<html><body>My first draft for Sunday!<div><br></div><div>Bob</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBANY, ALBANY 4 EASTER c<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">ACTS 9:36-43 17<sup>th</sup> APRIL, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">REVELATION 7:90-17 PSALM 23<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">JOHN 10:22-3<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> At first glance, the opening two scripture readings seem to be at odds with one another. Both are familiar, the one from the revelation to John perhaps more so because it’s one of those suggested for funerals. It’s a passage of comfort, to us and to the person who’s drawing close to death. It’s about faith, about hope. It describes people like you and me – ordinary people who’ve led fairly regular lives. In other words, these are people who’ve had their share of struggles. They’ve been stressed as much as they’ve been exhilarated. They’ve felt left all alone and isolated as well as having enjoyed the company of family and close friends. “These,” said the angel to John in his vision, “these are regular people who’ve faced up to difficulties and doubts, and who’ve succumbed to the consequences of disappointment from time to time, yet every last one of them have been redeemed by Jesus’ love and have found God’s marvelous, vibrant peace.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> So what happened in the situation described in the reading from the book of the Acts of the Apostles?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> Tabitha apparently worked night and day to take care of those in her community who were in need. Nothing was too much to do. She worked with cloth to take care of people’s basic necessities. She responded to cries for help. But she became ill and died.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> Why did it have to happen to her? She was the FISH, and St Mary’s Soup Kitchen, and St Vincent de Paul all rolled into one. When someone like her devoted all of her life to ministering in Jesus’ name, why couldn’t she have lived longer?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> That’s what the folk of her congregation felt too. Why her? Why not someone else? Or can one really weigh one person against another and say that this one is worth another year o two and that one can go?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> At any rate, the congregation sent for Peter – the same Peter who’d had an analysis session with Jesus on the lake shore.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> Now, Peter, at least by this time, wasn’t showy and flashy. He asked those mourning Tabitha’s death to leave him alone wth her body.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> There seems little doubt that she’d died. It didn’t appear to be a seizure or anything like that. Peter prayed, for what we don’t know, but presumably that God be glorified further through Tabitha and the ministry to which she’d been called. And Tabitha arose. She became revitalized, and she witnessed to the community about the loving power of God.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> But then we have that nagging question, the one that must have haunted the families and friends of those described in both readings. Why them? Why did those who’re described in the Revelation to John suffer, die and not be seen again by those who loved them on earth? Why were they debilitated? Surely all good folk should live long and prosper.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> The answer to the question about why them, why Tabitha and the crowd around God, why us; the answer seems so difficult and wrapped up in arbitrariness. It would be so much easier if we could form an opinion now – to say that the people we like, the ones with whom we agree, the ones whose so-called “good deeds” are visible in the community, the ones whose intentions are good, in our estimation; it would be so much easier if we could count on them being around for a long, long time. We know that folk don’t live for ever, at least on earth. And, yes, we <b><u>DO</u></b> believe that in and through Jesus we <b><u>WILL</u></b> live for ever, and that death is not the end. But why do things seem so random? Why is there no apparent “reward” for living a good life – and the reward we look for is, most likely, a healthy decade more of life. Why was Tabitha spared, in the same way that Lazarus was? Sure these two weren’t the only ones whose ministry was pleasing in God’s sight.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> We have to admit that our faith <b><u>DOES</u></b> give us encouragement in the sure hope of reuniting with those whom we love. We <b><u>ARE</u></b> strengthened when we know that Jesus’ promise is not empty and that we shall be with Him, and that vast crowd of witnesses. We <b><u>DO</u></b> mean to be one of the saints, one of the holy ones of God, like the doctor, and ruler, and the sheepherder, and the soldier – even the priest. Nevertheless, if given a choice, we’d rather be a Tabitha than in the crowd around the throne on which God’s Lamb held court.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> I don’t think we, or anyone else, would fault us for thinking like this. We learn, slowly, how to interact with the people around us. Just by virtue of being family members doesn’t mean that we like all of the group. It <b><u>DOES</u></b> take us a while to learn and to practice loving. People fall in and out of relationships so easily. I don’t know if this is any different today than it was in our parents’ generations, or our grandparents. Perhaps what we perceive as the toughness of the times in which some of our ancestors lived <b><u>DID</u></b> pull people together more. Perhaps instant communication – cell phones, twenty-four hour news information, newspapers in our hands and then all the extra bulletins posted on line; perhaps instant communication makes things easier for us. But I can’t help the nagging suspicion I have that all of this lends an air of voyeurism and superficiality to our relationships. So we really do have to work hard, have to make a deliberate effort, to engage in those acts of love which Jesus seeks from our lives. We’ve to make the most of every moment we’re given, because we <b><u>DON’T</u></b> know what may happen this afternoon; or tomorrow; or next week. If our role is in working with cloth, making sure that people are given warmth and a sense of security; if our role is in taking a hot dish over to someone who’s under the weather, or unable to cook for a while; if our role is to mow a front yard; if our role is to sit beside someone, or to pick up the phone and listen to what may be bothering or upsetting them right now; if our role from God is any one of a number of things, then we’re to make this a priority.