Can you recall a time in your life when a strong mentor or guide, one with whom you perhaps completed breakthroughs that you found to be practically miraculous handed power back to you? A time in which that person might have said “you’re amazing, and you’ve got this on your own now?” What was it like? Empowering and yet terrifying? Bittersweet? Beautiful?
“Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them.” (Luke 24:50-51)
For many beginning pilots, that moment comes on their solo flight. Before they pass their final check ride with an examiner, they are required to complete a flight on their own, no passengers, no instructor present. Just the student, their aircraft and the world far beneath them.
For Maggie Taraska, that moment started off as awe-inspiring as one might think. She was just 17, had been flying for three years, and had been doing excellent work in her training, accompanied by a strong, competent instructor. Finally cleared for solo flight, she took off from Beverly, Mass., on a beautiful September morning, with plans to fly along the coast and land in Portland, Maine.
Folks who have completed a solo flight describe two key mindsets. As they first climb, they report hearing their instructor’s voices, as if they were right beside them. “Climb to . . . maintain heading . . .” Next, they report a profoundly spiritual moment, in which despite being guided by all of their training and preparation, they realize they are unequivocally in the sky, alone.
As she climbed, and heard the familiar thunk of the landing gear retracting, I imagine Maggie flowing through those two mindsets, until she received a call from the airport tower, about 5 minutes into the flight.
The wheels had fallen off. Literally.
Another pilot reported witnessing the rear right landing gear falling from Maggie’s plane, and reported it to the tower, who, in turn, contacted the student pilot, alone in the sky, without an instructor to hand things over to.
“You’re doing a great job flying the airplane”, came instructor John Singleton’s voice over the radio. “Keep doing what you’re doing, We’re going to take our time here. We’ve got plenty of time. You have plenty of fuel. We’ve got plenty of daylight.”
“So just try to relax, and you always heard me say, ‘Go back to basics,’ so we’re going to work the basics here as much as possible, OK?”
And she did. While there is no practice situation in which a wheel falls off, there are plenty of emergency landing procedures, and Maggie calmly and expertly went through them.
She worked through guides and checklists, stayed in touch with the folks on the ground, prepared as best she could, and circled back around and touched down safely back home.
In a press conference shortly after the landing, the 17-year old student pilot, who had now expertly managed a situation most experienced pilots never would imagine contending with explained: “You have to have confidence in your ability if you’re going to be a pilot so I knew that I had practiced emergency procedures plenty of times and I knew that if I tried my best and I kept a cool head, there would be the best outcome possible”.
When I think of the story of the Ascension, of Jesus leaving the disciples behind for real this time and ascending back to God, I think about moments like Maggie’s story, where we are really and truly in the deep end, guided by both the wisdom of those who came before us, and the basic fundamental understandings they instilled within us.
“I am sending upon you what my Father promised, so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.”(Luke 24:49)
There’s a key timeline that we tend to forget post-Easter. Jesus remained on Earth for 40 full days, a time equal to that of Lent, revealing himself to those who followed him most closely, and preparing them to carry on his ministry.
His version of emergency procedures were the Jewish holy texts, the prophecies of redemption and liberation in which his life and ministry fulfilled. All of the healing they had done together, all of the miracles they had witnessed, codified in text from thousands of years before their time.
“Go back to basics,” said flight instructor Singleton.
“He opened their minds to understand the scriptures” said Luke. (24:45)
And they did. Of note in Luke’s Gospel is the complete acceptance of Jesus’ heavenly ascension, and finally, the absence of self-doubt.
Throughout the Gospels, the disciples had questions, lots of questions: Is this real? How can we feed the people? Should I build a tent for you and your thousand-year-old friends? How will we sail our boat? Wait, again, do we need bread? Show me the wounds.
This time, with good guidance, and the anchor of their own emergency procedures, the disciples seem to get it.
They returned to Jerusalem, the city in which they witnessed the horror of the crucifixion, still ruled by an unjust collaboration between religious authorities and the forces of an occupying empire.
They did not plot their revenge and retribution. They did not plan to erect a monument, golden or otherwise to Jesus. They returned to the temple and remained, blessing God. They went back to the basics, and friends.
So can we.
Our world may well feel like ancient Jerusalem right now, unjust, spiraling out of control, an immovable force that envelops our lives and drains our spirits.
In this moment, another piece of Jewish rabbinical advice comes to mind. Attributed to Rabbi Tarfon, a first-century sage who lived through immense persecution of the Jewish people, it reads:
“It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it.”
It was not Maggie Taraska’s duty to singlehandedly rewrite emergency procedures, to re-engineer landing gear or to become an aviation safety expert. She did none of those things with her life. She did, however, have to land the plane, and she did it with skill and style.
The disciples did not have to immediately eliminate greed and corruption from Jerusalem, but they did have to honor the God who showed them the way in the first place.
It is not our duty to take on the full weight of the world today, but we are not free to ignore it completely. May we go through troubled times, with our words and deeds honoring the God who still shows us the way, even when it’s hard.
Go back to basics. Land the plane today, and have faith that it’s enough to bring about a better tomorrow.
Sermon by Schilling at The Old Meeting House, East Montpelier, May 17.
