Call her Tabitha – or call her Dorcas, if you happen to favor the Greek. Whatever name you use, understand that she was a pillar of the early church in Joppa, a town which was about 30 miles northwest of Jerusalem. Tabitha was greatly loved and respected by her congregation and by others whom she served throughout the community.
It has been said that “many are full of good words, who are empty and barren in good works; but Tabitha was a great doer, no great talker." (Matthew Henry) Tabitha must have had seemingly unending energy, for her ministry was a broad one.
This woman (who incidentally is the only female in the New Testament to be explicitly called a disciple), this woman felt called by God to a life of simply “doing good and caring for the poor.” Apparently, she was particularly sensitive to the abject poverty and significant needs of widows in her society.
There is evidence that she was exceedingly generous with her time – and with her resources. As the Gospel writer of Luke/Acts notes, Tabitha fashioned tunics and other garments for those in need, be they the beggars who wandered the streets or the widows who ate at the soup kitchens and inhabited the homeless shelters of Joppa.
As Presbyterian pastor, Laurie Anne Kraus imagines… “A child, dressed in a gown Tabitha had made, glowing with pride as she lifted her face for the water of baptism…..A poor man, rags discarded, clothed in sturdy homespun, standing straighter, his dignity restored….. Extra food, slipped onto the church's common table-always without a word…. Packets made up and slipped into the bundles of the widows who were too proud to beg, but whom, everyone knew, had too little to live on.” That was Tabitha. She noticed enough to care about everyone.
And then one day, Tabitha fell ill. Her body just gave out on her, and she died. Maybe she had been sick for a long time and just had not told anyone. Maybe she was worn out from all her caring. Maybe she was just old. But she died – and everyone in the Joppa church was in mourning.
The children wept in their baptismal gowns. The poor men sobbed in their homespun. The widows carried the coats and dresses she had made for them in their arms – almost as if by doing so they carried a piece of Tabitha close to their hearts – and they cried too.
Tabitha was so generous that her death first rattled and then devastated the little Christian community – as deaths of church pillars often do. Who would help the many widows of that city, the ones she had cared for? How would they survive now with her gone?
And in the midst of all the grief and the guesswork, someone must have figured that Joppa needed a grief counselor, and so two of the men in the community travelled the distance to Lydda and found Peter, the recognized leader of the nascent Christian movement. “Please hurry and come to us,” they implored. And Peter did.
But when he arrived, Peter did not sit down with the widows and children and poor men whom Tabitha had served. He did not ask them how they were feeling and encourage them to express their sadness even more openly. No – Peter sent them all away from the room where Tabitha lay in state. And what followed was a powerful and empowering moment.
Peter shut the doors and knelt by the dead woman’s body and prayed. You can almost hear the quiet because the author of Luke/Acts does not include any long winded and theologically complicated prayers. In fact, we do not know what Peter prayed about. We can only speculate – give me courage, give me strength, I do not know if I can do what I sense you want me to do, I do not know if I really am filled with your Holy Spirit and can do all the things you ask me to do in your name.
But whatever Peter prayed, he eventually came around to whispering “Amen.” Then he looked down at the still form of the saintly woman. “Tabitha, get up,” he said – simple words – and most definitely to the point – words that echoed the ones that Jesus had once said to the daughter of Jairus, lying years before on another deathbed. “Get up.” And Tabitha opened her eyes and did just that.
And we are left to wonder – and UCC pastor, Kate Huey, does “what went through Peter's mind, what was in his heart, what memory and what hope gave him the audacious confidence that he could say two words, and then count on God, right then and there, to do something so astonishing. In this Easter season, perhaps we don't really have to wonder long, and Peter's confidence is testimony to the power of God in his life, the things he has seen and experienced, and the effect all of it has had (on him).”
Then, without a word, Peter offered his arm to Tabitha as any gentleman would do to such a great and well-respected lady and helped her up. He opened the door and took Tabitha out into the sunshine and her mourners saw her alive once more.
