Luke 24:15 says that Jesus was "taken up into heaven." Mark 16:19 says the same. Acts 1:9 also says, "he was lifted up, and a cloud took him from their sight." Jesus' bodily ascent into heaven is an essential belief in Christianity. The creed states it as one of its propositions: "He ascended into Heaven." 

For clarity, let's see, Acts 1:11 "They said, “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 as you have seen him going into heaven.”" Here it is clear, Just as Jesus is going to one day physically return, so is he ascending into heaven where he will "sit" at the "right hand" of the Father (Rev 3:21; Mt 22:44; Acts 2:33) and the Nicene Creed says, "he is seated at the right hand of the Father."

A lot of things get Christians squeamish about their faith, but one that seems to really get Christians, maybe Catholics in particular, is that Jesus physically ascended into Heaven. Why is this troublesome? Well, for one, the universe is 93 billion light years. That means it would take light that long to travel from one end to the other (or something like that). So did Jesus keep floating up and up and up . . . (if there is an "up" in the universe)? Sure! Or it could have happened in the blink of an eye. The other issue is that this physical bodily ascension seems to imply that Jesus is currently at location (x,y,z), or that Heaven is at that location. Yes. He is at a location, and heaven is at a location. What that means, we can't understand, but he is there, sitting . . . or standing or whatever he is doing.

Some people think that the ascension and the current existence of Jesus is more spiritual than the alternative. But then, what exactly was the point of the resurrection? There is zero point in a resurrection if only two weeks later, he reverts to spiritual form and glides away.

One issue for Catholics is that the current bodily existence of Jesus complicates the Eucharist, the elements of which are the body and blood of Jesus. It is true. Jesus is alive. The Eucharist is not a substitute for his being, person, and presence. All one has to remember is that it was Jesus, who was very much alive, who distributed bread and wine to his disciples and said, "this is my body."

Now, of course, the manner of existence of Jesus, a physical man who is God, is beyond anything we can think or comprehend. So it is not reductive to think of Jesus as a bodily existing man. We only have to give up the parameters of our thinking and rely on faith to make sense of whatever new reality awaits us.

So Jesus is alive. He is resurrected. He is a body and is somewhere. Now . . . so . . . if Jesus is sitting at the right hand of the Father . . . so . . . is the Father . . . 

Is being ethical the same thing as being a good person? Is being a good person the same as being ethical?

Does being religious imply that one will be good and or ethical? I think we can answer this one quickly. No. Being religious does not in itself mean that someone is good or ethical. The proof is in the pudding. Religious people the world over and over the centuries have shown that there isn't a necessary coupling between religiosity and goodness or ethicalness. Many religious people are very good people, but many not very good people are deeply religious. But, perhaps, that's not the point . . . or is it?

Can someone be ethical and not good? Ethics is not easy to define. But it has to do with principles of action, society (however, one construes that), and human flourishing (whether in a broad quasi-eschatological and teleological sense, or whether in an individualistic, granular present sense).

The first problem always is what exactly is good? There are many goods, satisfying hunger, laughing, peace, justice, engaging in fulfilling work, enjoying art, etc. Why are these good and is there an intrinsic ordering to them? Satisfying hunger is good but is undermined if to do so, I take food from someone else who needed that food to satisfy their hunger. So the greater good there would be abundance and solidarity so that there is enough for both of us and it is my aim to ensure we both get to satisfying our hunger and we don't try to hoard the abundance or excess. As we game it out the greater goods become intangible conditions we set so that we can optimize justice, peace, and the like so that we can all share resources fairly.

Ultimately, though, we need to plant our flag on the greatest possible good. Only such a good may be the true north star for any practical earthly conception of good.  Such a good must be a good in and for itself. It cannot be a good in any way dependent on it's utility--how useful or good it is for something. Such a good that is good in itself demands recognition as such and this is what we sense as the holy and the sacred. The Holy is the transcendent good beyond all practical conceptions of good. It is visible in this world, but not of this world, and cannot be accessed as a thing in the world. 

