. If that is true, then we know that the opposite must be no less true: When one part of the Mystical Body is raised to the glory of heaven—even though He can no longer be seen by our eyes—the rest of His Body is also raised up with Him, even if that glory can be seen only with the eyes of faith.

Once we’ve accepted the dazzling truth that is the meaning of today’s celebration, life is no longer merely the one we might live apart from Christ! As I stand at the beginning of each day and look ahead, then, I might think even of all those things I fear, all that I distrust, all that I dread, and also all that I hope for. All this now belongs to the One who has ascended on high, victorious over evil and above all possibility of losing what He has gained by His Passion and Resurrection. All of it belongs to Him because it belongs to me, and I myself belong to Him. And if this is so, then there is no more need for anxiety. Why should I worry about something that belongs not to me, but to Jesus?

And the opposite is also true: if He has taken me as His own, not just as a priest but as a baptized Christian (so this is true of everyone here), then all that I do in His service today, no matter how menial, no matter how small, becomes His own presence in this world!

Through my mouth, He speaks to one who needs to hear His word, maybe even just a simple word of encouragement. Someone who is looking for a hand reaches out for my own hand, and in it, he touches a hand that belongs to Jesus. To someone who may be discouraged or bored with life, Jesus can smile on him or her today through my eyes! As I sit and look at the chores that I dread, I place them in the hands of Jesus who has taken my job as His own, and we’ll do it together now.

Life is totally different when we live in union with the One who ascends to heaven today, and it is precisely because He moves beyond our sight that He can now be present even when and where we no longer see him with our eyes.

Not Left Behind

The Galileans are told by the angel in our first reading: “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky? This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven will return in the same way you have seen him going into heaven.” It seems that this promise, too, is something more profound than first meets the eye. The disciples have seen Jesus vanish from their sight, even though He is still present among them in new ways. “[He] will come in the way that you have seen him going,” then, seems to mean (as the Gospel of Matthew, in fact, tells us explicitly) that He will be present even when we fail to see Him.

As this Mass continues, let’s remember what the mystery of today’s Solemnity means. In a few minutes, just as Jesus was taken into heaven without leaving His disciples behind, He will be present on our altar under the forms of bread and wine, without leaving the side of His Father in heaven. And we, once we’ve received Him, will go back to the ordinary tasks of every day, carrying Him in our hearts and knowing by faith that even amid everything that this world may place on our shoulders, we are already reigning in glory with Him.

Monsignor Michael Magee is a priest of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia. Since 1998, he has been an Official in the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments in Rome. In June 2007 he is beginning a new assignment as Professor of Sacred Scripture and Systematic Theology at Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary in Philadelphia.

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