“Hope Gives Life” // Profiles In Hope: Tabitha/Dorcas Wildwood Mennonite Church // Sept 15, 2019 // Joe Heikman

“She’s Alive??” // puppet show // a story of Hope from Acts 9:36-43 Two kids, talking together about exciting events in the adult world. Dori (very excited, talking fast): No way! No way, I just can’t believe it, it’s too good to be

true! Simon: What are you talking about? What’s too good to be true? Dori: Didn’t you hear? About Tabbi’s grandma? Simon: Tabbi’s grandma? What about her? Dori: Well, you heard that she was sick, right? Simon: Yeah, how’s she doing? Dori: Well, she died! Simon: She died? Dori: Yep, she died! Kicked the bucket. Bought the farm. Simon (interrupting): Dori! This is our friend’s grandma you’re talking about, have some

compassion! Dori (continues over the interruption): Gave up the ghost. Dead as a doornail. We all

saw it! LIke I said, it’s too good to be true!

Simon: Dori! How could you say that!! Wait, what? Too good to be true? What are you

talking about? Dori: She died--but she didn’t stay dead! Simon: She didn’t what??? Dori: She didn’t stay dead! I mean, it was all tragic and stuff, tears all around, funeral

flowers and whatnot, but then this suuuuper religious dude came and--boom!! Funeral cancelled! I hope they didn’t cancel the pickles and cold cuts though… those are good with a resurrection party just as much as a funeral, right?

Simon: Dori! I don’t understand! Start over, from the beginning, slooowly. Dori: Okay. Deep breaths. Got it. So. You know Tabbi’s grandma, right? Simon: Yep. Aunty Tabitha, she always asks us to call her that. She’s sooo nice! Dori: I know, right? Everybody thinks so. Well anyway, she got sick a while ago,

something like...a nimmenonica? Ammonia? Maybe she caught it from cleaning too much or something?

Simon: You mean, pneumonia. It’s an infection of the lungs. Dori: Well look at you, all doctor--y and stuff… Am I telling the story or are you? Simon (rolling her eyes): Go on… Dori: Well, the ammonia in her lungs, it must have gotten really bad. My mom was so

worried about her, she went over there almost every day. She stayed right there for two days straight at the end. So yesterday morning, my mom came in and told us that it was all over, Aunty Tabitha had gone, passed away.

Simon: Oh my. Dori: I know, right? Everybody was so sad. They put on their mourning clothes and

called the rabbi. My mom said she had to go wash the body, I guess the ammonia wasn’t good for cleaning up after all?

Simon: Sure, we’ll go with that. Keep going…

Dori: Well I wanted to go help with the washing, but Mom said I’m not old enough for that kind of thing. But I did get to go over later, and all the ladies from the whole town were crowded into the house, everybody crying and saying the most lovely things about what a great woman Aunty Tabitha was and all. I hope you say nice things about me like that when I’m dead, won’t you?

Simon: This isn’t about you, Dori! Focus: get to the unbelievable part! Dori: Well I heard these two guys talking, they said there was some famous preacher

man over in Lydda? Some kind of priest or sorcerer or something, Peter A Something. They said they’ve heard that he’s been doing miracles all over the place. Lydda’s only like a 3-hour walk, so they left last night to go see if this Peter A guy would come to help. Not like anybody thought he would bother, ‘cause like what’s he gonna do to help a dead old lady?

Simon: Dori! Have some respect! Dori: What! I told you this is a happy story in the end, so save your respect for someone

who needs it! Anywho, this Peter dude, Peter Postal, that was his name. Peter A Postal. He should think about going into the mail business with a name like that…. Anywho, like I said, we didn’t think he would come, but he did come, this morning. And all the ladies told him about Tabitha, showed him all of the clothing that she made.

Simon: Yeah, Aunty Tabitha made me this shirt! Quite a design, very futuristic don’t ya

think?. Dori: Yep, she’s definitely ahead of the times! So they showed Peter all the stuff that

she made for us and told her about how awesome she was and how much she meant to all of us. She’s amazing! And then, oh my, this was the best part, my mom walked right up to Peter and said, “well?”

