Being Ready

Tonight’s Bible study discussion was on Luke 12:32-40.

OK, so it looks like we got another one of those scary “end of the world” passages this week (insert famous REM song here).  Judging by the number of Hal Lindsey and Tim LaHaye books on the market, I’d say there’s a lot of money to be made from other Christians’ eschatological anxiety.  Ironically, I think it was Jesus’ intention to reduce the anxiety of his followers in this particular section of teaching.

To be fair, there is a lot of talk about being ready for the Son of Man’s unexpected arrival.  Our group spent a lot of time brainstorming about what it means to “be ready” for the culmination of human history.  Some of us at St. James Mission embrace a more literal interpretation of the Second Coming.  Others of us prefer to speak more generally in terms of “facing our mortality”.  Either way, we shared a lot of common ground when it came to how we should prepare.

One person commented on how “being ready” consists of “walking the path” of “keeping yourself open” to compassion.  Here are some ways in which the members of our community are trying to do just that:

  • A combat veteran with post-traumatic stress disorder is having trouble with his medication.  When a neighbor tries to help, he pulls out a gun and starts waving it around.  Rather than pressing charges, the neighbor stays with him through the recovery process and even helps him get more stable with his meds.
  • A passionate activist undergoes nonviolence training and gets arrested for acts of civil disobedience against an unjust system.
  • A Christian woman has Muslim neighbors downstairs.  When their teenage daughter runs away from home, she comes upstairs and asks her Christian friend to pray with her.

To me, these are signs of the times (in a good way).  Rather than foretelling the coming of doom and gloom, these vignettes indicate the presence of God in our midst during an age of conflict.

Theological Thought of the Day

Jesus of the People by Janet McKenzie

“Jesus has been so zealously worshipped, his deity so vehemently affirmed, his halo so brightly illumined, and his cross so beautifully polished that in the minds of many he no longer exists as a man. He has become an exquisite celestial being who momentarily and mistakenly lapsed into a painful involvement in the human scene, and then quite properly returned to his heavenly habitat. By thus glorifying him we more effectively rid ourselves of him than did those who tried to do so by crudely crucifying him.”

~Clarence Jordan, from the Introduction to the Cotton Patch Version of Luke and Acts

God’s Gift of Self

Tonight’s Bible study discussion was on Luke 11:1-13.

Somebody made a good point tonight that this parable of Jesus casts the listener in the ‘receiving’ role instead of the ‘doing’ role.  This text is all about how we receive from God.  More specifically, it’s about God the giver.

I used to read this parable as a lesson in persistent prayer.  If we pray hard enough and long enough, we get what we want.  However, walking away from tonight’s discussion, I think this parable is a statement about God as the generous and liberal giver.

When we come to God in prayer, we don’t always get what we ask for.  Someone else in the group pointed out that a person might ask God for more money when God would rather make that person more content with what he or she has.  More importantly, I would add, when we come to God in prayer, we receive that which we need most: God’s own self.

Like the friend in the story who asked for bread, we come in search of Christ, the Bread of Life.  One newcomer pointed out a possible Trinitarian allusion in the friend’s request for “three loaves”.   More than the reluctant friend in the story, God is eager to get involved out of love for the world.  This gift of self is what God liberally pours out in the person of Christ.  Likewise, Christ promises in this passage, not that God will grant our every request, but that God will “give the Holy Spirit to those who ask.”

Whatever my situation, I find that I am best able to deal with it when I am most attuned to God’s presence with me in that moment (contemplative exercises such as centering prayer help me most in this regard).  Sometimes, the act of prayer leads to a change in my circumstances.  Other times, the act of prayer leads to a change in me.

As Bishop Gene Robinson put it, “Sometimes God calms the storm and sometimes God calms the child.”

For those who are interested, here is a brief introduction to centering prayer from my wife’s Davidson College classmate, Fr. Matthew Moretz:

The Better Part

Painting by He Qi

Preached this morning at the Twin Churches in Holland Patent, NY.  The text is Luke 10:38-42.

One of the most common misconceptions about Christians is that we’re mainly interested in getting our “pie in the sky in the sweet by and by”.  People tend to think that Christians want to escape from the harsh realities of this world and live in an insulated bubble until they receive their blessed reward after death.  Karl Marx shared this misconception when he wrote in The Communist Manifesto that Christians are interested in salvation when what the world needs is revolution.  That’s why he referred to religion as the “opiate of the masses”.

