Doing the Jesus things
Acts 9: 36-43
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
May 12, 2019 – Mother’s Day
They had to move on without him. He had turned their world upside down. Jesus had led the disciples to a generous, justice-filled, compassionate, authentic, daring, fearless way of living, and now they had to do it without him. They banded together, formed communities of mutual care and sharing, met for prayer and singing and a meal, in the midst of which they remembered Jesus. They took their message on the road, eager to share their way of life with others who were lonely, those in need of healing, those who suffered injustice under the boot of the Roman Empire. In the book of Acts we read that this way of life had become contagious, adding thousands to their number, especially after Paul had given up his old ways of judgment and persecution and was now spreading Jesus’ word of love and forgiveness, resistance and restoration.
All of us have had at least one person in our lives who showed us how to live a generous, good and loving life by their own example. They were parents, grandparents, siblings, teachers, mentors, friends, professionals, authors, leaders, and at some point we had to move on without them. Author Diana Butler Bass tweeted the other day: “Had a conversation today about how to go on after a beloved leader dies. The upshot of what I said: ‘People die. Their work goes on. The word lives after death.’ When you think about it, that’s actually the core of Christianity. People die. The work lives on.” She went on, “Grief eventually turns toward creativity and renewal. It takes a while. But it does.”
It can be hard for us to not make it about the beloved leader or friend, to keep going with the work, the giving, the love—doing the Jesus things. It would be so easy to just stop, because the work, the giving, the love—doing the Jesus things—can feel that much bigger and more difficult without them. Now that Storm and Bill are among the saints, along with Beverly and Jack and Wally and Larry and Adele and Delma and Frank and others beloved of this congregation—all of whom would want us to not only keep doing the Jesus things but with also with joy—we may ask ourselves, how can we keep them with us? Grief and memory and relationship are often messy and unfinished, but they are also pathways to something deeper. American novelist Elizabeth Berg is quoted on the back of the bulletin: “I thought, the only good thing about sorrow is that is brings us down to ground zero inside ourselves, it reacquaints us with our best and truest self, and it releases compassion like some mighty hormone, and if there is one thing that is good for us it’s to have compassion, because it brings us together.”
And so this morning we have this story from the early beginnings of Christian community, in which a beloved leader, Tabitha or Dorcas, has died, leaving behind a group of widows for whom she made beautiful clothing. She is the only female disciple named as such in the book of Acts and yet she is not famous or well-known. Rather she loved well, helped to change the lives of those she loved, and was well-loved in return. What more is needed for a life well-lived? Out of her love and the generosity of her livelihood she raised up, lifted up these widows, impoverished women on the margins of society. Her work helped these women come alive again, evidenced by the depth of their grief and their reluctance to let her go. They send for Peter, hopeful that this is not the end of the story. We don’t hear his prayer, any lengthy plea from him for Tabitha to be healed; only a simple command: Tabitha, get up.
Get up. This is also our call. Get up, Church. Come alive again, Church. We take our saints, our beloved ones, and their gifts and their love and their example and we do the Jesus things. We tell their stories to remind us that there are still countless others fighting the good fight, people who are doing the Jesus things because they must, because life requires that they get up and come alive.
Like Shannon Watts, the founder and activist behind Everytown for Gun Safety and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America, who receives death threats to herself and her family when the NRA tags her in social media posts. Even though she is often accused by the NRA of being a paid lobbyist, all that she does is as a volunteer. She says, “I’m just a mom. And that’s why I’ll never give up exposing [their] deadly agenda”.
Or my Twitter friend, Mx. Kori Pacyniak, a non-binary pastor, a graduate of Harvard Divinity School with an M.Div. in queer theology, and a PhD candidate in queer and trans studies who is seeking ordination through the Roman Catholic Women Priests. Even as Pope Francis disavows any notion of a female diaconate and denies that the Church can or has ever changed its teachings, the Roman Catholic Women Priests boldly break with unjust canon law. From their website: “[We] are at the forefront of a model of service that offers Catholics a renewed priestly ministry in vibrant grassroots communities where all are equal and all are welcome. The voice of the Catholic people—the sensus fidelium—has spoken. We women are no longer asking for permission to be priests. Instead, we have taken back our rightful God-given place ministering to Catholics as inclusive and welcoming priests.”
