So Peter got up and went with them, and when he arrived, they took him to the room upstairs. All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them.  Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed. He turned to the body and said, “Tabitha, get up.” Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up.  He gave her his hand and helped her up. Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive. This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord. (Acts 9:39-41)

I was downtown Brockville last week for an appointment.  I’m not downtown very much; the parking is awful and its been a really rainy spring and I’d prefer not to have to walk in the rain to get to where I need to be.  Its hard to juggle mobility issues, a purse, an umbrella AND a parking voucher for my windshield.  Regardless, this appointment was with my hairdresser and I really get a kick out of my conversations with her, so downtown I went.

I got a parking space in front of the public library.  I love the library.  I love the philosophy of inclusion and acceptance that the library offers.  I love that they display Hugh’s art, and have showcased Bob Klatt’s grandson, Matthew as a budding new musician.  Hugh has played there too.  It’s a really vibrant, fun place that also has an elevator so I don’t have to be disappointed that I can’t climb the stairs.

The library was closed.  It was Monday, and that’s the one day its not staffed.  I was vaguely disappointed because I was going to sneak in after my hair appointment and read the newest People magazine.  I’m to cheap to spend money on my own People magazine, and usually I have no idea who the celebrity’s are, but its this moment of escapism into an airbrushed life that entertains me.  It’s a place where all things are pretty and perfect and pricey.  I like things that look pretty, perfect and pricey.

On the ramp to the front doors of the library was a pile of ‘stuff’ spilling out of a cart, and a man that appeared to be in about his 40s pacing up and down the ramp.  He was muttering expletives to himself, occasionally yelling out, and obviously hadn’t had access to a shower or a laundry in quite some time.  As I passed by, I kind of veered to the outermost edge of the sidewalk away from the ramp; tried to do so without being obvious, and I could smell that unmistakable pungent smell of urine and unwashed armpits.  I was slightly uncomfortable.  The street I was on was well-travelled and I knew there were security cameras at the library, but this man seemed unsafe, unpredictable.

He frankly, just ignored me.

I got to my appointment, commented to my hairdresser that she had an ‘interesting neighbour’, and then had a general chat about downtown had changed with Covid; how there was far more visibly unhoused people, and how substance use seemed to be permeating people’s lives and ruining them.

All of which are true.

As I was passing by the library on my way back to my car, I noticed that the man was still there, still muttering to himself, and still looking vaguely unsafe.  I took the risk to look more closely at him, and much to my surprise;

I recognized him.  I knew him.  I didn’t know him well, but I knew his name and knew a little bit about him.  So I stopped, called him by name, took myself by my own shoulders and moved closer to him.  He looked up but didn’t recognize me; and continued on muttering to himself and pacing on the library ramp.

But I felt like I had somehow been woken up from a deep sleep.  I felt like I had somehow gone from a place where I lived in my head and made theoretical comments about unhoused people and drug addiction, to a place where my eyes were opened to the humanness of what was happening in front of me.  This was someone deserving of being seen, not being avoided.  This was someone deserving of relationship not shunning.  This was someone that I needed to walk alongside instead of crossing the street to avoid.

When I saw the reading this week about Tabitha/Dorcas, I remembered that Dorcas became a person named as Jesus’ disciple; named for her ministry in the Book of Acts, particularly for those on the margins.  What I had forgotten was that the story began with Peter ‘bringing her back to life’ and telling her to ‘open her eyes’.  Dorcas and Peter, from this point, kind of minister in parallel, and become people who teach others how to live out their faith.

You know how we all talk about our moments like Saul on the Road to Damascus; you know – the ultimate in conversion experiences?  (If you don’t, then go on Facebook and watch last weeks sermon where I talked about it lol).  I’m wondering instead if we need to start talking about our Dorcas Days instead.  The days where we are brought back to life, and our eyes are opened so that we can actually be a people who care about those that the rest of the world doesn’t care about.  The days where we are interrupted from accessing airbrushed magazine lives and are reminded that really living is messy and uncomfortable but also deeply relational.  Lives that aren’t about living in our heads and making theoretical judgements, but are about living in hearts, seeing people and calling them by name.

So, today my dear Bethel Friends, lets look for our Dorcas Days.  And become people that will put our hearts before our heads, and will live lives that embrace the messiness instead escaping into a People magazine.

Blessings today, and Remember you are Loved.

~Rev. Lynne