To be fair, many Christians have earned this reputation for being too heavenly-minded.  Some of us sing hymns like, I’ll Fly Away and This World is Not My Home. Some of us use our faith as an excuse to disengage from important discussions about problems like poverty and injustice.  We say, “I’m just glad that Jesus is coming back soon to take us away from all this mess!”

Certain passages of Scripture, such as the one we read from Luke’s gospel this morning, are often used to justify our disengagement.  Many believe that Jesus is honoring Mary over Martha for investing in spiritual pursuits rather than worldly ones.  Several theologians have even taken the two sisters as metaphors for the life of Action (Martha) and the life of Contemplation (Mary).  The great reformer John Calvin attacked this interpretation head-on when he wrote about this passage in his Commentaries, “no sacrifice is more pleasing to God, than when every [person] applies diligently to his (or her) own calling, and endeavors to live in such a manner as to contribute to the general advantage.”  What Calvin is trying to say is that a life of passive contemplation lived in isolation from the harsh realities of the world is actually less holy than a life lived in service to God and one’s neighbors, not vice versa.  I tend to agree with Calvin in believing that what Jesus has in mind for Mary (and for us) is not a life of cloistered mysticism, but a life of discipleship.  To put it another way, Jesus does not want to take us out of the world; Jesus wants to change the way we interact with the world.

Let’s take a closer look at this passage in order to get a clearer picture of what Jesus is talking about with Mary and Martha.

Our story begins on a rather bizarre and radical note.  Jesus is welcomed into the home of a woman named Martha as he makes his way toward Jerusalem.  We see first that Martha is the one to welcome Jesus into her home.  This is odd because we know from John’s gospel that Mary and Martha had a brother named Lazarus who lived with them as well.  In first century Palestine, it was customary for men to do the welcoming and govern all interactions between the household and the outside world.  Why then is Martha the one to welcome Jesus?  Second, the house itself is referred to as Martha’s house.  Again, property was traditionally owned by a male member of the family.  We can see already that this family tends to push boundaries when it comes to gender roles and stereotypes.  Martha comes across as a strong woman with an independent personality.

Things get even stranger when we learn about Martha’s sister Mary.  We read that she “sat at Jesus’ feet and listened to what he was saying.”  This might sound like a passive and submissive posture at first (maybe even a little demeaning to “sit at someone’s feet”), but it’s important to realize that to sit at the feet of a rabbi in the ancient Jewish world meant that you had been accepted as a disciple of that rabbi.  This should have been impossible for women in that culture, yet Jesus welcomes her into the community of disciples.  While we are most familiar with the famous twelve disciples (who were all Jewish males), the author of Luke’s gospel seems to be telling us on the sly that Jesus accepted women as disciples as well.  In another passage we see Jesus doing the same for a Gentile (a non-Jewish person).  In that culture, theological education under a rabbi was a privilege reserved for Jewish men only (no women or Gentiles allowed).

The next thing we learn is that Martha seems to be having a hectic day.  Our translation says she was “distracted”, but the term in Greek is periespato, which literally means “yanked around”.  So it would be fair to translate the sentence to say, “Martha was being yanked around by her many tasks.”  Have you ever had a day like that?  I sure have!  Sometimes I feel like there just isn’t enough time, money, or energy to get everything done that needs doing.  Sometimes my appointment calendar and to-do list run my life so efficiently that I forget to leave enough time for myself, my family, or God.  It’s not long before I start to feel like a spinning top that starts to wobble as it runs out of energy.  Stop me if this doesn’t sound familiar!  I think we can all relate to what Martha is going through.  Isn’t that just the way life in the real world goes?  So it makes sense that Martha gets upset when she perceives that Mary might be checking out of reality.

Martha snaps, “Rabbi, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.”  Martha expects Jesus to help her sister snap out of it and get back to work, but Jesus does something surprising and gives Martha the reality check.

