The Ascension

The Mount of Olives

Forty days after the resurrection, Jesus ascended into heaven from the Mount of Olives. He returned to His Father to sit at His right hand. (Acts 1:3-12, Hebrews 10:12) Evangelicals don’t often mention the ascension, yet it was a watershed moment in the history of mankind.

Definition of a literal watershed: “A ridge of high land dividing two areas that are drained by different river systems.”

Definition of a figurative watershed: “A critical point that marks a division or a change of course; a turning point.” (Source: The American Heritage online dictionary)

The Mount of Olives was both.

According to Wikipedia, it’s a literal watershed. It divides the river system on its west side from the river system on its east.

It’s also a figurative watershed. A turning point. It’s where the Glory of the Lord was last seen by Ezekiel after it was removed from the temple (Ezekiel 11:22-23). It’s where Jesus ascended into heaven. It’s where He’ll stand when He returns (Zechariah 14:4).

The old and new covenants

It’s a figurative watershed in another sense, too. According to Crosswalk.com, from the top of the Mount of Olives you can look to the west and see the city of Jerusalem flourishing on Mount Zion and to the east and see the dry open desert. Quite a contrast.

A contrast elaborated in Hebrews 12:18-24. In this passage, the author is comparing Mount Zion to Mount Sinai, a comparison between the new covenant and the old.

Mount Zion represents “the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God,” while Mount Sinai is in the hot, dry, dusty desert. (It’s not literally east of the Mount of Olives, but since it’s in a desert my mind combines the symbolism of Sinai with the desert east of the Mount of Olives.)

Sinai was filled with “darkness, gloom, and storm.” The scene was so terrifying that Moses was trembling with fear. It was the site of the old covenant, a covenant of law, mediated by the man Moses, ratified by the blood of animals, and based on earthly things (“a mountain that can be touched” and promises of tangible blessings). Few were allowed on Mount Sinai.

In contrast, Zion is full of “thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly.” It represents the new covenant, a covenant of grace and joy, mediated by God the Son, ratified by the blood of Jesus as the perfect sacrifice, and focused on spiritual things (“the heavenly Jerusalem” and eternal life). All are invited to Mount Zion. (My thanks to a Bible teacher at my church who presented this information in a class that I was taking when I wrote this article.)

I imagine myself standing on the top of the Mount of Olives. First facing the desert that symbolizes Mount Sinai. Filled with the fear of a perfectly righteous God and the hopelessness of never being able to fulfill all the requirements of His Law. Never being able to earn His forgiveness. Seeing God’s holiness and judgment in the darkness and storm. Feeling a great distance between us.

Then turning in the opposite direction to face Jerusalem. Seeing God’s intense love expressed in the sacrifice of His only Son for the sins of the world. Relieved that I’m completely, totally forgiven by His grace, not by anything that I have to do. Filled with the Holy Spirit and His fruit.

An analogy of the gospel. We must first face the scorched desert. The hopelessness and vastness of the sin that separates us from God. We must see this in order to recognize our own personal need for salvation and our inability to earn it for ourselves. Then when we turn around and see the New Jerusalem, we can begin to grasp the love and grace of God, the enormity of what He’s done for us in order to bring us into fellowship with Him.

At the watershed moment of salvation, we turn from the dry dusty desert of selfish worldly desires that can never satisfy us but only increase our thirst. We turn in the opposite direction (the literal meaning of the word repent) to the glory, beauty, and joy of the heavenly Jerusalem where the river of life flows and the tree of life bears continual fruit and provides leaves for the healing of the nations (Revelation 22:1-2).

The impact of the ascension

I stand on this watershed, turning from east to west, from Sinai to Zion. Then look down and up. Down to the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus was betrayed, bound, deserted, and taken away to face His trials. Up to where He ascended into heaven. A sort of vertical watershed.

At that moment, in this place, everything changed. Jesus ascended to sit at the right hand of the Father.

“Sitting signifies a permanent abiding.”

“Abiding is about being in a place where one remains close, where a relationship is sustained.”

“‘Sitting at the right hand’ indicates authority from and special privileged access to God.”

“To sit with denotes intimate fellowship.”

