The Rev. Carol S. Wedell
April 29, 2007
There is something about attending a funeral that puts things into perspective. As family and friends gather to remember the life of a loved one, memories flood back. "Remember when he.... Remember the time....I'll never forget...." When we gather together as a community of faith for a memorial service or funeral, the years of a life are summed up in a few words.
If we return to the cemetery later on, there are even fewer words, these days. Gravestones may carry nothing more than the person's name, date of birth and date of death. Occasionally you may see the words, "beloved husband" or "loving mother." I read this week of the epitaph of Mel Blanc, the man behind the voices of cartoon characters Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck. His grave marker appropriately read, "That's all folks!"
One of the more common phrases I hear as I meet with people at receptions following memorial services is "He (or she) led a good life." And it made me wonder - just what is a "good" life?
Our culture is fairly clear about what constitutes a good life: material wealth and financial security. Most of us are astute enough to throw in physical health and perhaps decent relationships. But if you walked up to most people on the street and asked them what a "good" life was, I'm guessing it would center around money and what it can buy.
Our reading from the book of Acts this morning paints a very different picture of the good life. In the name of Jesus, Peter has just healed a man who had been bedridden for eight years. Now Peter is urgently called to Joppa. Luke interrupts his description of the fast and furious expansion of the early church long enough to notice the death of one particular woman. Listen for God's word as it comes to us from the book of Acts, the ninth chapter, beginning with the 36th verse....
In many ways, the scene which Luke sets is familiar to any of us who have experienced death. Those who grieve have gathered, attended to details and called those who needed to know - in this case, Peter. But there are some important details to notice.
As the story opens we are given two names for the deceased woman: Tabitha, her name in Aramaic, and Dorcas, her name in Greek. Right away this should signal to us that Luke, the writer of Acts, views her with very high regard. Tabitha, which means "gazelle," was likely the name used by her immediate family, her childhood name. Dorcas, the name used more often, would have been how she was known in the Greek-speaking community.
Yet even before we learn her name, we are told something even more important. She is a disciple. That may not sound all that significant to you After all, the book of Acts follows the growth of the early church, the experiences of the earliest Christian believers. Yet nowhere else in the entire New Testament is the word "disciple" used in reference to a woman. This is the only time that the feminine form of the Greek word is used. As often as Luke includes lists of women among those who were followers of Jesus, no one else - not Mary or Martha or Priscilla - not a single other woman is called a disciple.
What that tells us is that in some very important way, Dorcas stood out. She was different. She made a contribution to the early church that was noteworthy and important enough to be written down.
Clearly, she was not singled out because she was a dynamic preacher or learned teacher. She didn't found churches like Paul or Peter. What does Luke tell us? That Dorcas was devoted to good works and acts of charity. (Acts 9:36b). Her tombstone, her life, could be summed up in this brief description: disciple, devoted to good works, and generous in giving to others. An apt description of the kind of life that is "good" in God's eyes, don't you think?
These aren't the kinds of qualities that make the newspaper or the history books. Yet those very qualities are enough that when the disciples (and we know now that meant the men!) heard that Peter was nearby, they asked him to come right away - and he did. Peter did not hesitate to come when he received word that Dorcas had died. Either Peter knew Dorcas personally or he understood the significance of her death to that community.
Peter walks in to a room overflowing with emotion. Grief and sadness are palpable. Clearly, Dorcas was beloved by many. These days, when someone dies it is fairly common to put together a picture collage of their life - or perhaps even a video. We may display items that help us understand something about the deceased and about what was important to them. The choice about what is displayed often says a great deal about the kind of life they chose to live.
And here is where we learn what made Dorcas so important to the church in Joppa - indeed to the entire community. Instead of photos - which of course, they didn't have - a group of widows are weeping and wearing clothing that Dorcas has made for them. The clothes on their backs say everything about this beloved disciple.
For in a society in which widows were extremely vulnerable, having little access to economic structures, Dorcas had cared for them. Possibly out of her own resources, she had seen that they had what they needed, and had lovingly provided the most practical of necessities -- clothing. She had reached out with compassion and concern for those who had nowhere else to turn.