After acknowledging all the hard work that Martha is doing, Jesus tells her that “there is need of only one thing” and that Mary had “chosen the better part”.  What is this “one thing” and “better part” that Jesus was talking about?  We have already established that Mary had taken the position of a disciple and was listening to her rabbi teach.  We are not told exactly what Jesus was teaching her at the time, but we can assume it was probably consistent with the kinds of things we’ve heard Jesus teach elsewhere.  In these ten chapters of Luke’s gospel (9:51-19:27), Jesus and his disciples are moving slowly toward Jerusalem where he will suffer, die, and rise again on the third day.  His teachings in this section have a few common themes that run through them: the cost of discipleship, the inclusion of outsiders in God’s family, and principles for living as spiritually-centered people in difficult world.  Jesus constantly finds himself getting into conflict with the political, religious, and economic realities of his day.  These days, we call them governments, churches, and corporations.  Jesus taught his disciples to resist the effect these things have on our consciousness by practicing things like simplicity of life, care for neighbors, regular prayer, reconciliation with enemies, and non-anxiety over daily needs.  Jesus then sends his disciples back into this hostile world as agents of healing.  Theirs is an active and engaged spirituality that doesn’t prepare people to “fly away” to heaven, but instead shouts out loud in the streets, “The kingdom of God has come near you.”  Jesus doesn’t send people to heaven; he brings heaven here!  Remember the Lord’s Prayer?  “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven”.

This, I think, is the “one thing” and the “better part” that Jesus had in mind when he was talking to Mary and Martha.  I also think this is what God has in store for you and me.  We don’t have to be constantly yanked around anymore by the demands of this broken world-system.  Nor do we have to cloister ourselves behind walls of piety and heavenly-mindedness.  We can choose instead to sit at the feet of our Rabbi Jesus and face this world again as spiritually-centered agents of healing.

May God’s kingdom come and God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.  Amen.

Transfigurations

Sidewalk Chalk Flood 2009, another Rob Bliss Urban Experiment in downtown Grand Rapids

I walked by the Agape Center on Genesee Street today, where the kids have decorated every square inch of sidewalk on the block with chalk.  The way the colors are jumbled together makes the sidewalk look like a chaotic rainbow.

As one might expect, there are various images depicting a combination of real-life scenes and abstract symbols.  One can see crosses, houses, flowers, even a shark!  Some have messages written on them (“Room 8 Rocks!”) while others let the images speak for themselves.  The collective effect is that one stretch of concrete along Genesee Street outside the old St. Francis de Sales School is now radiant with the glory of creative outburst.

The scene reminds me of the story of the Transfiguration, where Christ ascends Mt. Tabor with his disciples and temporarily radiates the brilliance that resides within him.  For just a moment, ordinary flesh and clothing were, in the words of Gerard Manley Hopkins, “charged with the grandeur of God”.

But this brilliant dust is sure to be washed away by some combination of footsteps and rain and we, like the disciples who had to walk back down the mountain to the harsh reality of their ministry, must find a way to draw strength from the gift of this moment.

As I was admiring our freshly transfigured sidewalk, I was approached by a woman who had been one of my clients at the Addiction Crisis Center.  Since finishing that program, she has continued in her recovery and now works for another service organization, helping others who now sit where she sat only a few years ago.  Brighter than the dust beneath our feet, which is soon to disappear, her sober life shines on as an ongoing transfiguration, reflecting the eternal glory that surrounds us always, even if we can only see it for a moment.

The Good Samaritan on Oneida Street

The Good Samaritan by He Qi

In this week’s Lectio Divina Bible Study at St. James Mission, we explored the parable of the Good Samaritan, found in Luke 10:25-37.

One thing I’ve noticed again and again in my work with people in the margins is that the spirituality that develops there has a certain practicality to it.  For example, I was leading one man through our catechism class and reflecting with him on the meaning of the Apostles’ Creed.  When we came to the line: “He will come again”, this person had no interest in abstract theologies of the parousia or the end-times.  Instead he said, “Christ comes again in us.  Christ puts us on like the white coat that a doctor puts on when she goes out to heal people.”  Likewise, another person studying for Confirmation understood the ascension to be a statement about God’s constant presence with us (he said that with Christ, we too are “seated at the right hand of the Father”).  Spirituality, for people on the street, is something practical and embodied.

This week’s exploration of Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan was no exception to this rule.  In many ways, they could relate to Jesus, who spoke of disconnected religious leaders who would rather cross the road than encounter a bleeding, hurting human being.  They see in Jesus the impetus to reach out and live as God’s compassionate people in the world.  Not much was said about the historical or literary context of the text.  Instead, our people were interested in the story itself.

