Foundry UMC DC: Sunday Sermons
Religion & Spirituality:Christianity
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC May 12, 2019, the fourth Sunday of Easter. “Questions Along The Way” series.
Text: Acts 9:36-43
One of the things I’ve been aware of as we’ve been telling the stories in Acts the past few Sundays is how full of miracles they are! It makes sense in terms of the flow of the narrative, since Acts is about the beginnings of the Jesus movement, a movement fueled by the awe and wonder of Jesus’ resurrection—kinda the miracle. And the trajectory of the story in Acts is that the same resurrecting-new life-giving-power of God that was in Jesus is at work in Jesus’ disciples through the power of the Spirit. And today we get a whopper of a story: Peter brings Tabitha back to life!
This isn’t a sermon about miracles per se, but I imagine that some of you wonder about it. Let me just say, for full disclosure, that I tend to believe things that seem impossible or supernatural have happened or can happen. This, for me, is not a rejection of science, it’s humility before the power and ever-unfolding mystery of creation and of God. However, there have been some perversions of our theology about miracles that lead to deep suffering—particularly when it comes to what we are capable of doing or what we should even want or try to do. A powerful and formative moment in my early ministry came in relationship with a retired man whose wife had died of cancer. This deeply faithful man simply could not reconcile the fact that he had prayed and prayed for his beloved wife’s healing and it didn’t “work.” She died. He felt he had failed—that he didn’t have enough faith or didn’t know how to pray the right way. If Peter could do it like in our story today, if “the prayer of faith will save the sick” as it is written in the biblical letter of James (5:15), then why didn’t his prayer work? His grief was compounded by his sense of failure and powerlessness. I don’t think adding suffering to suffering is what God desires…
There are also assumptions often made in biblical interpretation that persons with bodies that are differently abled automatically need or want to be “healed”—that is, to see, hear, walk, or whatever. Sometimes in the Bible—and in our current context—people ask for something about their body or life to be changed, but not always. To assume that a person needs to be “fixed” is to miss the inherent gifts that person offers precisely through their particular, embodied experience.
I don’t believe that the point of our scriptural stories and teachings about prayer, healing, and miracle is that we are supposed to be able to keep people from dying or “fix” people to fit some human-determined vision or standard. That way of thinking seems pretty dehumanizing to me. Further, while some amazing and truly life-giving things are being accomplished in medicine and reconstructive surgeries and prosthetics for traumatic injuries, some of the current scientific and cosmetic efforts to control life and death or to “preserve” or modify bodies also seem deeply dehumanizing. //
And that is really where I want to focus the rest of our reflection together today. In this present moment of chaos and crisis (in society, in politics, in the environment, in the church), dehumanization is rampant—causing deep rifts in the fabric of communal life. Stereotypes are in high circulation, people are objectified, groups are labeled less than human, persons get played like pawns on a game board by those with power, polarization and exclusion and the resurgence of active hate groups are both the effect and the fuel of all kinds of reptilian brain reactivity, including fear, mistrust, anger, and violence. Loneliness, isolation, overwork, and the pressures of a culture that prizes unhealthy standards of achievement or appearance leave many feeling disintegrated, depressed, and discouraged—like there’s something wrong with them or like they’re failing all the time.
