It took me a long time to figure out what it was about that gospel text just read that bothered me. I read and re-read the last two chapters in Luke until it finally hit me.

I want to lead you to that same revelation, so let's do a review of the events in Jesus' life, or should I say death.

Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried. Let us begin there. And there can be no mistake about that fact. The Roman garrison whose business it was to do such things was very efficient. They knew when a person was dead.

Those who had been followers of this Jesus for three years also knew he was dead. They had been around, watching in anguish as their gentle leader said but few words from his lonely pedestal-cross. They watched as the sagging body was finally taken down and their friend carried away to a borrowed tomb. But their pain was more than the suffering of grief one feels when someone close dies. Their pain went into the fibre of their souls, into the very center of their beings as Jews, for this was to be the Messiah, the Christ. This Jesus was to be the one sent from God to free them once and for all from their oppressors. So, their tears and anguish were for dreams torn apart as well as for a man spread apart on a cross. That cross had killed hope and where hope dies, there is really no life at all. That cross took away from them a man they not only loved, but one they bet their futures on.

But the story didn't end there, thank God. For those who know the story of the resurrection and have heard it retold these past few weeks, know that some of the women who had followed Jesus went to the tomb to pay their last respects and to do the customary anointing of the body. What they found both startled and puzzled them. The tomb was empty and they heard the good news that Jesus was, indeed, not dead, but risen. They remembered then his promise that on the third day he would rise. They must have gotten hysterical with joy and ran to tell the others. There they stood, all out of breath, talking all at once about an empty tomb and two strange men who reminded them of Jesus' words and all giddy and giggly again as hope rushed in to find a home in their sorrowful hearts. And the disciples had trouble believing this wild story. In fact, they didn't believe it, dismissing it as an idle tale told by hysterical females in the midst of grief that was obviously too much for them to handle.

Well, fortunately, the story doesn't end there either, for if it did we'd have the rational guys against those always irrational girls argument all over again with Easter being a rehearsal of the old, time-worn feud between the genders. Maybe God knew that would happen, so Jesus made a few more appearances, this time to the more rational side of the house -- the men.

First, there is that marvelous story where Jesus appeared to two of his followers on the Emmaus road and they didn't recognize him. There they were all depressed and sad telling the story of Jesus, to Jesus, and they didn't even know it was him until ... until he broke bread and gave it to them, and in that all too familiar act, they recognized him.

Then the Gospel of Luke, from which the accounts we are recalling today come, the Gospel of Luke records the final appearance and this is where we stand this night.

As these two who had seen Jesus on the Emmaus road were telling their story back in Jerusalem, Jesus suddenly and unexpectedly appeared in their midst. Luke tells us they were "startled and frightened." They thought they were seeing a ghost. After all, Jesus was dead. Jesus showed them his hands and his feet and said, "Touch me, handle me, see for yourselves."

I like what scripture says then: "And while they still disbelieved for joy, and wondered." Isn't that a great phrase: "while they disbelieved for joy." That's like when we get all excited about seeing an old friend we haven't seen for years and we get all beside ourselves and we say in our excitement: "I can't believe it! I can't believe it's really you!" That's disbelieving for joy.

Well, while the disciples stood around with their jaws open muttering, "I can't believe it! It's him! I can't believe it!" Jesus sat and ate and that clinched it. They had seen him eat with them many times and this was Jesus. And as they gathered around him, Jesus began teaching again. He used this last appearance to interpret his resurrection as the fulfillment of the scriptures. And then -- he ascended or, as scripture reads, "was carried up into heaven."

Now, here comes my puzzlement. It is recorded that the disciples "worshipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy."

Doesn't that strike you as rather odd? It did me. These were the folks who were devastated by the events of Good Friday. And here they were about to lose their great and faithful friend again -- this time forever. Why would they be happy about that?

We all know that even small goodbyes can be heart-wrenching. How many of us have stood at airports or at train terminals and kissed loved ones goodbye with tears and waves and fears?

But the Festival of the Ascension is upbeat, with the focus more on Jesus' enthronement at the Father's right hand rather than on the disciples' separation anxiety. A sense of parting, of losing what they had just so joyfully found, seems inevitable. Yet, the evangelist does not mention tearful farewells, last-minute pleas for Jesus to "stay just a little bit longer," or the numbing of grief setting in afterward. Luke writes, "They returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and spent all their time in the temple praising God." Mark, who also records this event, reports, "They went out to make their proclamation everywhere, and the Lord worked with them and confirmed their words by the miracles that followed."

Why was this parting so different? That was the mystery I couldn't resolve. Then I read again the words that I had somehow overlooked in other readings. Just before the ascension, Jesus turns to his beloved followers and says: "I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." You see? Jesus left them with a promise they could hold onto. True, he had promised and predicted before his death that he would rise again, and they didn't "hear" him. Certainly, the arrest and what followed was so awful, and the prospect of resurrection so preposterous, so bold and unthinkable, that they either rejected it or never really understood it all in the first place.

But this time ... this time they heard the promise given, and it filled then with hope and joy and excitement.

Maybe we can understand this in our own human way as well. Ever have someone go away for a time, but they leave something with you to remember them? It is like the object which is left -- a picture, a shirt that carries the scent of the person's favorite perfume or cologne, a favorite object of that person -- it's like that object makes the person present, there, even when they are absent and far off somewhere. And that object not only reminds us of the person, but also serves as a comforting reminder of her or his return. It bridges the absence.

Well, the promise given to those first believers did the same thing. Jesus comforted the disciples with his promise of the Spirit, who would "clothe them with power from above." And when that Spirit came, they could be about the work of the kingdom, which is, of course, what all of us should be about until he comes again.

As followers of this King today, we continue to get power and comfort from the promise he made. Through the Spirit's action in word and sacrament, Jesus is with us. While we still long for his return and the fullness of the kingdom we so need, we know that we can experience glimpses of it as we hold onto the gift, or shall we say, as the gift holds on to us in the meantime. Ascension is a celebration of the promise of the Spirit. And it is that promised gift which empowers, sustains, and gladdens us in this busy time of kingdom preparation between this ascension and his return in glory.

Now we know why those disciples were full of joy. Now we know why our hearts can sing on this night -- for we have been given that same promise. And we know the gift it brings. Amen.