One elderly woman told a story of meeting her neighbor this week.  He was looking for some piece of furniture in which he could store his clothes.  She didn’t have anything that would fit.  But later, as she was walking down the block, she saw a set of shelves that would work perfectly.  Unfortunately, as frail as she is, she was unable to drag the item home.  Instead, she said that she felt the Lord tell her, “Go this way” around a corner.  There was a man standing there who was quite willing to help her drag the shelves upstairs.  As it turns out, he was out of work and looking to do odd-jobs around the neighborhood.  She paid him some cash, he gave her his card, and the neighbor got a shelf.

This woman became a living parable on Oneida Street.  Like the Samaritan, she is a marginalized person living in hostile territory.  Also, she went out of her way to embody compassion for a neighbor in need.  Finally, she formed an impromptu community of compassion, just like the Samaritan involved the local innkeeper in caring for the robbed man.

This is what an embodied Christian spirituality looks like for the people in our community at St. James Mission.  It has little to do with denominational affiliation or theological orientation.  Instead, the presence of Christ in our midst becomes most apparent as we commit and celebrate these random acts of kindness in the daily grind of life in Utica, NY.

The Truth That Turns The World Upside Down

This morning’s sermon for Hilltop United Methodist Church in Ava, NY.  The text is Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.

In 2003, I moved to Vancouver, British Columbia to start my seminary studies at Regent College.  I thought I knew exactly what God wanted me to do.  I was going to get my Master’s degree, then a PhD, and then I would teach religion in a secular university while I used my summers to take college students on short-term mission trips.

It wasn’t a bad plan.  In fact, my deepest aspirations were quite holy.  I thought I was following the will of God as best as I understood it.  However, I quickly discovered that knowing God’s path and walking God’s path were two different things.

The academic world is quite cutthroat.  Not only do you have to be the best, you also have to impress the right professors, who will write letters of recommendation, which will get you into the best PhD program, which will land you a good job with tenure, which will make or break your academic career.  I tried with all my might to play this game: I made sure my professors knew who I was, I wrote impressive and insightful articles, and I was brutal in classroom debates.  I would do just about anything to make myself appear smarter than the person next to me, even if it meant putting that person down in front of other people.

When I looked in the mirror in those days, I had to admit that I didn’t like the person I was becoming.  My name, “Barrett”, means “bear” and that’s exactly what I felt like: a big, hungry animal that would tear you to shreds if you got in his way.  I never wanted to be that kind of guy, but I kept telling myself, “This is what I have to do in order to follow God’s plan for my life.”

In my pursuit of academic success, I forgot the first (and most important) truth about following God’s plan: In God’s eyes, “who you are” is way more important than “what you do”. I think this truth is what Jesus was getting at in today’s passage from Luke’s gospel.

We enter into Luke’s story at moment when things are really starting to heat up.  Jesus has recently begun his journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, where he will face suffering, death, and eventually resurrection.  As he travels, he commissions seventy disciples to go ahead of him into the villages.  The number seventy would have been important to Jesus’ Jewish listeners because, according to chapter ten of Genesis, Jewish people believed that the people of the world were divided into seventy nations.  So, by Jesus sending out a group of seventy disciples, Jesus was symbolically commissioning the whole world to participate in the work of the kingdom of God.

As the seventy disciples are sent out, Jesus gives them three tasks:

  1. To Proclaim peace
  2. To Promote hospitality
  3. To Pray for healing

First, the disciples are told proclaim peace.  To be clear, the word peace, as it appears in the Scriptures, does not refer to feelings of happiness that you get from standing around a campfire and singing Kum Ba Yah.  The disciples were not a bunch of flower-children dancing around drum circles in tie-dyed t-shirts.  The Jewish word for peace is shalom. Translated literally, it means “wholeness”.  It was used as a greeting and a farewell.  It was also used to describe the kind of relationship that God wants to have with people (and the kind of relationship that God wants people to have with one another).

I think it’s significant that Jesus told the seventy disciples to begin with this message of peace.  He makes his intentions clear from the get-go.  Jesus has come to restore wholeness and harmony between creation and Creator.  It’s also significant that Jesus gives the seventy strict instructions about what to do when their proclamation is rejected.  Rather than resorting to violence, Jesus tells his followers to “let your peace return to you” and then wipe the dust of that town off their feet and leave.  This nonviolent response would have been bizarre behavior in a culture that demanded revenge for every insult rendered against another’s honor.