The irony then is it is the religious who necessarily preserve the sense we have the sacred and the holy, even when they fail at being good themselves. Though it then becomes the ultimate scandal when the ones who see the Good as the Holy fall short and bring scandal. Even worse, if goodness in itself is, at its root, distinct from utility, then there's an aspect of holiness that may seem divorced from the practical goods that we all appreciate. For instance, the holy person on their way to pray may be impatience and rude to the person interrupting them. 

The only way those who seek holiness can also reflect ultimate goodness is if they partner with those who seek goodness even at the expense of holiness. It seems like folly to expect any single human to be wholly holy and wholly good (in the practical sense). But as a corporate body of Christians, the tasks can be distributed as long as everyone understands their roles. That those who pursue practical goods understand that they do so at the expense of true devotion to the holy. And those who seek the path of holiness understand that their quest blinds them to the necessary practical goodness that should define the Christian. I suppose, though, in the long run, the true Christian strives not to neglect either holiness or goodness.

Someone once asked me about reading an introduction to the Bible. The book she showed me was a very nice-looking book. I glanced in it, and it looked like it had a lot of really good information. She asked if it would be good. The bible is always good--necessary--to read for one's spiritual journey. However, reading the bible with the aid of academic experts, whether through books, commentaries, etc, is something else. Academically, scripture study is criticism, i.e., it reduces the bible to a combination of history, sociology, and literature. 

(Image--Thomas Waterman Wood 1874)

The world has learned so much from scholars who decided to evaluate the bible, not as a spiritual, divine book, but as a work of history, and also through literary and sociological lenses. The insights have been invaluable in the sense that we can't imagine living in a world prior to this knowledge. In a way, it's like imagining how people could have lived fulfilled lives in the 9th century AD without wifi, books, cars, and hygienic products. But those people lived very full and happy lives, no more or no less than we do. So also, Christians thrived without the burden of this academic approach to scripture.

For some types of Christians, including myself, entering into the world of biblical study with academic experts is a faith-destroying, soul-sucking enterprise. The academic overlay and telescope become a blight and varnish on the scriptures--a maze, a rabbit hole that once you go down, you never get out.

On the other hand, the academic approach to the bible is a major breath of fresh air for many other types of Christians. For one, the bible then makes sense. The cultural context, literary structure, and historical notes categorize things in a neat enough way that remove obstacles to faith.

Everyone needs expert help. Reading the bible is not a solitary thing but a community venture. The scriptures are given first and primarily to the people of faith as a whole, to the Church, and next to us as individuals, in a secondary sense. I think wading into the world of academic "criticism" and context is not the worst thing in the world. But it is eating the forbidden apple. After you enter this world, you can expect to realize that you are naked, you'll start hiding from God, Cain will kill Abel, we build towers to climb to the heavens, and darkness floods in such that God will despair and consider another ark. But in all this darkness, we still get grace, the Messiah, and a savior. What choice do we have? We can't ignore all the insights of the past few hundred years. Yet, we pay dearly for every morsel of this analytical food we eat.

In sum, there has to be an initial time of self-reflection and assessment. It helps to understand what kind of person you are--what kind of Christian you are. Do you lean more toward the affective or more toward the analytical? But ultimately, at the end of the day, there is one real injunction: Fear God and do his commandments. If we stick to this, we can hope to be guided aright.

The agony, trial, and crucifixion of Jesus were no laughing matter. But there seemed to be a significant amount of mocking around his death. First, when Jesus is questioned by Herod, a man who had desired to meet Jesus for so long and see a sign from him, he--Jesus--is mocked.

