(Mt 28:16–20)

    Matthew does not describe the Ascension, but conveys the same message as Acts 1:1–11 (using different imagery): the passing on of the mission.

Unlike Luke and John, Matthew places the encounter with the Risen Lord in Galilee – not in Jerusalem, the sacred centre. The setting carries theological significance.

He does not make himself present and visible in the holy city, but rather on the ‘periphery’, and the apostles are invited to follow in the Master’s footsteps, starting from where his mission began.

The members of the communities in Galilee and Syria to whom Matthew addresses himself came from Judaism, but were looked down upon by observant Jews, who considered them double traitors to their culture.

Due to invasions from the north and east, the population of those lands was diverse, and the orthodox viewed such a mix with suspicion.

Moreover, by adhering to Christ, they had called into question the customs and authority of traditional teachings.

It is precisely to these lowly esteemed people that the Gospel of the Lord addresses itself, beginning with the experience of ‘the Mount’ (v. 16).

In biblical and Semitic culture in general, the Mount is the place of the special experience of the Eternal One, of his manifestations.

In Matthew, the term alludes to the setting of the Beatitudes: the place of God’s new work of salvation that transcends the Law.

Jerusalem was no longer to be the centre of worship and religiosity. The veil of the Temple is torn (Mt 27:51): access to the Father is no longer confined to a single place.

Every believer in Christ, of whatever background, who chose to replace the principles of the ‘plain’ [a competitive and conventional way of thinking and acting] with those of ‘the Mountain’, was empowered to become a living sanctuary.

The evangelist places Jesus precisely on ‘the Mountain’ when he wishes to emphasise a call or a fundamental gesture – an alternative to the fideist imagination.

It is a ‘place’ in the sense of the powerful moments of the Spirit, of the convergence between the divine and human natures: where we experience Christ manifesting his existential ‘authority’ throughout the whole span of life.

A summit that makes the criteria of the Mission clear – through the symbolism of divine Revelation and alluding to his own post-Easter condition [a lofty, ‘heavenly’ state].

And only those who have assimilated the teaching of ‘the Mountain’ – solely those who have experienced the Risen One – can carry out this Mission.

Indeed, the commissioning and sending of the disciples is made decisive. It introduces a radical change in the relationship with the disciples, who discover the divine in Him (v.17a) whilst at the same time retaining their doubts (v.17b).

Matthew is aware of the doubts that are creeping in. Despite this, it is precisely the uncertainty and the scandalous behaviour of the first direct followers that allows him to encourage the brothers of the community [even if his account shows a tendency to present the apostles as rather upright models].

The “churches” are not made up of perfect children. Indeed, it recalls (in this way) an unprecedented aspect that Jesus had introduced into the criteria of discernment and real life: the coexistence of different faces.

Whilst religious existence was conceived in terms of procedures, the refinement of feelings, ‘evidence’ and upward progress, the Master had taught the integration of ethnicities, affections, emotional mixtures and even opposing sides.

According to the new Rabbi, life in the Spirit brings Joy because it uncovers hidden treasures precisely in the shadowed sides of faltering people and precarious situations.

Joseph’s own doubt proved more than fruitful (cf. Mt 1:18ff).

It is good to believe in Jesus and – at the same time – to have questions: this is the difference between Faith and common religiosity.

Only to Christ is every ‘Ex-ousìa’ (v.18) given: authority that is not imposed, which emanates from the Mystery without coercion, and is therefore freely accepted [that is, a sort of authority arising from being itself].

This is a decisive moment for outlining the criteria of ecclesial action that makes Jesus present.

He entrusts us with a task, confers his own ‘powers’, and brings us into the communion of life.

It seems paradoxical, but it is on a platform of mixtures [a solid yet fluctuating foundation] that the Church becomes capable of inexplicable recoveries – and that the apostles are sent forth (vv.19-20).

It is this backdrop of competitive and malleable energies, taken on and assimilated, that changes life and prepares God’s future – not mass castration or sterilisation.

Faith and religious evidence now clash, creating sparks.

For this reason – on uncertain ground – there is an openness to the whole world (v. 19), whereas in a previous passage Matthew had limited the mission to the lost sheep of the house of Israel (Mt 10:5–6).

The lived experience of coexistence and conviviality amidst differences has allowed us to grasp the vitality of chaos, which shifts our gaze and broadens it; it compels us to overcome one-sidedness.

Confusion and upheaval which – as missionaries well know – resolve the real problems, opening up unforeseen horizons of incalculable value.

Imperfection has borne fruit in unexpected ways and has ushered in a new era: the novelty of an expanded ecclesiology.

Now the Light kindled upon the people immersed in darkness when Jesus had settled from Nazareth in Capernaum (Mt 4:13-) must unfold everywhere, through a discipleship extended to the peoples [pagans: v.19 Greek text] ‘every day and until the end of the age’ (v.20).

The particularism previously recognised [perhaps out of respect for the communal dimension and spatial-temporal limits] gives way to the new Inauguration.

Now boundaries fall away, giving way to total universalism – without any borders.