So it is indeed a crisis for these widows, and quite possibly for the community as a whole, for Dorcas to die. Who will care for them? Who will insure that their needs are met? In Judaism giving food, money or clothing to the poor was -- and is --a highly honored activity - yet it wasn't always done. Earlier in Acts we learned that the widows and orphans had been neglected in Jerusalem. That's when the early church leaders got together and appointed deacons.
Dorcas was one who let the compassion of Christ live through her. Compassion is not merely being nice or kind. It's a whole lot more than that. Compassion literally means to "suffer with", to put yourself in another person's place-which is exactly what it meant for God to come in human form. So when Dorcas was compassionate to these local widows, she was showing the compassion of Christ in a practical, real way. Of course Luke calls her a disciple - for she brought the gospel to life by the way she lived. For Dorcas, the good life was about what she gave away.
Peter sent everyone out of the room, prayed, and then calling Dorcas by her childhood name, says, "Tabitha, get up." She sits up, takes Peter's extended hand, and goes to the widows and others who have gathered. As God acts through Peter, we are shown that resurrection power is available to us, as well.
Remember the Sears advertisement? "The good life at a great price. Guaranteed."
Oh that it were that easy! Washing machines (even fancy front-loaders), big-screen televisions, riding lawn mowers - do those really comprise a "good life"? Not by the standard set by Dorcas. I'm struck that of all the stories recorded in scripture, this is one of them.
I've noticed recently how many of the "experts" in a wide variety of fields are my age or younger. When I look at leadership in the broader church, or published authors, I almost always see the names of seminary classmates. These folks have done "big" things with their lives. In truth, I sometimes find myself a bit envious! Yet if we listen to this morning's reading, success is not the definition of a good life, either.
A good life is one in which we live with compassion. That's it. It may not be glamorous or showy, it probably won't make us wealthy, and it sure won't make us famous. But in God's eyes, that's what constitutes a good life - a life given away on behalf of others.
Presbyterian pastor, Jon M. Walton writes, "A church without men and women who are willing to follow the example of Dorcas is an impoverished church...Dorcas became a symbol of resurrection life in the Joppa church because her simple acts of compassion and caring expressed in a visible and tangible way something of the incarnation and resurrection of Christ." (Christian Century, April 17, 2007, p. 16)
I've known a few folks like Dorcas in my life - haven't you? The one who takes a meal to the new mom and dad, knowing how challenging those early days of parenting can be. The folks who put a Christmas tree up for a family who do not have the health or resources to do it for themselves. The neighbor who takes the toddler upstairs for a bath as a young grieving widow sits in shock. The folks who invite a newcomer to lunch after church. The people who spend Easter at North Church, driving through a snow storm to serve lunch to the homeless. The doctor who arranges care for someone without health insurance. The folks who call to offer rides to church or to the grocery store. The friend who sits and listens to the same story over and over again from one suffering from dementia. You could name many more, I'm sure.
Friends, the church - the world - needs all of us to follow the model of Dorcas in pursuing a truly good life. And I think the beloved psalm we read together this morning gives us an idea how to do that. For those who feel safe in the shepherd's arms have the antidote to a life of fear that leads us to believe that a good life is one that can be purchased. As those called, led and claimed by Christ, we can let go of fear - and freely live lives in service to others.
Barbara Brown Taylor puts it well, "to be where God is - to follow Jesus - means going beyond the limits of our own comfort and safety. It means receiving our lives as gifts instead of guarding them as our own possessions. It means sharing the life we have been given instead of bottling it for our own consumption. It means giving up the notion that we can build dams to contain the bright streams of our lives and letting them go instead, letting them swell their banks and spill their wealth until they carry us down to where they run, full and growing fuller, into the wide and glittering sea." (The Seeds of Heaven. Westminster, 2004).
Let us dare to live a truly good life - for Christ's sake.
(With thanks and credit to Carlos Wilton, and his ideas in Lectionary Preaching Workbook, Year C).
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