To sit down also means the work is finished. A couple of Bible teachers have pointed out to me in recent years that there were no chairs in the tabernacle or temple. Until Jesus’ death and resurrection and ascension, the work of restoring man’s relationship with God was never completed.

Since His ascension, Jesus permanently remains in a position of authority with special access to God and in intimate fellowship with Him. The disciples were “filled with grief” when He told them He was going away. But He assured them that it would be better for them when He did. (John 16:5-7)

Because of the context, I’ve always understood His words to mean that the change for the better would be the coming of the Holy Spirit to dwell within us. But it’s also so much better for us that He’s now abiding at God’s right hand, exercising authority and interceding for us, rather than walking the earth, even in His resurrected body.

The fullness of our salvation, of our restored relationship with God, was made possible by every watershed moment in the Gospels and the first chapter of Acts. Jesus’ birth. His death. His resurrection. Last of all, and most often ignored or forgotten by evangelicals (including me), His  ascension into heaven.

Redemption

A place of trauma

After eating a special meal together, they went with their leader to a mountainous area outside the city. There was something different about him tonight. He’d been unusually solemn at dinner, telling them frightening things. He would be going away soon, where they couldn’t follow him. One of them would betray him. Another would disown him. They would all desert him.

When they reached a garden where they often gathered, he took his three closest friends apart from the others and asked them to watch and pray with him. He was troubled. They were worried. He seemed to need their support. Had that ever happened before? They weren’t sure how to respond.

They were exhausted from the stress and anxiety and confusion of the last few hours, even though their leader had made every attempt to reassure them that everything would work out for the best. If that was true, why was he struggling so much with his own emotions? They were shocked by his weakness. He’d always been so strong and calm anytime they were feeling overwhelmed.

When he walked away from them to pray more privately, they were able to let their guard down, to relax a bit. As a result, they fell asleep. Three times. He woke them up three times. He finally told them to get up and go with him. They were ashamed, keenly aware that they’d failed him.

And then they heard the crowd approaching. Their companion, who’d left them at the end of the dinner, led some soldiers and officials up to their leader and kissed him to identify him so the authorities could arrest him.

One of his followers attempted to strike up a fight, but his leader stopped him and actually healed the injury that he’d caused. When it all looked hopeless, when their beloved leader was bound and taken off to be tried, his frightened and bewildered followers all fled. (Matthew 26:20-56, Mark 14:17-50, Luke 22:21-54, John 13:21-18:12)

It was a traumatic night and a traumatic scene. A great injustice was done, triggered by an act of betrayal. The group as a whole behaved badly, unable to support their leader in his most trying time, saying the wrong things, doing the wrong things, and running away for fear of being carried off with him. If they were like me, the memory of the emotions and failures of that night would remain intense long after the events had occurred. Healing, forgetting, moving on would be difficult, if not impossible.

It turned out that their leader, Jesus, was right, as usual. Everything did work out for the best. Way better than anything they had imagined. He was crucified, suffering a painful and shameful death, but even His crucifixion was God’s plan, God’s timing. It was a sacrifice for the sins of the world. The way to make peace between God and men.

On the third day He rose from the dead. Through the Holy Spirit He could now be with them, in them, each one of them, for the rest of their lives. He could provide strength and peace and hope like they’d never known before.

Memories of the same place

The disciples knew their relationship with Jesus was restored, but did some of the shame from the night of His betrayal still haunt them? Did any sight of the Mount of Olives stir it up again? According to a map in my 1985 NIV Bible, a road passed through the Mount of Olives between Jerusalem and Bethany. They probably traveled that road at least a few times between the resurrection and the ascension. What kind of memories did that journey bring back?

This was where they’d been standing when Jesus sent two of them to get the donkey that He rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday (Matthew 21:1-11). Memories of His triumphal entry.

This was where they’d asked Jesus for more information on His overcoming evil at the end of the age (Matthew 24:3-51). Memories of the prophecy of His future triumph.

This is where they’d often left the crowds behind for a bit of time alone with Jesus (John 18:2). Various memories, probably including prayer and teaching and maybe even laughter.

This is where they stayed every night during the last week of His life (Luke 21:37). Powerful memories of time spent with a loved one during His final days on earth.

But up against all the positive memories stood the shame and trauma of that one evening.

