Sermon: "Viri Galilaei"

Viri Galilaei, quid statis aspicientes in caelum? Hic Jesus, qui assumptus est a vobis in caelum, sic veniet, quemadmodum vidistis eum euntem in caelum. -- Actus Apostolorum 1:11

The "Men of Galilee" passage is one of my favorites -- both for the glorious Gregorian Introit with that text, and for the way in which the angels chide the Apostles: "Why do you stand here looking at the sky?". The image of a dirty, rag-tag bunch of fishermen staring open-mouthed up at the heavens amuses, even as one thinks of how it really must have felt to watch the Savior depart and wonder what to do next. The deeper meaning startles just as much as the angels' words did: We Christians have to learn to act on our own, ultimately without the assurance that God is leading us or even that we are doing the right thing. "The sky" is a place where people look for answers: from gods, aliens, the stars, "orbs," religious or political figures, famous scientists turned evangelical atheists, Hollywood actors, or any other creatures that inhabit a world seemingly far above our own, and dispense tidbits of wisdom on their own inscrutable schedules. Like the Apostles, we go beyond respecting our position in the celestial hierarchy, to ask that our superiors do our jobs for us; we want to absolve ourselves of the risk of making decisions with limited information. The angels' rhetorical question has another meaning: we must expect to hear only silence from God when we pray. God's preferred mode of communication in this age is, in fact, silence. However, silence also communicates -- it tells us how God wishes us to act, namely, to go forth and make decisions and take risks. But I don't like it! I don't like that God speaks to us with void. Sometimes it feels worse than if there had been no God at all -- then at least we could acknowledge living in an arbitrary universe, and try to make the best of things as they are. (Note that I'm not speaking exclusively of theodicy -- though action-in-the-world is a form of communication. Omnipotence is unnecessary.) Dan Simmons in his "Hyperion Cantos" uses the expression "The Void That Binds." In a way, this captures the problem of a silent God: we perceive the existence of a Divine beyond a doubt, and yet it seems to have nothing to say to us -- yet, it persists in making its presence felt. God doesn't hide entirely from us, despite the lack of communication. Indeed, it's this very presence that "binds" us to worship and follow (which is the meaning of the word "religion" -- to "bind back"). One could call this the Advocate, as Jesus seems to do -- though usually one expects a defense attorney to confer with her clients once in a while! How we might wish that she did -- though we are bound to her and she to us. I do not think even the depths of hell could shut her out.