Or Jeanne Manford, the founder of PFLAG: Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, who was the first mom to publicly support a gay child and marched with her gay son in the New York City Pride parade in 1972, the same year the United Church of Christ was the first to ordain an openly gay man.
Or our own Rev. Traci Blackmon, the Associate General Minister of Justice and Local Church Ministries for the United Church of Christ, who not only resists but schools those who would remain ignorant to what it means to live in skin that is not white in this country. Last week Traci was flying from Cleveland, OH to Charlotte, NC, when the following happened:
“Standing in line to board.
I’m first in line.
A middle eastern man is second.
The line progresses from there.
Just before boarding a middle-aged white woman struts up the side of me politely saying “excuse me” as she passes.
“She then proceeded to position herself in front of me in line. To which I respond, ‘Are you flying first class this afternoon?’ And she smiles and says “yes.”
“I respond: So am I. I am curious, if you don’t mind me asking. What was it about me that caused you to presume I was not a first class passenger and therefore you should be in front of me.
“Her face reddened. So I continued.
“I thought perhaps it was my casual dress. I mean I’m wearing torn jeans and a tee. Perhaps you didn’t think a person dressed this way would be in first class. But then I noticed you’re wearing a baggy sweat suit. So it couldn’t be that. I’m trying to figure out what it might be.
“I just didn’t realize. I apologize,” as she gathers herself and prepares to move. And then she proceeds to get behind me.
“I look inquisitively at the Middle Eastern man. He shrugged his shoulders. So I said loudly: Sir, are you flying first class as well? I can’t tell by looking at you. But I assume since you are standing here with me that you can read and you are in the place you should be.
“Again. She gathers her bags, moves. And replies she didn’t know.
“A few minutes later. She comes back up to me to tell me how cute my shoes are. I imagine she realizes the error of her ways and wants me to know now that she indeed does see...my shoes.
“I tell you.
This crap is exhausting.
“But. Every. Time. I. Will. Teach. You!!!”
Traci ends with, “I don’t even like the whole first class thing. They gave it to me because of frequency. I ain’t paying for it. But I may start. Just as an act of resistance!!!”
Marguerite de Valois, in the 16th century, wrote, “Love works in miracles every day: such as weakening the strong, and strengthening the weak; making fools of the wise, and wise [ones] of fools; favoring the passions, destroying reason, and in a word, turning everything topsy-turvy.”
Not giving up. Each of us, all of us being exactly who we are and serving exactly that way. Challenging systems and institutions of power. Loving unconditionally and fighting for the equality of those still vulnerable to threats of violence because of their gender, because of who they love. Teaching the privileged to open their eyes and see for the first time. Creating a more just world with what we have, making miracles with the ordinary so that others may get up and come alive.
This is what it means to do the Jesus things. This is what it means to get up and come alive. This is how we practice resurrection, how we turn the world upside down.
Benediction - © 2019 enfleshed
Friends, it is Love that called us here and Love that sends us.
May we go in the assurance that this same Love
is working in us and through us and around us
in miraculous and ordinary ways,
binding up broken hearts,
rising up against injustice and oppression,
and stirring up new life in places unimaginable.
Go in peace.
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
May 12, 2019 – Mother’s Day
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| Tabitha's Gift by Cody Miller |
They had to move on without him. He had turned their world upside down. Jesus had led the disciples to a generous, justice-filled, compassionate, authentic, daring, fearless way of living, and now they had to do it without him. They banded together, formed communities of mutual care and sharing, met for prayer and singing and a meal, in the midst of which they remembered Jesus. They took their message on the road, eager to share their way of life with others who were lonely, those in need of healing, those who suffered injustice under the boot of the Roman Empire. In the book of Acts we read that this way of life had become contagious, adding thousands to their number, especially after Paul had given up his old ways of judgment and persecution and was now spreading Jesus’ word of love and forgiveness, resistance and restoration.
All of us have had at least one person in our lives who showed us how to live a generous, good and loving life by their own example. They were parents, grandparents, siblings, teachers, mentors, friends, professionals, authors, leaders, and at some point we had to move on without them. Author Diana Butler Bass tweeted the other day: “Had a conversation today about how to go on after a beloved leader dies. The upshot of what I said: ‘People die. Their work goes on. The word lives after death.’ When you think about it, that’s actually the core of Christianity. People die. The work lives on.” She went on, “Grief eventually turns toward creativity and renewal. It takes a while. But it does.”