"[Even] Herod and his soldiers treated him contemptuously and mocked him, and after clothing him in resplendent garb, he sent him back to Pilate.i" (Lk 23:11)

Matthew's account is more graphic:

"27 Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the praetorium, and they gathered the whole battalion before him. 28 And they stripped him and put a scarlet robe upon him, 29 and plaiting a crown of thorns they put it on his head, and put a reed in his right hand. And kneeling before him they mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” 30 And they spat upon him, and took the reed and struck him on the head. 31 And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the robe, and put his own clothes on him, and led him away to crucify him." (Mt 27:27-31)

It is in the midst of the mocking that Jesus is beaten, spat on, and then given a garment that is later  stripped off him.

At the crucifixion scene, the rulers then sneer at him (Lk 23:35), followed by the soldiers (Lk 23:36), then the inscription, "This is the King of the Jews" (Lk 23:38) is meant to be something of a taunt and mockery, and then there's the one criminal (Lk 23:39).

All these indicate the apparent extent of Jesus' failure. This man who was to be king now hangs here, a spectacle. It does little good to make Jesus over godlike and suggest all the while he had secret knowledge and would, if he could, wink at the camera because he knows what's coming. The abjectness of the failure, such that all this taunting makes sense, must be appreciated.

It is then that we see the faith of Christ in his patience. He had failed, and his kingship and dominion hung on the cross as a spectacle. He responded to none of the taunts. But finally responds to the criminal who reaches out to him in faith. The criminal proclaims Jesus' innocence, which was also apparent to all. He asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom. Whatever that meant, it was pure faith that this weak, defeated Messiah still had a kingdom and had the power to save. So when Jesus says, "today you will be with me in paradise," we can understand that that is similarly Jesus' own statement of faith. 

The mockery and taunting of Jesus tell us one thing: that Jesus' kingdom and perceived political aspirations were a real thing. This is what people, even his disciples, expected of him--a kingdom. For Jesus' sacrifice to be really meaningful, he had to feel the full weight of that failure. Thus, the fact that in the lion's den of failure, he declares the salvation of the criminal, is a testament to the faith of Christ.

One moment in history that haunts me is the death of the great scientist (proto-scientist), Archimedes (287-212 BC). Archimedes was one of the most brilliant humans ever to live. He famously solved a volume displacement problem in the baths an ran through the streets shouting "Eureka!" He also uncovered physical laws about and speculated about things like levers, screws, mirrors, and a whole lot more. He said to have said, "Give me a place to stand and I'll move the earth," referring to his law of levering. 

I'd always heard that Archimedes was killed by a drunken Roman soldier. Maybe the soldier wasn't drunk. Either way, he was killed by a soldier. The armed man was either angered by Archimede's refusal to follow him to the king because the thinker was working on a problem in the dust. "Do not disturb my circles," he said. Or the soldier thought Archimedes's instruments were valuable plunder and killed for them. Either way, one of history's most brilliant men died at the hands of a man with limited education, who by a sword and by the state, weilded power, and who did not appreciate the genius before him.

("Death of Archimedes" 1766, by François-Philippe Charpentier, after Ciro Ferri, in the National Gallery of Art)

Well, the world has gone on and Archimedes has slipped into historical legend along with many greats in our intellectual history. However, one wonders what brilliant thing might he have envisioned if he lived longer. Does it matter? Does the life of any one man matter? Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. But what if history and human flourishing is contingent on nodes of development and insight that spur new ways of thinking? A special insight at just the right moment in history could change the course of peoples, nations, public health, public education, science, international policy, ethics, etc. We would never know. But to have such hope die because of common rage feels like throwing pearls to swine.

(Btw, who knows how many Archimedes, Einsteins, Da Vincis, are dying or suffering or being turned away at the border; or wasting away in impoverishment. To be clear, each and every life wasted and underdeveloped is a crucial opportunity cost for the world.)

