It is significant that on this Sunday we have the story of Dorcas introduced to us by name in our lesson from Acts this morning.  She is a disciple of Jesus whose good works and acts of charity bear witness to his ministry and his commandment to love one another.  Her death causes such grief among the women she has cared for that the disciples in Joppa, knowing Peter was nearby in Lydda, sent for him.   As Peter is taken upstairs to Dorcas, he sends the women out of the room, kneels and prays.  As he commands that she “get up”, Dorcas opens her eyes, takes Peter’s hand, and stands.   

What does the Resurrection mean today, and is there a place in our church for questioning and doubt for people of faith as well as people without faith who remain curious about Christian spirituality?

This is one of only two moments in this gospel that God speaks directly, that we hear the divine Voice. Maybe you remember the other time- when Jesus is baptized, God speaks from the heavens and says ‘this is my son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’ This time, God says something similar, but it's directed to the disciples, “this is my Son, my chosen, listen to him.’ What can we make of that?

The very first sign of Jesus’ identity is a sign of sustenance, of giving the people all that they need, and more. It is also a sign of community preserved, of dignity restored. For the hosts at this wedding banquet to have run out of wine would have been a deep embarrassment, one that others could easily have ridiculed and scorned. What we humans miscalculate, Jesus corrects and fills to the brim, and does it with food of the finest quality.

As Jesus leans into his purpose, we too receive that same invitation, no matter how young or old we are. And it should cause us to ponder, what does it mean to live a spiritual life, a life of meaning and purpose? Is it about having all the right answers? Or is it about embracing a posture of watching, and wondering? Of listening more than telling, and of greeting the world and its Creator with holy curiosity?

Christmas morning is a strange and liminal time – I have come to love it far more than Christmas Eve, because somehow it does not have to try so hard. Christmas morning does not strain to carry the weight of having to create magic, does not groan under the pressure to provide that perfect Christmas experience. Things are, in a way, so much more ordinary.