Simon: Well, what? Dori: That’s what Peter said! “Well, what?” And my mom, she’s so cool, she goes, “Well,

miracle man, what are you going to do about it?” Simon: Whoa. Dori: I know, right? Well, Peter gets this funny look on his face and says, “okay, okay,

take me to her and let’s see what happens.”

Simon: So, what happened?!? Dori: I’m not really sure how it all went down, but Peter and my mom went up the stairs

to where Aunty Tabitha’s body was. Mom told me that Peter said a simple prayer, asking God to bring Tabitha back to us. And then he said, “Tabitha, get up.”

Simon (amazed): And she did?!? Dori: She did! She got up. She got up, walked down the stairs, and started giving

everybody hugs. It was sooo cooool. We were, like, stunned, you know? Didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or cheer, or what.

Simon: Whoa. Me, either. (silent pause) So, Aunty Tabitha is really alive? You’re not

just making it up? Dori: I was there, man. Saw the whole thing. Like I said, it’s too good to be true, but you

gotta believe me. Simon: I think I do. So, what now? Dori: I don’t know, keep on living, I guess? I mean, all of this on a Tuesday! Simon: Do you think this is what life is really like? Dori: I hope so. I mean, if this is possible, who knows what could happen! I’m so

overwhelmed. I’m speechless. Simon: Um, speechless? Dori: Speechless. You know, the kind of speechless with all the words still attached. Simon: That sounds about right. Hey did you say something about pickles and cold

cuts? Dori: I did! Let’s go see.

Now in Joppa there was a disciple, a woman named Tabitha—“Dorcas,” in Greek—who never tired of doing kind things or giving to charity. About this time she grew ill and died. They washed her body and laid her out in an upstairs room. Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples sent two couriers to Peter with the urgent request, “Please come over to us without delay.” Peter set out with them as they asked. Upon his arrival, they took him upstairs to the room. All the townswomen who had been widowed stood beside him weeping, and showed him the various garments Dorcas had made when she was still with them. Peter first made everyone go outside, then knelt down and prayed. Turning to the body, he said, “Tabitha, stand up.” She opened her eyes, then looked at Peter and sat up. He gave her his hand and helped her to her feet. The next thing he did was to call in those who were believers—including the widows—to show them that she was alive. This became known all over Joppa and, because of it, many came to believe in Jesus Christ.

Acts 9:36-42 (The Inclusive Bible translation) It has never occurred to me to ask for a resurrection. I’ve planned lots of funerals, I’ve sat around plenty of rooms where family and friends told stories about how much their deceased loved one meant to them. They’ve showed me pictures and cried tears, even passed around the things that their person has made, just like the friends of Tabitha in this story. I’ve felt the ache of loss, the gigantic hole of an uncertain future when the pillar of a family and a community is lost. And I’ve felt the denial--this can’t be happening. And the anger and bargaining and despair--how could this happen, why did this happen, how can we possibly move on without them? But I’ve never thought to say, “Wait a minute, this person matters so much, let’s ask God to bring them back.” Dead is dead, gone is gone, and what is done cannot be undone. Those are the facts of life. That’s always been true. The ancients weren’t naive about mortality and the finality of death. They dealt with death on a much closer basis than most of us modern folks. This wasn’t naivete or lack of sophistication on the part of Tabitha’s community. They knew what death was; these were a group of widows, afterall. And yet, they sent for the Apostle Peter, to ask for a resurrection. Where does that kind of hope come from?

It doesn’t come out of nowhere, that’s just blind optimism. Don’t confuse hope with denial or gullibility. As Eileen said last week, hope isn’t sticking our heads in the sand, blindly embracing the chance that somehow everything will turn out okay. That’s not the hope of Tabitha’s story. Theirs is hope in action, making choices, having a plan, and then acting in faith. Where does that kind of hope come from? Let’s look at Tabitha’s story for some clues. This story is told in the book of Acts, as Jesus’ followers were beginning to spread out in the first few years after his death and resurrection. Tabitha lived in Joppa, near modern Tel Aviv, about a two-day journey by foot from Jerusalem. This was Jewish territory, but as a port city it was fairly metropolitan with a large Greek-speaking community as well. The narrator describes Tabitha as a “disciple”, a student follower of the Way of Jesus, and there seems to be a significant community of Jesus-followers in Joppa. Joppa is close enough to Jerusalem that it’s possible that Tabitha or others in her community were part of Jesus’ disciples when he was alive, but it seems more likely that this was a group of people who had heard the stories second-hand as an off-shoot of the young church in Jerusalem. Because Tabitha is connected with a group of widows, and because a husband’s name is not given, it’s usually assumed that Tabitha was herself a widow, though that’s not definitive. The most emphasized detail that the writer gives is that Tabitha “never tired of doing kind things or giving to charity.” There’s a lot of scholarly speculation about what that might have meant. Some paint the picture of a kindly, wealthy widow who gave generously to the poor. Perhaps Tabitha was even one of the wealthy female benefactors that used their