Redeeming the place

This is also where Jesus met with His disciples for the last time before rising into heaven. This is where He promised them the coming of the Holy Spirit, who would give them power to witness to others throughout the world. This is where they watched the Messiah physically ascend into heaven. This is where two angels promised that He’d return in the same way. (Acts 1:6-12)

By Jesus’ own action, the Mount of Olives was redeemed from a place of shame and sorrow and injustice to one of promise and glory and power. It’s never named again in the New Testament.

But it’s mentioned a couple of times in the Old Testament. This is where Jesus will stand when He returns (Zechariah 14:4).

God redeemed a place of trauma. He didn’t do it for the sake of the dirt and the stones and the trees, but for the sake of those who had suffered, and watched His Son suffer, in that very place.

Jesus intentionally led them back there in His own timing. He brought them as a group. Since they’d gone through the trauma together, the healing would be richer and deeper if they were together when they faced the emotions that the Mount of Olives triggered. Redeeming the place was somehow tied in with redeeming them.

God redeems us by His grace, through our faith, when we confess our sins and believe that Jesus is Lord and that God raised Him from the dead (Ephesians 2:8, Romans 10:9). He redeems our souls, giving us eternal life with Him. Such a gift is grand and glorious and awe-inspiring beyond our comprehension. But He doesn’t stop there.

One day He will redeem our mortal bodies, transforming them into glorious bodies (1 Corinthians 15:42-44). Even now, He’s redeeming our minds and emotions. He heals our hurts, grows the fruit of the Spirit within us, and transforms our thoughts.

Sometimes that means going back to a painful physical or mental place, as the disciples returned to the Mount of Olives. Sometimes Jesus Himself will lead me there in His perfect timing.

It might hurt. I might hesitate. But when I go, I know that He will be there with me. Sometimes He provides me with the support of friends who are returning to that same spot for the same reason. And in the end, what started as a place of failure and trauma will be redeemed by God into a place of hope.

 

 

Don't Get Used to it

Holy vs. common

The first time I heard a Bible teacher define “holy” as “set apart,” it really bugged me. Being set apart in and of itself doesn’t necessarily mean better or higher or deeper or richer. Or worthy of worship. I could set apart paper plates for casual dining. That wouldn’t make them more valuable than my fine china. I want something more, something bigger, in any definition of that very special word.

Many years later, my Sunday school teacher described holy as the opposite of commonplace. That’s when it clicked. In His holiness, God is the complete opposite of the commonplace. He is set far apart from all that is common.

The common doesn’t hold our attention. God is more beautiful, more gracious, more creative than anything we can imagine. We will spend an eternity with Him and still be unable to take our eyes off of Him.

The common is ordinary, mundane. God is extraordinary, full of surprises. His compassions are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). We will spend an eternity with Him and still be delighted by His presence.

The common can easily be discarded and replaced when it wears out or when something better comes along. God will never wear out or run down. He is always the same gloriously perfect Lord whose years will never end (Psalm 102:27). There will never be anything better than Him.

We don’t worship the common things in life. In ancient times, people made idols out of the precious metals, gold and silver. One reason those metals are valuable is because they’re rare. Not common.

Our idols today are the best-looking actors, the most skilled athletes, and the most talented artists. They go so far beyond the ordinary that we recognize them as set apart from the rest of us.

Getting used to it

We worship God because of His greatness. He is the King above all kings, the Lord above all lords. We worship Him because of our sense that He is set apart from us. But as we grow in Him, He becomes closer to us. We see His hand working in our lives. We get used to having Him around. We begin to treat Him as common.

The most blatant example of this tendency is Israel’s journey from bondage in Egypt to the blessings of the promised land. God appeared in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night to guide them (Exodus 13:21). Their clothes didn’t wear out for forty years (Deuteronomy 8:4). Manna supernaturally appeared six mornings a week to nourish them (Exodus 16:4-5).

But because all these signs of God’s presence and provision happened every single day, they became common in the people’s eyes. Ordinary. Expected. Deserved. The Israelites lost their sense of awe and wonder at the miracles that were happening all around them all the time.

Some professional athletes refuse to honor America while the national anthem is being played before a game. They accept our amazing prosperity and freedoms and legal system as ordinary, everyday, expected parts of life. Instead of being grateful for them, they focus on the faults that remain. They magnify those faults out of proportion to their actual size in comparison to our country’s strengths.