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> It’s possible that we’ll be graced with long life, that the number of people whom we’ll be able to touch and to<br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">encourage will be considerable. It’s just as possible that we may be like Annette Hobbs who worked down Hill Street a block at FISH of Albany, who dedicated her life to helping folk, yet who died aged sixty-one.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> I know some folk who’re distressed that folk like Annette do die way before the average life expectancy of a woman in Oregon. I know a few whose faith is really rocked, who say that there can’t be a God if she died so young after her service to the community; or else some day that God is mean, capricious, arbitrary if Annette and people like her succumb to cancer.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> My heart goes out to the families of everyone who dies, especially if the death occurs at an early age and the family left behind will have to struggle to continue. There’s no getting around the pain of separation, the terrible loneliness, the hard times which we all have to face when a loved one dies, when relationships collapse, when tragedy of any kind hits us. Jesus knows all about this sort of pain. He knows first-hand, and His heart breaks and His tears flow for and with us. Yet we’re not left with nothing. To put it positively, we’re left with something which can be of comfort in those terrible times.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> The one thing which united the people of both of the stories from the first two readings is that Jesus was present to and for everyone. Yes, it <b><u>DID</u></b> result in the return to life of Tabitha, somehow. But I thik that that can deflect our attention from the way in which Jesus guidance and leadership carries us through every situation, even – should I say especially? – when the outcome brings us so much separation and heartache,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> This is where the Gospel passage shines hope and promise for us. I’d be willing to bet that it wasn’t only those in the Temple precincts who asked “How long will you keep us in suspense?” Those around Tabitha; those who were gathered around every last one of the white-robed multi-lingual, multi-ethnic people as they were dying – they would have asked, “How long will you keep us in suspense?” Those at Annette’s bedside, those in hospitals, and hospices, and homes around the world mouth the same question. We do ourselves, even sitting here. We wonder. Did we miss something? Just what did Jesus imply when He talked of Himself as a Shepherd who’d care for every singly sheep in the world?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> “In order to grow in inner freedom,” wrote Jean Vanier, “we need others, and we need a spiritual father or mother who shows us the way.” <sup>1</sup> This spiritual parent is someone whose voice is not only known, but is respected and trusted. It’s not an angry, empty, cruel, uncompassionate, unknown and unknowable person. It’s the Jesus who walks with us on a daily basis, and sits with us while we work, or watch, or weep. Vanier talks about how the Shepherd instills trust in us – the Shepherd trusts us and we trust the Shepherd. It’s a wonderfully symbiotic relationship. Not that Jesus needs us, yet Jesus <b><u>DOES</u></b> feed on our companionship, our trust, our questioning, even our grief for others. “In order to be real shepherds who lead others, we have to learn first of all to be good followers.” <sup>2</sup><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> Brother Roger, the former leader of the <em><span style="font-style: normal; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;">Taizé</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"> </span></span>Community who was murdered during a worship gathering, wrote, “You want to follow Christ, and not look back: will you dare to put your trust in the Gospel time and time again?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> “Will you keep setting off anew, drawn on by the One who walks quietly beside you, never imposing himself? The Risen Christ is present within you, and goes before you on the way.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> “Will you let him place a source of refreshment in the hollow of your being? …<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> “What is fascinating about God is how humbly (God) is present. God never punishes, never wounds our human dignity. God does not extort our obedience. …<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> “In the silence of (our hearts) he whispers, ‘Don’t be afraid; I am here.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> “Recognized or not, the Risen Christ remains close to every person, even those unaware of him. He is there in secret.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> “A fire burning in the human heart, a light in the darkness, (a voice speaking,) he loves you are if you were his sole concern. He has given his life for you. That is his secret.” <sup>3</sup><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> As we mature in and with Jesus, His voice becomes more and more comforting as well as correcting. Jesus’ voice gives us the firmness we need in order to make good choices, and to help others with their choices, should they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> So the Shepherd’s voice reminds us, as Paul put it, that “Whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s!” <sup>4<o:p></o:p></sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 15.3333px; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 15.3333px; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">NOTES<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 15.3333px;">[1]</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> <i>“Drawn into the Mystery of Jesus through the Gospel of John”</i> by Jean Vanier. Paulist Press, New York/Mahwah, N.J. © 2004. Page 184<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">2 </span></sup><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Vanier, Op. Cit. Page 186<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">3</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> <i>“Christ never forces our hand”,</i> readings from Brother Roger for use at <em><span style="font-style: normal; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;">Taizé</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"> worship</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 15.3333px; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">4</span></span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 15.3333px; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> Romans 14:8. Quoted in The Burial Office, The Book of Common Prayer.</span></p></div><div><br></div></body></html>