A sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, May 11, 2025. The scriptures are Acts 9:36-43, Revelation 7:9-17, John 10:22-30, and Psalm 23.
A few months ago, a woman called the church and asked if it might be possible to have a memorial service here. She sounded a little timid and cautious in her questions. She went on to explain that the person who had died, Leslie, was not a member of the church—or of any congregation, really—but attended meetings here. We talked about logistics and the calendar and settled on a date. As time drew closer, the friend asked if we could use Zoom for people out of the city to join, so we planned to do that.
When the Friday night came, there must have been almost 200 people in the church and easily another 50 online to celebrate the memory of this woman who had been friend, colleague, neighbor, recovery sponsor, fellow seeker of a Higher Power, and a kind of “wise mother” for so many. And that’s just the ones who were able to come together on a Friday night in March. I don’t think Leslie had children of her own, but she certainly had spiritual children, who continue to do their best to remember the times they laughed, the times they cried, and the times when she was tough, because love called for that.
I’m thinking of Leslie, and so many people in my life who have been spiritual and educational mothers. I’m blessed to still have a mother (and father), who are both saavy enough to watch us online and will probably comment that I did not need to mention them in today’s sermon.
Mother’s Day can be complicated for many different reasons. And while it’s certainly not a religious holiday, I do think the day allows us to give thanks for the mother-like people who have accompanied us in the spiritual life, and those who walk with us still.
We hear about such a person in today’s first reading from Acts. We don’t know if Tabitha had children of her own, but she certainly seems to have had spiritual daughters, sons, and an enormous family that regarded her as “family.”
Scripture gives us a picture of how the early church was growing, with energy and faith in the resurrection, with Mary and the other disciples spreading the word, and with local, everyday people putting their faith in Jesus and changing the world right where they lived.
Tabitha, or Dorcas, as she was called in Greek, seems to have been such a woman. She was “devoted to good works and acts of charity,” we’re told. But then, the Apostle Peter hears that Dorcas has died. He goes immediately. By the time he reaches the village, it’s a little like when Jesus goes to Bethany after Lazarus has died. Peter sees the village people weeping, sharing memories, mourning, and, as scripture says, “showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them.” But then Peter, filled with the power of Jesus through the Holy Spirit, heals Dorcas and she is raised up. We don’t hear any more about her, but presumably, she goes on to live an even longer life of good works, acts of charity, and making clothing for those who need it.
That funny-sounding name “Dorcas” continues in the Christian Church, with Bible studies, prayer groups, and Christian ministries named after her. Especially in the 1800s, the Dorcas Society begun in England established various chapters in the United States. And one very strong chapter was New York’s African Dorcas Association, founded in 1828. Women met at a house in Tribeca and in a Free School on Mulberry Street. Members of the society pooled their resources and made clothes for poor children to be able to attend school, especially those attended the African Free School.
Dorcas, and those who follow in her spirit do what we’re encouraged in today’s opening prayer: that
we hear the voice of Christ,
we hear in it our own name,
and that we have the faith and strength to follow where he leads.
Whether we actually hear something we think may be the voice of Christ, or simply choose to listen for that voice—the voice of God’s love towards us, the music of God’s peace, the sound of the Spirit’s strengthening—faith involves our trying hear and developing our ability to tune out all the noise and static, so that we can really listen. Some may hear it clearly. Others may hear it only partially, or trust that others hear it. But our being here, in this place, is an act of our obedience to God, recalling that the word “obedience” comes from the Latin, ob-audire… to listen, to hear.
But do we also listen for our own name in the sound of God? The second part of today’s prayer invites us to “hear our own name,” meaning, to discern our own path for being faithful. Sometimes we can do that alone. We sense God’s invitation to use a part of ourselves, to develop a talent, and to share it with others. But often, we’re slow to hear God alone, and we need other people. That’s where the whole community of faith comes in, as we help one another discern God’s gifts. It happens when someone says to you, “I notice you’re good with kids. Would you consider helping teach Sunday school or volunteer for a special children’s event?” Or, “I notice you have ideas about the church, may I nominate you to stand for vestry or serve in some other capacity?” On and on, goes the encouragement, the listening, and the discernment.
The third part of our Collect of the Day involves following where Christ leads. The Good Shepherd and lamb imagery breaks down when we think about this third part. God has given us a great deal more freedom and willpower than a lamb has. We can choose to follow the way of God in Christ, as we hear it ourselves, and as it’s amplified in Christian community, or we can choose to go some other way. Often, we can choose an in-between. We sense where God wants us to go, but we don’t feel strong enough, faithful enough, or ready enough. Maybe we stop still, in fear. Or maybe we veer off to the right or left.
The somewhat scary word, “vocation” can sometimes be used in a kind of all or nothing way. But I think a person can have several vocations, if one is open to God’s Spirit. Frederick Buechner has defined vocation famously as “the work God calls you to do.” He explains,
There are all different kinds of voices calling you to all different kinds of work, and the problem is to find out which is the voice of God rather than of Society, say, or the Super-ego, or Self-Interest.
By and large a good rule for finding out is this. The kind of work God usually calls you to is the kind of work (a) that you need most to do and (b) that the world most needs to have done. If you really get a kick out of your work, you’ve presumably met requirement (a), but if your work is writing TV deodorant commercials, the chances are you’ve missed requirement (b). On the other hand, if your work is being a doctor in a leper colony, you have probably met requirement (b), but if most of the time you’re bored and depressed by it, the chances are you have not only bypassed (a) but probably aren’t helping your patients much either.
Neither the hair shirt nor the soft berth will do. The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet. (Wishing Thinking: A Theological ABC, p. 95).
When I think of an openness to God’s calling and vocation, I think of my college friend, who I’ll call Lisa. Lisa majored in business and did well, graduated, and quickly began working for a large bank. She did well and was fairly happy, though she worked long hours. When she met her husband, who also worked in banking, she began to be open to a change. She prayed a lot about this, asked people at church, and continued to listen for God’s prompting. Lisa became pregnant, which filled her mind/body/spirit with new life. But through her pregnancy, an idea began to grow. Once her son was born, the idea seemed to be encouraged from every direction. Lisa wanted to be a nurse or a midwife, somehow to assist other women in bringing children into the world. She went back to college to take a few science classes, enrolled in nurses training, and after a few years, began working in a hospital on the newborn wing. Her early vocation was as a banker. Her midlife vocation is as a nurse. Who knows what her later life’s vocation might be?
The Church itself is sometimes understood as Mother Church—because it gives birth to faith, to new vocations, and to new life. But we all participate in the Holy Spirit’s work—some as mothers, some as grandmothers, and many of us as midwives in the life of the Spirit.
On this and every day, may God “Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads; who, with you and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever.”
In the name of God, Source of All Being, Eternal Word, and Holy Spirit. Amen.