The Marginal Missionary, Tabitha

Pastor Amy's sermon from the Fourth Sunday of Easter, May 11, 2025

Sermon: Fourth Sunday of Easter, May 11, 2025

Grace to you and peace from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

There are lots of riches in our readings today. Many directions we could walk. Do we look to Jesus in our gospel, talking about his sheep who know his voice and follow him? Do we ascend to the heavens in Revelation and worship the lamb who is also our shepherd? And God, who will wipe away every tear. Do we slow ourselves down beside the still waters of Psalm 23? And take a rest in the fluffy grass with our shepherd by our side.

Truly, Mother's Day in the Western world can be one of the most challenging days to preach. Not only are there many paths we could choose in our readings today, but we also want to acknowledge the day without overemphasizing it. We want to make room for grief, pain, and loss without losing sight of the blessing of parenting altogether. We don't want this day to feel exclusive by any means.

This is the dissonance I felt in the gospel today. On some level, it feels like Jesus is the one being exclusive. Like the people around him are destined to be left out of the flock, so they might as well not try to listen to Jesus' shepherding voice at all. So, it helps to place this moment in the context of the rest of the chapter and what happens after our lesson today.

Jesus has just spoken at length with the Jewish authorities after he healed the man born blind, and they kicked him out of the temple, out of his own community. Jesus returns to the temple for a festival day, and instead of being free to worship and walk around, a crowd of authorities encircles him. They demand he say he is the Messiah in plain speech. They're not interested in learning from Jesus or listening to what he has to say. Their ears are only open to hear Jesus speak blasphemy.

After Jesus finishes his response to them, they actually take up stones to kill him. And he asks, “For which deed do you attempt to kill me? That time, I healed a man born blind. Was it for my teaching forgiveness and giving to the poor? What's the real problem here?” In this way, Jesus is saying, “My works speak for themselves. If you believed what you have seen and heard, you would know the answer to your question.”

When we do what God commands and love our neighbors as ourselves, we act with the love that the Spirit gives us through Jesus Christ. The same spirit of generosity and care enlivened Tabitha's ministry from our story in Acts. All the readings are beautiful, meaningful passages, yet I am drawn to Tabitha's story today.

I imagine some of us may not know this narrative at all. When we hear this lesson, we may wonder how many resurrection stories there are. I think of Jesus raising Jairus' daughter and the widow's son in the town of Nain. Probably the most famous is Jesus raising Lazarus in the gospel of John, right after this. There's, of course, Elijah raising the young boy in the Old Testament, and then there's the story of Tabitha.

She is so interesting, unique, and surrounded by mystery. She has some fascinating things about who she is. I think Tabitha is an incredible woman who deserves her moment today.

Tabitha has two names. Dorcas is her Greek name. Unlike some women and girls in the Bible, she gets two names because she lives in two different worlds and builds bridges between them.

Since Joppa was a port city, it was where cultures and languages converged. She probably had Greek and Aramaic-speaking friends and was so widely known that she could weave her way into more than one group.

New Testament scholar Matt Skinner offers the example of a pastor who's greeted in the grocery store as Lucia by some and Lucy by others. She lives in two different worlds.

We also know Tabitha is the only person named in the Bible as a disciple in the feminine - not even Mary Magdalene or Mary the mother of Jesus. This is not to be taken lightly. No wonder two men were sent to find Peter to bring her back to life, back to her community. The women who mourn her and show Peter the tunics Tabitha made are not paid mourners, as some of the other resurrection stories have. They are devastated by the loss of this legendary lady. She's a widow who cared for all widows and the poor herself. Many, especially those on the margins of society, would have felt her absence.

As a maker of clothing, Tabitha knew her neighbors. She didn't just know them in passing. She knew their body shapes and their measurements. Thinking about the intimate knowledge that one would need to make clothes for someone. That shows the close-knit community she was intricately woven into.

I imagine some of you had mothers or grandmothers who made clothes for you. I've had pajamas made for me before. It's a fantastic thing, just to have clothes made for you. I think of our sewing group, who are able to do those things and have that skill set. I've never learned to sew, but I find it fascinating that someone could know someone that well to make clothes for them. It's amazing.

Tabitha was there when anything shifted in someone's life in the town. She took in stitches in the clothes for those who were sick and had lost weight. She expanded the fabric of tunics for those who became pregnant. And I can imagine she helped clothe those who had died, helping them to be buried in their favorite outfits.

I hadn't considered it this way until I started spending time with Tabitha this week. In some ways, she was their matriarch, their mentor, their motherly shepherd. Even though Tabitha was already gone, and they'd washed her body and laid it out, the town of Joppa sends for Peter. Peter, the famed healer and fellow disciple of Jesus. They have hope that the power of the spirit will flow through him and he will bring her back.

Teaching and preaching about miracles is a complicated matter. Many of us wish we could be graced with a miracle on a regular basis. Some especially wish for a loved one to be brought back to life like Tabitha was that day. We may not receive miracles in spades like they experienced in Jesus' time or during the apostles' ministry, but we can pray for God's guidance and healing hands to hold us.

In some cases, we are gifted with wholeness through the village, the friends and family who show up, the body of Christ in this world. I've seen this happen countless times here in our congregation: A text chain emerges when someone goes to the hospital, and cards of love and support shower them with care. A need for food arises in the soup ministry, folks gear up and show up. Someone calls to boost another's spirits and help them know they are not alone.

Still, as humans, we may be tempted to curl in on ourselves to feel isolated in our particular pain, thinking no one else could ever feel this way. We close our blinds so no one can get close enough to start to heal the hurt. In contrast, the women and townspeople of Joppa were vulnerable with Peter. They cried, they shared their love of Tabitha with anyone who would listen. The men told Peter to come without delay, without any real expectation or explanation of the situation. They had not applied burial spices or anointed her body yet because they held out hope.

They hope that God can and will act in big and small ways. The Holy Spirit would honor this saint in their midst and breathe life back into her for her shepherding and leadership in continuing to care for the community.

The moment she was shown to be alive brought many to faith. The spirit brought her from death to life, and it is this spirit who brings us from our deaths back to life again. I imagine Tabitha holding her people close and continuing her mission of love and generosity, expanding beyond Joppa and sharing her story with the world.

We have so many Tabithas in this congregation and community—men and women who will give you the shirt off their back, people who make things with their hands. They've graced this congregation with their craftsmanship. Even after they're gone, they are shown to be alive in their works, in the lives they've touched, in the legacy of their discipleship that we get to stand in the wake of.

It is our God of resurrection and new life, who gifts us with each other. Dear church, with stories of hope and belonging like Tabitha, who inspire us to continue sharing our gifts and love with all who need to be lifted up. This is the resurrection life. This is the community of God after the resurrection. We are given to one another in this way.

Thank God for this marginal missionary, Tabitha, who shows us how much God loves us and wants us to be brought back to one another and mended together.

In Jesus' name. Amen.