Until We Meet Again -- Luke 24:44-53; Acts 1:1-11 (Ascension Sunday)

Artwork: "Ascension," from a French Picture Bible

(St. Omer, Abbey of St. Bertin), c.1190-1200

The Hague, Koninklijk Bibliotheek

To listen to the sermon, you can click here.

The Day of Ascension can get lost in the shuffle of the liturgical year. We know the flow of the big seasons: Advent into Christmas – Lent into Holy Week, on into Easter, and then Pentecost (which is next Sunday). But the Day of Ascension? Maybe it’s that Protestant churches don’t emphasize it as much as Roman Catholic churches do. Maybe it’s that Easter and Pentecost are just so big. Maybe it’s something as simple as the fact that Ascension Day falls on a Thursday, not a Sunday – if you count 40 days from Easter Sunday, that’s a Thursday. You’ve got to look to find it.

But in between Easter and Pentecost – in between the day of Resurrection and the coming of the Holy Spirit  – Scripture tells us the story – twice – of Jesus ascending into heaven.^[1] What eventually caught my attention were paintings of the Ascension like the one you see on our bulletin this morning. This is a thing. There are a number of paintings like this, of the Ascension – mostly from the late medieval period  –with Jesus’ feet disappearing at the top of the painting – as he ascends on up – and the people below looking up. It’s that moment in the story just before the two men appear and ask: “Why are you all looking up?”

Jesus was there, and then he’s gone again. On Good Friday, Jesus had been crucified, taken from them by violence. On Easter morning, he was with them again. And now here, 40 days later, at the Ascension, he is gone again.  

As I’ve sat with this story these past few weeks, what has caught my attention is this: Jesus and the disciples had the chance to say good-bye. Part of the Resurrection story – part of their experience of the Risen Christ is that the disciples and Jesus get to say good-bye – and this good-bye is part of the aliveness that they experience in Resurrection.

Their first parting had not gone well. When all the things that Jesus had said would happen happened, the disciples... ran. One disciple actively betrayed him. One denied him three times. And all the rest (except the women who went with him to the cross) – all the rest – the Twelve and everyone else– they all ran. Jesus’ death was a violent trauma – there was no time for good-byes.

But these 40 days – between Easter morning and this moment of Ascension – these 40 days gave the disciples and Jesus the time to say good-bye – to say the things that needed to be said.

That’s a part of what happens in those Resurrection stories we tell. The Risen Christ speaks Mary’s name, comforting her at the empty tomb. The Risen Christ walks and talks with the two on the road to Emmaus, explaining all the things that have happened, breaking bread with them. He joins the disciples for breakfast on the beach after a long night of fishing. The Last Supper was not really the last meal they would share – far from it. To Peter, the one who had denied him three times, the Risen Christ says, “Feed my sheep.” And the Risen Christ takes time to give them instructions: In the Gospel of Matthew, “Go and baptize – go keep doing the things I have been doing,” and here in the Gospel of Luke, and in Acts: “Go and wait – go and wait for the promise of the Holy Spirit, and for all that will come next.”

Like other 40-day periods in Scripture – it was 40 days of preparation – 40 days like Moses on the mountaintop, and Elijah – like Jesus in the wilderness at the start of his ministry.^[2] Forty days of preparation for what will come next. And. These 40 days open up space for a long good-bye.

This story touches on a tender part of our humanity – a tender part of what it is to live and love. We live life in these bodies, move through our days, and our lives are filled with good-byes. Every hello comes with a good-bye. Every meeting comes with a parting. We do it every day. It is a daily part of life. We gather here every Sunday, knowing that we will go from this place. It is part of the regular rhythm of our life.

In college, when I arrived at the University of Alabama, one of the first friends I made was an elderly woman who lived in the neighborhood near my first apartment, Hattie Mae Fielder. We started talking one morning when I was out for a run – became fast friends – and over the years, we spent hours together on her front porch talking about life and the neighbors – all the way through college and law school.

