To believe is to see
“To see is to believe.” Many of us parrot this saying like dogma, failing to consider its opposite: “To believe is to see.” Today’s Gospel reading shows us how faith enables us to discern what is not immediately visible or accept something without requiring physical proof.
St. Luke writes: “Jesus appeared to His disciples and blessed them. And while He was blessing them, He departed from them and was taken up into heaven” (Luke 24:50-51). The disciples must have felt devastated, as this seemed to be Jesus’s final goodbye, the last time they would experience His physical presence.
And yet, what follows is astonishing: “They worshiped Him and returned to Jerusalem with great JOY” (Luke 24:52). Instead of weeping and grieving, the disciples rejoiced and were filled with hope. Why? Because their faith assured them that, even in His physical absence, Christ would remain truly present. Faith opened their eyes to a new kind of vision—one that no longer depends on human sight, but on faith. For them, “To believe is to see.”
Because of their faith, the disciples realized that Jesus had entered a new mode of presence, no longer bound by the spatial and temporal limitations inherent in His bodily existence. So, even if He no longer walked, talked, or ate with them as before, He was now in them, between them, and among them. Their conviction that nothing could separate them from Him was grounded in His promise: “Behold, I am with you always, until the end of time” (Matthew 28:20).
The Ascension offers at least two important lessons for us. First, we should not reduce reality to what can be observed, measured, or scientifically confirmed. While science and technology have brought extraordinary advancements, they also pose a subtle risk: the temptation to overlook the many dimensions of life that are not visible or quantifiable, yet deeply shape our humanity, such as love, thought, conscience, meaning, and imagination.
To dismiss these as irrelevant is to impoverish our understanding of the world and ourselves. History, culture, spirituality, and personal identity operate in realms that often transcend sensory experience. An overreliance on the visible fosters a shallow materialism, where value is reduced to utility, productivity, or appearance. In contrast, faith allows us to perceive reality as mysterious, layered, and complex. Seeing is powerful, but it must be balanced with believing.
At the Ascension, the disciples recognized that Jesus now dwells beyond the limits of time and space and we must approach Him with reverence and humility. Like them, we must resist the temptation to shrink God into a manageable figure—accessible when we need Him, disposable when we find Him useless. God is not ours to control; He is to be worshiped and adored.
The second lesson the Ascension teaches us is that God creates us not to remain as we are, but to grow into what we are meant to become. As Jesus shows us, life is a journey toward self-transcendence.
At the heart of human nature lies a deep yearning—not just for comfort or success, but for meaning, purpose, and union with something greater than ourselves. This desire calls us to rise above selfishness, to live for others, and ultimately, to orient our lives toward God.
That is easier said than done. But during the Ascension, Jesus assured us that we are not alone in this pursuit. Despite our weakness, we are empowered to transcend our limitations because it is Christ who initiates and completes the journey: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:18-19).