A Woman to Remember

Acts 9:36-43

Easter 4

May 12, 2019

William G Carter

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. Meanwhile he stayed in Joppa for some time with a certain Simon, a tanner.

Easter continues. What God did in Jesus, God continues in the people who follow Jesus. That's what Luke trains us to see. In story after story, the power of God that fed the hungry, healed the sick, and chased away demons when Jesus was among us is still operating. God continues to bring the dead back to life. 

Today we hear a resurrection story, but it is more than a resurrection story. It describes a very special woman. This lies close to Luke’s purpose. In a time when the history books didn’t mention women, he gives us their names. In a culture when women were no accepted as witnesses in a legal case, he says three women were the first to report that Jesus is alive again. When the very disciples of Jesus dismiss their report as an “idle tale,” mere chatter, Luke says, “No, what they say is true and they are to be trusted.”

Of the four Gospels, Luke alone tells us that women financed the ministry of Jesus out of their own purses. Apparently, the men were spending the money, but the women were making it. When the Gospel moves beyond Jerusalem into the wider world, it is Luke who introduces us to a businesswoman. Lydia was a merchant in Philippi, and she was wealthy. That would have been an extraordinary story to conservative Jewish men. A merchant, wealthy, no man in sight – nor needed.

Luke wants us to know that women are created in the image of God, just like those who are not women. They have value, they have worth, they have inherent dignity. Maybe that’s why he interrupts his own story of the conversion of St. Paul to tell about the raising of a woman who passed away.

Her name is Tabitha. She lived in the seaside city of Joppa. Her Greek name was Dorcas. So if you ever wondered how one of our women’s Bible study groups is called the Dorcas Circle, here is her story. Dorcas is the Greek world for “gazelle.” So I will call her Tabitha, for that is her given name. And I will honor what Luke honors in telling her story: she is devoted to good works and acts of charity. 

Here was a woman who not one to sit on the edges and watch. She didn't wait to be asked if she could help somebody in need; no, she was on it. Her life was shaped by her kindness.

Luke says two things about her. First, she was running a charity program for the poor in her city. She was proving with her kindness that the world was turned upside-down by Jesus. In the love of God, the poor are remembered. The downtrodden are no longer under foot. God sees them, Christ loves them. The people that love God and Christ love those in need.

That’s how resurrection works. You can’t phone it in from a distance. You don’t offer thoughts and prayers without also offering action. God comes for those who cannot provide for themselves. They are not to be discarded but embraced. This was Tabitha’s ministry. She made the love of God specific for those in need.

The second thing Luke says about her is she is a disciple. It is the only time in the New Testament when the feminine form of the word “disciple” is used. Tabitha’s life is given particular status. There were plenty of women who followed Jesus and served others, but that word “disciple” is now broadened to speak of women. It used to be a word only for men; now it’s for Tabitha, too.   

Tabitha becomes ill and then dies. It is quite a shock in her circle of friends. They gather to grieve and begin to prepare her body for burial. But then, a couple of them remember that the apostle Peter is only about fifteen miles away. So they send for him – they don’t say why. We don’t know what they expect. Do they want him to give the eulogy? Or to console them with a sermon? Nobody says.

It seems a vague invitation until he arrives. Then they show him what Tabitha has been doing. She’s been making clothing, coats and tunics, who other women who have nothing. They were widows, says Luke, code language for those whom the society forgot. They lost their husbands, and in Joppa, that meant they lost their legal status, lost their means of income, to say nothing of losing their lifelong companions. Tabitha had stepped into the gap and provided for them. Now she was gone.

That is the crisis for those women, a crisis that a world of first century men would have otherwise ignored. Peter takes it to heart. As we heard, he clears out the room, gets on his knees to pray, and God gives life back to Tabitha. Nobody else was there to see it, yet they rejoiced when they saw her again. Her kindness would continue. Her good works would go on.

The Bible commentaries don’t have much to say about this story. It’s brief and frequently overlooked. I heard somebody comment once on the story. It was a man. He said, “Compared to the conversion of St. Paul, which is the dramatic story that dominates most of the chapter, you have to wonder why the camera is turned so abruptly to a small account of a woman who made tunics for the widows.” He paused, and added, “Maybe that’s exactly the point.”

Paul, previously named Saul, was murderous and abusive. As Flannery O’Connor once quipped, “The only way to convert that one was to knock him off his high horse.” By contrast, Tabitha was gracious and kind, generous and just, using her skills to provide for others. She was a model for how all people should live, a living disciple of Jesus. She is every bit as worthy of the spotlight, which she would never have shined upon herself.

So I give some thought to this, on a day when we celebrate the gifts of women. There may not be anything flashy here, nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering about her work for others – except that it was deeply and profoundly for others. She gave no thought to her own comfort, kept none of her handiwork for herself. When she passed, they called one of the apostles and showed him the clothing she made for all them.

About six months ago, I was sitting with a family as they grieved the passing of the grandmother. “She was a remarkable woman,” they said. I asked what they wanted to remark on…and nobody said much. Could they tell me about her? The family members looked at one another. One of them confessed, “She did so much for all of us, but it was quiet. Behind the scenes. She made sure we were well fed. She patched our blue jeans. She gave us a long hug when we were distraught.” Another one said, “I guess we took her for granted.” Someone else added, “I never noticed how much she got done in a day.”

We sat for a bit of silence. Then I suggested a scripture passage for their reflection. It’s an ancient poem from the last chapter of the book of Proverbs. Some of you may know this one. It begins, “A capable woman, who can find?” Then I shared some of the lines:

She rises while it is still night and provides food for her household …

She considers a field and buys it; with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.
She puts her hands to the distaff, and her hands hold the spindle.
She opens her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy.
She is not afraid for her household when it snows, for all her household are clothed in crimson.
She makes herself coverings; her clothing is fine linen and purple.
Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.
She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.

They looked at me and said, “That’s her. That’s Grandma.” Today, I would add, “That’s Tabitha. Or Dorcas. Or any number of women who provide for the needs of others without calling any attention to themselves.  That is what is so remarkable about them.

So today we remember some of the women who have revealed the charity of God among us. The list is long. Many of their works of kindness have remained quiet and under the radar. But in affirming them, we affirm the kind of lives God calls us to live.

• I remember Carol. She was wise, artistic, a woman of deep faith.
• I remember Roberta: literate and generous, always bought my daughter a book for the birthday they shared. I still have the letters of encouragement that she wrote to me.
• I remember Pauline: she moved away, but still in touch. She has been energetic, prayerful, and biblically grounded in the promises of God.
• I remember Nadine, the embodiment of Christian hospitality. One time, she threw a dinner party for thirty Hispanic farm workers, just because no one had never done that for them before.
• I remember Betty Ann, mentor for younger women, constant friend, lover of animals.
• I remember Mary Ann, now moved away, who loved this community and worked quietly to help it flourish.
• I remember Betty. She knit over three hundred pairs of mittens for the homeless, people she would never know, yet people worthy of the love of Christ.

These are just a few. If we were to spend this day giving thanks for the women who have shown God’s mercy and grace to the world, it would be a day well spent. And it’s a reminder for us in our celebrity-intoxicated age that you don’t have to be famous to have a true impact on others. In fact, you can make a quiet difference simply for the sake of making a difference, and nobody has to realize it until after you’ve moved on.

Just like Tabitha, Dorcas, the woman they called “the Gazelle.” How surprised she would be to discover that her story is told in the scriptures! And yet, today, she is the woman we remember.

I’ll bet there is a woman you remember. Can you think of a name? Say the name.

Wherever they are, whether here in heaven, how pleased they would be that you remembered them!

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.