Second, Jesus commissions the seventy to promote hospitality.  As itinerant preachers and healers, they were at the mercy of anyone who was kind enough to take them in.  It was not uncommon in those days for popular healers to shop around for the best meal and bed in town.  They would take advantage of the hospitality of the locals.  Jesus told his disciples not to do that.  He told them to “eat what is set before you” and “Do not move about from house to house.”  Jesus wanted his followers to encourage the practice of hospitality among all people by honoring the welcome of poorer and simpler folk.  Jesus wanted these people to know that there was a place for the kingdom of God in their houses too.

Finally, Jesus commissioned the seventy to pray for healing.  Healing was central to the ministry of Jesus.  He didn’t just have a lot of good ideas; he put those ideas into action.  The kingdom of God, for Jesus, is not just a nice place to go when you die; it is a present reality that is coming “on earth as it is in heaven”.  That shalom-wholeness that we talked about earlier was made real by the healing ministry of Jesus and the disciples.  Jesus wanted people to know that his message has the power to change their lives here and now.

So, these are the marching orders that Jesus gave the seventy disciples as they went ahead of him through the towns on their way to Jerusalem: they were to proclaim peace, promote hospitality, and pray for healing.  When they returned from these mission trips, they were shocked and delighted to see what an effect their efforts were having.  By all accounts, they had a highly successful ministry.  They said, “Lord, in your name, even the demons submit to us!”  In other words, they perceived that some kind of massive shift was happening in the cosmic scheme of things.  You might say that they were turning the world upside down.  Who wouldn’t be excited to be part of that?

At this point, Jesus steps in and throws a curve-ball.  He reframes their discussion, so that they might understand their experiences from another perspective.  Jesus says, “Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”  In other words, the fact that you have a successful ministry and are turning the world upside down is not what’s really important.  What’s most important is the truth that your name is known in the throne-room of the Master of the universe; you are known and loved beyond your wildest imaginations.  You are a child of God; that’s who you are!  All the rest (proclaiming peace, promoting hospitality, praying for healing) is stuff that you do because you are already known and loved by God.  The world is not turning upside down because you are so successful and important; the world is turning upside down because God is busy, drawing us closer to the place where we belong.  God is allowing you to play a part in that process, and that’s why you can do the things you do.

This world is a harsh place.  Our society measures us by all kinds of standards: money, property, power, etc.  Most Christians agree that these are not the be-all, end-all of life.  But many of us still fall into the trap of identifying ourselves with our activities.  What’s the first question people usually ask one another at parties?  “What do you do?”  As if that could ever define who we are as human beings!  I once heard of a person who came up with a good response to that question.  He said, “I am a child of God, cleverly disguised as a AAA insurance salesman.”

In seminary (of all places), I fell into that trap of mistaking “what I do” for “who I am”.  I thought I was following the will of God, but it turns out that God was more interested in me than in my job.  Sure, I had big plans for my life, but as they say, “If you want to give God a good laugh, talk about your plans.”

I almost lost sight of God’s will for my life because I was so focused on what I was doing that I forgot all about who I was becoming.  You and I are God’s precious and beloved children.  More than all our successes in life, that is the truth that will turn our world upside down.  Amen.

The Kingdom of God Has Come Near to You

Tonight’s Lectio Divina at St. James Mission came from Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.

As one member of our community pointed out tonight, it’s more than a little unsettling that Jesus tells the seventy to “rejoice that [their] names are written in heaven” rather than celebrate the tangible good that was accomplished during their ministry.  Isn’t that just one more example of Christian indulgence in irrelevant escapism?  It certainly seems so.

It doesn’t help that most popular images of heaven involve pearly gates and golden streets on clouds with angels and harps.  Could anything be more divorced from real life?

Someone suggested another image of the afterlife: you and me in the ground, becoming part of the vibrant ecosystem that exists underground.  What if we could somehow sense the presence of the worms and flowers that transform our broken bodies into sources of nourishment?  We might even be able to reconnect with the creative harmony that was lost when we left Eden.

This image of the afterlife is certainly more engaged and engaging than antiseptic visions of “pie in the sky when you die”.  Not only that, but I think it is more consistent with biblical visions of the prophet Isaiah and John the Elder, where the New Jerusalem is portrayed as an international garden-city.  With gates wide open 24-7 (just like the Waffle House), the nations of the world coexist in a multi-cultural rainbow of celebration.  Instead of an eight-lane highway running through an industrial wasteland, there is a tree-lined river.  This biblical vision of harmonious heaven-on-earth bears more resemblance to the teeming underground ecosystem than it does to clouds and fat babies with wings.