When I moved away, I came back to visit as often as I could. Tuscaloosa is just an hour away from Birmingham. At the end of those visits, when I’d say, “Well, I better get back on the road,” Hattie Mae would invariably say, “Well, the best of friends must soon be parted.” It seemed to me an old-timey phrase – and kind of sad. But really, it was just true – wisdom from a life lived thoughtfully and well – “The best of friends must soon be parted.”  It is the way of things. Naming it made those moments together feel even more important.

Our Buddhist friends have an even more comprehensive way of naming this when they talk about the impermanence of all things.^[3] Buddhist teaching speaks of how life is constant change – this moment is here, and then it is gone – and so it is with us. Now, rather than induce despair, that teaching is intended to help us savor each moment more fully – to live more fully in each moment. Be fully present with this rainbow that has just appeared in the sky, or the music in the air, or the warmth of this company. – be fully present – right here, right now.

In those days of Resurrection, the Risen Christ was right there with them – calling them by name, talking with them along the way, sharing a meal with them. And then he was gone again. It didn’t end in crucifixion. In their experience of Resurrection, they were together again, moments filled with life, and they had the chance to say good-bye.

As I’ve mentioned before, I did my chaplaincy training at UCSF. As they taught us how to accompany folks in illness and healing, they also tried to equip us to walk with families as they said good-bye. When hospice or palliative care begins, you realize pretty quickly that there’s not anything you can say or do that can fix things. And so, our supervisor suggested 5 things that we might help folks say to each other in those seasons of good-bye. And of all the things I learned in seminary – these 5 things – this wisdom has always felt particularly and profoundly true. I think it’s actually more of a help to share these before the intensity of saying good-bye sets in, so I thought I’d share them now. (These 5 are something you may want to write down, and they also aren’t too hard to remember.) And I should probably say, it is never too late, and never too early to start saying these things.

Here are 5 things to think about saying in those moments when we are saying good-bye.

1.   Now, the first – you all know what it is: “I love you.” Our lives are nourished and sustained by the love that we know – it is the pulse and heartbeat of our life. But as we get caught up in the day-to-day of everyday life – we may not name it and say it out loud, as often as we feel it: “I love you.” We know that “the best of friends must soon be parted,” why not say “I love you” as often as we can.

2.   The second is “I’m sorry.”  Even with all that love, we know that as we live life together, there are bumps along the way, and we invariably cause some hurt. Saying sorry is not easy, so we may just hold it in, maybe for when the moment is right. But when moments are few, why not be brave, and big-hearted, and own the things we have done, and seek to heal the harm. “I love you,” and “I’m sorry.”

3.   The next follows right along: “I forgive you.” I think sometimes that can be as hard as saying sorry. Sometimes we carry those wounds, the hurt – we don’t want to let go. But when we realize that time is short – what really matters seems to be a little more clear. Now, I’m not suggesting a forced forgiveness. Forgive what you have in you to forgive – let it be genuine and real. Claim the freedom from carrying whatever burden, as you can. You can even forgive the things you don’t know about – as a gift to those we love – forgive whatever they  might be carrying. “I’m sorry for any way that I’ve hurt you, and I forgive you for anything you might be carrying – whatever it may be.”

I love you. I’m sorry. I forgive you.

4.   The fourth: “Thank you.” Now, you knew that gratitude was going to be there. I think – I hope we do this at every parting. Give thanks. Thank you for this time we’ve shared. Thank you for the love we have lived out. In these few moments here. In the whole of the life we have lived out together.

I love you. I’m sorry. I forgive you. Thank you.

5.   And then the last may be the hardest: “Good-bye.” Whether we are talking about good-byes at the end of life, or sending a kid back for their next year of college, there is a letting go – giving the ones we love freedom for the journey. “It’s OK for you to go. For me to go.”

I love you. I’m sorry. I forgive you. Thank you. Good-bye.

These 5 things – they’ve always felt like worthy, life-giving wisdom.

I think they get to the heart of what it is to be alive in the world.

