Sunday, April 17, 2016 | 8:00 a.m.

Good Works, Acts of Charity, Salvation

Judith L. Watt
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 23
Acts 9:36–43

Do not forget that the value and interest of life
is not so much to do conspicuous things . . .
as to do ordinary things with the perception
of their enormous value.

Teilhard de Chardin

The story I’m about to tell is a story about human nature—human nature and how we sometimes make decisions about our own lives and what we do. It’s a story about how we sometimes make decisions—decisions we think of as so rational and right—and how sometimes those decisions are made merely by watching someone else. Here’s the story:

It was October, and the tribe on a remote reservation asked their new chief if the coming winter was going to be cold or mild. Since he was a chief in a modern society, he had never been taught the old secrets. When he looked at the sky, he couldn’t tell what the winter was going to be like. Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he told his tribe that the winter was going to be cold and that they should collect firewood to be prepared.

Being practical, after several days he went to a phone booth and called the National Weather Service and asked, “Is the coming winter going to be cold?” The meteorologist responded, “It looks like this winter is going to be quite cold.” So the chief went back to his people and told them to collect even more firewood to be prepared.

A week later, he called the Weather Service again. “Does it still look like it is going to be a very cold winter?” “Yes,” the man replied “it’s going to be a very cold winter.” The chief again went back to his people and ordered them to collect every scrap of firewood they could find.

Two weeks later the chief called the Weather Service again. “Are you absolutely sure that the winter is going to be very cold?” “Absolutely,” the man replied. “It’s looking more and more like it is going to be one of the coldest winters ever.”

“How can you be so sure?” the chief asked.

The weatherman replied, “Because the Native Americans in town are collecting firewood like crazy.” (Told to me by John Katonah, former chaplain, Evanston Hospital)

As civilized and sophisticated and independent as we think we are, we make a lot of decisions about our lives that are influenced simply by watching and being around others. There is a certain herding mentality that exists whether we like it or not. We are affected by our environments. By our colleagues. By our church community. By the various cultures we experience each and every day. You might be one kind of person when you’re fighting traffic (for instance, when someone has just cut you off and sped around you) and a somewhat different kind of person when you’re singing in the church choir or greeting the pastor. We observe behaviors in our various environments, and we accommodate in order to hold our own. We’d like to think we are the same person always, but there is a work persona, when it’s important to hold on to your job and be sure your supervisor notices what you are doing. Maybe there’s another persona when you’re at a party with your very best friends.

We make decisions about how we live and act, often very unconsciously, simply because we are affected by those around us and by the cultures and environments we have to navigate throughout the day. So some of the ways we choose to act and choose to be aren’t any more thought out or rational than the chief’s or the meteorologist’s actions in the story I told. You know what I mean if you have ever been puzzled by how quickly you fall into old, old family patterns when you’re visiting and spending time with your family of origin.

At the end of his book How the Irish Saved Civilization, Thomas Cahill points out that the entire world is divided into two groups: romans and catholics. By romans, Cahill does not mean people born in Italy, and by catholics he does not mean those who follow the pope or attend Catholic mass. In Cahill’s view, “The romans are the rich and powerful”—people who run things their own way and must always accumulate more and more, because they believe in their guts that there will never be enough to go around. The catholics, on the other hand, are universalists. They are people who instinctively believe that all humanity makes one family. Lowercase catholics are convinced that “every human being is an equal child of God, and that God will provide.”

If you were to observe yourself—if you were to observe your own daily actions—into which camp do you fall? Could you say for sure that you don’t have a drop of roman in you? Can you declare you are a pure catholic (a small c catholic), always wanting the best for everyone, always wanting God’s full blessing to be poured out on every group, every boss, every politician, every nation? We don’t necessarily want to be seen as romans, the way Cahill describes them. We’d rather think of ourselves as catholics with a small c, concerned about everyone’s right to God’s blessings. But, if we were truthful with ourselves, I think we could admit there is some roman in all of us and also some catholic in all of us. And maybe that’s not so bad.

