Like all of the other parables of Jesus, the parable of the Good Samaritan is deceptively simple. It’s so simple, on the surface, that we end up blind to the real challenge of this story. Those of you who have been part of the scripture group here at St. Paul’s know what I’m talking about!

If you were to ask me to narrow down what it means to be a follower of Christ into one line, it would be this third line of the sixth chapter of Galatians:  “Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”  

Though we have made it abundantly complicated in the 2,000ish years since this letter to the small group that made up the church in Galatia was written, the truth remains that our chief duty, loving God and loving each other, is expressed quite simply in this exhortation to bear one another’s burdens.

“What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” I have to say, that is a very good question. In our gospel reading, the man afflicted with a Legion of demons shouts this at the top of his lungs at Jesus. But I have to admit that I have asked this question more than a few times myself, since I was old enough to know what Christian life really entails. “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” And I suspect that at some point, most of you have asked the question as well. You may even, like the man among the tombs, have shouted it at the top of your voice.

When a Graduation speech, lecture or worse, a sermon, includes the phrase “The dictionary defines [insert subject of speech, lecture, sermon here] as…” it is usually my cue to tune out.  If I wanted to know what the word meant according to the dictionary, I would have consulted a dictionary.

And so it was, with great trepidation, that I felt myself drawn to consult the dictionary on the subject of belief. I won’t tell you what the dictionary said.  If you wanted to know what belief means according to the dictionary, you could have consulted the dictionary.

The story we heard today from Acts gives us a glimpse into the experience of Jesus’ earliest disciples, in the months closely following his resurrection. We don’t know how she heard about or encountered the risen Jesus, but however it happened, Tabitha is a disciple – one who has committed her life to following Christ. She is, in fact, the only person in the New Testament to be named a “mathetria,” that is, the feminine form of disciple. Before we even know her name, we know her identity – a woman who has given her life to Jesus Christ.

Growing up, I was not in the habit of making the sign of the cross during worship. Our church was Lutheran, and although our worship was formal and liturgical, crossing ourselves was simply not the practice. It was not actively condemned or discouraged; I just never saw anyone do it. Perhaps our omission was, somewhere in the distant past, connected with wanting to avoid anything too Roman Catholic. Perhaps it had to do with Martin Luther’s emphasis on inner faith rather than outward works. My parents came from solid Midwestern Lutheran stock – none of these extra flourishes in our family piety. Whatever the reason, we just never did it.