Sermon, 11 May

Saint Margaret’s

Anglican Church

Budapest, Hungary

Acts 9:36-43, Psalm 23, Revelation 7:9-17,

John 10:22-30

“She was devoted to good works and acts of

charity…”

Some twenty years ago, I served several parishes in the Episcopal, that is Anglican, Diocese of

San Diego, in southern California. The City of San Diego by the way with some two million

residents, lies along the US border with Mexico and directly across from the comparably-sized

Mexican City of Tijuana. And while San Diego is one of the wealthiest cities in the United

States by any measure; Tijuana on the other hand, whilst not exactly poor by some standards,

has more than its share of homelessness, poverty, and crime.

One of the great ministries, or outreach efforts, sponsored by the Episcopal Diocese of San

Diego, actually founded by the Bishop’s wife, was a home and school for the children of

Tijuana just across the border whose parents were sadly incarcerated for various crimes.

Ordinarily, such children would at best be left with relatives, if any; or as was too often the

case in Tijuana actually raised in prison by the parent or parents incarcerated there. Imagine

growing up in a prison. Other such children of course were simply left to their own devices

and lived on the streets of the City.

The home founded by the Diocese for such children provided them with a safe haven where

they also received meals and an education. And the name chosen for the home was Dorcas

House, so called after the central figure in today’s Reading from the Acts of the Apostles;

Tabitha, in Aramaic, and Dorcas, in Greek. A name which by the way in both languages means

Gazelle, the sleek deer-like animal of northern Africa and the Middle East. What a lovely

name. Dorcas, or Tabitha was, as the text tells us, “devoted to good works and acts of

charity.

” The text does not tell us however what exactly those good works or acts of charity,

acts of love, were.

And while the ancient port of Joppa, also called Jaffa, where Dorcas lived, was reasonably

well-off by ancient standards, it too had its share of poverty and social ills and distress. There

were no doubt in ancient Joppa just as many people in need as in any city today; the elderly

and infirm, and families with small children and no income to support or educate them.

Which of these, or others, the original Dorcas served with her good works we will never know.

But her story gives us an insight into the lives of the earliest followers of Christ, the earliest

disciples.

In fact, of all the disciples named in the New Testament, Dorcas has the distinction of being

the only woman specifically called as such by name, a disciple. She was likely somewhat well-off, despite being a widow, apparently having a house of her own, with an upper storey no

less. Call it the very first Dorcas House. She apparently made clothing for a living, making her

perhaps something between a successful professional seamstress or tailor and a fashion-

designer. I suspect more the former than the latter.

Importantly, being a disciple and a good one, she served others and devoted her life to “good

works and acts of charity.

” And then, in the clipped language of the text, “she became ill and

died.” Her body is washed and, well, laid out. The story could have easily ended there, as it

has for so many disciples, male and female, over the millennia. As it likely will end for most of

us. Dorcas could have, so to speak, gone straight to heaven and have remained forever

anonymous in her good deeds on earth.

Yet in Dorcas’ case, two unnamed men summon the Apostle Peter, the chief of the disciples,

from a neighbouring town. Following their bidding, he goes with them and in prayer raises

Dorcas from her deathbed. “Tabitha,” he commands, “get up.” And so, she does. He offers

his helping hand to the one whose hand had so often in life been extended in help to others.

Dorcas arises, speechless it seems, and Peter shows her to the others gathered around. Her

resurrection becomes in a sense affirmation of that which Peter, and every disciple, preaches;

the Good News of Christ’s Resurrection, the Good News of God’s own monumental “act of

charity,” the redemption of humankind, of you and me.

Well, we do not know what Dorcas herself made of all this, nor do we know of the reaction or

response of the people who witnessed it. They were no doubt as astonished and amazed as

you or I would have been. But likely as well at some point, having welcomed Dorcas back to

the land of the living, with a banquet perhaps, they also got back to work, got back to

tailoring, got back to the everyday. And, Dorcas, one can only assume, got back to her “good

works and acts of charity.” And of course, at some point, she died again, but fearlessly,

knowing the power of the Lord’s Resurrection.

The story of Dorcas, and for that matter of Dorcas House Tijuana, demonstrates vividly, I

think, the power of Christ’s Resurrection at work not only in the lives of our Lord’s earliest

disciples, but among disciples still today. Christ’s Resurrection calls us as well to serve others,

calls us to the kind of life Dorcas lived. “Tabitha, get up,” calls Peter, words which echo still.

Father Frank, get up. People of Saint Margaret’s get up. Get up, every Christian. There are

still plenty of “good deeds and acts of charity” to be done. There is still work to be done, from

Tijuana to Budapest.

But you must first get up.

Amen.

The Rev. Dr. Frank Hegedűs