FOURTH SUNDAY OF EASTER 2016 ACTS 9:36-43When Gazelle died she took with her the dreams of her church, the hopes of her people, the security of those who needed her. She was a holy, good woman. Like the ever-watchful, fleet-footed animal whose name she bore, Gazelle was always on the lookout. She searched for God’s beloved women and men who were experiencing hardship. When she discovered one she gave, and she loved, and she demonstrated the compassion of the Jesus she followed. She was also a skilled worker – a tailor and seamstress. She created garments and gave them away to those who had need. The community she called home revered her as a saint. Without her many on the margins would have been bereft of the resources they needed for sustainable life. “Gazelle, live up to your name.” And she did. With that name we can imagine her. Graceful, nimble, gentle. With that name we imagine her a self-effacing servant, not wishing to be the object of people’s gaze. With that name we fear she is too fragile for this world, too vulnerable for a fallen creation where predators stalk the meek at will, too precious a prey whose untimely death would surely strike. History does not record how she met with that death or what illness snatched her from her people, but we know it was not her time. This was a tragic loss, a waste of a good person, a death that would shake the pillars of faith that were the foundation of her church.

And there she lies – Gazelle, in our language. Tabitha in Hebrew, Dorcas in Greek. We read it in this morning’s lesson from Acts 9. There rests her corpse; there kneel the widows – the recipients of her loving service – wailing; there huddle the leaders of the church wondering how they are going to care for the people in their devastation, and here, here comes Peter. Why? He was sent for by the Christians in that little church in Joppa. What for? No one really knows. Why do you need a reason when Gazelle is dead. Maybe they thought he would say some comforting words, perhaps he would come up with a plan for how Gazelle’s mission to the poor could bound forward despite her gaping absence. Probably because the leader of the apostles should know, and should come, and should honor the death of this saint. So there he is standing on holy ground. One foot in the grave, the other on the hard wood of an attic floor.

Read the full Sermon here: Walk the Line