He Ascended

The Scene

No first-class writer of fiction would attempt a double climax of his plot. If he has wrought out his conception from stage to stage until the various threads are woven into one final scene, he dares not challenge the reader to follow him in a second and further climax. But what fiction dare not attempt, these unsophisticated historians have done. Had they invented the Gospel story,

surely they would have been content to trace their Master’s steps to the Cross, and His body to the grave. The mind of man could not have added to the supreme tragedy of Calvary aught more arresting and amazing. It would not have sought anything beyond, or been able to discover a Pelion to place on Ossa.

But even if it be supposed that the Evangelists had sought to invent a description of the Saviour’s visible return to His Father’s House, how different would have been the details of His Home-going.

They would have gathered all Jerusalem to

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witness it; would have painted Caiaphas, Herod, and Pilate as posted to see His triumph, in spite of all their machinations; would have imitated the departure of Elijah by giving Him a chariot of fire, and borrowed from the announcement of His birth a choir of angels. On the supposition that they had to invent it, they would surely have painted an apotheosis, whose colouring would have worthily befitted the return of the Son of God, as He led captivity captive.

How different from all this is the simple narrative of the Gospel! ‘ He led them forth,” we are told, “as far as to Bethany.” It is unlikely that His Form would have been apparent to any eyes but theirs. It is not given to the ordinary natural eye to discern the supernatural and spiritual. To the ordinary citizens of the Holy City it seemed as if an ordinary group of wayfarers was making its way through the streets to one of the Eastern gates, but none guessed that before or amongst them went One fairer than the sons of men, He, whom some six weeks before the rulers had hounded to His death, and the Roman soldiers had nailed to the Cross.

They trod again the well-known path, crossed the familiar brook, ascended the road down which the procession of lowly triumph had come with shouts of Hosanna, turned once more to look upon the well-known scenes of Temple and City, on which the light of sunrise was breaking, passed over the brow of the hill and dipped down into the little village of Bethany, nestling beneath its palm trees, and there, before Jerusalem was well awake, or the villagers were beginning to pour along the road, to sell the produce of their gardens, a little eager group assembled, with a strange awe in their hearts, hardly realizing, perhaps, that this was the last time that those blessed feet should stand upon the Mount of Olives, till He should come again in the Glory of the Father and of the Holy Angels.

In addition to the Apostles, surely Martha, Mary, and Lazarus must have been summoned to join the little group, and were thus assured of a love which time could not cool, nor distance sever. What a memorable meeting, and how precious every word He spoke! Amongst His last words were the assurance that they should receive power to become His witnesses. His voice was full of more than wonted pathos, His face shone as the Sun, His hands, as He spake, were outspread in benediction. ‘‘ And it came to pass, while He blessed them, he parted from them and was carried up into heaven.”

There was no sudden rupture of their intercourse. Without abruptness, or precipitancy, He withdrew from the scenes of earthly ministry, as gently and unobtrusively as He had come. “He was received up into Heaven.” “* While they beheld, He was taken up; and a cloud received Him out of their sight.”