income and status in the merchant class to support the church and the missionary travels of the apostles. Others picture Tabitha as more of a working-class woman, a weaver or seamstress who used her skills to make and repair garments for those who could not otherwise afford them. Others suggest that this community is described as a textile collective, that Tabitha was a leader of a group of widows who worked together to weave or sew to provide for themselves. In this scenario, she would have been essential to the financial stability of the community, so maybe she was resurrected not just because she was “nice” but because her presence was vital and saving her saved the whole community. The other piece is this unusual detail of her two names. “A woman named Tabitha,” or in Greek, “Dorcas.” Tabitha is Aramaic for “gazelle”, and the Greek word for “gazelle” is Dorcas. More significant than the meaning of her name is that apparently she was called by both. A couple of chapters earlier in the book of Acts, the church in Jerusalem nearly had a falling out because of a group of widows. Because of the low status of women, most widows had no way to earn money and care for themselves, so they depended on the charity of others. Among the Jesus followers, they collected and distributed food to those who needed it every day, including the widows. But in Acts chapters 6, a conflict broke out between the Gentile, Greek-speaking followers and the Jewish, Aramaic-speaking followers. The Gentile disciples complained that their widows were being neglected, that the Jewish widows were getting served first and so there was nothing left for the Gentile widows. Big conflict, threatening to divide the church. So the church leaders did what church leaders do, and formed a committee to take care of the problem. And apparently, it worked, and everyone’s widows were taken care of. But that was the big divide among the Jesus-followers. Separate circles of Jewish and Gentiles, and that conflict would break out multiple times in those first decades. Greek-speakers on one side, and Aramaic-speakers on the other.

So it’s significant that Tabitha-slash-Dorcas is known by two names, one in Aramaic and one in Greek. It seems that she walked in both worlds, so much that she was known and respected by both sides, a bridge person, a community connector. We aren’t actually told whether she was a Jew or a Gentile, because apparently in her life it did not matter. So, that’s what we know about Tabitha. Not a whole lot, really, but some significant details. Where is the hope in this story? Obviously, the resurrection part is rather hopeful, even to a cynic like me. But it didn’t start there, the hope began much earlier. Jesus talked about his own death and resurrection in this way:

That’s a nice tagline to Tabitha’s story: “If you lose your life for my sake, you’ll save it.” She gave what she had to her community, and it was her own life that was saved. Tabitha’s story makes for an interesting parallel to the story of Ananias and Sapphira a couple of chapters earlier in the book of Acts. You remember this one, right? In the early church in Jerusalem, generosity was trending. Many Jesus-followers were selling their property and possessions and giving everything to the common purse of the church. (Bunch of beatnik hippy communists, I tell ya.)

Anyway, this one couple, Ananias and Sapphira, sold a piece of property and donated the money to the church. Except that they kept back part of the money and only made it look like they gave everything. But they got busted. The Apostle Peter was the authority figure in this story as well, and he called them on their lie. When Ananias denied the lie, Peter called his bluff and told him that he had not lied to people, but to God. And Ananias dropped dead on the spot. A few hours later, Sapphira came looking for her husband. When Peter asked if this was the amount they had paid for the property, she joined Ananias in the lie, yes, this was the full amount. Again, Peter called out the lie, and this time Sapphira dropped dead in an instant. A horrible story! But it will make you think twice when the offering plate comes around! :) Just kidding. That’s not what this is about, it’s not about the size of the gift, or even the lie. This isn’t God’s punishment for their lack of generosity and truth-telling (note that the text doesn’t say that God killed them, just that they dropped dead and everyone was shocked and frightened). This is a living parable: their deaths were the natural end of their choices; in the ways that mattered they were already dead. If you are living for yourself, if you’re trying to save yourself, you’re not really living. It’s not usually so dramatic, but self-centered living is the path to the grave. Self-preservation, protectionism, holding on tightly to what you have, that’s the path to despair. Hope is the opposite. The way of life is the life of Tabitha, freely lived in the service of others. She didn’t ask for her life to be saved, but it was. If you would save your life, you’ll lose it, but if you lose your life for my sake, you’ll save it. What would you gain if you were to win the whole world but lose your self in the process?” This is a favourite passage in the Mennonite world, but some of us have learned to hear those words with a sense of grim duty. Grit yer teeth and shoulder the cross, gotta drag this thing around in the name of Jesus, sacrifice myself for the good of others. Tabitha’s story invites us to remember that this is good news. This is the path to life! Not a slavish duty now to earn a reward in the afterlife, but the path to life and fulfillment and goodness now.

