2 Pentecost C / Ordinary 12/ Proper 7 June 23, 2019
Luther Memorial Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie Hutson
Isaiah 65: 1-9 + Psalm 22: 19-28 + Galatians 3: 23-29 + Luke 8: 26-39
Grace, mercy, and peace are yours through Jesus the Christ. Amen.
How many of you know what I mean when I say someone told a “Dad Joke”? Those are the groaners that fathers often save to tell their kids, usually in front of their friends. I can think of one or two of you here today who are spectacular spinners of Dad jokes.
True confession: There are also pastor jokes. It’s an occupational hazard, that we tell jokes or puns or riddles that come from Scripture. Most of them are only funny to us. But I’m going to tell you this one anyway….you knew I was, right? In the Gospel reading today, Jesus takes a Legion of demons….and that’s a LOT of demons….and puts them into a herd of pigs and then they run off a cliff and die. It’s the first recorded incident of DEVILED HAM. Every time this text comes around you can count on that groaner!
A few weeks ago, when our Scripture reading also mentioned demons, one of you asked me what we do with that idea today. What do we think about the presence of demons? And that’s a great question. Demons, by definition, bring evil intent with them. It’s safe to speculate that in antiquity some medical conditions might also present as being possessed, having an evil spirit, having a demon. Today, we no longer label them as such. But there are still demons in the world. We hear about people fighting their demons, often when describing addiction.
“Any number of death-dealing forces today are often experienced as “possession” or being “caught up” in dynamics that exceed our intentions or control.” In addition to “how addiction overwhelms individuals and families;” consider “how racism shape-shifts over time between explicit and implicit forms; how anger consumes; how envy devours; or how sexism creates pervasive cultures of degradation. We may or may not call addiction or racism “demons,” but they are most certainly demonic.” The neglect of children at our borders is certainly an evil work, a demonic thing. “They move through the world as though by a kind of cunning. They seem to resist our best attempts to overcome them. And as we make those attempts, the experience can be less like figuring out an equation and more like wrestling with a beast”.[1]
And let’s be clear. This man who encountered Jesus and the disciples on this day was wrestling with a beast. A legion, by definition, is 6000 Roman soldiers. When he encounters Jesus, this man is homeless, naked, isolated, and shackled. He lives among the tombs which makes him unclean. He is possessed by demons…a Legion’s worth of them.
It’s clear from the story that he is not the popular guy in town. He would be the person that we might cross the street to avoid, or steer our children around, or warn them about. Don’t go near him. In doing these things, his isolation would increase and slowly, his demons would gain a tighter grip.
It’s interesting then, that the people who are in community with him only become uneasy in today’s story when the demons are driven out of the man and into the herd of pigs, who immediately dive off the cliff and become the punch line in a Pastor Joke.
The text says that “the local residents came out to see what happened. And as they approached Jesus, they also saw the exorcised person sitting at Jesus’ feet, clothed and of a right mind. And they were afraid. “ (Luke 8:35) And then we hear that they panicked and asked Jesus to leave them.
What an odd response to this miraculous turn of events. What a strange reaction to the healing of a troubled member of the community. Or maybe it’s not so odd at all.
When we are faced with new ways of being in the world, when what is familiar, even if it is hard or unhealthy, is replaced by something new, longing for the old ways is an absolutely natural response. It can seem easier to stay in the abusive situation, or the awful job, or the difficult relationship than it is to leave it. And this is not new. We all know that it’s easier to stay with what is comfortable, even if it not healthy for us at best, or even if it possesses us at worst. And those who knew the man possessed by demons, demonstrate that clearly for us in this story today.
The Gospel, the story of Jesus and in fact, the whole canon of Scripture, the stories of the God who created all things, these are stories of healing and wholeness. And the thing is, that healing and wholeness almost never comes easily or simply or without struggle. It’s almost never welcomed by those it is happening to.
But that’s very often not the way we read it. In our longing for some sort of feel good word from the Lord, we’ve sanitized the stories of our faith and turned them into fairy tales. Here’s an example…let’s take the story of Noah’s Ark. This story has become the source of decorating themes for children’s nurseries, there’s Noah’s Ark bedding and curtains… it’s turned into puzzles and picture books. So many rainbows and animals marching two by two. How cute is that? But we forget that Noah had to be forced by God to build an ark as his neighbors ridiculed him all the while God was about to kill off all of humanity because of its sinfulness. And when Noah finally staggers off of the ark at the end of the story, he gets drunk and passes out naked and his sons are embarrassed by him and cover him up before they slink away. And it’s a GREAT story. It is. The lessons there are about what it takes to do what God requires of us to save us from ourselves and how exhausting and terrifying it may be. And how our neighbors will likely mock us. And how in the end, our own saving may exhaust and terrify us. In the midst of life’s storms, that’s the saving word. Not that there’s a rainbow in the sky and animals went onto the ark two by two.
The stories of God are stories of how hard life is. So hard that reluctant prophets run and end up on a rogue boat being tossed about by storms God has wrought and they are thrown overboard, and swallowed by a huge fish, only later to be regurgitated on the beach where God wanted them to be in the first place.
The stories of God are so hard that enemy armies chase God’s people for miles until they reach the shore of a sea and are faced with death in both directions.
The stories of God are so hard that angels come in the middle of the night bringing news that always has to begin with Fear Not.
The stories of God are so hard that when Jesus calls people to follow him, he means put down what you are doing and come right now. No questions and no guarantees.
The stories of God are so hard that one of those followers will betray him for some pieces of silver.
The story of Jesus is so hard that eventually speaking out for love will cost him his life on a cross between two thieves.
Today’s story then is one in a long line of hard stories. One in a long line of stories about how hard life can be. But Legion doesn’t get to have the last word. Neither did the unending rainstorm, or the big fish or the Egyptian armies or the demands of the everyday jobs of the disciples. Neither does betrayal. Neither does death.
Because the point of the difficult stories….which are the stories of our faith and which actually have power when we stop sanitizing them, which actually become believable and relatable because we also experience hardship and disappointment and betrayal and challenge in our lives….the point of those stories is that God never leaves. God does not walk away. Other people will walk away. Other people will mock us, and ridicule us and insist that the only way they will accept us is if we are willing to sit with the demons that they know how to manage.
But that is not the response of God. And in today’s story, which is raw and difficult in places, that is not the response of Jesus. Jesus heals the man, and then reminds him that the place where his story will do the most good is in his own community.
This, beloved children of God, is our story too. And our task and our call from Jesus. That the stories of our lives, in all of their difficulties, are stories of our lives with God. Never apart from God. And those with whom we are in community, well, they may be afraid to hear the story because it’s not what they are used to. It’s not the comfortable story they want to hear.
We are called to tell it anyway. To tell, in all of the hard detail, how this loving God has never left us, and how that makes all the difference.
Thanks be to God, and let the Church say: Amen.
[1] SALT commentary on the Lectionary for 2 Pentecost C