Told in the style and even using some of the same vocabulary as similar stories in the Gospels, this tale of Peter and Tabitha harkens us back to the ministry of Jesus himself. It reminds us – as well it should – of stories such as Jesus bringing Lazarus back to life and raising the daughter of Jairus. Yet, here, in our tale this morning, it is not Jesus who restores life but Peter – and this fundamental difference is significant - for us and for the church.
As United Methodist minister, Daniel Hilty, notes, “You know, it’s a funny thing: before Easter in the Bible we’re only told about Christ himself doing this kind of work that Peter and Tabitha do in our Scripture reading today.
Before Easter it was Christ who went around bringing the dead back to life, it was Christ who brought hope and compassion to the poor and the forgotten. Sure, the disciples gave it a try too from time to time, and every now and then they’d do OK, but most of the time they’d fall flat on their faces, or they’d miss the point.
But all of that seems to change after Easter. After Christ’s resurrection things are different. Suddenly, folks like Peter are bringing life to the dead. Suddenly, people like Tabitha are offering hope to the widows and outcast.
Something seems to change at Easter: it’s almost as if Jesus’ work and power have been passed right along to the folks who came after him. After Easter, there’s a cosmic shift. Things are different because Christ has conquered the grave, and after that all other obstacles seem small by comparison.”
Belief in that “cosmic shift” lies at the very core of the church and its ministry – our ministry. This story of Peter healing Tabitha presents the apostle in the role of continuing the ministry of the risen Christ. This story would demonstrated to the early church – and should demonstrate to us - that Jesus is alive and still ministering to the world – through the apostles, through the believers, through the church.
You see, the church is so much more than dutifully sitting here on Sunday morning – though being here as one body and one community is important and not to be taken lightly. Here we are restored each week with strength and courage to go forth and minister in Christ’s name. However, that is a sermon topic for another time.
Today, if you leave this place with nothing else, carry with you a belief in the power of this faith community and the power of us as individuals within the church. Trust that within us – even you and me - is the same power that allowed Peter to bring new life to Tabitha and Tabitha to bring new life to the children, the poor, the widows she served.
As Biblical scholar and theologian, Walter Brueggeman, writes, “Clearly the narrative attests that Peter—the church—is entrusted with the resurrection power of Jesus who himself carries the force of the creator God. The church is entrusted with the power to create new life. . .bodily, concretely, locally.”
Because we are the church, you and I are resurrection people – like Peter and Tabitha. And that is both exciting and daunting. You and I have been touched by the Spirit and like our forebears in this story are capable of creating new life around us.
Oh, we may not do the laying on of hands thing and be quite as dramatic as Peter was, but surely we have it within us to minister with the depth and compassion of Tabitha. Through our efforts and the power of the Holy Spirit, our little corner of the world really can be transformed.
You see, the resurrection legacy has been passed on to us – to you and to me. We are what make the resurrection real in this crazy world we live in. We have been given the tools to dispense the miraculous power of life.
Those tools are in our hearts. They are in our hands and feet as we forge a strong commitment to go about – not thinking about or talking about - but actually doing the works of love and reconciliation to which the Gospel calls us. As Francis of Assisi once said, “Preach the gospel, and when necessary, use words."
Because you see, in the end, the Gospel is not about words. It is not about the words that say that what is most important is the personal relationship we may claim to have with Jesus. It is not about the words that point only to the future and where we fit into all eternity.
The Gospel is about doing. It is about action, about loving acts now, in this world. "The good news is about bringing life where there is death, love where there is hate, healing where there is brokenness.” (William Loader)
If Easter taught us anything, it should have taught us that the story is not over. The story is never over – because, as Peter and Tabitha illustrated in this little tale in the Book of the Acts of the Apostles, the power of the resurrection has been handed on to us – it is our legacy.
Rev. Nancy Foran is pastor of the Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
http://www.rvccme.org/
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