In this moment of deep demoralization and dehumanization what is needed most of all are people who are at least trying to be less “reptilian” and more human. What I have observed in my life and in communities that are experiencing great anxiety and brokenness is that the simple presence of a person or persons whose hearts are open, calm, loving, compassionate and responsive in the moment without anxiety can be an incredibly powerful and healing thing. Perhaps our first role in healing is to try to be and to become more like that, more human. //
This past week, Jean Vanier died. Jean Vanier was a Catholic philosopher and the founder of L’Arche, an international organization that creates communities where people with intellectual disabilities and those who assist them share life together. Vanier himself lived in this intentional community for more than 50 years. His writings are among the most poignant and powerful I have ever read when it comes to Christ-like living. I commend to you anything he wrote. It will bless you. One of his best-known books is entitled Becoming Human. In the introduction he writes,
Aren’t we already human? How can we become what we already are?...We humans are conscious of our growth from the nakedness of birth to the nakedness of death, and we are conscious of the freedom we have to orientate our lives in one direction or another. This freedom can lead us into anguish and a fear of becoming, or it can lead us into growth and new life.[i]
Throughout the book, Vanier makes a connection between becoming human and new life. And this work begins in the heart—yours and mine. He says,
The heart, the metaphorical heart, the basis of all relationships, is what is deepest in each one of us.[ii] …To speak of the heart is not to speak of vaguely defined emotions but to speak of the very core of our being. At the core, we all know we can be strengthened and rendered more truthful and more alive.[iii]
What Vanier teaches is that doing work that heals our own hearts—work that liberates our heart from chaos and loneliness, from fears that lead us to exclude and reject other people—this heart-healing work helps us grow mature and move away from self-centeredness and a focus on our own inner hurts towards a capacity to perceive our common humanity with others.[iv] The point is not only to experience life more fully and freely for ourselves, but also to become agents of healing and liberation for others. Vanier says:
Our hearts can become hard like stone or tender like flesh. We have to create situations where our hearts can be fortified and nourished. In this way, we can be more sensitive to others, to their needs, their cries, their inner pain, their tenderness, and their gifts of love…It is only once a heart has become mature in love that it can take the road of insecurity, putting its trust in God. It is a heart that can make wise decisions; it has learned to discern and to take risks that bring life…The free heart frees others.[v] …To have an open heart that lets the waters of compassion, of understanding, and of forgiveness flow forth is a sign of a mature person. Maybe once in our lives we will be fortunate enough to meet such a person; we will feel cleansed, affirmed... Then we, too, will walk towards greater freedom and let waters flow onto others, healing them and finding healing through them.[vi]
What we encounter in our text from Acts today is a story involving two persons with hearts that have been freed and healed by the love of Jesus Christ. The disciple Tabitha had clearly made a profound impact in her community through her acts of generosity, caring, and love toward those who were vulnerable in society. When she dies, Peter is summoned—without any request other than to come and be with those who grieve. When Peter arrives, the widows—often among the most vulnerable—show and tell of the one they know as Dorcas and of her kind deeds. It reminds me of so many wakes, visitations and receptions, when photos and stories get shared about the person whose life has touched so many others.
And Peter—historically hot-headed and impulsive (the one, I imagine, who would show up and make everyone anxious!)—has, through his journey with Jesus both before and after the resurrection, become a powerful preacher and source of healing for others. I’m always moved in this story to notice Peter’s simple, humanizing actions in the room once he’s alone with the body of Tabitha. He kneels and prays. Following his prayer, perhaps having received some leading from Christ, he turns toward Tabitha and speaks to her directly. Peter is there when Tabitha opens her eyes—perhaps a bit startling, but also reassuring. And then, my favorite, “He gave her his hand and helped her up.” (Acts 9:41) I have not witnessed a literal resurrection, but I have seen persons whose simple acts of faith, presence, and kindness have made another person’s heart beat in a new way that has led to new life.
Tabitha and Peter are both persons well on their way toward becoming human, their hearts are freed by love to share love. Their actions convey compassion, tenderness, and a sense of common humanity with others, including those whom others would discount or marginalize. All these things are signs of liberated, maturing hearts! And one such heart in the room is pretty darn powerful. But what happens when you’ve got two in the same space? Something like a miracle. New life. Resurrection and restoration. Imagine what might happen with more than two! //
Our question today isn’t Do we have a role in healing… Our call as followers of the Way of Jesus is to participate in the healing and mending work of God in the world. How do we do that? We begin by attending to our own hearts, acknowledging the illusions, prejudices, hatred, and lies that harbor there and then, with God’s help, working to become liberated from them. We are called to do the hard work of admitting our vulnerability and our fears and our hurts. It’s the work of knowing yourself, of taking off your masks, of trusting God, of knowing yourself to be beloved and forgiven. It’s the work of becoming more truly human. The more we attend to that work, the greater chance we will have of showing up in healing ways in moments of crisis in our families or our church, the better chance we’ll have of showing up in healing ways alongside a dying loved one or a struggling friend—not for the purpose of fixing them, but simply to connect, one human heart to another, to say “I see you and honor you and am with you in compassion and love. Let’s try to be human together in this moment of pain or struggle.” God has a habit of bringing new life out of moments like that.
As a closing word, I share this from Jean Vanier of blessed memory:
Wherever we may be—in our families, our work places, with friends, or in places of worship or of leisure—we can rise up and become agents of a new land. But let us not put our sights too high. We do not have to be saviours of the world! We are simply human beings, enfolded in weakness and in hope, called together to change our world one heart at a time.[vii]
May it be so. Amen.
[i] Jean Vanier, Becoming Human, New York: Paulist Press, 1998, p. 2-3.
[ii] Ibid., p. 85.
[iii] Ibid., p. 87.
[iv] Ibid., p. 5.
[v] Ibid., p. 87.
[vi] Ibid., p. 102.
[vii] Ibid., p. 163.
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