[Propertalk] 4 Easter c 2016

[Robert P Morrison]

My first draft for Sunday!
Bob

	THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBANY, ALBANY 4 EASTER c

	ACTS 9:36-43 17th APRIL, 2016

	REVELATION 7:90-17 PSALM 23

	JOHN 10:22-3

	 At first glance, the opening two scripture readings seem to be at
odds with one another. Both are familiar, the one from the revelation
to John perhaps more so because it’s one of those suggested for
funerals. It’s a passage of comfort, to us and to the person who’s
drawing close to death. It’s about faith, about hope. It describes
people like you and me – ordinary people who’ve led fairly regular
lives. In other words, these are people who’ve had their share of
struggles. They’ve been stressed as much as they’ve been
exhilarated. They’ve felt left all alone and isolated as well as
having enjoyed the company of family and close friends. “These,”
said the angel to John in his vision, “these are regular people
who’ve faced up to difficulties and doubts, and who’ve succumbed
to the consequences of disappointment from time to time, yet every
last one of them have been redeemed by Jesus’ love and have found
God’s marvelous, vibrant peace.

	 So what happened in the situation described in the reading from the
book of the Acts of the Apostles?

	 Tabitha apparently worked night and day to take care of those in her
community who were in need. Nothing was too much to do. She worked
with cloth to take care of people’s basic necessities. She responded
to cries for help. But she became ill and died.

	 Why did it have to happen to her? She was the FISH, and St Mary’s
Soup Kitchen, and St Vincent de Paul all rolled into one. When someone
like her devoted all of her life to ministering in Jesus’ name, why
couldn’t she have lived longer?

	 That’s what the folk of her congregation felt too. Why her? Why
not someone else? Or can one really weigh one person against another
and say that this one is worth another year o two and that one can go?

	 At any rate, the congregation sent for Peter – the same Peter
who’d had an analysis session with Jesus on the lake shore.

	 Now, Peter, at least by this time, wasn’t showy and flashy. He
asked those mourning Tabitha’s death to leave him alone wth her
body.

	 There seems little doubt that she’d died. It didn’t appear to be
a seizure or anything like that. Peter prayed, for what we don’t
know, but presumably that God be glorified further through Tabitha and
the ministry to which she’d been called. And Tabitha arose. She
became revitalized, and she witnessed to the community about the
loving power of God.

	 But then we have that nagging question, the one that must have
haunted the families and friends of those described in both readings.
Why them? Why did those who’re described in the Revelation to John
suffer, die and not be seen again by those who loved them on earth?
Why were they debilitated? Surely all good folk should live long and
prosper.

	 The answer to the question about why them, why Tabitha and the crowd
around God, why us; the answer seems so difficult and wrapped up in
arbitrariness. It would be so much easier if we could form an opinion
now – to say that the people we like, the ones with whom we agree,
the ones whose so-called “good deeds” are visible in the
community, the ones whose intentions are good, in our estimation; it
would be so much easier if we could count on them being around for a
long, long time. We know that folk don’t live for ever, at least on
earth. And, yes, we DO believe that in and through Jesus we WILL live
for ever, and that death is not the end. But why do things seem so
random? Why is there no apparent “reward” for living a good life
– and the reward we look for is, most likely, a healthy decade more
of life. Why was Tabitha spared, in the same way that Lazarus was?
Sure these two weren’t the only ones whose ministry was pleasing in
God’s sight.

	 We have to admit that our faith DOES give us encouragement in the
sure hope of reuniting with those whom we love. We ARE strengthened
when we know that Jesus’ promise is not empty and that we shall be
with Him, and that vast crowd of witnesses. We DO mean to be one of
the saints, one of the holy ones of God, like the doctor, and ruler,
and the sheepherder, and the soldier – even the priest.
Nevertheless, if given a choice, we’d rather be a Tabitha than in
the crowd around the throne on which God’s Lamb held court.

	 I don’t think we, or anyone else, would fault us for thinking like
this. We learn, slowly, how to interact with the people around us.
Just by virtue of being family members doesn’t mean that we like all
of the group. It DOES take us a while to learn and to practice loving.
People fall in and out of relationships so easily. I don’t know if
this is any different today than it was in our parents’ generations,
or our grandparents. Perhaps what we perceive as the toughness of the
times in which some of our ancestors lived DID pull people together
more. Perhaps instant communication – cell phones, twenty-four hour
news information, newspapers in our hands and then all the extra
bulletins posted on line; perhaps instant communication makes things
easier for us. But I can’t help the nagging suspicion I have that
all of this lends an air of voyeurism and superficiality to our
relationships. So we really do have to work hard, have to make a
deliberate effort, to engage in those acts of love which Jesus seeks
from our lives. We’ve to make the most of every moment we’re
given, because we DON’T know what may happen this afternoon; or
tomorrow; or next week. If our role is in working with cloth, making
sure that people are given warmth and a sense of security; if our role
is in taking a hot dish over to someone who’s under the weather, or
unable to cook for a while; if our role is to mow a front yard; if our
role is to sit beside someone, or to pick up the phone and listen to
what may be bothering or upsetting them right now; if our role from
God is any one of a number of things, then we’re to make this a
priority.