Cahill says that romans build roads and great information systems. They erect soaring skyscrapers, design beautiful clothing, engineer incredible computer networks, negotiate complex business deals, and keep jets in the air around the clock. In contrast, catholics are committed to loving outcasts in an extraordinary way. They volunteer in soup kitchens, run foot clinics for the homeless, play bingo with nursing home residents, and devote a week of vacation every year to doing mission work. The roman approach to life is very different from the catholic concept. But the two don’t have to be mutually exclusive. We probably have a little of both in us. Yes, the balance shifts from day to day, depending on our circumstance, but we can be part roman and part catholic too, and it can be good, if we pay attention to what we do and why we do it.

Tabitha was a bit of both. She was a seamstress; she made tunics, beautiful tunics. Sewing was her business, and for all we know, her business provided the widows around her a livelihood. The story tells us there was a room Tabitha had. In all likelihood she was wealthy, which was highly unusual for a woman of her day. The women around her, the ones distraught and weeping because she had died, not only benefited from her beautiful creations, but they were very possibly women who made their own livelihood by working with her, in her employ, providing a living for themselves. Tabitha was an entrepreneur in Joppa. She had some roman in her—ambition, ingenuity, skill, a desire to build.

And ten words in the text tell us that she was a catholic too: “She was devoted to good works and acts of charity.” In other words, she didn’t spend sixty to seventy hours per week building, building, building her business and then take the tiny bit of time left over to do a good work here or there. She was devoted to good works and acts of charity in all of what she did. For Tabitha, the roman and catholic parts of herself integrated.

No matter how we make your living, or what activities we find ourselves involved with, would those around you or me, no matter what the environment, describe us as people devoted to good works and acts of charity? Do the people who work for you see you as someone devoted to good works and acts of charity? Do your bosses see you as someone devoted to good works and acts of charity? Your friends? The people you socialize with?

A longtime pastor in my life used to say that for someone somewhere you are the best Christian they’ve ever known. I wonder if you can put your head around that and think it might be true. The actions others observe in us have power to change how someone thinks and what someone does. Sure, we all tend to dismiss the importance of our lives. We claim “No one is indispensable. We can all be replaced.” But no other person is you, and you are indispensable, irreplaceable in someone’s life; your actions and behaviors speak. At memorial services I am privileged to hear what people say about loved ones they have lost. Nieces speaking about the influence of their aunts. Neighbors speaking about the impact the person who died had on the neighborhood or building. Coworkers moved by the remembrance of another coworker’s kindness.

People might be impressed by your roman side, but they are moved and touched by your catholic side—the part that operates out of your belief that all are children of God, that all humanity is a member of one human family. They can see it in the way you treat the people in line around you or the customers who finally get to your desk after having waited in a long line. They can see how you operate as a manager or supervisor, if you care about the new employee’s ability to succeed and grow. People will know whether you care about the person and the bottom line or just the bottom line. You get on the train, you drive in traffic, you travel to another country, you teach in a classroom, you live among neighbors in a neighborhood. Good works and acts of charity. Tabitha used the gifts she had—she used her wealth and her skills—and was remembered as being devoted to good works and acts of charity.

Tabitha’s death left those around her distraught. Peter, when he was called to her bedside, knelt down beside her and prayed and said, “Tabitha, arise!” and she opened her eyes. She was resurrected. She continued to live a resurrected life. We are called to live resurrected lives too—to respond to the command to “arise” and to “get up” and to be on the alert for opportunities to be engaged in good works and acts of charity, even in the most mundane of circumstances.

So as you come to this table this morning, remember that what is offered here is all gift—a sign that Christ wants to feed you and restore you, over and over again. A reminder that we call ourselves Easter people—people called to live resurrected lives—and that there is always another opportunity to take the grace you receive here out into the world, looking for those opportunities to show our devotion to good works and acts of charity. That will be our salvation. Thanks be to God. Amen.