The elite class (intellectual and cultural elites, not the societally and financially wealthy class), I see as a version of Archimedes. They are arrogant and perhaps too self assured. But human history is driven by these people because ideas have consequences. For instance, it is not an exaggeration to say that Alexander the Great changed the course of world history . . . with his sword. Yet, the lesser know fact is that he was the pupil of one of the greatest philosophers, Aristotle. Christianity flourishes because educated elites (Paul, Luke, Matthew) wrote things down. Karl Marx, some say, "lived" in libraries studying and writing, and the world has been shaped to dangerous effect (but some good) by his ideas.

The populist purging of intellectual elites (scientists, academics, artists, writers, etc) makes for a good talking point. Idea factories and concept generators produce nothing tangible. But eliminating the intellectual and cultural elite destroys a certain kind of hope. We all live in the present, struggling to meet our daily needs. These elites live in a different world, anticipating the forms that structure reality and that determine the future. To be sure, elites are dangerous (see Marx), because they are unaware of the power of their ideas, nor do they seem able to see the world but in the way it appears to them. And they quickly lose touch with what it means to not live in an ordinary world because their heads are in the clouds. They should circumscribed with means that prevent them from directly pouring their ideas and notions into general society (easier said than done). Nonetheless, it is vital that the intellectual and cultural elite flourish in the institutions designed for them. In our day, these are universities and other academic or intellectual outlets.

It does no good to human and societal flourishing for enraged drunken soldiers to yet again, disturb elite circles written in dust and again, kill Archimedes for his insolence. Without Archimedes' fulcrum, we don't move the earth. 

The Gospel of Luke has interesting sibling tensions. There is Mary and Martha in Luke 10:

38 Now as they went on their way, he entered a village; and a woman named Martha received him into her house. 39 And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching. 40 But Martha was distracted with much serving; and she went to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me. 41 But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things; 42 one thing is needful.[f] Mary has chosen the good portion, which shall not be taken away from her.”” 

There is the person in the crowd in Luke 12:

13 One of the multitude said to him, “Teacher, bid my brother divide the inheritance with me.” 14 But he said to him, “Man, who made me a judge or divider over you?” 15 And he said to them, “Take heed, and beware of all covetousness; for a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” 16 And he told them a parable, saying, 

These two cases seem to highlight similar things. Focus on the the better part that cannot be taken away. In the case of Martha, it wasn't serving that was the problem. It was that she was "distracted with much serving." For the other man, the request leads to the parable of the rich fool who stored up wealth for himself. That in itself is fine. It was that he was not also "rich toward God."

Then there's our friend, the prodigal son in Luke 15:

25 “Now his elder son was in the field; and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 And he called one of the servants and asked what this meant. 27 And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has received him safe and sound.’ 28 But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, 29 but he answered his father, ‘Lo, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command; yet you never gave me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your living with harlots, you killed for him the fatted calf!’ 31 And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.’”


The wayward son spends his inheritance, while the dutiful son/brother remains faithful and works hard. The prodigal gets rewarded with a party, the brother doesn't. Two of these sibling stories have to do with sharing inheritance. In the other case, the one calling out to Jesus felt an injustice was done to him. His brother was not sharing the inheritance. In this case, the older brother felt and injustice was done when in fact there was no injustice, just mercy.

Fairness is a persistent concern among family members. And in the presence of Jesus it is easy to call on him as a judge. But Jesus' response in all cases is to accept the perceived unfairness and focus on the one thing needful--the better part that shall not be taken away.

When Jesus' disciples asks him to increase their faith, he gives the following parable (Lk 17):

"7 “Will any one of you, who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep, say to him when he has come in from the field, ‘Come at once and sit down at table’? 8 Will he not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, and gird yourself and serve me, till I eat and drink; and afterward you shall eat and drink’? 9 Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded? 10 So you also, when you have done all that is commanded you, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’”"

I wish Jesus could be just a tad clearer. But whatever the message about faith is in all this, there is something interesting about being a servant. The Greek for servant is "doulon" so it might be better thought of as "slave." So in this parable, when a slave comes in from a hard day in the field, would one ask the slave to sit and rest or demand they do their duty to serve the master? Well, one would expect the slave to serve, not be served. And then after one has worked all day in the field doing back-breaking work, and then comes in  and serves the master, the slave says "we are unprofitable servants" as the King James Version puts it. We've simply done our duty.

