Last week I was on the Jersey Transit Midtown Direct Line from Morristown to Penn Station in New York City, eagerly anticipating a rendezvous with Connecticut grandchildren. Everything was fine, until it wasn't. Because of construction upgrades in the tunnel, our train would be diverted to Hoboken, announced the conductor, where we would complete our journey using the PATH subway system. It had been years since I had been on the PATH, and I approached Hoboken with a bit of a crisis in confidence. But the newly configured station was easy to navigate, and the cars were modern and speedy. What made the change in plans so less stressful was the 'comfort' I received from the overhead electronic announcement boards, with their minute-by-minute countdown to the impending arrival of the next train. I could relax. I was at the right spot, waiting for the right thing, and it was on its way. 
 
Our Gospel for this sixth Thursday in Easter finds the disciples in no such place (or so they must think -- more for them the metaphor of waiting for a no-show friend pre-cell phone, or at a lonely bus stop post-Hurricane-Sandy.) Jesus now is continuing to comfort his disciples, still at the Passover table, for he knows the grief that lies ahead, but his message for them is like one piece of Velcro. The questions just keep coming: "Where are you going? We don't understand what you are saying. Who are we waiting for? What does he mean, 'A little while?'  When will we see you again?" 
 
The disciples had followed Jesus around for years before they caught a glimmer of who he was and what he was about. This night betrayal and the crucifixion are ahead, then resurrection, ascension, and the waiting for the Holy Spirit. Is it any wonder that at this moment the courage to ask questions, even with the tension of the uncertainty of answer, is the best the disciples can muster? (In tomorrow's Gospel we will hear Jesus' consoling description of heaven -- a place where no one will be able to take away our joy. Any questions?) The glorious blessings of a risen Savior who transcends the capacity that any one historical life can hold will be waiting for them. The grief will be almost unbearable, but a joy beyond all measure is on the way. The countdown has begun.
 
The Church is asking us to wait until Sunday's liturgy to mark the Ascension of Jesus to the Father. We await that day, a celebration of the space created where the newness of growth in the spiritual life can flourish under the presence and guidance of the Holy Spirit.  We who have the luxury, the grace, to know how the story ends are still challenged to dwell in this unknowing, this Mystery -- to live inside the questions, to wait with patience and endurance for the promises unfolding and deepening from a God who is for us and takes delight in us. The rest of the New Testament depicts all of the creation waiting for the full coming of Christ's Kingdom. For that we still wait.