To listen to this homily, click here.
Some of the feasts in our liturgical year are easy to preach about: Christmas, Holy Week, Easter—on these occasions, the homilies practically write themselves! Other celebrations, like the Immaculate Conception or today, the Ascension, can be a bit more challenging.
For me, there’s something powerful—even a little melancholy—about Jesus saying farewell to the Apostles and returning, body and soul, to His Father in heaven. I imagine the disciples putting on a brave face, perhaps saying something like, “We’re happy for you, Jesus! Heaven is going to be amazing—and I hear the weather is lovely this time of year!”
But how their hearts must have been breaking. After all they had been through, what could have felt better than having Jesus back with them—alive, present, speaking, eating, teaching again? They had thought He was lost to death, and now He was here. And then… He’s gone again. What an emotional roller coaster they must have been on.
I think we can relate to their experience, at least in part. It’s like the ache we feel during our own goodbyes. Like when you drop a friend or family member off at the airport and drive away with that heaviness in your chest. Or when you walk away from a school building after leaving your child there on their very first day—feeling like part of your heart just walked through the doors without you.
There’s a strange, sacred emptiness in those moments. Something is missing, and it hurts. And yet, deep down, we know that letting go is somehow necessary. That we do it in love. That something important is unfolding—something we cannot yet see. And to cling too tightly, to try and hold on, would actually prevent that growth.
That’s the space the disciples find themselves in during today’s Gospel. Jesus ascends into heaven, and they are left staring up at the sky—bewildered, perhaps even feeling a little abandoned. They had just begun to rejoice again. The Resurrection brought joy, renewal, hope. He was back! Everything felt possible again. And then… He’s gone.
The Gospel doesn’t sugarcoat it. There is awe, yes—but also uncertainty. What now?
Jesus tells them, “Stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.” The space He leaves behind is not just an absence; it becomes the space into which the Holy Spirit will come—the Comforter, the Advocate, the very presence of God that will dwell within them, not just beside them.
The Ascension teaches us something fundamental to the human experience on earth: sometimes, God allows us to feel emptiness—not to punish or abandon us, but to make room for something deeper. Something that cannot be lost. Something even greater than what we think we’re missing.
The physical presence of Jesus was a gift. But His Spirit within us is even greater. Through the Holy Spirit, Jesus can be with each of us, always. We are never alone. Not in grief, not in joy, not in confusion. His Spirit brings joy in hardship, comfort in loss, and holy presence even when we feel most alone.
But we only receive that gift because He ascended to heaven. Just as a child only begins to grow and learn once their parent lets go of their hand and walks away on that first day of school, so too must we sometimes experience loss in order to grow into something greater.
The pain of parting is real—but it is also sacred. It opens a space for the Spirit. And the Spirit, once given, is never taken away.
So today, as we celebrate the Ascension, let us not only look up to the heavens in wonder—but also inward, with hope. The One who ascended now sends His Spirit to fill us. Let us be open to that gift.
And let us not forget that Jesus, as He was returning to His Father, gave his believers a mission: “You are witnesses of these things.” The Spirit comes not just to comfort, but to empower. To send us out. We are not meant to remain frozen in the silence, staring at the sky. We are meant to go into the world, to proclaim the good news, to be His presence in a world aching with an emptiness of its own.
The world needs our witness. It needs to hear from people who know what it means to be filled with the Spirit and live with courage, faith, and love. It needs people who have felt both the ache of absence and the joy of the Spirit. Let us accept the Lord’s invitation to be his witnesses to those around us so all can be consoled and strengthened by the gift of the Holy Spirit.
