Acts 9:36-43 "The Power of the Resurrection"

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         The Biblical book of the Acts of the Apostles that we have been reading for the past couple of weeks is a unique literary form in our New Testament. You see, neither is it a Gospel (like Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), nor is it a letter, as the writings attributed to Paul are.  

         However, Acts does share common elements with both the Gospels and the letters.  Like the Gospels, the Book of Acts is a narrative.  It is a group of stories, one told after another.  Like the letters, the Book of Acts focuses on the life and struggles of the early church. 

         As Methodist missionary Christine Erb-Kanzleiter wrote:  “It is a first document of Christian history, and it is full of the stories of early Christians and the way they built up communities, shared their faith, responded to the challenges of their day and supported each other in the name of a God whom Jesus had introduced to them” as a loving parent. 

         This story of the raising of Tabitha (or Dorcas, as she was known in the Greek language) deftly fits that mold. It is a narrative, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, it focuses on the ups and downs of the early church, this time the church in Joppa, which was a port city about 30 miles from Jerusalem.

       Tabitha, the main character in the story, was a pillar of the church community in Joppa.  She would easily have been elected an elder had she been a member of our church because, we are told, she had put in many years of service “doing good and helping the poor.”

       Because of positive role models like Tabitha, in spite of economically hard times and the Roman persecutions that seemed to come with an ominous regularity, there was a community safety net.  Orphans were cared for.  Widows were protected.  Food was distributed to any and all who needed it. Even land was sold, and money pooled. In short, all available resources were shared amongst members of these first Christian communities. There was no one percent.  There was no embarrassing wealth disparity, poor houses,  or a problematic welfare system.

       And so, without question, without thinking that, if the poor worked harder, they could pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, Tabitha opened her home to the down-and-out. 

She fed the hungry, and even clothed the near naked.  You see, among all the other types of volunteering that Tabitha did, she sewed clothing – lots of clothing - shirts and coats - for many of the urban poor, which included a whole bevy of widows, who particularly loved her.  One could say that Tabitha was like the patron saint of sewing and needlework – though that title has officially been given to both St. Claire and St. Anne.

       I find it interesting that earlier in the Book of Acts, we are told that men generally took on the role of organizing the care of the poor. However, in Joppa, this was obviously Tabitha’s job, and so this woman played an unusual but highly significant community role as charity and mission outreach coordinator. 

       It is also interesting to note that when men did take care of the poor, the author of Acts referred to it as ministry.  However, when women like Tabitha took on the same responsibility, it was downplayed as “good works”:  Something to ponder while women still struggle for equal recognition and reward today.

         But back to Tabitha and the significant role she played in the life of her community.  In fact, so significant a role did she play that the writer of Acts calls her a disciple. 

Now, we throw around that word pretty lightly these days.  However, in all of the New Testament, Tabitha is the only woman to merit such a title.  Not Mary of Bethany, not Mary Magdalene, not Salome – only Tabitha.

         No wonder then that her entire church community was shocked and catapulted into despair when Tabitha suddenly took ill and unexpectedly died.  Her good works came to a screeching halt.  Now it was the job of others to care for her.  The tables were turned.  And so it was with deep sadness that her body – her corpse – was washed and prepared for burial and laid out in an upper room in her home.  No doubt about it: The community tears flowed mightily. 

         Amidst the anguish at Tabitha’s passing, however, someone held it together long enough to send two messengers to find the Apostle Peter: “Please hurry and come to us.  STOP.  Do not delay because we need you right at this instant. STOP.” 

         Now Peter was preaching and teaching in Lydda at the time, which is about eleven miles from Joppa.  One might wonder why anyone bothered to beckon this apostle in the first place – and also why there was such an imperative, such a hurry to get him there. 

         Surely it was not to raise the dead.  That had not happened since Jesus himself had called Lazarus out of the tomb.  But equally implausible would have been for Peter to come with the hope of healing Tabitha.  Though Peter had received the gift of healing, Tabitha was, well, already beyond healing.  She was dead, s Charles Dickens noted of Marley in “A Christmas Carol” – dead as a doornail. 

         That much was abundantly clear to Peter when he arrived.  When his heavy footsteps reached the upper room where Tabitha lay, why - such weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth he had seldom witnessed! 

         Widows besieged him, thrusting bolts of cloth and half sewn garments in his face.  All of them were talking and crying at once, telling him what a wonderful friend Tabitha had been, what an exceptional caregiver she had turned out to be.  The widows could not imagine what would happen to them now that she was gone.  Her death had turned their world upside down, and they were frightened that nothing would ever be the same again.  Tears of loss, tears of longing, tears of fear all sprang from their eyes and coursed down their cheeks.  Rivers of tears greeted Peter at the doorway.