Get up. This is also our call. Get up, Church. Come alive again, Church. We take our saints, our beloved ones, and their gifts and their love and their example and we do the Jesus things. We tell their stories to remind us that there are still countless others fighting the good fight, people who are doing the Jesus things because they must, because life requires that they get up and come alive.
Like Shannon Watts, the founder and activist behind Everytown for Gun Safety and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America, who receives death threats to herself and her family when the NRA tags her in social media posts. Even though she is often accused by the NRA of being a paid lobbyist, all that she does is as a volunteer. She says, “I’m just a mom. And that’s why I’ll never give up exposing [their] deadly agenda”.
Or my Twitter friend, Mx. Kori Pacyniak, a non-binary pastor, a graduate of Harvard Divinity School with an M.Div. in queer theology, and a PhD candidate in queer and trans studies who is seeking ordination through the Roman Catholic Women Priests. Even as Pope Francis disavows any notion of a female diaconate and denies that the Church can or has ever changed its teachings, the Roman Catholic Women Priests boldly break with unjust canon law. From their website: “[We] are at the forefront of a model of service that offers Catholics a renewed priestly ministry in vibrant grassroots communities where all are equal and all are welcome. The voice of the Catholic people—the sensus fidelium—has spoken. We women are no longer asking for permission to be priests. Instead, we have taken back our rightful God-given place ministering to Catholics as inclusive and welcoming priests.”
Or Jeanne Manford, the founder of PFLAG: Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, who was the first mom to publicly support a gay child and marched with her gay son in the New York City Pride parade in 1972, the same year the United Church of Christ was the first to ordain an openly gay man.
Or our own Rev. Traci Blackmon, the Associate General Minister of Justice and Local Church Ministries for the United Church of Christ, who not only resists but schools those who would remain ignorant to what it means to live in skin that is not white in this country. Last week Traci was flying from Cleveland, OH to Charlotte, NC, when the following happened:
“Standing in line to board.
I’m first in line.
A middle eastern man is second.
The line progresses from there.
Just before boarding a middle-aged white woman struts up the side of me politely saying “excuse me” as she passes.
“She then proceeded to position herself in front of me in line. To which I respond, ‘Are you flying first class this afternoon?’ And she smiles and says “yes.”
“I respond: So am I. I am curious, if you don’t mind me asking. What was it about me that caused you to presume I was not a first class passenger and therefore you should be in front of me.
“Her face reddened. So I continued.
“I thought perhaps it was my casual dress. I mean I’m wearing torn jeans and a tee. Perhaps you didn’t think a person dressed this way would be in first class. But then I noticed you’re wearing a baggy sweat suit. So it couldn’t be that. I’m trying to figure out what it might be.
“I just didn’t realize. I apologize,” as she gathers herself and prepares to move. And then she proceeds to get behind me.
“I look inquisitively at the Middle Eastern man. He shrugged his shoulders. So I said loudly: Sir, are you flying first class as well? I can’t tell by looking at you. But I assume since you are standing here with me that you can read and you are in the place you should be.
“Again. She gathers her bags, moves. And replies she didn’t know.
“A few minutes later. She comes back up to me to tell me how cute my shoes are. I imagine she realizes the error of her ways and wants me to know now that she indeed does see...my shoes.
“I tell you.
This crap is exhausting.
“But. Every. Time. I. Will. Teach. You!!!”
Traci ends with, “I don’t even like the whole first class thing. They gave it to me because of frequency. I ain’t paying for it. But I may start. Just as an act of resistance!!!”
Marguerite de Valois, in the 16th century, wrote, “Love works in miracles every day: such as weakening the strong, and strengthening the weak; making fools of the wise, and wise [ones] of fools; favoring the passions, destroying reason, and in a word, turning everything topsy-turvy.”
This is what it means to do the Jesus things. This is what it means to get up and come alive. This is how we practice resurrection, how we turn the world upside down.
Benediction - © 2019 enfleshed
Friends, it is Love that called us here and Love that sends us.
May we go in the assurance that this same Love
is working in us and through us and around us
in miraculous and ordinary ways,
binding up broken hearts,
rising up against injustice and oppression,
and stirring up new life in places unimaginable.
Go in peace.
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