Meg Peery McLaughlin
May 11, 2025
Acts 9: 36-43
Week before last, Jarrett and I were at the Well,
a gathering of 16 pastors who have been studying scripture together for 18 years.
We invited Dr. Brennan Breed to join us one afternoon to share with us some new biblical scholarship. He presented on how scripture speaks about what happened on the cross, specifically what the Bible means when it says Jesus was an atoning sacrifice—have you had to mull that one over? His work was so engaging that I’ve already started my campaign to bring Dr. Breed here, so I’ll keep you posted on that.
But one thing that stuck me was a turn of phrase he used. Whenever he talked about Jesus breaking the power of death at Easter, he’d add; death and all the other little death monsters. I found it an odd ¬¬¬_____? for a distinguished Seminary professor to say.
But goodness, I get it.
We see them all around, little death monsters—
still deluded in thinking they have the upper hand.
But, church, we live on this side of Easter—
and it’s not just that moment when someone takes their last breath that Easter declares victory over, but every moment where those little death monsters try to strangle out life.
If you’re our guest this week—maybe here for graduation, welcome!
Let me catch you up.
Since Easter Sunday, we’ve looked at stories where the resurrected Jesus
appears to his disciples— breathing peace on them behind locked doors,
showing his wounds, eating breakfast on the beach of redeployment.
Today our text comes from the first part of the book of Acts,
which is like volume 2, after the gospels.
Jesus has ascended; he’s no longer walking around,
yet the early church is living in the wake of Easter,
still caught up, as we are, in Christ’s death-defying power
that’s been unleashed on the world.
Peter who was sent by Jesus to feed his sheep,
has been out there doing it, he’s just healed a man in Lydda,
a town not far from Joppa, which we’d now call Tel Aviv.
As we come to God’s Word in scripture, let us pray:
God of new life, wake us up with your Word.
Stitch us together with love that heals and rises. Amen.
Acts 9: 36-43
Now in Joppa there was a disciple whose name was Tabitha, which in Greek is Dorcas. She was devoted to good works and acts of charity. 37 At that time she became ill and died. When they had washed her, they laid her in a room upstairs.38 Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples, who heard that Peter was there, sent two men to him with the request, “Please come to us without delay.” 39 So Peter got up and went with them, and when he arrived, they took him to the room upstairs. All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Tabitha had made while she was with them. 40 Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed. He turned to the body and said, “Tabitha, get up.” Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. 41 He gave her his hand and helped her up. Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive. 42 This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord. 43 Meanwhile, he stayed in Joppa for some time with a certain Simon, a tanner.
This is the Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
Taped inside my closet is a handmade card.
My daughter Caroline made it for me years ago.
In blue magic marker it says: Happy Muver’s Day.
Mother is spelled MUVER. I’ll never throw it away.
When you were young, did you ever make something for your mom?
A macaroni necklace? Some art that involved a handprint or popsicle sticks?
Perhaps a lanyard ?
This week one of our preschool teachers, Ms. Rachael, asked—
I wonder how long those handmade coupon books last? Do they ever expire?
My kids are grown and gone, but if I go dig one out of my garage,
do you think it will still work? Would my 22 year old daughter still make me breakfast in bed if I cashed in that coupon? Does it still have power?
On this day where we give thanks to the women
who gave us birth, or chose to adopt us,
women who stepped in when our mothers may not have had the capacity,
on this tender day,
we read a story about a woman named Tabitha.
Yes, the Greek version of her name, Dorcas,
would’ve made her Middle School years hard.
And yes, our own church member, Tabitha Alexander is named after her.
Tabitha is the only woman called “disciple” in the entire New Testament.
We are told she was “devoted to good works and acts of charity,”
but even if we’d not been told that, we’d know already,
because at her death, the ones who are gathered around her are widows.
You know this, but the world in which these Biblical stories took shape, widows are among the most vulnerable.
They are victims of the little death monsters of patriarchy,
economic injustice and legal disempowerment.
With no husbands to speak of, widows had no financial security and no legal standing. Think about who that might be in our day.
Widows, along with orphans and foreigners form a holy triad of concern in scripture.
Over and over and over again, God singles out widows, orphans, foreigners as those we are morally and spiritually obligated to protect.
We didn’t need the Book of Acts to tell us that Tabitha was a disciple,
because we can see with our own eyes how she follows in the way of Jesus:
the presence of all these widows at her death are the proof.
These women are there in that upper room with her body–
washing her skin, still holding her hand, brushing her hair,
telling stories, laughing, weeping,
and did you notice,
holding tunics, holding tunics, and other clothing that Tabitha had made,
made by hand.
I can hear them saying
look how she did this needlework
she made this one for my grandchild
I wore this one long after it was threadbare
I can see them laying
the clothes out like flowers at her feet,
folding a soft one up to put under her head.
Because Tabitha, Tabitha had faced those little death monsters for them.
She refused the status quo. She provided for them, loved them, literally clothed them.
Hemmed them in, behind and before, so those little death monsters could not get their hand on these widows.
This kind of faithfulness does not go unnoticed.
Tabitha is of such importance in her community that two men are sent to Peter.
And he comes.
Peter makes it clear that the power of Easter
has now been passed onto the disciples
and that resurrection is at work in the life of the early church.
He tells her to get up and she does.
One preacher put it this way:
“Acts says that Peter sent all the women out of the room
and then raised Tabitha to new life,
as if Peter were the sole vessel of God’s restoring power.
I do not believe it.
I believe the widows had already released the power of new life into the room
because when they touched those garments
they touched more than a piece of cloth.
They touched the spinnings and weavings and sewings of a life,
interwoven with theirs,
that was dedicated to the Risen Christ.”
Church, this power of new life
is stitching its way through the life of this church now.
Once a week a group of women gather in Dunham Hall to sew and knit and craft.
These are handknit prayer shawls that will be given to those
who are fighting little death monsters of cancer or grief or loneliness.
Each time I give one I think about how as a very young child,
I had a handmade blanket and if I was scared
I would bring it up over my face,
I can still feel the soft cotton, worn thin by time, against my hot breath.
But the power of that blanket to keep away any monsters was strong.
May it be so for these blankets and shawls knit with love.
And church, it’s not just in threads and knots.
The power of the new life in Christ is present too
in the sandwiches you make for memorial receptions, crusts cut off by hand
in the hammer you’ll swing next week rebuilding a home for Ryan and Deena after they lost their own to Hurricane Helene
in the card you scribble to remind a young person that you notice them
in the casseroles you deliver when the next round of IVF fails
in the minutes you type during committee meetings recording decisions of courage
in the rides you offer to appointments
Church, your small, ordinary acts are resurrection-infused.
I keep thinking about that question Ms. Rachael asked:
do you think those handmade coupon books still have power?
Yes, church, they do.
Every expression of love has power
Every effort to care for the vulnerable has power
Every refusal to acquiesce to the way it always is has power
Every willingness to share
Every small ordinary act is resurrection-infused
It has the power of the risen Christ.
Power to defeat every little death monster there is,
Power to take our hands, and say GET UP!
Love gives us the power to rise.