A Disciple Named Tabitha
Acts 9: 36-43 Rev. Marianne Niesen April 25, 2010
She was known by her Aramaic name - ‘Tabitha’ - and also by her Greek name - ‘Dorcas.’ Just the fact that she had two names and was, therefore, well known in two very different communities tells us that Tabitha had an impact on her world. Luke tells us that she was a ‘disciple.’ His use of that word is significant. It was a word most often used to describe men who were faithful leaders in the Christian community. We know, of course, that there were women disciples but they didn’t get much mention in the written texts. Tabitha, however, beat the odds! And, it seems it was because of her life-changing, radical commitment to (dare I say it?) social justice. She dedicated her life to the poor and outcasts of society through ‘good works and acts of charity.’ Luke tells us that, when Tabitha died, she was especially mourned by the widows. At the time, widows were certainly among the lost and the least in society. Tabitha’s dedication to social justice changed their lives. Her death very likely meant death for many of them as well. They - and the others she helped - couldn’t long survive without her tireless efforts on their behalf. Of course, Tabitha’s story - and the fate of the widows and the other poor who depended on her - took quite a turn when Peter arrived and brought her back to life. We presume, of course, that she then continued her discipleship with more determination than ever.
Still, eventually, Tabitha had to die again. That’s why, for me, the compelling thing about Tabitha’s story is found in what she did with her life - or lives - however many she got! She was a living witness that God is and has always been an equal opportunity employer. God chose - and chooses - even women to be disciples, to be leaders. She was a living witness to God’s call to a ministry of social justice in the world. She was a living witness to God’s desire to heal a broken world - through the likes of you and me. Certainly being raised from death is a neat thing - but, far more impressive is the way Tabitha brought life and hope and grace to the death-dealing events with which so many people lived every day. The 8 short verses that tell her story remind us of our call to do the same. A tall order indeed!
Several years ago, I came across a delightful book called the The 60-Second Novelist by Dan Hurley. Hurley began his novel writing career on April 24, 1983 when, at about 2 p.m., he carried his 28 pound 1953 Royal typewriter and a folding chair down in front of the Old Water Tower on Chicago’s Michigan Avenue, sat down with the typewriter in his lap and taped a sign to the back of it that read: 60-Second Novels, Written While You Wait. This is a true story, by the way. Dan Hurley sat there in a flannel suit and bow tie and asked people if they wouldn’t like a 60-second novel written about their life. At first, the reaction was incredulous. Another crazy sitting on the streets of Chicago. But people didn’t think him crazy for long because Dan Hurley did a very simple thing. When the curious or the angry or the reluctant stopped by to see what he was doing, Dan asked them questions about their lives - their hopes and dreams, disappointments and successes. Then he did the most unusual thing of all - he listened - 200 percent, he says - to the answers they gave. And then, in less than 60 seconds, he typed a novel that captured their story. Not verbatim, mind you. In his own words: . . . they gave me their trust. I, in turn, gave them stories that were neither fiction nor nonfiction but some hitherto unknown confection of fact, fiction, fable, bibliotherapy, Socratic dialogue and Dear Abby. Dan’s method caught on and he eventually listened to stories on street corners, in shopping malls, convenience stores and farmhouses. He has written stories of the rich and famous and the poor and destitute from Hawaii to California to Chicago to New York. From his book called The 60-Second Novelist: What 22,613 People Taught Me About Life, here’s one of his novels:
It looks like just another case of a bored housewife with no interest except buying and shopping.
How far from the truth!
Susan was married twice before. First she had a big husband and whenever he got mad, she was the punching bag. He konked out one of her lungs, permanently. This is hard to picture because she is such a cute blonde woman with nice blue eyes.
Then she married a cop to "protect" her. So much for wishful thinking.
Now she is remarried again, this time happily at last. Her husband worked for 10 years for Allied, until he was laid off. Now he works nights at Niagara Mohawk. So Susan works days at Hess’s, from 9 to 4, in the electronics department. And then she comes home to this combined family of two children of hers, three of his (and all five theirs). She tries to sort them out, solve the little arguments, and feed them. And then she has nothing else to do. Husband isn’t home. And she needs to exercise for the remaining lung. She’s got to walk. But if she goes outside the kids start running, and she could half-croak chasing them. So the mall here is the only place she can come to, where she can walk and at least look for things they need, and bring all the kids, because she doesn’t believe in leaving her kids at home.
So basically, her being at this mall is a heroic victory against incredible difficulties and challenges, and I think everyone in the mall should stand up and clap every time she walks by.