I think we get a foretaste of this biblical vision in today’s gospel text as Jesus commissions the seventy disciples to go and tell people, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.”  Look at what the disciples are doing as they proclaim their message: they are inviting others to participate in an ever-widening community of healing and hospitality.  The Kingdom of God starts here and now as followers of Christ venture out to get dust on our feet and dirt under our nails.

Maybe we can rejoice after all that we are included in this dynamic, organic, and vibrant community?

The Deranged Stranger

Preached this morning at Boonville Presbyterian Church.  The text for this sermon is Luke 8:26-39.  Readers will notice some overlap with this week’s Bible study discussion.

I’d like to start this morning with a brief exercise in imagination that will help us set the tone for our gospel reading:

Imagine, if you will, a graveyard on a dark night.  Thick fog winds its way through the tombstones and obscures anything more than twenty feet away.  Off in the distance, you can hear a wolf howling at the moon.  Bats are flying over your head.  Thinking at first that you are alone, your stomach jumps when, suddenly, a human figure appears out of the fog, walking toward you.  There’s something strange about this person: something about the way he moves or the look in his eyes: something sinister, something inhuman, something evil… and he is getting closer!

Now, you might be curious why I’m describing a scene that belongs in a film by Alfred Hitchcock or M. Night Shyamalan.  I begin with this little vignette because I want to try and establish the mood for this passage.  When we hear the same Bible stories year after year, it can be easy to overlook the emotions that run so deeply beneath the surface of the text.  In case you couldn’t tell from the spooky scene I just described, the primary emotion being communicated in the beginning of this particular text is fear.

The author of Luke’s gospel sets the spooky tone by laying cultural clues that readers in our place and time might not be able to detect.  We heard first about tombs and evil spirits.  Most of us can probably understand how those things could be spooky.  But what about the pigs?  There’s nothing inherently frightening about pigs!  Well, in Jewish culture, pigs were considered to be ‘unclean’ animals.  In the Torah, observant Jews are forbidden to eat pork products.  With that commandment came a cultural stigma around swine.  Good Jews never raised pigs on their farms and they avoided contact with pigs whenever possible.  While our contemporary society (as a whole) does not have an official system of ritual uncleanness, we do tend to associate certain animals with certain rituals.  For example, Reindeer are associated with Christmas, Turtledoves with Valentine’s Day, and creepy-crawlies like bats and spiders with Halloween.  The presence of these animals triggers certain associations with specific emotions.  If you put bats and spider webs into a night scene of a movie, people know they’re supposed to be scared.  It’s the same scenario with today’s gospel reading.

So the scene is set.  I can almost hear the theme music from the movie Psycho playing.  The narration could be read by Vincent Price.

The action begins as Jesus takes his disciples to the far side of the Sea of Galilee, into a region called the Decapolis, which was populated by non-Jews.  This was a frightening prospect for any Palestinian Jew at that time.  They were traveling beyond the pale of their known territory and venturing into a land populated by people that Jews associated with invasion, oppression, and evil.  They were leaving a society defined by their own culture and religion and entering foreign territory.  They were crossing some very clearly defined boundaries between “us” and “them” in ancient Jewish society.  Jesus’ disciples had no idea what to expect from this experience.  They were consumed by an intense fear of the unknown.

These strangers in a strange land have their fears confirmed initially as they encounter exactly what they expected to find in foreign territory: evil and insanity!  But Jesus remains unphased by this dramatic display.  In an equally dramatic display of miraculous power, Jesus casts the demons out of this tortured soul and into the nearby pigs.

There is much that could be said about exorcism itself at this point, but I would rather us focus on what is taking place relationally between Jesus and this person.  What Jesus does is separate the problem from the person in this situation.  The evil that the disciples so feared has been condemned and destroyed, but the person has been healed.  This person, who was “demonized” at the beginning of the story becomes “humanized” by the end.

