Gods Handiwork.

One of the readings from scripture this week continues the reading we had last week from Acts 9. When Peter first arrives, it’s your average pastoral care call. A friend dies, and they call the head pastor, Peter. He arrives in haste. I’m sure he is greeted with solemn faces, many tears. There are hugs and loving touches for all who grieve. The house appears full of mourners—widows who had received the love and compassion of a woman named Dorcas. This is a common sight for us humans as a loved one dies and we go to comfort the family and friends while seeking our own comfort.

Once Peter makes his way through the crowd, the widows begin telling stories. Isn’t that what we do? We tell stories of our loved ones when they have died. We remember together. And apparently remembering Dorcas meant remembering her craft. “All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them.” I imagine many were wearing those tunics and clothing. It seems a wonderful tribute to Dorcas—a living fashion show. The work of her hands walking around while stories are told of her love and compassion. It is the fashion show of her life. They are showing her off by showing off her handiwork.

But then Peter dismisses the others. Alone, he entered the room where Dorcas is. The last time he had done something like this, he wasn’t alone. He was with their friend Jesus and a couple other friends. They entered the room of a daughter who had died. Jesus told her to get up and she did. Peter imitates Jesus. He tells her to get up. And she does. And then calling the saints and widows—Peter shows them Tabitha. Not the work of her hands but the work of God’s hand, the work of the Spirit to resurrect, to give life, to recreate, to lift up. Peter shows them God’s handiwork.

Further, we don’t know how Tabitha died. Had she been an innocent bystander at the finish line of the Joppa Marathon? Was she working at her job when the factory caught fire and exploded? Did she have a cancer diagnosis? However Tabitha died, we know her friends were devastated. They had gathered around her, preparing her body for burial, grieving through tears and by sharing memories, showing Peter the clothing she had made, putting together slide shows with pictures from her life.

Perhaps there was a memorial like the ones we see today, with flowers, candles, and teddy bears, ribbons woven through the links of her chain link fence. The friends rushed into that place of vulnerability to show their love for their friend. They are described as widows, a nameless crowd of women who knew their own kind of loss. They had lost husbands, at the least. And they rushed in to care for Tabitha upon her death. When Peter arrived at Tabitha’s bedside, he found people who offered love and presence in the face of death.

Resurrection happens in those moments. Every time people run toward danger to help others, resurrection happens. Every time people choose love instead of hate, resurrection happens. Every time people come together instead of dividing, resurrection happens. In this season of Easter, we remember we who are Christians are resurrection people. With the disciples who left their locked room to go feed Jesus’ sheep . . . With the widows who rushed in to care for their friend Tabitha. . . We are called to offer resurrection.