Scripture: Psalm 23, Acts 9:36-43, & Revelation 7:9-17
Given on 05/12/2019
My grandmother passed away without much warning when I was 13 years old. It was almost exactly a calendar year since my granddad had crossed the Jordan and there were not a lot of signs, at least as I remember it, that she was getting close to the end. She was an incredibly active woman with connections in my hometown that spanned generations of Lumbertonians and she was beloved within the community. Almost immediately, my house was inundated with visitors, most bringing casseroles of one kind or another, some bringing dessert, all wishing to take care of, to offer love to my family as we prepared to release her into the arms of Jesus. And if I close my eyes, I can still cast my sights back to the visitation, back to the seemingly endless line of mourners and well-wishers that had gathered at Biggs Funeral home. More than anything else, though, I can see the older ladies of our community all gathered around my grandmother as we prepared to say goodbye to her. In my hometown, she was a part of a group of older women they called the “Tough, old bird society” and they had come together at the funeral home, as visitation was going on and family had taken their place near the casket, to pay their respects as well. I have thought a lot about that image of the older women offering a final bit of love and appreciation to my grandmother as they, too, helped usher her from life to new life as I read another time in which women gathered to stand with one of their own as they went to be with God in eternity. Or so they thought.
I have to imagine that the room must have been heavy ladened with feelings of loss and sadness as the one they called Tabitha passed on from life to death. You know, there is a solemnity that comes with being present with someone when they are in the final moments of his or her life. There is a certain degree of resignation on the countenance of everyone present. Then there is the actual moment of passing and for a brief second there is a stillness that passes over most folks. There is the knowledge that wherever the departed has gone, that they are finally at rest and whatever pain and hurt and struggle and strain and ache has been woven into their living days has reached conclusion and they can truly dwell in peace. It is a moment in which the space between the physical world and the spiritual realm becomes razor thin and you can almost see the departed pass through from one to the next. Then, of course, those who remain are snapped back to the present and the feelings of bereavement begin to overwhelm. The awareness of the actual finality of the biological life becomes a reality. But it’s also a moment of deep intimacy between the persons present—a shared kinship, almost a familial bond formed by those present with one another as they embrace, as they cry, as they are each completely vulnerable in the moment. This is the vision that we are given of the room in which Tabitha passes from life into new life.
And, you know, we aren’t really offered any indications of her age when this happens or even what has brought about her death. Perhaps it was that she was moving on in the years and that this death came at the end of a long and well-lived life filled with good works and acts of charity. Maybe this was just the biological reality of the physical body coming to its natural end. We don’t really know. What we do know about this disciple called Tabitha, one of only a handful of women disciples who were even identified by name throughout scripture, is that she was clearly beloved within her community. What was we do know is that she was clearly essential to its functioning on a day-to-day basis. What we do know is that she was clearly one of those people (and each community has them) one of those people who devote themselves, who give of themselves, who offer all their time, talent, and resources towards taking care of the least of these. And we know all of this because we are told that all around her deathbed is of those who would have been considered the least of these in her time and place gathering all around her, openly weeping and displaying the tunics, the clothing, that Tabitha had made for each of them. Gathered around her bed is those that society regarded as having little importance, no ability to own property, and scarce opportunity to even garner the necessary resources to feed and clothe themselves and that’s what makes this scene around the deathbed of Tabitha so poignant, so intimate, so pregnant with love. It was these ladies, who after having been taken care of by their sister in Christ for all those years now took care of her, took care of her body as they washed, as they prepared her for her burial, they were only offering to her the same concern that she had given them. For it was Tabitha that cared for each of these ladies. It was Tabitha who gave these ladies the dignity that comes with having a new set of clothes to wear. It was Tabitha who offer the love of Christ to each widow that she met regardless of their station in life. For Tabitha, each of these women was a daughter of God. Formed by God in their mothers’ wombs. Each made and bearing the image of God in a broken and fallen world that declared each of them to be wholly expendable. It was Tabitha that looked down at the castoffs of first century Palestine and said, “Arise! You matter. To God, to me, you matter!” And think about what that must have sounded like to those ladies. Think about what it meant to each one of them to have someone take the time to talk to them, to care for them, to give them assistance without making them feel lowly and unworthy. Think about how far a kind word, a gesture, a smile goes even today in this space. And in her love, she had elicited love from them.
And in that love for Tabitha, word had reached the other disciples just a couple of towns over and Peter had rushed to be by her side. And seeing her to be passed away, seeing the grieving widows surrounding her, feeling the spirit of God moving in him in new and powerful ways, he steps out in faith. And now alone and firmly believing that all that he has asked of God will be given to him in real and tangible way, he prays and then with the strength of his conviction, his faith, with everything in him, he commands this disciple of Christ to arise and we are told that her eyes were opened and seeing Peter, she sat up and he helped her to reunite with her sisters in the faith, those widows, those saints, those followers of Jesus who had gotten to see that resurrection was indeed possible, that life could still emerge from death, and that there is always a call to arise in the power of the spirit to continue to be about the work of Jesus in the world.