        Well, Peter might have been a healer.  He might have been a preacher.  But a grief counselor he was not.  As Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor described the situation:  “Peter was less interested in the clothes (and the widows, I would add) than he was in the disciple who had made them. The first thing he did was put all of the crying women outside, which meant there were no witnesses in the room. Then he knelt down to pray, though we do not know what he prayed. When he was ready, (the Gospel writer) Luke says, Peter turned to ‘the body’—not ‘Tabitha,’ but ‘the body’—and said, ‘Tabitha, get up’ (as in ‘Lazarus, come out’).”  And she opened her eyes and sat up. 

         He did not preach a lengthy sermon to her.  He did not demand a confession or affirmation of her worthiness.  He just said a few words – powerful in their simplicity.  “Tabitha, get up.  Rise again.” 

         Then Peter reached out and helped her to her feet. To be perfectly honest, I do not know who would have been more surprised by the outcome of the situation – Tabitha for coming back from the dead or Peter for praying whatever he prayed to make it happen.  

         Not surprisingly, when the widows found out that their beloved Tabitha was breathing once more, the word that her death had been highly overrated spread like wildfire. 

And in the aftermath, Peter, we discover through a curious little detail that the author includes, spent the next few days staying with Simon who was, by profession, a tanner  - and whom the Jewish religious hierarchy would have considered most ritually unclean.  Why would Peter stay with the likes of Simon?  Maybe this detail is the writer’s way of telling us that Peter had his sights set on a church that reached far beyond the confines of Judaism. 

         This story of Tabitha being raised from the dead is probably the most ignored resurrection/resuscitation story in all of Scripture.  I mean, most everyone has heard of Lazarus walking out of the tomb where he had begun to rot after four days into death.  But Tabitha?

         Not so many people know this tale!  Is it because this story of Tabitha is recorded in the Book of Acts rather than in one of the gospels?  Or is it because Peter did the raising and not Jesus?  Or how about because Tabitha was a woman, and women did not get a fair shake when it came to first century press coverage anyway?

       We do not know, of course.  However, whatever the reason, I think it is a shame that this story is not read more and known better because it has the potential to say so much to us about the power of Christ’s resurrection – not only for the early church but also down through the ages until that power envelopes us as well.

         We are three weeks post-Easter now – and perhaps would feel a bit out of place were we to continue to sing the great and joy-filled Easter hymns and anthems here in church.  Moving right along, as we say.  And yet, this story of Tabitha seems to be telling us – wait!  Not so fast!

         This story points out to us that the power of the resurrection need not diminish until it is but a footnote of ancient history.  Rather, we discover thatr the power of the resurrection builds over time.  We discover that not only Jesus can call the dead back to life.  Now Peter can do the same thing.  Tabitha, get up!  Rise again! 

         Like ocean waves that build and build until they crash into shore, so it is with the power of the resurrection. Will it travel for over 2000 years? Yes!  Will the power of the resurrection reach these post-modern days? Sure it will!  Could it be that God whispers Peter’s words to us as well? Get up!  Rise again!

         I know so.  I trust that the power of the resurrection does not diminish but rather builds. “The good news (then) is about (us) bringing life where there is death, love where there is hate, healing where there is brokenness,” as Uniting Church of Australia pastor, William Loader, notes. The good news and the power of the resurrection is about us helping “communities make their way out of traps of poverty, enemies move towards reconciliation, despairing people finding meaning again.” Get up!  Rise again!  Don’t you see? The power of the resurrection does not diminish but rather builds – and it builds in u!. 

         There is a fable of a young woman who had a baby boy.  Soon after his birth, a ragged old man came to her and offered to grant her one wish on behalf of her son. Wanting only the best for her baby, the woman wished that her son would always be loved by everyone he met. The old man said, "so be it," and vanished.

         As the boy grew, everyone loved him so much that he never lacked for anything. Yet, things did not turn out as expected. As adored and admired as the young man was, he experienced a terrible emptiness within him. He could have anything he wanted, just by asking, but he had no real friends. He never knew the joy of a day's work or an achievement, richly rewarded. His neighbors took care of all his needs. The young man became cynical, jaded and selfish.

         Finally, the day came when his aged mother died. At the funeral, the same mysterious old man appeared and offered the young man one wish. The young man took him up on his offer and asked that his mother's original wish for him be changed. Rather than being loved by everyone he met, the young man asked that he be given the power to love everyone he encountered. And, as the story goes, from that day forward he knew happiness beyond measure.

         I will tell you a secret – a theological secret. The power of the resurrection lies in our freedom to love – and it is stronger than any other power.

         So - get up! The powers of this world do not have the final word because you are free to rise again and love. Get up, and continue the work that Jesus began – trusting that, because you have that freedom to rise again and love, you have the power to put the world back together in the way God intended it. 

         Get up, and let the power of the resurrection grow inside of you.  Get up – and take the cup of freedom, so that you can rise again and again in love.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C., Raymond, Maine