Even the Sparrow
Every year in the spring my husband Jim and I move from our dining room to sit in our improvised breakfast room on the back porch—a smaller, sunnier, and more intimate setting where we can enjoy a view of our backyard. Though there is much to enjoy in a new spring garden, I have especially enjoyed watching the birds. Among them are noisy blue jays, red-breasted robins, large and aggressive grackles, cooing mourning doves, and even an impressive hawk. The sparrows, this year, though, have been my favorite.
Based on the informative bird cards that I gave Jim for his birthday, and the use of a pair of binoculars to see the birds up close, I think we have house sparrows, the most common and widespread bird in our country. They are small, the female especially drab, and they have a monotonous chirp. They are sociable and like to beg for food in parks and parking lots. I have happily been able to observe the domestic life of some of these common house sparrows, seemingly so appropriately named.
The sparrows lead an active and generally quiet life in our little garden. The previous spring, an enterprising and industrious pair of robins had built a nest atop a small lamp fixture attached to the side of the garage. We left it up to see if another bird would repurpose it, and sure enough, the practical sparrow saw an opportunity to build an upward addition to the nest to suit its needs. It took many days to add on to the nest, and they added so much foraged material that the end result was more like a cave with a very small opening at the top. Jim reminded me of the beautiful verse in Psalm 84: “Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God” (v. 3).
Besides nest-building, which most birds do, the sparrows seem to have an uneventful and unimportant domestic life. They squabble when defending their territory and play like members of any household. They sit in our lush plum tree and dine on the plentiful bugs. They bathe in the bird bath, vacating it when larger or more aggressive birds want their turn. And they shower in the tower of small, brass-colored cups in our water fountain, cups that fit their small size perfectly. Their days have a quiet, industrious, and predictable rhythm. Their life seems inconsequential, so much so that it seems that God could easily forget about them.
A Sparrow-Like Life
But our Lord doesn’t lose track of the sparrows. In the Gospel of Luke, and echoed in Matthew, Jesus says, “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows” (Luke 12:6–7; cf. Matt. 10:29–31).
So when I recently heard in church the story of Tabitha in the Acts of the Apostles (9:36–43), I thought that her sparrow-like life, like many of ours, of common and seemingly unimportant activities, shows us how we really are of more value to Christ than this common but not forgotten sparrow.
Tabitha, or Dorcas, was a widow and disciple in an early Christian community in Joppa. Joppa, whose name means “the beautiful city,” was an ancient biblical seaport for Jerusalem, which was important to the supply chain of the city. Peter, important to her story, came to reside there in the home of Simon the Tanner.
Tabitha’s name means “gazelle.” The name is associated in the Scriptures with one beloved, as it is several times in the Song of Solomon, where it says, for example, “My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag” (2:9a); “turn my beloved, be like a gazelle or a young stag on cleft mountains” (2:17b); and “Make haste, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of spices” (8:14). Tabitha, especially as a widow, was certainly beloved of God.
In his earthly ministry, Jesus gave special notice to widows and took special care of them. He points out the widow giving her last mite, contrasting her to “all [who] contributed out of their abundance” (Mark 12:41–44). He raised the only son of the widow of Nain (Luke 7:11–17), in his great compassion for her, who probably depended on her son, as was common in those days, as her only source of support. And he even used a widow as the great example of persistence in prayer (Luke 18:1–5).
The tradition of the Church carried through this love and care for widows, as shown in the epistles. James gives particular heed to the widow when he says, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world” (James 1:27). In 1Timothy, Paul gives very explicit instructions concerning worthy widows, who are to be enrolled for help in the Church. In part, they should have “a reputation for good works” and be “devoted to every good work” (5:10). And it seems that Tabitha was a worthy widow, for it says, “She was full of good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:36). This was evident from her widow friends, who later showed Peter her “tunics and other garments that [she] had made while she was with them” (v. 39). She seemingly led the pious, hard-working, and domestic life of a weaver and seamstress.
Not Forgotten by God
Loving care for Tabitha, who may have been childless, was demonstrated by her Christian community after her illness and death. Her friends came and washed her and laid her in an upper room. And they sent for Peter, who was providentially close by, sending two men who urged him to come “without delay” (v. 38). The disciples were perhaps confident that Peter would be able to do something with his miraculous powers in Christ. Perhaps they remembered how our Lord had said, “Fear not, even the sparrows are not forgotten by God.” And Tabitha was worth much more than the sparrows to her community of widows.
So Peter came, saw the garments that Tabitha had made that were presented by the weeping widows, and then was left alone with her. Perhaps at this point he remembered the miracle of Christ, at which he and James and John were present, in raising Jairus’s daughter. A dead but “sleeping” girl, noisy mourners put out, Jesus taking her by the hand and saying, “‘Little girl, I say to you, arise.’ And immediately the girl got up” (Mark 5:35–42). So Peter prayed and “turning to the body, he said, ‘Tabitha, arise.’ And she opened her eyes, saw Peter and sat up. And he gave her his hand and raised her up” (Acts 9:40–41). Perhaps later on, in wonder, she may have thought, “Of all who could have been raised from the dead, why me? I am only a lowly widow. But, like the sparrows, I was not forgotten by our Lord.”
What joy there must have been when “calling the saints and widows, [Peter] presented her alive” (v. 41)! And like other miracles in the Scriptures that were done all for the glory of God, this miracle of a widow’s resurrection from the dead caused many to believe in Jesus, as it became “known throughout all Joppa” (v. 42).
There seems to be no Christian tradition relating what happened to Tabitha after her miraculous rising from the dead. Her quiet and industrious life probably just resumed. It is interesting, though, that various societies that care for the poor have been named for her, such as the Dorcas societies and the Tabitha Development Society. What a large legacy for such a small “sparrow”!
When I reflect on the lovely story of Tabitha, I have many questions. God forbid, but if I became a widow, would I be a worthy one, with my days full of prayer and good works? Or would I wallow in self-pity and remain in self-imposed isolation? If I were childless or my children just didn’t care about me, would I be mourned and lovingly buried by my Christian community? Would I leave the fruits of a life that would be respected and emulated? I thank God that he has left us this little story and the loving admonitions in the epistles to guide the way for a fruitful life for his little sparrows!
Patricia Kushiner is a retired long-time staff member of the Fellowship of St. James. She and her husband, Jim, have six children and sixteen grandchildren. They attend All Saints Antiochian Orthodox Church in Chicago, Illinois.
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