Sermon for June 23, 2019 - Proper 7C - The Rev'd Elise A. Feyerherm
Isaiah 65:1-9 – Psalm 22:18-27 – Galatians 3:23-29 – Luke 8:26-39
“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.
This story comes in the midst of a series of scenes demonstrating Jesus’ power against deadly forces. Immediately before this scene, Jesus and his disciples are sailing to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, when a sudden storm awakens powerful waves and threatens to capsize the boat. Jesus calms the storm with a simple rebuke, and his disciples, understandably freaked out, ask, “Who then is this, that he commands even wind and water, and they obey him?”[1] As soon as the boat reaches the shore and Jesus steps out on land, the man with demons meets him, initiating the encounter in our gospel for today. On the other side of this encounter, Jesus heals the woman who has been bleeding for twelve years, and brings the daughter of Jairus, the synagogue leader, back to life. In quick succession, Jesus beats back the power of the sea, drives out demons, restores bodily health, and defeats death.
These stories are responses to the question the disciples asked in the boat: “Who then is this, that he commands even wind and water, and they obey him?” Who is this, with such power to calm waves, drive out demons, heal the unheal-able, and wrench life out of death? Even if the man with the demons had remained silent, the stories build a larger picture as they lay one mighty act upon another. Luke wants us to experience, through this succession of powerful acts, that this Jesus is the Son of the Most High God. Wherever we are personally with Jesus’ identity, this at least is what the gospel would have us understand and feel in our bones.
We can understand, then, why the man with many demons, coming face to face with Jesus, throws himself down on the ground and cries out in a loud voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus?” He is in the presence of someone who will not tolerate the abuse and destruction of human beings – things are going to change, and change dramatically. This is a last stand for what is demonic, for what inflicts pain and isolation. The cry, “what have you to do with me” is evil’s cry of desperation and defeat.
What is really interesting about this is that it’s not clear in the narrative who is asking the question. Is it the man himself, or the demon – or demons – who have taken over his life? The grammar doesn’t really tell us. Who is begging Jesus not to torment him? It couldn’t possibly be this man himself, who is so clearly in desperate need of rescue? He couldn’t possibly be the one pushing Jesus away, could he? It must be the demon!
I’m not so sure. I’ve done my share of pushing away the very thing I need at the moment I need it most. Maybe you have too. Whether or not actual entities like demons exist, we know ourselves to be pummeled, even possessed, by forces that seem to be out of our control. Perhaps it is an addictive substance such as opioids or alcohol that has enslaved you and caused you to do yourself repeated harm. Perhaps you have internalized the racism and sexism and heteronormativity of our culture and accepted the demeaning picture drawn of you or someone you love. Perhaps, like me, there have been times when it was hard to tell the difference between your own depression and self-loathing and your true self – who is talking, you, or your demon? There are times when I am not sure.
But whether it is me or my demon doing the asking, the question is real: What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? Why do you keep pestering me? Why do you bother me and my demons – yes, it’s uncomfortable, but at least it’s familiar!
In my office and in my home, you will see many icons – eastern Christian images of Christ and the saints, our companions along the way. These images keep me connected to the larger body of Christ, that great cloud of witnesses who proclaim the love of God. If you look closely, you’ll notice that while images of saints are usually looking off into the distance, pondering the mysteries of God, images of Christ, when he is depicted by himself, are usually looking straight at us. He’s basically saying, I’m looking at you. No way to avoid his gaze. I remember sitting at my kitchen table one evening decades ago, with an image of Christ in front of me, looking into those eyes and wondering, What do you want from me? What on earth do you want?
I did not get an answer at that moment, but my life, as it unfolded, revealed pieces of Jesus’ response. I found myself, like the man living among the tombs, called out into community. I’ve found myself in church basements, drinking coffee with people I never would have met on my own, people who had lost their jobs and raising their grandchildren because the parents were addicted to heroin, and people on the verge of being evicted from their apartments. I’ve found myself in the Massachusetts Correctional Institution in Norfolk, praying with men who had turned toward God after being incarcerated. I’ve found myself in charge of a parish when the last thing I wanted to do was be in charge of anything. And I’ve found myself being pulled away from the demons I thought were my very identity.
Not that Jesus is done with me. There is so much more to be calmed, healed, exorcized, and brought back to life. Still plenty of opportunities to look Jesus in the face and ask, What have you to do with me, Son of the Most High God?
What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” For each of us, the answer takes on a slightly different form, but whatever it is, we will likely be led to places that don’t always feel safe or comfortable. Parting with our demons is never easy. It means giving up an identity that, while destructive, comes with lots of familiarity and convenient excuses.
Jesus responds to each and every one of us: let me show you your true identity. Your name is not Legion, but child of God. You are not defined by your fear and compulsion. What do I, Jesus, have to do with you? I am the one who can show you your true self, clothed, and in your right mind, clothed, as Paul wrote in the letter to the Galatians, with Christ in baptism. I am who you are meant to be – a human being perfectly united with God. I am who you really are, only you do not realize it yet.
What have I to do with you? Jesus responds: I have come to return you to your community, even when it may be easier and more familiar to let the demons have their way. I am the one with whom it is safe to lay bare your fear of getting close to me, because I will not walk away. I will stay right here, among the tombs, until you are ready. Ready to be free, and ready to declare what God has done for you.
[1] Luke 8:25.