And, as I said, it is never too late and never too early to start saying these things. I’ve had folks in my life who I may not have said all these things to. But, I can think back and see how we lived them out even without being intentional about it. And, just in case, I will say it to them now, in my heart – as I continue to feel their presence and their love, as I carry them with me. And why not start saying these things more now – “I love you” – when we need to ,“Sorry” and “Forgive you”–  “Thank you” – those are good in any moment. It’s never too late, and it’s not too early to start.

I think that Jesus was doing some of this as he said his good-byes.  (What is that song that George Washington sings in Hamilton? – “Teach Them How to Say Good-Bye.”) That was part of what Jesus was doing in these 40 days – and even before that – as he said his good-byes.

Jesus was saying “I love you” all the time. He named it as the greatest commandment – “Love.” And at the Last Supper, he said, “A new commandment I give you. Love one another. As I have loved you, you are to love one another.”

And forgiveness – well, the Risen Christ sits with Peter – who denied Jesus three times – and Jesus says, “Peter, feed my sheep.” Three times Jesus says that.

I wonder if Jesus said, “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry for all the pain that you have gone through. I have known where this is heading – and you stuck with me... mostly. I promise this is the way to life. Can you feel the aliveness? And I’m sorry for the suffering along the way.  

That’s just something I wonder.

And if Jesus doesn’t explicitly say “thank you” – I think it’s there in the trust he keeps on reposing in them. “You will be my witnesses – from Jerusalem, to all Judea, even unto the ends of the earth.”

But notice the most important thing about this good-bye. As Jesus stands there with disciples, just before he ascends – go wait in Jerusalem – as the two men say, “Why are you looking up at the sky? He will come just as he has gone.” This good-bye is not final. We are standing here in Resurrection – and nothing is the same. This is part of the promise and the hope: In Resurrection, no good-bye is ever final.

Let’s not miss how momentous this moment is. Jesus, who was crucified by the powers, is now alive in the world – right here, right now. Jesus – who has entered the fullness of our humanity – has been lifted up and enthroned first, on a cross – with a sign that said “King” – and now, he is lifted up and enthroned in the heavens – in and with the fullness of our humanity.^[4] And as he ascends in this moment, in just a few day’s time, the Spirit will descend and fill the disciples – all the people gathered from every corner of the world – with the very Spirit and breath of the Risen Christ. There is no separation. No distance between us. No end. When the Ascension concludes the Gospel of Luke, it might feel like an end, but as the Book of Acts begins, we realize that it’s only the beginning.^[5]

The heartbeat of God, pulsing in the fullness of humanity, has never stopped beating, and it never will. Why are you looking up? Look around. Christ is alive in the world, and so are we. Look around. There is so much life to live here. So much love.

When Hattie Mae used to say, “The best of friends must soon be parted,” implicit in that good-bye was the steady hope and expectation that we would see each other again. That is part of the promise. That is what I am talking about – when at memorial services – I say that we are “leaning into the sure and steady promise of Resurrection.”

The Risen Christ is enthroned in the heavens, and present right here, right now, more powerful than any power – even death – saving us and the whole world from everything that does us harm – alive in the world.

In Resurrection, no good-bye is ever final.

Everything that lies ahead is life.

© 2026 Scott Clark

^[1] For general background on this text and the Book of Acts, see Justo L. González, Acts (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2001); Bridgett A Green, Commentary in Connections, Year A, vol. 2 (Louisville, KY; Westminster John Knox Press, 2019), pp.289-91; David J. Schlafer, Commentary in Connections, Year A, vol. 2 (Louisville, KY; Westminster John Knox Press, 2019), pp.288-89; Paul W. Walaskay, Acts (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998); Robert W. Wall, “The Acts of the Apostles,” New Interpreters’ Bible Commentary, vol. x (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2002).

^[2] See González, p.15; Wall, p.40.

^[3] See, e.g., https://www.sharonsalzberg.com/on-being-column/it-all-happens-and-nothing-lasts

^[4] See González, pp.13-21

^[5] See id. pp.13-17.