Possessed – Sermon on June 20, 2010
June 20, 2010
Scripture: Luke 8: 26-39
Then they 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.
Sermon: Possessed
By Rev. Doreen Oughton
Today’s gospel story begins with the landing of a boat. Jesus and his twelve disciples, along with several women, had been traveling through cities and villages, bringing the good news of the kindom. Jesus taught in parables, and later explained them to his disciples. Then he suggests to his followers that they leave Galilee and take the boat to the other side of the lake. During their journey a storm sweeps down on the lake, alarming everyone but Jesus, who is sleeping. They wake him, and he calms the storm, and they continue on their journey. As they arrive in Gerasenes, which is across from Galilee, Jesus is met with another type of storm, the stormy confrontation of a man possessed. And even though this man, or the demons that possess him, shout at Jesus to leave them alone, the man moves towards him and falls at his feet. He is naked, and bound with broken chains, shouting and throwing himself on the ground. Stormy indeed.
Have you ever been in such a stormy situation? Confronted by someone who is not in their right mind, someone threatening and unpredictable? Someone who apparently can’t be restrained? It is scary to witness from a distance, let alone have someone running right up to you and shouting. But Jesus is a model of non-anxious presence, calmly asking the man’s name. In that time, it was thought that power was in a name, so knowing the name of an entity gave one power over it. And yet the scripture says Jesus commanded the unclean spirit to come out before this. So I’m not sure if Jesus thought his work was done and he was addressing the man, or if he realized the spirit wasn’t out yet and so was trying to get more power over it. Either way, it is the spirit that answers, the spirit that says there are many demons in this man.
The name given is Legion, which means many, and which also refers to a Roman military unit, about 6,000 men, the type that was occupying Israel at the time. This man was possessed and this land was possessed by hostile forces. Unlike the Roman Legion, the unclean Spirit recognizes this greater authority and begins to bargain. “Don’t send us to abyss.” I wonder what kind of place this “abyss” was, that even the demons dreaded going there. And Jesus is up for the negotiation, grants the wish, and casts the unclean spirit into the herd of swine. The presence of such a herd in Gerasenes clues us in that they are in Gentile territory. Swine were unclean animals for Jewish folk, and they would have had nothing to do with them. It may have been amusing for them, though, to hear of a story of Jesus casting a legion of demons into a herd that then hurdled headlong to drown in the sea. It is interesting though, this negotiating. What is it telling us about Jesus? Or about demons?
Now my understanding of the demoniac is that he wasn’t possessed by demons, but suffered a mental illness, perhaps schizophrenia, but certainly some psychosis, a break from reality that usually involves hallucinations – seeing, hearing smelling or feeling in a tactile way things that aren’t there – and delusions, mistaken beliefs about the world around you, such as being followed, or having special powers, or receiving messages in code. In my work in the mental health field, I certainly encountered people with psychosis, but it was either managed well with medication, or it was a mild case. Because everyone I knew who had it had episodes of psychosis. It wasn’t a constant condition in which they lived their lives. The delusions and hallucinations came upon them, and left them. Sometimes it was obvious that the things seen were not real, such as the green and orange spiders that crawled just on the outer edge of vision. With other things, it was less clear, such as the doorbell ringing, or a friend standing there offering a plate of food so that you fall reaching for it. Or the counselor’s voice on the answering machine telling all your secrets out to the world. Still, the majority of time is spent lucidly.
But I know that the people who lived in a more constant state of psychosis receive care in different facilities and clinics. Not with iron chains anymore, thank God, but reined in in other ways. Sometimes in ways that helps to right the mind and give back a life, but too often by numbing and dulling all senses. But even when such illness is well managed, it is rarely cured. It is a tentative existence, often isolating and lonely.
I once read a daily reflection about a story of Jesus raising someone from death by a minister who wondered why, in her faithful desire to follow Jesus, to accept his commission to spread the good news, she was unable to raise people from death. I found myself having the same reaction to this story of the demoniac. For even though I doubt that it was demonic possession that kept him in chains, I do believe that Jesus healed him, completely and permanently. How I wish I could do that. How I wish I could lay hands on someone, or verbally command a spirit to come out, send it into some other creature or back to the abyss from whence it came. But I can’t, and I haven’t seen a good medication that can without significant side effects. I have been honored to walk a ways with people as they travel a difficult and bumpy path of treatment and healing. I’ve witnessed terrible fear, painful guilt, devastating shame. I’ve seen the discouragement of people who follow the doctor’s advice, work hard to take good care of themselves, build supports, try to decrease stress, to have set back after setback. I’ve seen people give up, turn to substances of abuse and addiction, walk away from family supports, build the wall of isolation even higher, sometimes even take their own life. It’s heart breaking.
