from Vigil of the Ascension, by Dom Gueranger, Liturgical Year
We begin to count the hours of the last day which the Son of
God is to spend upon earth in His visible presence. During these three days, we
seem to have forgotten that the time of separation is close upon us; but not:
the thought itself, and the humble supplications we have been presenting to
heaven, in union with holy Church, have prepared us to celebrate the last
mystery achieved by our Emmanuel on earth.
The disciples are all assembled in Jerusalem. They are
grouped around the blessed Mother, in the cenacle, awaiting the hour when their
divine Master is to appear to them for the last time. Recollected and silent,
they are reflecting upon all the kindness and condescension He has been
lavishing upon them during the last forty days; they are ruminating upon the
instructions they have received from His sacred lips. They know Him so well
now! They know in very deed that He came out from the Father. (St. John, xvii.
8.) As to what regards themselves, they have learned from Him what their
mission is: they have to go, ignorant men as they are, and teach all nations;
(St. Matt. xxviii. 19.) but (Oh sad thought!) He is about to leave them; yet a
little while, and they shall not see Him! (St. John, xvi. 16.)
What a contrast between their sorrow and the smiling face of
nature, which is decked out in her best, for she is going to celebrate the
triumphant departure of her Creator! The earth is blooming with the freshness
of her first-fruits, the meadows have put on their richest emerald, the air is
perfumed with blossom and flower; and all this loveliness of spring is due to
the bright sun that shines upon the earth to give her the gladness and life,
and is privileged to be, both by its kingly splendor and the successive phases
of its influence upon our glove, the grand symbol of our Emmanuel's passage
through this world.
Let us go back in through to the dismal days of the winter
solstice. The sun looked then so pallid; his triumph over night was slow and
short; he rose, and sank again, often without our seeing him; his light had a
certain timid reserve about it, and his heat was, for weeks, too feeble to
rescue nature from the grasp of frost. Such was our divine Sun of Justice, when
first He came on earth; His rays made but little way in the world's thick
gloom; He kept His spend our in, lest men should be dazzled by too sudden a
change from darkness to light. Like the material sun, He gained upon the world
by slow advances; and even so, His progress was shrouded by many a cloud. His
sojourn in the land of Egypt, His hidden life at Nazareth, were long periods
during which He was wholly lost sight of. But when the time came for all
magnificence, upon Galilee and Judea; He spoke as one having power (St. Matt.
vii. 29), His works bore testimony to His being God (St. John, x, 25.), and the
people hailed Him with the cry of 'Hosanna to the Son of David!'
He was almost at the zenith of His glory, when suddenly came
the eclipse of His Passion and Death. For some hours, His enemies flattered
themselves that they had for ever put out His light. Vain hope! On the third
day, our divine Sun triumphed over this final obstruction, and now stands in
the firmament, pouring out His light upon all creation, but warning us that His
course is run. For He can never descend; there is no setting for Him; and here
finishes the comparison between Himself and the orb of day. It is from heaven
itself that He, our beautiful Orient, is henceforth to enlighten and direct us,
as Zachary foretold at the birth of the Baptist (St. Luke, 1:79.). The royal
prophet, too, thus exultingly sang of Him: 'He hath rejoiced, as a great, to
run the way: His going out is from the highest heaven, and His circuit even to
the summit thereof: and there is no one that can hid himself from His heat.
(Ps. 18:6,7).
This Ascension, which enthroned our Emmanuel as the eternal
center of light, was, by His own decree, to take place on one of the days of
the month which men call May, and which clothes in its richest beauty the
creation of this same God, who, when He had made it, was pleased with it, and
found it very good (Gen. 1:31). Sweet month of May! Not gloomy and cold like
December, which brought us the humble joys of Bethlehem; not lowering and
clouded like March, when the Lamb was sacrificed on Calvary; but buoyant with
sunshine, and flowers, and life, and truly worth to be offered, each year, to
Mary, the Mother of God, for it is the month of her Jesus' triumph.
O Jesus! Our Creator and our Brother! Our eyes and heart
have followed Thee from Thy first rising upon our world. We have celebrated, in
the holy liturgy, each of Thy giant steps. But Thy very growth in beauty and
brightness told us that Thou must one day leave us, to go and take possession
of the place that was alone worthy of Thee, the throne at the right hand of
Thine eternal Father. The splendor that has been on Thee since Thy
Resurrection, is not of this world; Thou canst no longer abide among us. Thou
hast remained here below, for these forty days, only for the sake of
consolidating Thy work' and tomorrow the earth that has been blessed with Thy
presence for three and thirty years, will be deprived of its privilege and joy.
We rejoice at Thy approaching triumph, as did Thy blessed Mother, Thy
disciples, Mary Magdalene and her companions; but we are sad at the thought of
losing Thee, and Thou wilt forgive us. Thou wast our Emmanuel, our 'God with
us'; henceforth, Thou art to be our Sun, our King, reigning from the throne of
heaven, and we shall no longer be able to hear Thee, nor see Thee, nor touch
Thee, O Word of life(I St. John 1:1.).
Still, dearest Jesus, we say to Thee with all our hearts:
Glory and love be to Thee, for Thou hast treated us with infinite mercy! Thou
owedst nothing to us; we were unworthy of a single look from Thee; and yet Thou
camest down to this sinful earth, Thou hast dwelt among us, Thou hast paid our
ransom by Thy Blood, Thou hast re-established peace between God and man. Oh,
yes! It is most just that Thou shouldst now return to Him that sent Thee. The
Church, Thy bride, consents to her exile; she thinks only of what is most
glorious to her Jesus; and she thus addresses Thee, in the words of the
Canticle: 'Flee way, O my Beloved! And be swift as the roe and as the young
hart, and ascend to the mountains, where the flowers of heaven exhale their
sweet fragrance (Cant. viii. 14.)!' Can we, poor sinners as we are, refuse to
imitate this loving resignation of her, who is Thy bride, and our mother?
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