"Tabitha, Buck, and Jean Vanier on Resurrection": Sermon for Sunday 12 May 2019

Sermon for Sunday, 12 May 2019

4^th Sunday of Easter

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger

Acts 9:36-43

***

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

“Hello, is this Pastor Carrie? You don’t know me. I go to the Catholic Church.”

This was the first phone call I received one spring morning at my church in suburban Chicago, just moments after I sat down at my desk to work on the week’s sermon.

“OK,” I replied. “What can I do for you?”

“Well…” said the voice on the other end of the line. “Like I said, you don’t know me. But one of your church members is my neighbor—Buck. I just want to tell you I haven’t seen Buck for a few days, and there are newspapers piling up outside his door. It’s probably nothing, but I thought someone would want to know, and I don’t know how to get in touch with his family.”

As soon as she said “Buck” my heart dropped into my stomach. Buck was 95 years old, a life-long member of the church, and my experience as a pastor told me that 95 years old plus newspapers piled outside the door probably meant only one thing. What could I possibly do, I thought, except call the funeral home? What could I possibly do, except choose a date for the memorial service?

“OK,” I said. “Thank you so much! I’ll check it out.”

With my heart sinking lower and lower, I made a call to the police and got into my car. Within minutes I was standing in front of Buck’s house along with several police officers.

“Can you open the door?” I asked them.

“Nope,” was the answer. “We were hoping you had a key. We can’t do anything. Can’t break in without either a warrant or probable cause.”

We discussed this for a few minutes: No, I didn’t have a key. No, there was no family in the area. No, I didn’t have proof that Buck was in danger.

I walked around the whole perimeter of the house, peering into windows and hoping to catch a glimpse of Buck watching tv or taking a nap or…anything, really.

And then, finally, I saw it: From the second story, a steady waterfall flowing from the ceiling above and flooding the carpet of the first floor living room.

“Look, look at this!” I shouted at the police. As soon as he saw the waterfall the officer in charge said, “That’s all we needed to see. We’re going in.” Within moments, doors were shoved open, an ambulance arrived, and we were all rushing upstairs to the bathroom, where we found Buck: partially submerged in the water of the bathtub where he had fallen, and remained, for three days, water running constantly and his life slowly slipping away.

I stepped aside as the paramedics did their job, lifting Buck carefully out of the water. He looked at once both ancient and exactly like a newborn baby. I noticed his eyeglasses sitting near the bathroom sink, so I shoved them in my pocket before following the medical team to the ambulance.

A few hours later, I stood by Buck’s hospital bed and slipped those glasses onto his face. His eyes slowly focused on me.

“How you doing, Buck?” I asked.

“Cold, Pastor.” said Buck. “I’m damn cold. But I’m alive.”

***

When the disciples heard that Peter was in Lod, they sent for him to come to Jaffa, for a disciple named Tabitha had died. She was devoted to good works and charity and was beloved by the community. As was the custom, the women had gathered near her bed, telling stories about her and displaying her fine embroidery skills.

When Peter arrived at the house, he saw Tabitha lying in the upper room. He saw the women crying and embracing one another. He saw the other disciples who had called him to come, standing nearby, waiting for him to do something.

And Peter thought: What can I possibly do in this situation? What can I do, except offer a word at this dead woman’s funeral?

After all, it’s one thing to say Christ is risen, He is risen indeed;

It’s quite another thing to stand in the presence of the death of a friend, and to continue to believe in Resurrection,

To believe in Christ’s victory over not only his own death but also ours,

To proclaim in word and in action that “Jesus wants us all to be alive, to be fully loved and fully loving.” (Jean Vanier)

But Peter didn’t say these thoughts out loud. Instead, he cleared the room. He knelt down and prayed. And when he said, “Tabitha, get up!”, Tabitha opened her eyes! And seeing Peter, she sat up—very much alive.

At our Tuesday morning Bible Study this week, Redeemer church council member Doug said he’s always imagined Peter at this moment saying: “Well, what do you know! It worked!”

***

Dear siblings in Christ, today is the 4^th Sunday of Easter, so together with the whole church, let us again proclaim “Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!”

This traditional Easter greeting, heard throughout the Easter season, is a reminder that the Good News of Resurrection is not confined to one Sunday morning in Jerusalem 2,000 years ago. The Risen Christ has truly won the victory over death and the grave—and not only over his death and his grave. Because Christ is raised, love and life have won out over death itself, wherever and whenever it rears its ugly head.

Of course, there’s so much of evidence to the contrary: Young mothers and gifted writers die suddenly of infections. Family members are diagnosed with cancer. Relationships end. There are wars and rumors of war. Faced with these daily realities, we may wonder what we can possibly take away from a resurrection story like Tabitha’s. As a Palestinian friend said to me earlier this week, lamenting the separation of his family as a result of the ongoing tactics of the Israeli Occupation: “Where is our resurrection? When will we be raised from this slow death?”

It’s impossible to answer such questions. I don’t know why some people are healed of cancer or infection, and some are not. I don’t know why so many still suffer and die as a result of war, of poverty, of disaster, of white supremacy or xenophobia in this post-Easter world. And I often ask myself: What can I possibly do about it?

Jean Vanier, founder of the federation of L’Arche communities (where people with and without intellectual disabilities live and work together) died this past week at theage of 90. He wrote extensively throughout his life on the healing power of community.  During the Easter season last year, Jean wrote this powerful reflection on Resurrection:

“Jesus on the feast of the Resurrection looks at each one of us with more love than we can dare believe. He forgives us our shortcomings; he frees us from our guilt. He then sends us off to forgive others, so that they can be free from guilt. Each one of us is called to bring peace where there is conflict. We are not all called to sell everything we have. We are all called to be committed to one person who is in pain, who is lonely and lost and who needs a friend.

This is the Resurrection.” 

(Jean Vanier on Resurrection)

Dear friends, there’s really nothing in today’s account from the Acts of the Apostles to explain why Tabitha’s body was resurrected so that she could enjoy a few more years of life,  or why Buck was pulled from the water after 3 days, when so many others we love and pray for are not raised—at least, not until the last day.

But here’s one thing we can learn about Resurrection today—both from Tabitha and Peter, and from Jean Vanier and his community, and even from my 95 year old church member Buck and his neighbor:

We don’t raise ourselves.

We do not lift ourselves from the grave by our bootstraps.

We need each other.

And so, this is the Resurrection:

To notice the newspapers piled outside the door, and to call for help.

To take a plate of food to a coworker whose mother has died.

To see the dark circles under a friend’s eyes and ask what you can do.

This is the Resurrection:

To advocate for people of all abilities to live full lives, in community together;

To refuse to allow refugees to drown in the ocean or immigrant children to be abused in detention centers;

To speak out against occupation, against anti-Semitism and Islamophobia, against injustice and inequality wherever they make their deadly presence known.

And often, this is the Resurrection:

To sit, like Peter, alongside one who is in the valley of the shadow of death, and to proclaim through your presence the power of Christ over whatever keeps people from getting up, from standing strong, from breathing, from loving, from living fully the life Jesus wants for all of us.

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

May the peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.