NCRegister portal commentary by Matthew Becklo (May 14, 2026) presents a reflection on the Ascension of Our Lord Jesus Christ, attempting to highlight its theological significance. While the article correctly identifies the Ascension as the complementary movement to the Incarnation — “earth ascends to heaven” — it ultimately collapses this supreme mystery into a framework of naturalistic humanism, stripping it of its properly supernatural, sacrificial, and ecclesiological dimensions. The author’s analysis, though rhetorically polished, reveals the theological poverty of post-conciliar catechesis, wherein the cosmic and liturgical reality of Christ’s kingship is replaced by sentimental appeals to human dignity and emotional consolation.
The Ascension: Cosmic Reality Reduced to Sentimental Humanism
Omission of the Sacrificial and Liturgical Dimension
The most glaring deficiency in Becklo’s treatment is the complete absence of any mention of the Most Holy Sacrifice and the liturgical reality of the Ascension within the sacred liturgy. The Ascension is not merely a “metaphysical” event in the author’s vague sense; it is the eternal offering of the God-Man before the Father. As the Council of Trent teaches, Christ “offered Himself once to God the Father by His death on the altar of the Cross” (Session XXII, Ch. 2), and this offering continues in the unbloody sacrifice of the altar. The Ascension is the heavenly ratification of Calvary. By ignoring the propitiatory nature of Christ’s priesthood, the author reduces the Ascension to a mere “return to the Father,” stripping it of its soteriological weight. The Missale Romanum for the Feast of the Ascension explicitly links the Ascension to the triumph of the Victim: “Ascendit Deus in jubilatione, et Dominus in voce tubae” (God ascends with jubilation, and the Lord with the sound of a trumpet). This is the language of sacrifice and victory, not the vague “going up” described by Becklo.
The “Divinization” of Man Without the Supernatural Order
Becklo correctly quotes the patristic adage: “God became man so that man might become God.” However, he immediately divorces this truth from the supernatural order established by Christ. Divinization — theosis — is not an automatic consequence of human nature ascending; it is the fruit of grace, received through the sacraments, particularly Baptism and the Eucharist. The author speaks of “earth ascending to heaven” but fails to specify that this ascent is mediated through the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ. Without the Church, there is no ascent. As Pope Pius XI teaches in Quas Primas, the Kingdom of Christ encompasses all men, but they must be “in the Kingdom of Christ” through obedience to His laws and the reception of His sacraments. Becklo’s “divinization” risks becoming a naturalistic elevation of human dignity, a theme beloved of the conciliar sect, rather than the supernatural transformation wrought by sanctifying grace.
The Danger of “Heavenly Humanism”
The author concludes by stating that the Ascension reveals “the greatest humanism possible.” This phrase is a hallmark of the modernist error condemned by St. Pius X in Pascendi Dominici Gregis. The saintly Pontiff warned against those who, “under the guise of more serious criticism,” corrupt the faith by accommodating it to modern philosophy. The “humanism” of the Ascension is not a celebration of human autonomy or natural dignity; it is the total subjection of human nature to divine glory. As St. Leo the Great declares, human nature ascended “beyond the heights of archangels” not by its own power, but because it was united to the divinity of the Son. To call this “humanism” is to invert the order of creation. The glory belongs to God, not to man. The Catechism of the Council of Trent emphasizes that the Ascension teaches us to despise earthly things and to seek those which are above. Becklo’s “humanism” seeks to find heaven on earth, a fundamental betrayal of the eschatological tension that defines the Christian life.
The Erasure of the Church’s Visible Authority
Becklo writes that the Ascension allows us to live in the hope of entering the same glory, quoting St. Leo: “The ascension of Christ is our elevation.” Yet, he omits the crucial intermediary: the visible Church founded by Christ. Hope is not a private sentiment; it is a theological virtue infused at baptism and nourished by the sacraments administered by the true priesthood. The author’s silence on the necessity of the Church for salvation reflects the indifferentism condemned by Pope Pius IX in the Syllabus of Errors (Proposition 17: “Good hope at least is to be entertained of the eternal salvation of all those are not at all in the true Church of Christ”). The Ascension is not a generic promise of spiritual uplift; it is the enthronement of the King who governs His Church on earth. To speak of “hope” without specifying the one true Church is to preach a Christ without a Body, a head without a torso.
The “Right Hand of God” as Metaphor?
The article quotes Christ’s words from John 20:17 — “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” — but treats the “right hand of the Father” as a mere image of intimacy rather than a reality of cosmic sovereignty. The Nicene Creed confesses that Christ “sitteth at the right hand of the Father,” a truth defined against the Arians who denied His consubstantiality. The “right hand” signifies the executive power of the God-Man over the entire universe. As Pope Pius XI explains, Christ possesses “executive power, for all must obey His commands.” By reducing this to a metaphor for emotional closeness, the author strips the Ascension of its juridical and kingly significance. Christ does not merely “return” to the Father; He assumes His throne as King of Kings, legislating and judging through His Vicar and His Church.
The Absence of Eschatological Judgment
Finally, Becklo’s reflection lacks any mention of the Last Judgment. The Ascension is not only a triumph; it is the prelude to the Second Coming, when Christ will return “to judge the living and the dead.” The angels in Acts 1:11 declare: “This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” This is a warning, not merely a comfort. The author’s focus on “hope” and “love” omits the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of wisdom. The Council of Trent teaches that the judgment will be according to works, and that those who die in mortal sin will suffer eternal punishment. A catechesis on the Ascension that ignores the reality of judgment is a catechesis that leaves the faithful unprepared for the day of wrath.
Conclusion: The Ascension as Call to Supernatural Combat
The Ascension of Our Lord is not a “mild denouement,” as the author dismissively suggests, but the culmination of the divine plan of redemption. It is the moment when human nature, purified and glorified, takes its place in the heavenly sanctuary. Yet, this mystery demands a response of faith, obedience, and sacramental life. It is not an invitation to “strive to find rest with him in heaven even now” through vague sentiment, as Becklo paraphrases Augustine, but a call to take up one’s cross and follow the Crucified. The true “astonishment” of the Ascension should lead us to adore the inscrutable majesty of God, to submit to the authority of His Church, and to prepare for the judgment to come. Anything less is a betrayal of the faith “once delivered to the saints” (Jude 1:3).
Source:
Why the Ascension Should Astonish Us (ncregister.com)
Date: 14.05.2026