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We are living in a culture that places a strong and positive emphasis on presence. We feel that being present is a value as such, and almost always better than being absent. At the end of July I plan to travel home to Ireland to spend a few weeks visiting with my family. I know that my elderly mother who lives on her own will deeply value my presence with her during that period, and will be sad and lonely when I depart. My absence from her home will be acutely and painfully felt for a while. But therein, I believe, lies the mystery and gift of absence. Let me explore this a little further with you.

One day last year my phone rang at 3am in the morning. It was the operator service, to tell me that there was a Kaiser patient on the line who urgently wanted to see a priest, as she believed she was dying. So, in my half comatose state I agreed to speak with her. And when I did, she certainly seemed to be somewhat distressed and a little panicky. So, I agreed to visit her at that early hour. I spent about a half hour with her and when I left she seemed more relaxed and reassured. And from what I could see, there was nothing to suggest that she was even close to dying that morning!

Afterwards when I reflected on this incident, it struck me that, not only was there a value in my physical presence with this woman, but there was also a possibly greater value in my leaving her. How so? Well it seems to me, certainly as a priest, that there is a ministry in which our leaving creates the space for God's spirit to become present in a new way. After all, the great mystery of divine revelation is that God entered into intimacy with us not only by Christ's coming but also by his leaving. And this is the mystery we are celebrating today on the feast of the Ascension of the Lord. It is only by his leaving them, that Christ's disciples are empowered in a new way to carry out his mission, and to receive fully his risen spirit.

Imitating the voice of the Jewish prophets, Henri Nouwen once began one of his articles with these words:

All of us, if we are to grow and mature in our spiritual and personal lives, must learn to mourn our deaths and losses. Unless we mourn our hurts, our losses, life's unfairness, our broken dreams, and all the life that we once had but that has now passed us by, we will remain stuck in our pain, unable to embrace new life and new spirit.

Where am I stuck in my pain and grieving? Perhaps, after fifteen years of marriage, I am grieving the passion and romance of the early days of my marriage. Perhaps, following a serious accident or illness, I am grieving the health and vigor I once enjoyed, or perhaps, after a lifetime of faithful membership in my church, I am grieving the church of yesteryear, with it's simpler and more concrete definitions and rules. Where in my life do I need to: name my deaths and losses - claim my new beginnings - grieve what I have lost - stop clinging to it and let it ascend and give me its blessing, and lastly, accept the spirit of the life that I am in fact living - a life richer, deeper and fuller, not in spite of, but because of, my losses and grieving.

Absence filled with new life-giving presence; death filled with new life and possibilities: this is the mystery and call of the Christian way. Let me just conclude with a beautiful reflection written by Ronald Rolheiser. This is entitled, "Mary Magdala's Easter Prayer" and beautifully captures for me the essence and meaning of the Ascension: