The Creed tells us Jesus "ascended into heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father."
Christian liturgical tradition has long associated
Psalm 68:18-20 with the triumphal entry of Christ into heaven at the Ascension.
The original hymn is equally triumphal and probably accompanied a liturgical
celebration in which the Ark of the Covenant was brought in procession to the
Temple, recalling the Exodus of Israel, the conquest of Canaan, and the
establishment of the nation in the land by the power of God.
It is only fitting, therefore, that as Christ
entered the heavenly temple of the new Jerusalem to sit in greater glory than
David or Solomon, the Church should see the psalm as an anticipation of him. In
the Ascension, the day has dawned when man is now present in heaven in the
person of the Son of Man, Christ Jesus. Because he is already there, we who are
in him are there as well, because God, "who is rich in mercy, because of
the great love he had for us, even when we were dead in our transgressions,
brought us to life with Christ (by grace you have been saved), raised us up
with him, and seated us with him in the heavens in Christ Jesus" (Eph
2:4-6).
In the rosary, the glorious mystery of the Ascension
is traditionally associated with prayer for the virtue of hope. Hope is
oriented not so much toward the future as toward eternity and the fact that the
same God we have known and know now is not going to abandon us. It is curious
that this faith that Jesus will not abandon us is associated with the moment in
the Gospel where Jesus leaves us.
But, as Luke makes clear, Jesus is not really
leaving. For his Gospel only tells us of what Jesus "began" to do and
teach (Acts 1:1). His entire earthly ministry is only the spark. The Church,
filled with his Spirit, is the fire, and he is now to continue his work in a
way more intimate with us than it was during his earthly ministry. That is why
he himself said, "But now I am going to the one who sent me, and not one
of you asks me, 'Where are you going?' But because I told you this, grief has
filled your hearts. But I tell you the truth, it is better for you that I go.
For if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go, I will send
him to you" On 16:5-7).
Biblically, to be seated is to be in repose—not
asleep, not watching TV, not "doing nothing," but secure in one's
dominion. In antiquity, judges were seated. So were monarchs when they were
enthroned. To say that Jesus is "seated" is to say he now reigns.
To be sure, there is still work to be done, but it
is in the nature of "mop up," not in "deciding the battle."
The worst thing that could ever have happened in the universe has already
happened—and God has turned it into the best thing. God has already been
killed. Compared to that, everything is pretty small beer. But the death of God
on the Cross has led to the life of the world. Jesus has entered on his reign. He
is enthroned as King at the Father's right hand—now.
The "right hand" was the "good"
hand in antiquity—the hand that pours out blessing; the hand that holds the
scepter; the hand that works, acts, fights. The hand is the locus of action. We
do not theorize with our hands; we act with them. We do things. Jesus, seated
at the right hand of the Father, does things. And he empowers us to do things,
too—by his Spirit.
Thus, when Peter appeals to the crowd at Pentecost,
he doesn't tell them God has poured out a concept or an idea. He has poured out
that which you see and hear (see Acts 2:33). Catholic faith is still the same
today. To be sure, we walk by faith and not by sight. But the fruit of our
faith is still visible in the incarnate signs and acts of love we bear to the
world. All of these are poured out on us from Jesus, seated at the right hand
of God the Father.
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