After the Legion of demons has left the man, we are told in verse 35 that he is “sitting at the feet of Jesus”.  While this might not seem like a big deal, let me assure you that it is a very big deal.  In ancient Jewish culture, to “sit at the feet of a rabbi” was to become a disciple or student of that rabbi.  By placing the man in this position, the author of Luke’s gospel is trying to tell us that, not only was this man delivered from the power of evil spirits, but he (a non-Jew!) was welcomed as a disciple of Jesus, a Jewish rabbi.  This would have been unheard of at that time.  More than this, we read at the end of the story that Jesus “sends” this man back to his own people with instructions to tell others what has happened to him.  In a way you could say that Jesus ordained this man as the first apostle to the non-Jews!  Isn’t that amazing?  The very person, who was once a deranged foreigner, has now been accepted into the community of disciples and then sent out to carry the good news of Jesus to the ends of the earth.  From the disciples’ perspective, he went from being one of “them” to being one of “us”.

When I look at the world around us, I cannot help but notice that there are still a lot of “us and them” divisions taking place.  We still like to draw lines in the sand and divide ourselves into categories based on race, gender, politics, religion, etc.  We tend to think that this world would be better off without “those people” (whoever “they” are for “us”) messing things up for the rest of “us”.  What we fail to realize in those moments is that we diminish ourselves when we let our fear of the unknown lead us to “demonize” those who are different from us.  If we keep drawing line after line in the sand, we will eventually find ourselves very much alone in this world.  What we so desperately need is for the Spirit of Jesus to work another miracle and separate the people from the problems in our hearts and minds.  Only then can we embrace the truth that our differences enrich us.

The apostle Paul put it like this in his letter to the Ephesians:

“Now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. 14For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. 15He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, so that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, 16and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. 17So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; 18for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. 19So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God.”  (Ephesians 2:13-19)

The struggle for inclusion and equality is ongoing in society and the Church.  A few years ago, a friend told me about a woman he knew who desperately wanted to gather with us for worship at St. James Mission.  However, she was unable to do so because of a paralyzing fear.  You see, this woman is Roman Catholic.  Years ago, she attended a wedding at a Protestant church and was summarily excommunicated by her priest.  She is now afraid to attend any Protestant services for fear of being excommunicated again.  Likewise, I am sad to say that I still encounter Protestants (even pastors) who refuse to recognize their Catholic sisters and brothers as “real Christians”.  When will we stop allowing our fear of the unknown to lead us into drawing lines in the sand between “us” and “them”?  Didn’t Paul say that Christ had “broken down the dividing wall” and made us “one new humanity” and “members of the household of God”?

Still, in spite of the long journey ahead of us, I can see signs of hope even now.  During the last century, prophets like Martin Luther King opened our eyes to the point that the vast majority of Christians now embrace the truth of racial integration.  In most mainline denominations, women have begun to join their brothers in the ordained leadership of the church.  The Ecumenical movement has paved the way for Christians of various denominations to come together in celebration of the truth that we are all sisters and brothers in the household of God.

I can see one such sign of hope in this room right now:  An Episcopal priest leading worship for a congregation of Presbyterians!  Not long ago, this would have been impossible.  Our ancestors in seventeenth century England (called Anglicans and Puritans) fought a bloody Civil War over the differences between our respective traditions.  Yet, just over 300 years later (which is not that long in the grand scheme of things), here we are this morning!

Friends, this is a cause for hope and celebration.  What this says to me is that Jesus is still working in our lives to separate people from problems in the Church and society.  Little by little, our lines in the sand are being washed away by the incoming tide of God’s all-inclusive love.  To be certain, there will be difficult days ahead for all of us as we wrestle with questions of biblical and constitutional interpretation.  Our fear of the unknown will almost certainly tempt us to draw lines in the sand between “us” and “them”.  There will be times when each of us will be tempted to demonize one another and say, “We would be so much better off without them!”

Friends, let us resist that temptation (and the fear that goes with it).  Let Jesus lead us into this spooky and unknown territory.  Our eyes have only to behold as the people we once thought of as deranged strangers turn out to be fellow disciples of Jesus.  Once we learn how to work out our differences in that Spirit, we will truly be ready to do as Jesus said: return to our homes and declare how much God has done for us.  Amen.

Tortured Soul

The Scream by Edvard Munch

This week’s Bible study discussion was on Luke 8:26-39.

Exorcism is a controversial topic for discussion.  Many people are rightly disturbed by the fact that accusations of demonic possession have been levied against people who suffer from medically discernible disorders such as epilepsy, Tourette’s syndrome, schizophrenia, and dissociative identity disorder.  Our LGBT sisters and brothers can testify to the fact that accusations of demonic influence are often hurled at those who deviate from accepted patterns of behavior prescribed by dominant religious officials.  Jesus himself endured such accusations during his ministry.

