All night I walked the floor, wrestling with whether to go or to stay. I’d been raised to be responsible, to meet my obligations and fulfill my commitments. That meant staying for the board meeting of the non-profit I was directing. But my father had finally lapsed into a coma and my sisters would both be there with my mother. Although I had been there four times that year, and had said my good-byes when I left, I wanted to be there too.
Finally, as dawn broke, I called a taxi and went to the airport for a flight across the country, wondering if he would still be alive when I arrived. Beyond my prayers came a vision. My grandmother (his mother) was standing at the end of his bed, dressed for church with her hat on. She was holding out her hand, saying “Come on August, it’s time.” And I whispered “Go ahead dad. Don’t wait for me.”
Then the vision faded. It felt like a thin place, where the veil between physical and spiritual reality was barely there. I was not surprised when I landed in Seattle and called home. My sister said that he had died about two hours earlier, but that they would keep his body at the house until I could get there. Grateful for that gift, I got the last seat on a small plane for the only flight on that foggy day.
Every year on Ascension Sunday, I relive this airplane encounter with the holy.
Ascension Sunday is one of those mysterious liturgical celebrations that commemorate a thin place between the physical presence of Jesus and the spiritual presence of Christ.* Luke tells the story twice, once in the Gospel of Luke and once in Acts, as though to make sure that the connecting piece is there. It holds the promise that they would not be left alone. Neither are we.
–Marjory Zoet Bankson, Editor of InwardOutward.org
- When have you felt that “thin place” between physical and spiritual reality?
- How does that impact your faith?
- Are there physical places that invite a mystical encounter for you?
