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Living the Metaphor Part III: Crimes Against Divinity
4th Sunday in Eastertide
Acts 9:36-43; Psalm 23; Revelation 7:9-17; John 10:22-30
The reading from The Revelation of John so completely reflects Psalm 23 that the orthodox sermon practically writes itself. Traditionally, these stories confirm the patriarchal power of the Church for miraculous healing; confirm that the Lord is the Shepherd who will bring his flock safely to heaven after the great violent overthrow of Satan; and remind us that “the Jews,” refuse to believe what is physically proven to them by Jesus’ own works because they are not part of the flock that belongs to Jesus, to whom he has given eternal life and safety. Jesus is God. The heresy – indeed the crime against divinity – of the exclusion of Jews from God’s Kingdom, which is committed to this day by fundamentalists, becomes ever more solid.
Dorcas (or Tabitha) is the only woman in the entire New Testament who is referred to with the feminine form of the word “disciple.” From the point of view of post-modern feminist theology, this woman was so powerful, even Luke was forced to acknowledge her with not one Aramaic name, but the Greek translation as well. The note in the Harper Collins Study Bible suggests that the name means “gazelle” – which is one of the smallest, most graceful of the family of deer. So not only was Dorcas a respected leader in the early Christian community in Joppa, she was well known for her skill as a seamstress, and to top it all off, she was likely physically beautiful. Too much for poor, patriarchal Luke. Dorcas – the powerful woman disciple – has to die and be resurrected by Peter. When she wakes up, she sits up on her own, but then Peter takes her hand and helps her to stand. In contrast, earlier in the section left out by the elves (Acts 9:32-35), the story about Peter in Lydda has Peter telling a bedridden, paralyzed man named Aeneas to get up and walk. Aeneas – who is not a disciple – needs no further help from Peter. Behind these miracles is a second crime against divinity: the subtle indication of the misogynist violence that has historically plagued the institutional Church.
We may not be able to reclaim any of the metaphors offered in this week’s readings. The stories about Peter will have to be discarded, unless faith means the suspension of disbelief that the lame shall walk and the dead shall be raised. Suspension of disbelief is the only option for John’s Jesus, who is clear about who belongs to him and who does not. Nor is there any redemption to be found in the Revelation chapter. The only way for the “great multitude . . . from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” to participate in God’s ultimate kingdom is by violent purification through the “blood of the Lamb.”
Again, the Psalm offers the alternative peaceable kingdom, even though its meaning is corrupted by its association with the other readings. So we are left once more with the choice:
1) What is the nature of God? Violent or non-violent?
2) What is the nature of Jesus’ message? Inclusive or exclusive?
3) What is faith? Suspension of disbelief or commitment to the great work of justice-compassion?
4) What is deliverance? Salvation from hell or liberation from injustice?
This week the odds are with the normalcy of civilization: violence, exclusion, suspension of disbelief, and salvation from hell – in other words, piety, war, victory – and uneasy peace.