I also know that there are lots of people who care, who want to help, whether it is for or because of someone close to them, or just in honor of such painful and genuine struggle. But it is hard to know what to do. It’s scary and confusing to encounter someone with psychosis or other mental illness. We are not Jesus, and it is hard to be that non-anxious presence, asking for a name, negotiating calmly. We can’t be Jesus, but we can learn from him.
I have been reading a wonderful book called “Souls in the Hands of a Tender God,” subtitled “Stories of the Search for Home and Healing on the Street.” It holds stories from 30 years of street ministry, countless encounters with people suffering from mental illness. It captures the fear and mistrust, the wildness and unpredictability, the vulnerability and isolation that accompanies mental illness. It shares stories of people who wanted to reach out, and so they did. They looked to offer companionship, maybe a cup of coffee, a listening ear. They worked slowly. The author, who’d had his own struggles with mental illness, talks about walking past the same homeless woman on the street every day for about 8 months smiling and saying a gentle hello before she would even make eye contact with him. With great patience and respect, these street ministers built trust, enough to connect people to medical providers and social workers who would also be patient, meet the people where they were, and gently open up new possibilities. The book also outlines a model used in a region of Belgium, from the thirteenth century through current times, where families in the town offer their homes as part of the psychiatric care network. Seven hundred families in the town of Geel house over 800 psychiatric patients who had been admitted to the hospital facility for treatment. The families informally adopt the patients, allowing them to stay as long as they need to, having them help out with household chores as all family members do, and treating them with compassion. What an incredible blessing.
But this was not the model of first century Palestine. People with these illnesses were not seen as disordered and ill, but as possessed by evil spirits. They were not welcomed, but feared and shunned. But they didn’t scare Jesus. He didn’t shun them. He let himself be approached, and he healed. He offered companionship as well, at least for a little while. The story tells us that when the frightened and perhaps angry townspeople came to see what had happened, the man, clothed and in his right mind, was sitting at Jesus’ feet, a position of listening and learning. Can’t you picture it, Jesus, still the non-anxious presence, perhaps sitting on a rock or stone wall, the man seated on the ground as they converse, perhaps share some figs. Jesus remains calm at the onrush of townspeople, quietly acquiescing to their request that he leave their town. The once-possessed man follows Jesus to the boat and wants to go with him. But Jesus doesn’t negotiate here. He tells him no, go back to your home and tell people what God has done for you.
What a frightening request this must have been for the man. Perhaps he was one who’d had many periods of being lucid. Perhaps his family and lots of the townspeople had seen him before in his right mind and clothed. But it hasn’t lasted long before. Perhaps he knows that people won’t rejoice at his homecoming, won’t trust that he’s healed, won’t feel quite safe around him, not for some time. I’m sure that those who have been possessed by addictions and compulsions of all sorts can relate to that. But our man didn’t protest, but trusted Jesus and his instructions. Perhaps Jesus knew the power of being in community the way the residents of Geel know it. And he commissioned the one who’d been the outcast to proclaim this good news. I am reminded of a story I read last week in the Boston Globe about a woman who had been a prostitute for over 25 years. Even when she was working the streets she joined a community action group to open a battered women’s shelter. And when she finally kicked her drug habit and got out of prostitution, she went back to the streets to help the girls still there, offering hope and practical help to create a new kind of life.
What can we learn from this story? I imagine it is different for everyone. Perhaps some of us can look to Jesus as a model to be more approachable, to learn to stay calm in an interpersonal storm. Perhaps some of us will reflect on the legions of things that possess us, that take our time and minds and hearts and souls. Perhaps some will be reminded that they cannot heal a loved one from their mental illness, but can offer companionship and a caring heart. Perhaps some will learn compassion for themselves and their own struggles with mental illness – depression, anxiety, bi-polar disorder, delusions and addictions. Perhaps some will identify the part of themselves that is like the townspeople, afraid of God’s power, asking Jesus to get out of town, and reconsider. Perhaps some will look to the man who was healed and be inspired by the example of going back into town to share the good news. May you know that God goes with you. Amen.
