Are there footprints in heaven?
Some of the sites in the Holy Land are pretty remarkable. The hill of Calvary, the site of the Nativity, the Garden of Gethsemane – between the physical stones where you get to touch “the spot” to the design of the churches that mark those places – there is something very powerful about them. Other sites, such as the site of this week’s feast, are pretty non de-script. Perched on the top of the mount of Olives, it is just across the valley from the Old City of Jerusalem. The chapel there is small– about 25 square feet, situated inside a barren quadrangle surrounded by high walls. There is no artwork – just barren stone walls. The only notable thing about the chapel is a small rectangular opening (~2 x 3 ½) which allows the bare bedrock stone to be seen. It is that spot which some say has the footprint of Jesus on it. (I never saw anything that looked remotely like a footprint there.)
And as much as I have been unimpressed with that physical place both times I have seen it, what does intrigue me is the thought that it is the last spot where Jesus’ physical feet touched the ground. That little exposed square of bedrock was last place where the embodied Jesus touched this earth of ours. Though we all know from the creed that Jesus ascended to the right hand of the Father, I wonder if there is something worth pondering about this feast from the perspective of footprints.
The letter to the Ephesians gives us an entry into understanding this. Paul talks about Jesus being ‘seated at the Right Hand of God in heaven’ where he is given authority over the church, which is his body – giving that body a dignity that fills things in every way.”
Translation – when Jesus left (or didn’t) his footprints on that spot on the Mount of Olives, he carried our humanity into God. All that is human and striving and love and for that matter, failure and struggle and hardship – all of what it means to be human gets caught up into the life of God. Jesus carried our humanity into God. For the first time, something truly human, something forged in our history, was taken up into God. And now we know that all that is human is destined for life in God. Or to say what we ‘know’ from that nondescript chapel – there are now footprints in heaven.
This means that we matter, that what happens to the least of us matters. On the broader scale, it means that Human history is destined for something beyond itself. This includes our own small stories. That is why we fight to protect EVERY life, in a counter-cultural move that upsets people who look for exceptions to abortion. That is why we hope for and trust in death bed conversions. That is why we rejoice in the lives of saints who crafted their own unique response to God – had their own footprints brought into heaven’s realm.
Concretely – we are called to celebrate EVERY movement of our humanness as invitations to know grace, holiness and God’s life. So, I saw a snippet of that last night, as I got to the back of church to greet people. There was a daddy who had his small child fast asleep in his arms. It was so precious. And tender. And because you never know when the last time will be that your son/daughter, grandson/daughter might let you do that, he was just present to that moment, and to the love he had for her. It was written all over his face and body – as he cradled that life, fast asleep in his arms. And I smiled as I realized that somewhere in heaven, two sets of footprints were being prepared for a welcome there – father and daughter. Because of the Ascension of Jesus, there is room in heaven for all that tenderness.
We, imperfect and human and struggling and graced as we are, we become witnesses with a small ‘w’ in our own lives, and hopefully with a large “W’ in our lives of the church. Clothed with power from on high – from Jesus seated at the right hand of the power of God – we are given what is needed to transform this broken world of ours.
So, when you pray about this day, pray about all those oh-so-human moments – of heartache and loss, of love and joy and everything in between, that now have room in heaven. A celebrate them at the days end. Recount in gratefulness your son’s full throated laughter. Remember your own breath at the end of a good run or bike ride. Feel in your memory, the pressure of lips that kissed yours in tenderness and love. Remember in gratitude the weight of that sleeping child in your arms. They are all foretastes of the glory of heaven.
Are there footprints in heaven? Starting with Jesus – yes there are. And, God willing, ours will join his in heaven.