Now here's the flip side of being a parable slave. (Lk 12)

"35 “Let your loins be girded and your lamps burning, 36 and be like men who are waiting for their master to come home from the marriage feast, so that they may open to him at once when he comes and knocks. 37 Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes; truly, I say to you, he will gird himself and have them sit at table, and he will come and serve them. 38 If he comes in the second watch, or in the third, and finds them so, blessed are those servants! 39 But know this, that if the householder had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would have been awake and[e] would not have left his house to be broken into. 40 You also must be ready; for the Son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect.”"

and a few verses later:

"42 And the Lord said, “Who then is the faithful and wise steward, whom his master will set over his household, to give them their portion of food at the proper time? 43 Blessed is that servant whom his master when he comes will find so doing. 44 Truly, I tell you, he will set him over all his possessions."

So the Luke 12 slaves have to be vigilant and awake to serve the Master. But there is a reward for their faithfulness. The Master will have them eat at the table and serve them! He will give them their portion in proper time and they will be set over all his possessions. Doing one's duty here comes with inordinate and disproportionate rewards.

There is a bit of whiplash, but one might lead into the other. After all, what slave would strain to be awake through the midnight watch and even until dawn? Who would be constantly alert and vigilant for his master's coming? It would have to be the slave who saw it has his duty and not for the sake of reward--the unprofitable servant.

The film Amazing Grace is a truly astounding film. It should be on everyone's must watch list. It is the story of the English abolitionist, William Wilberforce and his work to end slavery in Great Britain. The film is masterfully done. Here's the trailer:

There is a scene with Wilberforce and a group of Abolitionists at dinner. William Wilberforce is at this time still contemplating how to get into the kind of advocacy he would eventually be know for. At this dinner, he responds to a dinner companion's claim about the making of a better world.

"Issues of the making of a better world."

Wilberforce: "Better in which way?"

"If you make the world better in one way, it becomes better in every way. Don't you think?"

Is this true? Does the world become better in any way, if it is made better in one way? If I solve hunger in Somalia, but another country falls prey to war, faminine, and destruction, has there been any net gain in the betterness of the world?

Is making the world better not like scooping water out of a leaking boat? It probably is. But perhaps it's the wrong question to ask whether one really makes a difference. The only thing we can control is what we do. So the real question is in the face of futility, do we resign ourselves to inaction, or do we, with our dying breath, as Albert Camus says of a dying woman, scream "never!" That is, do we press forward against the tide until we're swept away?

​The world can't become better. But we can make it better.

Trees and plants feature significantly in the Gospels. Jesus speeks about mustard, wheat, weeds, vines, etc. While wheat, grape vines, and even mustard are positively portrayed, the fig tree does not come off well.

First, there's the parable of the unfruitful Fig tree in Luke 13:6-9.

6 And he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came seeking fruit on it and found none. 7 And he said to the vinedresser, ‘Lo, these three years I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I find none. Cut it down; why should it use up the ground?’ 8 And he answered him, ‘Let it alone, sir, this year also, till I dig about it and put on manure. 9 And if it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

Then there's the weird cursing of the fig tree in Mark 11:12-14

12 On the following day, when they came from Bethany, he was hungry. 13 And seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to see if he could find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs. 14 And he said to it, “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.” And his disciples heard it.

It rough being a fig around Jesus. In Mark, he expected the fig tree to have fruit when it wasn't the season for figs! But to make things worse, the fig tree gets cursed. And then in Luke, there's pressure to produce figs in season for an impatient land owner when it seems reasonable to give the tree a little more time tand attention. Especially since if it eventually does produce figs, it would do so for a long time. On the other hand, if it still doesn't produce figs, the opportunity cost would've been high. That time and attention could have been given to another tree that would've produced fruit.