That’s where the hope came from in this story: Tabitha had hope for her community, that’s why she gave of herself to them. We don’t usually give to people or situations that we believe are truly hopeless. To give is to believe that it’s going to do some good, and that’s an act of hope. So Tabitha’s good work was an act of hope, and that hope took root in her people, and grew to something that none of them could have predicted. Anne Lamott writes this:

This is Tabitha’s story. She lived for others, an act of hope that brought life to her people and ultimately life back to Tabitha. By showing up with hope to help others, I’m guaranteed that hope is present. Then my own hope increases. By creating hope for others, I end up awash in the stuff.

Indeed. This week I was at a meeting with a person who works at the Friendship Inn on 20th Street. This Thursday they celebrated 50 years since the Friendship Inn opened its doors, I believe at the same location the whole time. I learned that the Friendship Inn was started by a group of Christian churches who wanted to do something together to help feed hungry people. So they pulled together all their connections, across denominational lines, and recruited 52 churches to each provide volunteers to run the meal program for one week a year. They had one paid staff person managing the volunteers, and 52 churches responsible for one week a year. And that’s how the Friendship Inn provided food for their community--for FIFTEEN years!

Now, obviously I wasn’t there, but I can’t imagine that the leaders who started the Friendship Inn had a fifteen year commitment in mind, let alone a 50-year legacy. I’m guessing it was a lot messier, a lot of scrambling to find churches who would commit, pulling people together, who’s on for next week, okay sure this was good we’ll do it again next year. That work takes an incredible amount of hope! And it gives hope, practical hope to the tune of a thousand meals a day. When you show up to give and serve, hope is present, because you brought it.

And hope multiplies! I learned that the Friendship Inn was the seed for several other community agencies as well. Their food hamper program grew into what is now the Saskatoon Food Bank and Learning Center. The Friendship Inn started offering basic legal aid services, and now that’s it’s own thing. Hope grows. As we read from the Apostle Paul in the book of Romans

I don’t know much affliction in my life. But when I do get a small taste or even see it in the world around me, I tend to want to jump straight from the affliction part to the hope part--and if I don’t see a hopeful outcome immediately, I get stuck. If it’s hard, I whine and wonder what’s the point, where’s the hope? Might as well go home if it’s hard. Can’t save the planet by myself, so why bother trying? But it’s perseverance in affliction, then character, and then hope. That’s the progression. If you want hope, first you show up stubbornly to serve even when you don’t know where it’s going to lead. And in doing that, you become a person who serves, and from there, well look at that, you’ve brought enough hope into the room that some of it is bound to spill over onto you. Because, turns out, the whole thing was an act of love, an act of the Spirit of God. So I’m grateful for the Tabithas among us, the faithful ones who may not know how it’s all going to work out, but show up to do the good work right in front of them anyway. I don’t know how many resurrections they’ve performed, but I have definitely seen the hope that gives life at work in our midst. So. What might this look like for you? What is one situation where you can bring the hope to the party by acting in service of someone else?

I’ve got baskets with little pieces of fabric on them, and I’m going to invite you to take one as a reminder of Tabitha’s story of hope. Put it in your pocket or purse this week, and when you see it, remember this promise: By showing up with hope to help others, I’m guaranteed that hope is present. Then my own hope increases. By creating hope for others, I end up awash in the stuff. May it be for you and for us this week.