Brittney Griner, of the WNBA, made it a point to leave the basketball court during the singing of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Then she went to Russia. When she arrived, customs officials found vape cartridges in her luggage. She was arrested for drug smuggling, convicted in a closed court with no jury, and given a nine year sentence. She spent ten months in prison before President Biden was able to negotiate her release.

Brittney now stands beside the basketball court during our national anthem (source: WORLD magazine Opinions, “Britney Griner finds gratitude for America,” June 19, 2023). She’s gone from seeing this country as common and ordinary and even despicable, to developing a sense of appreciation for the progress made in trying to offer freedom and justice for all.

As a Christian, it’s so easy for me to take my salvation, my answers to prayer, my many other blessings for granted. I might not say it out loud, but my attitude becomes something like this: Of course God saved me. Because He loves me so much. God is love (1 John 4:8). What else could He do? After a while, there doesn’t seem to be anything spectacular, anything beyond the ordinary in the extraordinary idea that I will spend an everlasting eternity in the presence of the most spectacular Being that exists.

It’s easy to think of God as my big buddy in the sky. In John 15, Jesus calls His disciples His friends. My friends are just like me. Common, everyday people. It’s easy to lower God to their level. Or raise myself to His.

It’s easy to get used to the idea that I can take all my burdens, all my pain, and all my joy to the Lord of the universe. Prayer becomes a routine practice, rather than an incredible privilege.

It’s easy to resent spending time reading my Bible when there are so many other things that I need to do. God’s Word becomes nothing more than an ordinary book, rather than the supernatural revelation of God Himself.

It’s easy to talk about salvation and Jesus and answered prayers as if they’re just common, expected parts of life. Shouldn’t we, instead, feel a powerful sense of wonder and awe every time words like God, forgiveness, and eternity pass our lips?

Some churches I’ve attended seem to try to overcome this tendency to get used to the miraculous and the holy by generating excitement. Worship turns into a pep rally. But pep rallies and excitement are common, ordinary things. We need something more, something different, something set apart from the ways of the world.

Near and far away

That’s one of the reasons why I’m thankful for my church. My pastor teaches about the God who loves us so much that He sacrificed His most precious and perfect Son to save us from our sins. Pastor encourages us to take all our troubles to a God who is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18). He reminds us that this God cares about every detail of our lives and is ready to forgive us no matter how many times we go astray.

But he also emphasizes the need to remember that we are not just slightly lower than God. By our very nature, there’s a great distance between Him and us. Even the angels in Isaiah’s vision, who are without sin, were so awed and humbled in His presence that they covered their faces and their feet (Isaiah 6:2). They recognized their complete unworthiness compared to His glory. Thank you, Pastor, for helping us to walk in God’s miraculous grace without just getting used to it.

What happens when we start to take God for granted? Sometimes only suffering can bring us back to a better appreciation of who He is and what He’s done. The Israelites’ journey to the promised land illustrates this reality. Every time they treated God as common and ordinary, every time they began to grumble against Him, He afflicted them in one way or another. Their grumbling stopped. Their awe and wonder were restored.

Brittney Griner is an example from the secular world of the way hardship can help us appreciate a blessing or privilege that we’re treating as common and expected and deserved.

God is holy. Set apart. The opposite of commonplace. I pray that we as believers would be better at fighting our natural human tendency to lower Him to the level of the ordinary and expected, to take Him for granted, to get used to having Him around. The consequences of losing that battle are always painful.

Enmity

A picture of enmity

“So the Lord God said to the serpent, ‘. . . I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers’” (Genesis 3:14-15).

God Himself actually placed a barrier of enmity between human beings and Satan.* Punishment for Satan for his role in the Fall. Protection for us.

What does that enmity look like on our side? Conscience. Repulsion or horror when we see people stepping over the boundaries that God’s given us. Discomfort and hesitation when someone asks us to do something that we know is wrong. Guilt.

Most importantly, that barrier looks like a heart turning away from evil, toward God. (One way we respond to physical barriers is by turning back and heading in the opposite direction.) Repenting. Believing Him, trusting Him, following Him.