	 It’s possible that we’ll be graced with long life, that the
number of people whom we’ll be able to touch and to

	encourage will be considerable. It’s just as possible that we may
be like Annette Hobbs who worked down Hill Street a block at FISH of
Albany, who dedicated her life to helping folk, yet who died aged
sixty-one.

	 I know some folk who’re distressed that folk like Annette do die
way before the average life expectancy of a woman in Oregon. I know a
few whose faith is really rocked, who say that there can’t be a God
if she died so young after her service to the community; or else some
day that God is mean, capricious, arbitrary if Annette and people like
her succumb to cancer.

	 My heart goes out to the families of everyone who dies, especially
if the death occurs at an early age and the family left behind will
have to struggle to continue. There’s no getting around the pain of
separation, the terrible loneliness, the hard times which we all have
to face when a loved one dies, when relationships collapse, when
tragedy of any kind hits us. Jesus knows all about this sort of pain.
He knows first-hand, and His heart breaks and His tears flow for and
with us. Yet we’re not left with nothing. To put it positively,
we’re left with something which can be of comfort in those terrible
times.

	 The one thing which united the people of both of the stories from
the first two readings is that Jesus was present to and for everyone.
Yes, it DID result in the return to life of Tabitha, somehow. But I
thik that that can deflect our attention from the way in which Jesus
guidance and leadership carries us through every situation, even –
should I say especially? – when the outcome brings us so much
separation and heartache,

	 This is where the Gospel passage shines hope and promise for us.
I’d be willing to bet that it wasn’t only those in the Temple
precincts who asked “How long will you keep us in suspense?” Those
around Tabitha; those who were gathered around every last one of the
white-robed multi-lingual, multi-ethnic people as they were dying –
they would have asked, “How long will you keep us in suspense?”
Those at Annette’s bedside, those in hospitals, and hospices, and
homes around the world mouth the same question. We do ourselves, even
sitting here. We wonder. Did we miss something? Just what did Jesus
imply when He talked of Himself as a Shepherd who’d care for every
singly sheep in the world?

	 “In order to grow in inner freedom,” wrote Jean Vanier, “we
need others, and we need a spiritual father or mother who shows us the
way.” 1 This spiritual parent is someone whose voice is not only
known, but is respected and trusted. It’s not an angry, empty,
cruel, uncompassionate, unknown and unknowable person. It’s the
Jesus who walks with us on a daily basis, and sits with us while we
work, or watch, or weep. Vanier talks about how the Shepherd instills
trust in us – the Shepherd trusts us and we trust the Shepherd.
It’s a wonderfully symbiotic relationship. Not that Jesus needs us,
yet Jesus DOES feed on our companionship, our trust, our questioning,
even our grief for others. “In order to be real shepherds who lead
others, we have to learn first of all to be good followers.” 2

	 Brother Roger, the former leader of the _Taizé_ Community who was
murdered during a worship gathering, wrote, “You want to follow
Christ, and not look back: will you dare to put your trust in the
Gospel time and time again?

	 “Will you keep setting off anew, drawn on by the One who walks
quietly beside you, never imposing himself? The Risen Christ is
present within you, and goes before you on the way.

	 “Will you let him place a source of refreshment in the hollow of
your being? …

	 “What is fascinating about God is how humbly (God) is present. God
never punishes, never wounds our human dignity. God does not extort
our obedience. …

	 “In the silence of (our hearts) he whispers, ‘Don’t be afraid;
I am here.’

	 “Recognized or not, the Risen Christ remains close to every
person, even those unaware of him. He is there in secret.

	 “A fire burning in the human heart, a light in the darkness, (a
voice speaking,) he loves you are if you were his sole concern. He has
given his life for you. That is his secret.” 3

	 As we mature in and with Jesus, His voice becomes more and more
comforting as well as correcting. Jesus’ voice gives us the firmness
we need in order to make good choices, and to help others with their
choices, should they ask.

	 So the Shepherd’s voice reminds us, as Paul put it, that
“Whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s!” 4

	NOTES

	[1] _“Drawn into the Mystery of Jesus through the Gospel of
John”_ by Jean Vanier. Paulist Press, New York/Mahwah, N.J. © 2004.
Page 184

	2 Vanier, Op. Cit. Page 186

	3 _“Christ never forces our hand”,_ readings from Brother Roger
for use at _Taizé_ worship

	4 Romans 14:8. Quoted in The Burial Office, The Book of Common
Prayer.

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