I think the lesson is that we should pray to be mustard seeds, wheat, or grapes. It's too much pressure being a fig tree.

Paul, in 2 Thessalonians, speaks about "the man of lawlessness" who will precede the day of the coming of the Lord. This man of lawlessness is generally spoken of as the anti-Christ. I've seen people ask whether President Trump is the anti-Christ. It would be easy to dismiss the suggestion except for the one salient fact--that millions of Christians have made him their idol. And why is this relevant?

Here's what Paul says:

2 Now concerning the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ and our assembling to meet him, we beg you, brethren, 2 not to be quickly shaken in mind or excited, either by spirit or by word, or by letter purporting to be from us, to the effect that the day of the Lord has come. 3 Let no one deceive you in any way; for that day will not come, unless the rebellion comes first, and the man of lawlessness[a] is revealed, the son of perdition, 4 who opposes and exalts himself against every so-called god or object of worship, so that he takes his seat in the temple of God, proclaiming himself to be God. 5 Do you not remember that when I was still with you I told you this? 6 And you know what is restraining him now so that he may be revealed in his time. 7 For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work; only he who now restrains it will do so until he is out of the way. 8 And then the lawless one will be revealed, and the Lord Jesus will slay him with the breath of his mouth and destroy him by his appearing and his coming. 9 The coming of the lawless one by the activity of Satan will be with all power and with pretended signs and wonders, 10 and with all wicked deception for those who are to perish, because they refused to love the truth and so be saved. 11 Therefore God sends upon them a strong delusion, to make them believe what is false, 12 so that all may be condemned who did not believe the truth but had pleasure in unrighteousness.

Paul says there will be a "rebellion" first.  The Greek word is "apostasia" which can be translated as "apostasy." So this is referring to believers. But apostasy is not necessarily leaving the faith, but it is turning from what one knows to be true and holy, to what is false and sacrilegious. This man of lawlessness eclipses all objects of worship, drawing all attention--devotion--to himself.

The part about the son of perdition taking a seat in the temple and proclaiming himself to be God I suppose depends on how one wants to take that, literally or figuratively. It would seem too obvious if someone literally sat in the temple and proclaimed themselves God, that this is another Christ--an anti-Christ. But perhaps that's what's in store for the world. The temple has not yet been rebuilt so there is no threat that we are living in the time of the man of lawlessness.

But the "mystery of lawlessness" is already present as Paul says.  He indicates that there will be precursors to the true anti-Christ. And, unfortunately, many will be deceived. Do we know anything about who will be deceived?

The condition for deception is not some predestined ledger God created from the beginning of time. That makes no sense. Rather, what qualifies one for deception is that one does not "believe the truth." That's vague, so let's put that to the side. But here's the other condition, they have "pleasure in unrighteousness." Not that they necessarily do the unrighteousness, but that they have pleasure in it--endorsing it, accepting it, justifying it. This seems like a concern that Christian devotees of President Trump have to tackle. Have they become like Esau? Have they traded their consciences for the idol of so-called righteous policies, and sought the unrighteous or the profane or the banal? 

The difference between President Trump's Christian devotees and liberal Christians serious about their faith has to do with this "having pleasure in unrighteousness." When your hands are dirty, you know you have no choice but to cower in the corner of the temple and plead for mercy. I think many liberal Christians are aware that they are "unprofitable servants" (Luke 17:7-10). Although many are absolutely certain that God must conform to a philosophical standard of universal good, thereby declaring that God is not in fact God. I guess when it's all said and done, no one is righteous.

President Trump is not the anti-Christ, but one can't help but feel that his vessel floats down the stream of this mystery of lawlessness that is already at work in the world.