Filling the Void

Acts 9:36-42

Now in Joppa there was a disciple whose name was Tabitha, which in Greek is Dorcas. She was devoted to good works and acts of charity. At that time she became ill and died. When they had washed her, they laid her in a room upstairs. Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples, who heard that Peter was there, sent two men to him with the request, “Please come to us without delay.” So Peter got up and went with them, and when he arrived, they took him to the room upstairs. All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them. Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed. He turned to the body and said, “Tabitha, get up.” Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. He gave her his hand and helped her up. Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive. This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord.

We’re jumping from John last week to Acts this week, but we’re sticking with Peter. Last week was the restoration of Peter— Peter’s forgiven in a clear but unspoken way by Jesus, who parallels Peter’s denial of him by asking about his love for him three times. Jesus ultimately gives him the charge of feeding and tending to his sheep, his followers. And in Acts, we see the incredible growth and courage of Peter. Our passage today plops us right in the middle of a much larger narrative, that really begins in chapter three, when Peter beings his journey ministering and healing, making it known that is not he who is doing the healing, but rather Christ working through him. And today we find ourselves in Joppa, far westward, on the coast of the Mediterranean showing how far and fast the good news is spreading. It’s also part of a larger narrative foreshadowing the conversion of gentiles which is about to come… that’s why there seems to be this throwaway line at the end, about Peter staying with a tanner; tanners, dealing with the hides of dead animals, were looked upon as unclean; this is both a testament to the inclusivity of the ministry of the apostles, and also, the ease of socializing with someone would be deemed “unclean” by the norms and laws of Judaism, it’s setting the stage for what comes next—which is the first gentile conversion, a Roman centurion, Cornelius.

But today… today we have a short but miraculous story; just a brief paragraph about Tabitha, suddenly taken ill, and then risen from the dead by Peter.

We have no background information on Tabitha. We have no epilogue that tells us what happened after she was brought back. All we know about Tabitha is what is written in this passage and the context clues within. It’s not obvious, or at least it wasn’t to me upon my first reading of this, what Tabitha’s roll was in Joppa that would move so many to such grief and such efforts to bring her back. It’s written that she was already a disciple of this growing Jesus movement, and that her life was devoted to good deeds; and when Peter arrives, he’s greeted by many weeping widows, showing Peter the garments Tabitha has made and gifted them. We can infer that Tabitha dedicated her life to these women, which is no small task. Remember that widows were the bottom of the barrel in these ancient times. If a widow didn’t have any other family around to support or help her when her husband died, she was completely out of luck. Often, if they had no male guardian watching out for them, widows were relegated to begging or gleaning in fields, desperate, thankless labor. While we don’t know if Tabitha was a widow herself, or if she was married, if she had any family, if she was wealthy, or just shrewd, we know she was beloved by these women who had nothing. We know she gave her life to those who had nothing. This was her call. She was truly a disciple. In fact, while there are many women throughout the new testament who are lumped in with the male disciples, this is the one time in which the Greek feminine of the word disciple is used. Tabitha was truly someone to aspire to.

Last week I speculated about what incredible range of emotions Peter must have been experiencing when he was face to face with the risen Christ. I’m going to speculate again! I wonder what Peter felt when he followed these two unnamed representatives for the widows of Joppa, how overwhelmed with emotion he must have been when he saw all these grieving women, unsure where else to turn with their beloved Tabitha dead. He asks them if they’ll clear the room where Tabitha is laying, and I can only assume he did this because of how overwhelming those feelings of grief must have been. I've talked before to folks here and there about how emotionally draining funeral services are for me, even when it’s a celebration of life, of long lives well lived; there’s just something about that mourning that takes it out of you. So Peter asks the grieving widows to leave so he can be alone with his thoughts and Tabitha’s body, and he raises her from the dead.

Why would the apostles raise some and not others? Why do they heal some disabled folks and not others? We’ll never really know. But Jesus calls us to care the oppressed, and specifically widows; and there are numerous passages throughout the old and new testaments that emphasizes the care of widows; and in fact, just a couple chapters before this, in chapter 6, there was a conflict between two different Jewish sects that one was neglecting the widows when they distributed food—so here is a woman truly walking the walk. And so perhaps Peter saw that her work doesn’t done yet… that it couldn’t be done. What I imply from this story is that once Tabitha is gone, the widows are done for. Who would have the means, the dedication, the passion now to fill the shoes of someone like Tabitha? I Perhaps there was no one to fill the void yet, and Peter could not let these widows languish in utter poverty without their benefactor, without this woman who was acting as a savior-mother to them all.

Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont, are, in that order, the three oldest states by median age in the country. There are more people dying than being born here in Vermont, and that’s been the case for eight-plus years—the median age for Vermont is 43; in Hartland, it’s 50. Of course the first thing people think of when it comes to these demographic crises is the economy… but as demographics and cultures change, who fills the void in the state, in these towns where everyone knows each other; or where everyone once did? Does the void get filled at all? And what happens if it doesn’t?

This isn’t just about church membership and participation; it’s about what happens to these towns as a whole when whole generations pass on. I remember when Chris and Frankie and I went to the Hartland Christmas variety show at Damon Hall this past Winter, we were some of the youngest people there by a longshot. I know there are people our age who live in Hartland, if not any of them… where were they?

I think of the people in this church who volunteer for everything. I think of the people in this town who organize all the groups, all the shows, all the events. I think about all the people who even attend said events, and join clubs and committees, and, at the risk of being a little morbid, I do wonder, what happens when they’re gone? By the numbers alone, we don’t have the population to fill that void. What happens to towns like Hartland as they continue to age? I don’t have the answers this—we certainly can’t bring people back from the dead, as far as I know. But even if we could, it’s not a sustainable solution. Tabitha was brought back, but the New Testament makes it clear a number of times, that those who are brought back aren’t immortal—it’s not until the long-awaited second coming that death will be no more. So this community in Joppa gets a second chance. They get a second chance, not only to experience the benevolence of Tabitha again, but also to figure out what comes next. They’ve gotten the ultimate reality check—that they need someone or something to fill the voice of Tabitha when she ultimately does die.

It strikes me that Tabitha must be a larger-than-life force in the community—because it’s not just the destitute widows who are seeking to bring her back; they even have these unnamed men who go to Peter for help. Widows had no money and therefore no power, so surely these men went to search for Peter out of their own love for Tabitha and the work she did in Joppa. The work and love of the disciple Tabitha obviously went beyond class and gender.

It's so interesting doing the work I do in a small town with so much history. I still hear names like Barbara Sargent, Connie Tessier, Jane McClelland— names of people long passed on, names of people whom I’ve never met, but live on in the memories of this town because of their kindness, their generosity, their passion for service, their strong personalities. These stalwarts of community will never be replaced, but the void they leave behind has to be filled in some way. The work these people did must be honored by making sure it continues in some way.

The Book of Acts is about the acts of the apostles—the great works they did in the immediate aftermath of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus that brought more people into the fold; it’s about how the Good News spread through the ancient world, how it touched the hearts and minds of Jews and Gentiles, eunuchs and centurions, men and women alike. In spite of the persecution the early Christians faced, it really was this golden age in which they truly lived in community with one another, no one was above anyone else… and Tabitha and the work she did was the epitome of this sacred togetherness. But I wonder if perhaps they community was so dependent on Tabitha, I wonder if Tabitha loved her work so much that there was never a chance to think of the future; or perhaps it was simply that no one ever wanted to think of a future without Tabitha. But remember last week—Jesus forgives Peter and tells Peter, “Feed my lambs… tend my sheep… feed my sheep.” And so Peter does. He does by making sure the community of Joppa that Tabitha has made into a safe place for the poorest and most disenfranchised can continue to thrive and to be a place that is truly doing the work Christ calls us to do. He can’t let the widows go hungry and cold, and so he revives Tabitha so she can, in turn, continue her work as a disciple. And hopefully, with this second chance, this community she has built will find a way to continue her work for long after she is gone.

As a Christian community trying our best in this broken world to do the good and sacred work we are called to do, as a faith community the most secular state in the country, and also the state which has the third oldest median age in the country (behind only Maine and New Hampshire), we have to think of new ways to tend the sheep. We have to think of new and sustainable ways to continue and honor the work and the love of the incredible volunteers and disciples of our past and present.

I can pretty much say for certain that we won’t get a Peter to come and revive a beloved disciples at his or her time of death. But I can also say for certain that we have the creativity and the faith and the love to make sure the work this church does will continue long after all of us are gone. It might not look like it did decades before; there might be growing pains, it might sometimes feel like one step forward, two steps back; as the world changes, as the pendulum swings one way and the overcorrects, it might feel like a Sisyphean task sometimes, and it might feel like pure fun and joy, not like work at all, at other times.

So as the world changes, as our community changes, let’s make sure we have systems in place to fill those voids of powerful personalities when they leave us. Let’s make sure we continue the good works that have filled this building and this community by bringing people into the fold, but tending the sheep in new and life-giving ways. Let’s make sure with our love, our passion, and our faith, that we create and maintain a true community in Christ that values and protects and respects all people; communities like that, like ours, cannot be lost at a time like this. May we all be Tabithas by honoring and continuing the work of the Tabithas before us by making sure our community is never void of love. Amen.