I can think of many Tabithas that have graced church sanctuaries and served within the walls of church buildings. Tabitha is a name that in Aramaic means “a female gazelle” and its counterpart in Greek, Dorcas, also means gazelle. When I think of the animal, the gazelle, I think of an animal that is sleek and beautiful and fast and vulnerable. It has no aggressiveness against other species and no means of defense, other than its ability to run from danger. And sometimes it’s not fast enough to get away from the predator that stalks it. Psalm 23 reminds us that the predator that stalks us all is death. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death – I will fear no evil – for you are with me.”
I can think of many Tabithas outside the church, too. We are all gazelle. Vulnerable to the predator and to the conditions of life that force us to move on to new pastures. Some of those pastures are heavenly. The family and friends in our lives who leave this world for their heavenly home.
And then there are other family and friends who leave for pastures like new jobs, new schools, new options for retirement, new congregations. Some of these options are not always choices we want to make, but the circumstances of life require us to make changes. Tornados swoop down upon us, forcing adjustments to our plans. The economy torpedoes our plans for retirement. Health problems divert the plans we set for ourselves. The course of life itself sends children away from the nest to build their own nests. And we are forced to adjust to the change. We may not be happy with change, but life is change.
To complain about change is to complain about life. It’s only when things do not change that the predator who seeks your life can sneak up behind you and capture you. I don’t simply mean death to your body. I mean death to your spirit, death to a life that is rich and full of purpose.
The story of Tabitha reminds me that nothing in life stays the same. She was a beloved member of the community at Joppa. Tabitha had heard Jesus’ voice. She was one of his sheep. Her good works were a testimony to her love for her Lord. The text says she was a disciple devoted to good works and to charity. She was doing exactly what Jesus said he was doing in the Gospel lesson. He said, “The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me.”
Tabitha’s good works in her church and community testified to the One she followed. She left a legacy that others could point to – a legacy of good works and things that could be seen and touched and told about – tunics, and clothing, articles for good that she made with her own hands and gave to others. Tabitha used her talents and resources to help others. The widows were very upset that she had died. I think about James 1:17 when I hear that, “Religion that is acceptable to the Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.”
Yet life changes quickly. You may be the best disciple of Jesus Christ in your community, but that isn’t going to stop the reality that death comes to us all. We are all gazelle. Good works and acts of love do not extend our lives. We are all going to die. Just like Tabitha.
I have to admit that the raising of Tabitha from the dead by Peter is an unanswered question in my mind. How am I to understand this to apply to me, and you, today? I can only see it as a sign that was needed in that day for the growth of the early church, that a miracle of supernatural proportions was able to be seen and told. But still I ask, don’t we need those kind of miracles today, too? And what does it take to make them happen? Maybe it just takes eyes of faith that see them happening. Surely there were people who lived in Tabithas neighborhood who said, “She really wasn’t dead. She was alive but you just couldn’t tell it.” It takes eyes of faith to recognize the miracles that take place every day.
There’s another part of the story that I think is important. When Tabitha died, there was a sense of great loss in her community. Just like there is a sense of great loss when anyone in our family dies, or leaves home because of transitions from high school to college, or daughter to wife, or son into the military, and when people leave their church family. What will we miss? What legacy have they left behind in their absence?
It makes me think about the legacy I will leave when I die, or when the conditions of life force me to make changes. What legacy will you leave behind that those who remain in your family, in your neighborhood, in this flock of gazelle – that they will point to and grieve in your absence?
This weekend, my congregation is taking pictures for a new pictorial directory. When we compare it to the one we produced four years ago, we will see there have been many changes. When we also compare pictures of the days when this church began 25 years ago, we will see far more changes. Many new gazelle have come, and many have gone. That’s life. We are not here to stop change. We are not here to stop life. We are here to share the good news of God in Jesus Christ and to help each other as we make our way through the conditions life brings to us.
And we do that best when we devote ourselves, like Tabitha, to good works and charity. We have heard Jesus’ voice. We know him, and he knows us. He is our Good Shepherd who walks with us through the valley of the shadow of death so that we fear no evil. The rod and staff of his word guides us whenever we get off the straight and narrow. And he leads us to green pastures where there is peace, and to paths of righteousness for his namesake. Goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives. And we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever, because Christ has removed the predator. Death no longer will hold us. And he will raise us at the last day.
Thanks be to God for goodness and mercy in Christ Jesus. Like Tabitha, may we be devoted to good works and charity.
Peace - PWM
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