Enmity with Satan results in a willingness to stand up for the weak and oppressed. To care for the helpless. To give generously to those in need. To sacrifice for others.

It leads to turning the other cheek when someone slaps us. Carrying their burden an extra mile. Providing a soft answer in the face of wrath. Forgiving. Loving those who hate us. Meekness. Mercy. Purity of heart.

Much of spiritual warfare consists not in our acts of bold defiance and aggressive attacks, but in apparent weakness. The weakness of a Savior dying on a cross.

Life without enmity

What would life be like if that enmity didn’t exist?

It would be too easy to think of Satan as our friend. He’s so willing to give us the things that God doesn’t want us to have. Isn’t that what a friend does—gives us all we want?

Without that enmity, it would be much harder to resist our natural bent toward defying God. Doing wrong can feel so good. At least for the moment.

Selfishness would reign supreme. Every one of us would be lying, stealing, hating, and betraying others far more often than we do now. Few (if any) good, healthy, loving relationships would exist. Most of us would be unable to work together in harmony. Civilization might never have developed. Human beings might even have killed each other off within a few generations.

We need enmity with Satan to protect us from our own evil desires. We need that barrier to give us any hope of turning to God.

Rebelling against enmity

And yet, what have people done regarding God’s curse, especially in modern times? Worked hard to find ways around it.

Using anesthetics to minimize or do away with pain in childbirth. Denying the roles God ordained for husbands and wives. Reducing the aching toil of cultivating crops by using fertilizers, irrigation, insecticides, and machinery. Developing ways of prolonging life in hopes of defeating death. Suppressing and defying clear signals from our consciences.

There's nothing wrong with using some of these methods to relieve suffering and bring greater health to many. Doing so is consistent with God’s love and Jesus’ life on earth.

But we Americans are living in a time and place where freedom is being defined as overcoming all our natural God-given inhibitions. Breaking down that barrier between the woman’s offspring and Satan’s.

That’s not an easy thing to do, or the world would have crumbled into chaos long before now. It takes a real effort.

I read an article many years ago (I think it was in WORLD magazine) about our inborn inclination against killing a fellow human being. If my memory of what the article said is accurate, there are three specific aspects of our created nature that all have to be overcome before someone can take another person’s life. Armies must put their newest members through a variety of exercises and experiences in order to accomplish this goal, to break down that part of the barrier between Satan and us.

Reigning vs. serving

In Paradise Lost, John Milton wrote the famous line, “Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven.” That quote is used today to justify rebelling against God. God is oppressive because He demands that we serve Him, even in heaven.

But how much does anyone other than Satan reign over anything in hell? Jesus always describes it as a place of punishment and suffering (e.g. Matthew 25:30, 46).

And Satan doesn’t have complete control, even there. God still has total power over him. He’s allowing Satan some freedom for a limited time, but in the end He’ll throw him into the lake of fire (Revelation 20:10). Satan’s reign is far more limited than he’s willing to admit.

Some think Milton’s statement portrays Satan as taking a heroic stand, so of course we should follow his example. But it’s dangerous to glamorize Satan and view his actions as ones that we should imitate. God placed that enmity between us to protect us from this danger.

Satan is not heroic. He’s a greedy, self-centered destroyer. His sole purpose is manipulating others to increase his own power. True heroes are those who sacrifice themselves to save others.

Heaven and hell

What’s the real difference between heaven and hell? Is heaven really a nice place but one of constant servitude, while hell offers at least some people an opportunity to reign over their fellow sufferers?

No. Heaven is full of beloved children who serve their Father with joy as they receive the greatest possible blessing, the fulfillment of all their deepest hopes and dreams. Our shallow earthly appetites are mere shadows of our intense longing for a more profound kind of beauty and refreshment and intimacy. A longing that will be abundantly satisfied in heaven.

Psalm 16:11 says, “You will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” Hardly a picture of resentful service. Or of a stern God who denies us any form of pleasure. According to John’s vision of heaven in Revelation 22:3-5, God’s people will serve Him, but in addition “they will reign for ever and ever” (italics added).

In contrast, hell is full of despised slaves being used and abused by one who cannot love. Even if Satan was, by nature, capable of caring about others, it would be impossible for him to do anything other than hate us because of the enmity between him and us.

