| 19 May 2012
Jesus ascended into Heaven before the astonished gaze of His Apostles and disciples, and they were entranced and seized by the tremendous emotion of the moment. For a time they stood looking up, rapt in deep silence, overwhelmed with sadness, not knowing what to do or say. Then two angels shook them out of their reverie (Acts 1:11):
- Men of Galilee, why stand you looking up to heaven?
And with good reason; for they were experiencing, for the first time in their lives, the brutal sense of total solitude. What was happening at that moment was the most painful thing they could ever have envisaged: they were facing the reality of being left without Him.
Perhaps they were thinking of the time when the Prophet Elijah was separated forever from his disciple Elisha, notwithstanding the despair of the latter, and replacing it with their own quiet sorrow and passionate pain:
As they walked on, talking as they went, a chariot of fire appeared and horses of fire coming between the two of them; and Elijah went up to heaven in the whirlwind. Elisha saw it, and he shouted: ‘My father! My father! Chariot of Israel and its chargers! Then he lost sight of him, and taking hold of his own clothes he tore them in half (2 Kings 2: 11-12).
It is true that the Master had previously made them some momentous and consoling promises: But I tell the truth: it is for your own good that I am going, because unless I go, the Paraclete will not come to you (Jn 16:7); promises fully filled with hope: I shall see you again, and your hearts will be filled with joy, and that joy no man shall take from you (Jn 16:22). However, as everyone knows, words of consolation are only useful in helping to lift up one’s heart and ease sadness; they cannot do more than that. Mitigating the pain caused by distressful feelings necessarily means, like it or not, that a remnant of sadness still lingers —and more so when one is dealing with the deep sorrow caused by still greater love.
The reality that Jesus Christ left them alone was something much more serious and deeper than they could have ever imagined, despite the magnitude and intensity of their pain. And Jesus was well aware of it. That is why His Heart poured out a tremendously passionate prayer –even anguished, if you will— addressed to his Father on the Night of His Farewell: I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you (Jn 17:11); as if He had said: Take this into account, Father: I am leaving, but they will have to stay…
At Central Medical Hospital, a woman rests in bed with a serious illness. Her name is Anne. Anne is a Roman Catholic who wants to make decisions about her medical treatment in the light of her Catholic faith. As would anyone in her condition, Anne has questions about the teachings of the Church. 
