Not the End of the Story
A Sermon for the Second Sunday after Pentecost
June 19, 2022
The Rev. Robin Teasley
Jesus and his disciples arrived at the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. As he stepped out on land, a man of the city who had demons met him. For a long time he had worn no clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs. When he saw Jesus, he fell down before him and shouted at the top of his voice, "What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me" -- for Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. (For many times it had seized him; he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.) Jesus then asked him, "What is your name?" He said, "Legion"; for many demons had entered him. They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss.
Now there on the hillside a large herd of swine was feeding; and the demons begged Jesus to let them enter these. So he gave them permission. Then the demons came out of the man and entered the swine, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned.
When the swineherds saw what had happened, they ran off and told it in the city and in the country. Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid. Those who had seen it told them how the one who had been possessed by demons had been healed. Then all the people of the surrounding country of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them; for they were seized with great fear. So he got into the boat and returned. The man from whom the demons had gone begged that he might be with him; but Jesus sent him away, saying, "Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you." So he went away, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him. Luke 8:26-39
A few miles down McClellan Road, there is a cemetery behind Black Creek Baptist Church. In that cemetery are the graves of some of my relatives. In particular, Powhatan P. Moore, M.D. is buried there, born in 1839 and died in 1907. This is really all that I know about my great, great grandfather. He lived in the Old Church area and was a physician. I don’t know if he fought in the Civil War but he probably cared for wounded soldiers. I like to imagine he even might have spent some time in Immanuel Church. Steve’s wonderful historical account in our adult forum last week has had me wondering about that.
I share this with you because I find great peace in cemeteries. For me they are thin places where loved ones are remembered and God’s presence is tangible. I feel a connection to my past and yet I know that I am not bound by it. Cemeteries are quiet and holy places where I can hear the wind blow, reminding me of God’s Spirit, and reminding me that change is constant.
The cemetery in our Gospel account today is different. At first it doesn’t sound like a place where God’s presence is felt. Instead, it’s the place where a homeless man is shackled to his unfortunate circumstances, it is the place where demons gather.
In the verses preceding today’s Gospel, Jesus has just gotten off the boat after calming a storm at sea. His disciples were afraid and amazed, asking each other, “Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him?” As he entered the cemetery a man who had demons saw Jesus, fell down before him and shouted at the top of his voice, "What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?" Ironically, the demons in the gospels always recognize Jesus before everyone else does.
Jesus walked right into the tombs, into the midst of those unchained demons and asked the man, “What is your name?” No one else in the community had seen him as someone with a name or a need; no, he was simply the man who had demons, identified by his nakedness, his mental state, his uncleanness; known only by the things which excluded him from the community. The community had put him under guard and bound him in chains and shackles, because they were afraid to help. Afraid to do something.
The man tells Jesus his name is Legion. This is not insignificant. The Roman Empire occupied the land, oppressing the people with military force. A legion numbered 6,000 men. So this Gerasene man had many demons and they recognized Jesus immediately as the Son of God.
We all have our cemeteries and our demons, both literal and metaphorical. We can look out the window and see the cemetery here at Immanuel and many of you have family and friends buried here. We visit and remember and treasure those relationships.
But what if it's not possible to treasure a relationship, to accept the way a person was, or the things they did or did not do? What if forgiveness seems impossible or the broken relationship was never reconciled? These circumstances make the cemetery a different place and it may seem impossible that God is present there. It may seem as if there are only demons.
Sometimes it’s our very life that becomes a cemetery. One of the opening anthems in the burial rite in our Book of Common Prayer begins with these words, “In the midst of life we are in death; from whom can we seek help?” (BCP 492) Perhaps there are times when we are living in the tombs, chained in shackles, struggling with our demons, and don’t know where help is to be found. Sometimes when we are struggling with our own demons, we put others in shackles and chains.
Jesus appeared when it seemed there was no hope for the Gerasene man. What happens next is redemption, liberty, freedom. And it is not without some holy humor! Jesus casts the demons into the herd of pigs at the demons’ request and they rush down the steep bank and drown in the lake. This makes perfect sense in a story told to a Jewish audience, because swine are considered unclean, according to the Law. Now they have rid themselves of both demons and swine. The story could end well right here, but it doesn’t.
The swineherds ran to tell everyone what happened and when they all returned to the scene of the exorcism, there was the man from whom the demons had gone, sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. This would be another great place to end this story, but we are not done yet. When the people from the community see this, they are afraid. Afraid. Why is that?
In a recent Bible study I facilitated, someone was very upset that the pigs were sacrificed to relieve the man of his demons. She is a lover of all animals so this really bothered her. None of us in the class could come up with an explanation that made her feel better, but we did reach some conclusions about why the people might be afraid. Getting rid of demons comes at a cost. Losing 6,000 or so pigs could put a hog farmer out of business. Getting rid of demons might cause some collateral damage; damage that at first seems economically destructive or threatening to the status quo. It looks like death because it is the death that must occur before there can be a resurrection.
There are always death dealing forces pressing in on us, we all have our demons. They may be phobias, mental illness, addiction, resentments, or unresolved conflicts. Jesus comes to set us free from our demons. Jesus comes to break the chains and remove the shackles of our fear; fear which is almost always at the root of our pride, greed, oppression, or political forces.
Jesus sets us free by crossing boundaries to save us, to save all people, and restore them to community. Jesus is not afraid to cross the line between clean and unclean, between life and death. And that is still not the end of the story. We have been called to follow Jesus and continue the story.
Following Jesus does not mean we will leave the hardness of life behind. Sometimes it means we are called to walk head on into the tombs to help someone with their demons. It may look like sharing our story with others to help bring about their healing, as many do in anonymous meetings everywhere. Sometimes it means letting go of long held practices or ways of doing things that need to change because they are harmful or are no longer working. It almost always looks and feels a lot like death, and yet there is the assurance of resurrection.
We are called to be a community of love and that is going to be hard work some days. We are called to notice those on the margins, to see and name everyone as a beloved child of God, not just in our parish but beyond these walls. When we allow Christ to enter our community with love and acceptance, demons flee, hearts are healed, and we are empowered to go out into a broken world to share God’s love. It’s not the end of the story.
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