With all this in mind, I approached this week’s discussion on the story of the Gerasene demoniac with not a little fear and trembling.

However the demoniac’s condition is understood, it cannot be denied that this story begins with an encounter between Jesus and a tortured soul.  This person is estranged among strangers.  The story begins as Jesus leads his disciples into Gentile territory on the far side of the Sea of Galilee.  The region of Gerasa was inhabited by people of different race, religion, and politics from the twelve disciples.

As soon as they arrive, they are met by the village idiot, but not the silly contrivance of Monty Python sketches.  This is a truly disturbed and disturbing person.  Those who know may be reminded of Cowboy in Utica or Ross in Vancouver.  Demon spirits, tombs, wilderness, and ritually unclean animals (pigs) give the story a rather menacing tone.  The disciples are probably feeling literally and figuratively “dis-placed” by such an opening to their venture beyond the pale of Jewish society.

I remember the first time I visited the Downtown East Side of Vancouver.  While I was waiting for the church doors to open, a hooker propositioned me on the sidewalk saying, “Ooh!  You look horny for ME!”  Not knowing what else to do, I just said, “No thanks” and nervously pretended to look at something else.  It was a little overwhelming for a southern boy from the burbs who was living in the big city for the first time.  I imagine Jesus’ disciples experiencing similar emotions during their encounter in Gerasa.

Jesus, however, is unphased by Legion’s display of insanity.  The most remarkable thing to me is Jesus’ ability to separate the problem from the person.  The problem is eliminated but the person is healed.  The Gerasene man was previously “demonized”, but has now been “humanized” by the ministry of Christ.

This is quite similar to the approach taken by those in recovery from various addictions.  For the last half-century, addiction has been increasingly recognized as a disease for which a person must receive treatment.  One hundred years ago, someone would have been called a drunk, now we know that such a person suffers from the disease of alcoholism.  In this area, we too have begun to separate the problem from the person.

One member of our community at St. James, who has been in recovery from alcoholism for several decades, was able to identify the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) in this story.  Like the demoniac, she too was restored to sanity by her Higher Power.

In the denouement, we read that the Gerasene man is now “sitting at the feet of Jesus”, a remarkable phrase used to describe the relationship between rabbis and their disciples.  The same phrase was used to describe the relationship between Jesus and Mary of Bethany.  What this indicates is that Jesus is interested in recruiting women and non-Jews into his cadre of disciples.  This would be unheard of in that time.

The transformation in the Gerasene man is obvious to those who know him.  In fact, it causes quite a bit of consternation among the locals.  This is not surprising considering that communal systems tend to resist change.

Recovering addicts and alcoholics are able to relate to this as well.  Re-defining family relationships is one of the most stressful parts of recovery.  The family had maintained a delicate balance and rhythm for survival while their loved one was drinking and/or using.  When that person gets clean & sober, the balance and rhythm get disturbed.  There are two easy ways out of this situation: the person in recovery can “pick up” their substance of choice again or the person can leave the family system altogether.

The Gerasene man occupied a certain place in the communal rhythm of Gerasene society.  He was the person upon whom everyone else could look down.  His healing upset that rhythm, causing anxiety in the broader community.  He might face even more marginalization after his healing than he did before.  It would be easy for him to get out of town.  In fact, he tries to do just that when he asks Jesus if he can go with him.  But Jesus doesn’t allow the man the easy way out.  Already a disciple, Jesus sends the man back to his own town.  In essence, Jesus ordains him the first apostle to the Gentile people.  He is instructed to tell them the story of what has happened to him.  Our friend in recovery pointed out that this is not at all unlike the twelfth step in the AA program, where the recovering alcoholic is instructed to “carry this message” to those who still suffer.

This is not just a story about exorcism.  It is the story of a tortured soul who finds healing and purpose through his connection to Jesus.  It is a story about crossing boundaries and encountering real humanity in the most unexpected places.

Do we have enough courage to venture beyond the pale of our “normal” lives and see human beings where there only demons?  Do we have enough insight to discern the difference between people and problems?  Do we have enough faith to let our comfortable systems be upset so we can share in the healing work that God is doing in our midst?

“You’ve got to look outside your eyes / You’ve got to think outside your brain / You’ve got to walk outside your life / to where the neighborhood changes.”  ~Ani DiFranco, “Willing to Fight”