We in this place have something of the same experience in the midst of Easter season. We have watched as the one who was dead is brought back to life. We have watched as he has appeared to his followers over and over again and comforted them in their grief and offered them peace and the Spirit. We have seen him give them a new mission and we have watched them depart from that upper room in which they were terrified and certain that they were soon to be arrested by the temple authorities too, to be handed over to the Romans, too. And we have seen them transformed into the most powerful force the world has ever seen. And because of all we have seen can now stare into the depths of the impossible and witness the possible emerging from it and coming to life again and again and again in our midst. That is our faith made manifest. And that faith becomes basis in which we encounter the rest of the world, in which we encounter God’s creation and it is both life-shaping and life altering. It is both transformative and solidifying, comforting and challenging. It gives us the ability to be a post-Easter people, to believe in life in the face of certain death, to see the realm of God emerging all around us, to throw open our doors to the world because, in the end, having that faith, having that vision, having the gospel becomes our most important contribution to the world. It is our one grain of spiritual sand placed on the scale of the universe believing that one grain, one inch, one moment is all God needs to do amazing and wondrous things.And so it is that our faith gives us both hope to stare into the most bleak of circumstances and the vision to believe that we can alter those circumstances in a way that is more just, more peace-fulled, more loving. Our Faith should never allow us be contented with the current moment but rather, it should always propels us forward to seek out our own community of the least of these and give them the dignity that comes with being children of God. Our faith, our vision should never allow us to be walled off from the rest of the world and not concerned for what happens outside our little circles. To become apathetic about the place in which so many of our brothers and sisters have found themselves. Whether they find themselves in the throes of addiction or the systems of poverty. Whether they are seeking a place of comfort in the world and or just a place to spend the night. It is our call to follow Peter, to follow Tabitha, to follow Jesus and be about the task of changing the world one moment, one encounter, one person at a time.
This is rarely a simple task. In the present moment, as a culture, we have, too easily, withdrawn into our little enclaves of sameness, letting the rest of the world fend for itself. But that’s not at the heart of religion. That’s not at the heart of faith. Faith, always, always, always, lifts you up from the muck and the mire and sends you out into the world to do the same for another. It always reassures you with that still small voice reminding you of the presence of God, of the love of God, and then calls on you to do the same for the next one that you meet, and the next, and the next. Faith is always in motion, never settled, never satisfied.” Faith speaks to people when they reach the darkest part of the dark night of the soul lifting them up when they cannot lift themselves up and that is powerful. And yet, faith does not allow persons to grow stagnant, does not leave people in the same place for their whole life, does not allow a person to rest in their comfort. Faith exists that we might peer out into the deepest darkness and see light. It exists that we can lift up those who have fallen in our midst and given them a new hope. It exists that we might see life emerging out of death again and again and again. And it exists that we might as a church, as a people, as a world hear the word of Peter and with Tabitha, arise.
Because death is often hard. It’s not something we do a real good job of talking about. Death is hard because it is hard to envision a part of us falling away in order for Christ to be born in us anew, in order for us to experience the newness of life that is offered in Christ Jesus. It is hard and that is why we gather in this place as a people, as a community, as a family. That’s why we gather as the widows did around the body of their departed friend. Because it is hard to ponder death and we cannot do it by ourselves because. At every stage of life, in the midst of death, even as we stand before God, take our seat at the great feast of heaven, experience the spirit rising up in us again and anew, we do so surrounded by the company of the faithful who have brought us to this point. We do so surrounded by our brothers and sisters in this place who, with us, grieve loss, and celebrate gain. Who walk with us when we don’t know the way and who carry us when our strength has passed away. Who dry our tears and laugh with us. Who share in joy and mourn in sorrow. And who, more than all of that, help us walk with us up the mountain of the spirit of God as with each passing day and step we grow closer to God, as we ascend one rung after the next up Jacob’s lagged, as we walk through the valley of darkness. For we know that it is those here in this place and those who have led us here that stand with us when all else falls away and we are solely in the presence of God. And thanks be to God for those who faithfully dwell with us. Thanks be to God for all those whose faithfulness in their own lives led us to this moment. Thanks be to God for the martyrs and saints that preserved the faith when it could have just fallen away into the dustbin of history. And glory be to God in the highest and on earth, peace amongst all God’s children. Alleluia, amen!
*-Image is The Raising of Tabitha by Masolino de Panicale, 1424-1427