I tend to think of God as pronouncing only curses in Genesis 3. But there are blessings hidden behind some of those curses. When God deliberately put enmity between people and Satan, He was protecting us more than we can ever imagine or appreciate. We can fuss and complain about how He places all those annoying restrictions on our freedom. Or we can praise and thank Him for His tender loving kindness.


*Some commentaries limit that enmity to the conflict between Jesus and Satan (and his followers). The verse is understood as a prophecy of the virgin birth. Jesus is the only person who could ever be described as the offspring of a woman, without a man contributing to His conception. Others include a broader application, as I do here.

 

A Blended Family

Mixed marriages

The annual Thanksgiving Eve service at my church will be starting soon. I’m volunteering in the Children’s Department. Most of the kids are attending the service with their parents, but the pastor wanted to offer birth-to-fifth-grade child-care for those who prefer it.

As a retired teacher, I miss being around these young ones. I don’t even know most of the children in my own church. That’s why I’m here. To get a dose of kid-time and maybe build some new relationships (as well as lending a helping hand, of course).

The first two people walk up to the sign-in desk. White mother. Asian child, nine years old, named Molly. The last name sounds Chinese. Cool. A mixed marriage. In these days of racial division and strife, mixed marriages remind me that peace can prevail, at least within one family.

The next group arrives. White mother. Eight-year-old African-American girl named Connie. Two-year-old blond girl named Cherry. Another interracial family. This is what the church should be. A place where people with different skin colors can have intimate relationships.

Confusion

We’re meeting in the gym so the children can have some play time before we start more structured activities. With a bouncy ball and plenty of space, the kids spontaneously begin a game, making up the rules as they go along. The older children adapt to the limited skills of the younger ones when their turns come up. I smile at the close connection between Connie and Cherry, as they talk and laugh and hug each other, even in the middle of the game.

Eventually, Molly looks at them with a puzzled expression, seeing their special relationship. She asks how they know each other. “We’re sisters!” they both exclaim with pride and joy (and another hug).

“But. . . but. . .,” Molly stammers, glancing back and forth at the two of them, then looking around as if it should be obvious to everyone that they couldn’t possibly have the same parents. No response from anyone else. A close scrutiny of their name tags, then a triumphant expression. “But you have different last names!”

All three girls look puzzled now. Connie and Cherry honestly don’t understand what the problem is. I hesitate for a minute, allowing the girls a chance to sort it out among themselves. But they remain silent, so I ask, “You have the same mother but different fathers, right?” They nod. The game begins again.

Heaven and the first Thanksgiving

I love this living illustration of the holiday we’ll be celebrating tomorrow. As we chow down on our turkey and stuffing and sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie, the most basic reason for our rejoicing tends to get lost—the coming together of two different races, with two very different sets of life experiences, to share a meal in peace and harmony.

My thoughts also turn to heaven. I smile as I realize that in the next world no one will see two girls who look so different on the outside and wonder how they could possibly belong to the same family. It will be more like those two girls themselves—unable to understand why anyone would question their relationship.

The blood of all the races and ethnic groups will be blended together in one Father and His children. We’ll be so intimately united that we’ll understand each other perfectly and love each other perfectly. Nothing as superficial as skin color, and nothing as deep as vastly different life experiences, will ever separate us again.

And yet we’ll each retain our own unique identity. When Jesus was confronted with the question of life after death, His response was that God is the God of the living, not the dead, specifically naming Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Matthew 22:32). He implied that the three of them are still living their own individual yet transformed lives in another realm.

Revelation 7:9 says, “After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb.” It sounds like there will still be some distinguishable differences among members of different nations, tribes, peoples, and languages even in heaven. I’m not sure exactly what that will look like, but the Bible is full of hints that we’ll each retain our own unique identity there, in perfect harmony with a wide variety of equally unique brothers and sisters.

We don’t handle our differences very well in this life. I need to remember to pray more often, “Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” in regard to race relations in my country. But sometimes, such as when I look at these two families within my church or when I see children of mixed ethnic and racial backgrounds playing together happily, I get a glimpse of the life to come, with its perfect blend of unity and diversity. The same glimpse that was clearly visible on that first Thanksgiving.