The story is told of a beautiful baby boy, the first born son of a couple who prayed for years for a child. He was perfect in every way but one – at least as the world defines perfection: he was born without ears.
Fortunately, hearing was possible. He just didn’t have any of the cartilage of the outer ear that is recognizable to all of us.
The boy’s mother knew that no matter what his gifts and talents would one day be – and she would make sure to develop and strengthen them in every way possible – his life would ultimately be one of heartache and challenge as he got older. People would always focus on what was missing.
It happened on the first day of kindergarten. As Mom waited at the bus stop that afternoon, she could see her little boy crying as he climbed down the stairs, his book bag dragging behind him. “Mommy, they called me an alien freak,” he sobbed, running into her arms.
She could do nothing but comfort him.
A few years later, as the boy grew and became more confident in his abilities – despite his lack of ears – his parents got word that an operation was possible to attach a living donor’s ears to the side of the young man’s head – if a donor could be found. They searched in vain for years.
Until one day – the call came. “We have found the donor. Get to the hospital right away.”
Fortunately, the operation was a success. The boy received a new lease on life, and went on to accomplish much in the decades ahead: he graduated college, fell in love, was successful in his chosen career, raised a beautiful family, and made a difference in his community through acts of service.
When his father called one afternoon to let him know his Mom was dying, the son of the mother who never gave up on him rushed to her bedside two states away. “Mom, I’m here,” he whispered, pushing her long, now-graying hair aside in order to kiss her cheek.
In so doing, to his great shock, he noticed: his mother’s ears were missing.
At that moment, he started to sob, the same deep emotion he felt as he jumped off that bus as a kindergarten child who had been teased unmercifully by children who didn’t understand another’s differences.
It was then that his dad came up behind his son and said to him: She sacrificed for you so that you wouldn’t have to suffer.
A Mother’s Love, at its best: sacrificial in order to lead her children to be confident and strong.
That’s the goal, isn’t it? Confidence and strength – it is what we want for our children, our grandchildren, our friends and ourselves.
And that is at the heart of today’s Feast of the Ascension of Our Lord: “Go and proclaim.”
Go and proclaim – in confidence and strength.
Go and proclaim that all sins are forgiven in Jesus Christ and His Cross, no exceptions.
The world is drowning in sin – and even perhaps more tragically, it no longer is told that there is a remedy: and that remedy’s Name is Jesus Christ. His medicine for healing is the Sacrament of Reconciliation. His continued balm is Eucharist.
Go and proclaim it, with courage.
“Oh Father, we’re Catholic. We don’t do such things. That’s for Fair Hill Church next door.”
So my question: why not?
Why are we no longer telling family members and friends, neighbors and even the brokenhearted strangers God puts in our path, that we have found the one thing that the human person is made for: God’s love.
Are we ashamed? Too afraid? Keeping boundaries between personal faith and public expression?
I get it – and I lived that fear and faith compartmentalization for most of my life. But in so doing, I failed in my Baptismal call and certainly did not extend love and grace and mercy to the hurting and broken people who have walked beside me on this often-challenging journey. Heck, I didn’t even extend it to myself.
And maybe that’s why the Ascension still matters: it’s Jesus’ way of saying: you can do this. I need you to do this.
He could have stayed among us as he did in the post-Resurrection appearances. He’s God – all things are possible. But instead he chose to return to His Father. And that is actually a great gift that he ascended:
In so doing, Christ reminds us that there is an eternity for which we were made, and to which we will return – body and soul perfectly united in the Eternal Love of God. What we do here determines what eternity looks like for you and me, and the Ascension message makes it crystal clear: if we live here on Earth as if we want no parts of God – if we aren’t aiming for Heaven in all we think, say and do, then why would we expect to want God when this journey ends? Ultimately, we condemn ourselves – for we chose, in the end, not to go and proclaim the Good News.
We hear that list of what God permits for those who take on the challenge: drinking poison without harm; handling snakes; expelling demons and curing the sick. Have no doubt that in extreme moments of persecution, such powers have been granted to serve a greater purpose in the Lord’s plan for us.
But – here’s the even greater reality that is possible for all of us who boldly go and proclaim: the Gospel of Jesus Christ chases away the demons of hate and selfishness. The Gospel of Christ allows us to handle the poison of persecution and rejoice that we have been found worthy to drink from it. The Gospel heals those crippled by the sickness of sin and sets them free to love as we ought – agape love.
Don’t you want that? Don’t you want that for the world?
All of it is possible – and the Ascension of our Lord reminds us of the great gift. We can’t misuse it. Keep going and proclaiming. Live and share God’s love boldly.
Like the Mother who sacrificed her own ears so that her son would find new beginnings, aren’t we called to such heights of love? Isn’t that what this Feast – and Mother’s Day – is really all about?