The End. Amazing, isn’t it, how a few words can capture the "heart" of things? It’s a little bit like what Luke did in the story of Tabitha from the Acts of the Apostles. In a sense, Tabitha’s story is an interlude - between the conversion of Paul and the other miraculous events that were still to come. Hers is a ‘60-Second Novel’, if you will - the whole of her life captured in but a few words - words like disciple and devoted to good works and the widows mourned her passing. It would be easy to overlook the story of Tabitha. In fact, most have. There is no church named after her, no prayers in which she is mentioned. Few sermons will focus on her today. There are just these 8 verses. Still, isn’t it amazing that of all the people who died that day, Peter came to her home and intervened on her behalf. Why? Perhaps because Peter knew a great secret. That there was something in life that only Tabitha could do and even God had to give her back for a while. Short story or not, what we learn is that Tabitha mattered. Who she was and how she lived mattered. Her life was an interlude that mattered greatly to real people and her story reminds us that each and every one of us has a major role to play in the drama that Jesus began so long ago.
Whether you read the story of Tabitha or one of the 60-Second Novels by Dan Hurley, what becomes clear is the utter uniqueness of each story. Listen to another: Honest Abe.
Abe is honest. He’s a man of his word. As a CPA, he had to be honest. People depended on him.
He was honest, too, when he promised to Margery fifty-eight years ago that he would always love her and stand by her. They’ve been married that long, and now they have two children and three grandchildren.
But he was never more honest than the day, six years ago, when his oldest daughter’s husband, Fred, was in the hospital and Abe went to see him.
"You need a haircut," said Fred, joking.
But Abe replied in utter seriousness: "I won’t get a haircut until the day you walk out of here."
Fred never did walk out of there. He was carried out. He died.
And so Abe felt that he owed it to Fred to keep his word. That’s why he has never cut his hair, why he has a long white ponytail - this conservative CPA.
It is his white badge of honesty, devotion and love.
Or this one . . . titled: I’m Really Satisfied With the Way I’m Living Now;
Clement is 40 years old and living in a dumpster. "It’s shelter and I don’t feel bad," says Clement. "It’s four walls and a ceiling and a floor. The only thing it’s missing is a kitchen and a bathroom."
Clement says these last words with an impish smile. His unlined face seems younger, except for his graying beard. Clement has lived here in this dumpster, in a lot where dumpsters are stored at the corner of Bay and Court Streets in Brooklyn, for a year and a half, since breaking up with his wife and discovering that he really didn’t like the shelters. He’s not a drug addict or an alcoholic. "The only vices I have are cigarettes and a little marijuana," he says.
Clement makes his money as a ‘scrapper.’ He finds cans, bottles, semiprecious metals - anything he can turn in for cash. He also cleans out people’s basements or whatever they want. Amazingly, he earns up to $800 - $900 a month and saves it in a bank account his sister keeps for him. He’s not on welfare and won’t beg, he says, mostly as a matter of pride.
"I know I could do a whole lot better," Clement says. "But I’m content the way I’m living. Not happy, happy. Just content.
With Christmas coming up, and the spirit of miracles and God’s grace saving us - all of us, Christians and Jews and Muslims and non-believers alike, black and white and every other race, men and women, Park Avenue millionaires and welfare recipients in housing projects - may we all find the contentment in our own homes that Clement has found in his."
Not Happy Happy, Just Content.
We live in a time when it is fashionable to say that no one is indispensable. But I wonder if our real challenge today isn’t exactly the opposite. I wonder if, in the midst of all the complications of modern life, we don’t need to become convinced that we are in fact very important. That God has given each one of us gifts, unique gifts, that are absolutely essential to the building up of the world community. That every one of us has a story, a unique story, and that how we live it matters - every bit as much as Tabitha mattered to the widows in that early Christian community. There is something only you can do in this world. And if you don’t do it, it simply won’t get done. There are gifts that you - and you alone have - and God needs you to use them - and me to use mine. Most of us won’t raise people from the dead - but we can help the widows. We can feed the poor. We can listen. We treat one another with respect and love - even those who, at first glance, we might judge rather harshly - like Clement or Abe or the woman who lets her kids run loose in the mall. Even our Native American Ministry Sunday is a way to honor and celebrate differences - and the gifts they bring. In fact, the diversity of humankind is among God’s gifts to us though we have tended to be slow to appreciate it.
What is the unique thing that is yours to give? Part of being Christian is doing something, giving something in response to God’s gift of life to us. That’s just part of the deal. Our responses are as varied as we are. Some of us are teachers, some preachers, some bring food for Food Share, some work at God’s Love. Some of you volunteer to run the sound system for worship, some do music, others help in the office. Some can go to Haiti or Mozambique and others can support them. Some dance and drum. What is it for you? Whatever it is, know this - it is of vital importance. Take it seriously. Do it well. And from time to time, ask yourself - if someone were to write a 60-Second Novel of my life, would it include the important stuff? The stuff that matters? What would be the moral of my story? And if you don’t get the answer you want, you may need to look deeper and wider to the indispensable thing that only you can do.
In the great scheme of things, all of our lives are just short stories. Some of us may have more years than others but no one has any less responsibility. Each one of us is a disciple with a name and a calling There is something only you, only I, can give, can do, can be. What is it? Even as we recognize the unique gifts of Native Americans today, may we each have the courage to claim our place in living out the journey of faith and service that God has entrusted to us all.
Acts 9: 36-43 Rev. Marianne Niesen April 25, 2010
