When someone we love goes away, whether it’s a parent working abroad, a child leaving for college, or a friend moving to another city; we feel a deep ache. It’s normal. We cry, we worry, we feel left behind. And yet, in today’s Gospel, something very strange happens. This Sunday we celebrate a mystery that looks like a farewell: the Ascension of the Lord into heaven. Jesus, having risen from the dead and walked among His disciples for forty days, now ascends in glory. And yet, what a surprise the Gospel gives us: “They returned to Jerusalem with great joy.” (Luke 24:52).  Joy? After a goodbye? How can they rejoice when Jesus has just left them? The answer lies in understanding what the Ascension truly means. The Ascension is not an end; it is a beginning. Jesus does not abandon us; He goes ahead of us, to prepare a place for us, and to draw our hearts heavenward. It’s a moment of fulfillment. The mission of Christ on earth is complete: He has loved, taught, healed, suffered, died, and risen. And now He returns to the Father: not to abandon us, but to go ahead of us, to open heaven for us. The Catechism explains this beautifully: “Christ’s Ascension marks the definitive entrance of Jesus’ humanity into God’s heavenly domain” (CCC 665). “He is the head of the Church, and we are His body. Where the Head has gone, the Body is called to follow.” That’s why the disciples rejoiced: because His departure was not a loss, it was a fulfillment of a promise.

 In Jesus, our own humanity now sits at the right hand of God. Heaven is no longer far, it’s our home. Saint Augustine once said: “Although He ascended alone, we also ascend, because we are in Him by grace.” (Sermon 263) When someone we love departs, but for a good reason, like a father working abroad to support his family, or a friend following their vocation, we learn that some departures carry purpose, even joy. This is the kind of departure Jesus makes. It hurts, but it heals. It’s full of purpose. He leaves to send the Holy Spirit, to empower us as His Church. He leaves so that we may mature in faith. He leaves to teach us to trust in what we cannot see, in His unseen presence assured by the Spirit. “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you,” he says (Acts 1:8). That’s not a goodbye, it’s a commissioning. And Saint John Chrysostom reminds us: “He ascended into heaven to show that the kingdom He promised was not of this world,” but a heavenly one. 

In this world of temporary things, His Ascension reminds us to set our hearts on what lasts, on the things of heaven. As Paul says: “Our citizenship is in heaven.” (Philippians 3:20). In your own life, when you let go of control, when you let your children begin their own journeys, when you say goodbye to something, someone, a place or a relationship that is familiar in order to say “yes” to your calling, know that God is working in that leaving and be joyful for that. The disciples rejoiced because they understood: Jesus may have gone from their sight, but not from their lives. Today, let us rejoice too. Not because it’s easy to let go, but because in Christ’s Ascension, we discover a joy rooted in hope, trust, and promise. Let’s lift up our hearts, because Jesus has gone ahead of us, and with expectant hearts let’s joyfully wait for the coming of the Holy Spirit.