Ascension Day 2026
The Church of the Ascension, Knoxville
Acts 1:1-11
Luke 24:44-53
The Right Rev. Brian L. Cole
Two weeks ago, in Asheville, North Carolina, I was one of twelve students attending a workshop on prayer poems, led by the poet, Marie Howe. We met each morning at Trinity Episcopal Church.
We read poems written by poets from the past as well as contemporary poets. We read closely, looking at tone and diction and image, and line and syntax and rhythm. We also wrote prayer poems and shared them with each other.
Marie Howe listened to our prayer poems with generosity. On more than one occasion, she helped the student reading their poem see there was a more concise poem hidden within the larger one. She helped another student see that the next to the last line of their poem was the last line.
I learned many lessons from Marie Howe and my fellow students, who were quite welcoming to me in my attempts to write something which might resemble a poem.
One lesson was that to write a good poem, you begin by writing a poem. Then, you revise and revise and revise. Much of the revising is a process of subtraction, of erasing. Look for the smaller poem inside the larger one. Cut the poem in half and discover the second half of the poem is all you need.
A shorter poem is not simply a concession to the age of shorter attention spans. A shorter poem, the poem within the poem, acknowledges that words point beyond themselves.
The poet wants their poem to help you see so much more than can be conveyed with words. The words you do not end up reading, the ones that were removed to get to the heart of the poem, would have gotten in your way, keeping you from seeing the thing described more clearly.
When we celebrate the Ascension of Christ Jesus, we traditionally hear the account of the story told from both the end of the Gospel of St. Luke and the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles.
But what if this morning, we also consider a briefer accounting? A radically brief account.
There is a writing practice called the six-word poem.
This morning, I am sharing with you my six-word poem about the Ascension of Christ Jesus. “Here no longer, but everywhere now.”
In preparing for this Sunday, I looked over my old sermons about the Ascension. Nearly 20 years ago, I wrote 2,000 words about the Ascension. This morning, I have six words for you.
I am trying to say less, with the hope that each word shows more. And I would invite you, people of Ascension, to consider what six words you might say about the story of the Ascending Christ.
In the Acts of the Apostles reading, the writer tells us that Jesus is taken up into heaven. Taken, removed, the story suggests some part of Jesus is no longer here. Yet, this same Jesus promised to be with us always.
What if the story of the Ascension is a fine poem, revised down to its core? Tell the whole story, then cut it in half. Write the whole poem, then lose the last line or move the first line to the middle. Take away the words that get in the way of the necessary words.
The Resurrected Jesus who ascends to the heavens and glory also promises to be with us. So, what portion remains with us?
A friend this week suggested that Jesus remains with us in the Eucharist and in the Church. Whenever we gather for the Eucharist and we take up the words Jesus left us to offer over bread and cup, we believe he is present with us.
In the Eucharist, we speak of four words. Take, bless, break, give. Four words reveal the Christ is with us and in us when we share the meal and eat the meal.
Jesus is also with us in the Church. And this morning, on a day when we celebrate the Ascension, I am thinking about one particular and local expression of that one, holy, catholic and apostolic body. I am thinking of the Church of the Ascension on Northshore Drive, on the cusp of celebrating 70 years of gathering and worshipping and eating and sending and breaking and mending in this community and beyond.
What are the six words you have to offer for the story of the Ascension? Is it a question? A confession? A thanksgiving?
And what six words do you have for this body, this body of believers who bear the name of the Ascension? What six-word parish history would you write? What six-word poem about your life together here might you write this day?
I would welcome hearing your proclamation, your prayer poem, your much abridged sermon story. I would welcome, if you wish, to have you send me your six words, or share them with each other.
As Episcopalians and Anglicans, we have a long tradition of poetry. So much of the Book of Common Prayer is poetry. In our worship, poetry even shows up in the prose. Even in this moment, this liturgy, you and I are existing in a poem.
So, tell us what you see. Tell us who we are. Tell us of your hope, and about not losing heart, as we abide believing in the story of the Jesus who was taken and remains. Taken and remains, world without end. Amen.