Immersion [v.19: the Greek meaning of the term ‘Baptism’] in the wonder that envelops the Person of the Lord permeates the disciple of Christ to the very core – with no further need for binding procedures and rules, established yet external.

Light animated by the promise of the Risen One who, recalling Emmanuel, God-with-us, concludes the Gospel of Matthew just as it began and was announced by the Prophets (cf. Mt 1:22–23).

The Ascension is not a break, a separation or a departure, but rather Communion. Prophecy has become a permanent reality.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you enter into the New Covenant? Are you mindful of the dialectic between Faith and doubt?

Do you regard it as a driving force or not, both for a new contemplation and for the blossoming of new energies?

How does the self-revelation of Jesus unfold within you? What strength has it imparted to you? What significance do the experience and vigour of ‘the Mount’ hold for you?

Easter, Ascension. Taking flight without drifting away

There is proof that He Lives

    What is the fate of a life spent in fidelity to a prophetic vocation?

The earthly outcome of Jesus – the faithful Son – would seem to be that of the failures of every age and of any culture, philosophy or religion.

So is it worth being oneself?

Would it not be more constructive to act on the basis of personal convenience and group opportunism?

Easter celebrates a joy: it is the feast of those who realise that defeats do not remain dark sides. They conceal disproportionate gems.

A full blossoming remains of our passage. And it is not true that a destroyed life is wasted or ends badly.

In Eastern icons, Easter is depicted as the Descent into Hell: the victory of ordinary men and women.

Again in the icons, the Mystery of the Ascension is generally depicted with two angels in white robes pointing out to the Apostles the glorious halo of the Lord, seated on his throne.

As if to say: behold where a life wasted in the eyes of men but fulfilled in the eyes of the Father has arrived.

Obeying our Calling without compromise and in its entirety may seem imprudent and reckless. Instead, it is full self-respect, and it leads us to our Homeland.

The nature of our being, animated by the inner Friend, appeals not to social goals to be achieved, but to who we truly are.

And our deepest identity, unfolding on the path of Faith, leads infallibly to the Cradle of being.

To allow oneself to be influenced and become external is to lose one’s way, ruining the wholeness of one’s innate capacities.

Despite the apparent failure and the reproaches that personal and social novelty provokes, by listening to our Call by Name and that unquenchable Fire that dwells within us, we realise life.

Today more than ever we are in the age of social showcases, which reveal every aspect of history and current affairs, even personal ones.

But the trunk, the branches, the flowers, the shoots and the fruits spring from the roots. They live well hidden.

Our Heaven is intertwined with our earth and our dust: it lies within and below, not behind the clouds.

If there is no time for careful perception and intimate reflection, there is no way to be reborn into the Newness of God.

At every turn of our journey, even the spiritual one, we become increasingly sensitive to the comments and judgements that arrive in real time.

Having become full members of the ‘skin-deep’ society, we lose our moral compass, and often the ability to evolve and help others grow.

By failing to rediscover the secret side that dwells within us, we become disheartened.

By losing sight of ourselves in the maze of widespread and entirely external judgement, we lose the capacity to nurture our personal Jesus, and we no longer give birth to him.

At best, we will make him resemble a paradigmatic semblance of himself; perhaps convincing ourselves that he is indeed that, entirely external.

In this way, the Lord becomes a Jesus shaped by the opinions of others around us; of the group, of patronal banners; or that of the ‘live broadcast’ [the opinion of those who draw an audience].

If we emphasise the aspect of the soul that communicates with the superficial layers of our targets, we sever or unbalance it with dominant thoughts, allowing it to be swayed by manipulators – even spiritual ones.

But the heart that loses its wholeness no longer guides the soul in what characterises the Vocation and our Seed.

The inner self demands to express itself. Otherwise, we proceed haphazardly, or with clichés.

We are not a judgement, an opinion, a crisis, a memory, but rather inventors of paths that draw from ever-flowing water.

Not from a well, nor from a swamp, where everything has already happened – but from a Spring.

If our attention is not on the conformist backdrop of what once was or what is happening around us, we are startled by the new awareness of a genesis in progress.

A rebirth of our personality and mission: a prototype and mode of being that are mysteriously blossoming and hold value.

Unless we allow ourselves to be conditioned and overwhelmed by cultural interference or the calculation of circumstances, we sense that there is a defining path calling to us.

We realise that we can be at one with ourselves and grow without precluding the unexpected, or codes that are already commonly accepted paradigms.

For God does not express Himself by issuing all-encompassing regulations, but by creating renewed heavens within us and already upon the earth.

In short, with the Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus, what has changed?

Apparently nothing, because people carry on as before: travelling or staying put, buying and selling, working or celebrating, rejoicing or weeping...

And yet, as in a landscape shrouded in mist, suddenly the sun rises and we see clear outlines; we enjoy the brilliance of colours, even the nuances.

Our listening and our entire perception are heightened.

We learn to accept the objectivity of others and their—our—uniqueness.

We learn to engage with reality and, above all, with ourselves; thus, at last, to honour the Eternal One, respecting ourselves in every way.

Heaven: taking flight without moving away. We are not alone. And the best is yet to come.