the Gerasene Demoniac
Proper 7 Luke 8: 26-39
20 June 2010
It is possible that you have never heard this gospel lesson at Mass before. I looked through our lectionary and found that in year B Mark’s version was an optional addition to the regular lesson. But now the RCL has given it to us on this Third Sunday of June, Trinity 3, Fathers’ Day. It is a difficult story to hear and to think about for it challenges us in an area in which, I rather imagine, we are a little uncomfortable: the realm of the demonic. But here we are, confronted with a man who was possessed by many demons, whom Jesus had specifically crossed the lake to encounter. What are we to make of a legion of demons, an exorcism and the destruction of a herd of pigs?
I don’t usually spend a lot of time thinking about demons and the demonic. I think it is far better to spend most of our time thinking about following Jesus rather than fighting with the devil. Yet, we cannot avoid the issue of the demonic. Not only has it reappeared in our popular culture of the last twenty years or so, but we are all expected to take it seriously in virtue of our baptismal vows. I refresh your memories: “Question: Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God? Answer: I renounce them. Question: Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God? Answer: I renounce them. Question: Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God? Answer: I renounce them.” Taking them in reverse order, we are given to understand that there is a dark side within each of us. The old books called it “the flesh.” That is, each of us has to contend with evil inside which would interfere with our desire to follow Jesus and do good. The spiritual life is a continual struggle to expose this darkness within us to the light of Christ and thereby enlighten and heal it.
The baptismal vows teach us that within all of the structures of the world around us, there is also a dark side. It is impossible to live without structures and laws and rules and processes, but it is necessary also to live in constant vigilance, for none of them is completely innocent—they all have a dark side, a side which tends towards evil—a power I will talk about in a few moments. This darkness must also be resisted and exposed to the light of Christ.
Then, finally, we are given to understand that behind the endemic darkness of ourselves and of our worldly ways, there is a cosmic darkness which feeds and encourages the dark ways of our selves and of our world. This is the realm of the demonic, the spirits of wickedness in rebellion against God. The shadowy form of the accuser, the Satan, the devil, makes its appearance here. One message of our Gospel lesson this morning is that Jesus understood himself to be in a struggle with these powers of darkness—from the first moment in the wilderness after his baptism until his death on the cross—and here with the legion of demons in this poor man. He prevailed against the demonic powers wherever he encountered them and, both for those of his own day and for us, he has broken their power over the ones who belong to him.
So we see that Jesus’ battle with the demonic is not a side-line but a central feature of his ministry. But what about the demons themselves? Do we still believe in them? Here we must admit that for much of what first century Jews attributed to demons we have alternative explanations. Later in Luke’s Gospel we read the story of a woman who was crippled—bent over, unable to stand upright. Jesus healed her and said she had been bound by Satan for 18 years. Now we would say she had a spinal deformity which could well be treated surgically. It is the same for other kinds of illnesses. We now know about antibiotics and antidepressants and antipsychotics. Much of Jesus’ ministry of exorcism, in other words, we would give to a physician and not to a prophet. That is just the difference between the first century and the twenty-first. However, we also know that illness has some kind of relationship with the spirit of a person, so we continue to pray for the sick as well.
So have we ruled out demons altogether then from our own age? I think there is more to be said. First of all, in terms of the story itself, there is another complication: the pigs. Why would Jesus have allowed a whole herd of innocuous swine to be destroyed? Why would he have made a deal with the demons? Why not send them back to the abyss straight away? Well, some of this we can only speculate about. But apparently it was not uncommon for an exorcist in those days to allow a demon to go somewhere else. And then we must remember that to Jews pigs were unclean animals and a fitting repository for unclean spirits. We cannot impose all our sensitivities on a two-thousand year old text. The odd thing to us is that Jesus let the demons go, probably to do more mischief after the pigs had been drowned. But maybe that was his way of indicating that the time for final judgement had not yet occurred: the demonic spirits do continue to work in the world. Nevertheless, he is a refuge against all assaults of the dark powers.
And that brings us, finally, to the man himself. Having cleared away some of the things that might initially trouble us about the account, we can look at the demoniac himself. Look at what the demon possession had done to him. It had virtually driven him insane. It had driven him from living in a home to roaming wildly amongst the tombs. He ran about naked and frenzied. He couldn’t be restrained—either with ropes or chains, such was his strength. He was an object of fear to everyone he encountered—like Frankenstein’s monster. He was pretty thoroughly dehumanized. But after his healing by Jesus, he was found seated quietly in conversation with the Master, clothed, and in his right mind.
It seems to me that we can see in this contrast two very important things: a clear indication of where and how the dark powers are at work in our world, and a clear sign of what things are like in the light of the Presence of God. First of all: the dark powers. As I was thinking and praying over this story last week, it seemed so clear to me that, of course, we know very well the quality of the presence of the demonic in our midst. Wherever there is dehumanization, there the dark powers are at work. Of course, you can attribute dehumanization to many causes—the dark side of individuals themselves and the dark side of the institutions and structures within which they live. But there seems to be a stronger power than the individuals concerned, or even the cumulative weight of the structures that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God.
Signs of dehumanization abound. Many of them are associated with poverty—the grinding poverty in which many of the world’s people unnecessarily live—never enough food, never enough education, never enough medical treatment, never enough work. At the same time the world’s financial systems are awash with money. The world’s fields produce plenty of food. There are resources sufficient to treat the most common diseases of the poor. Wherever you see this persistent, endemic dehumanization brought on by poverty, there you see the dark and demonic forces of evil at work.
But sometimes the victims of the dark powers are vested in Armani suits and Gucci loafers. These are the folks that have brought upon us the financial meltdown of a couple years ago, huge unemployment, and now the disastrous oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. It is too simple, however, to put it all down to greed—whether individual greed or corporate greed—although individuals and corporations certainly are, and have been, greedy. It is as if the wealthy players in this drama are themselves caught up in and subject to powers they cannot control. They have become dehumanized, too, in their ceaseless search for more profits, no matter what happens to the people who lose work or can no longer afford to eat. The relation between the dehumanized poor person and the dehumanized rich person is similar to another relationship we know about. We can see dehumanization at work in the drug-addicted person who can no longer function normally or humanly in society. But we can see dehumanization at work in the drug boss, the drug runner, too—who has become almost inhuman in his careless disregard for the lives of others. Wherever dehumanization is at work, there you will find the demonic—the dark forces of the world, and of the devil, at work. So it seems to me.
But wherever Jesus brings the divine power of light and life into play, there you find something different: the former demoniac sitting as a disciple at Jesus’ feet, clothed, and in his right mind. This says to us that where God is truly present to those who can receive him, there is sanity, and adulthood, and participation in the community. Being clothed means to share in community life, in the processes of living together as civilized people. I don’t think that this means you cannot go naked on a nude beach somewhere, but it does mean that sanity means community, and generally it is good to wear clothes on the street. It is a sign that you are grown up. So does sitting at Jesus’ feet. It indicates a willingness and desire to be instructed in the truth. That also is a mark of sanity. As you look around at the insane way we yell at each other and refuse to listen to each other or care to expend ourselves to discover the truth, or take adult responsibility for living together in the same place, the more you wonder whether we are not in fact more subject to the dark powers than we think.
The people who came out to see what had happened were also a testimony to captivity by the dark powers—not so overtly as the erstwhile demoniac, but just as surely. They knew that the pigs had perished, they saw the transformation in the healed man, they knew Jesus must be someone powerful and anointed with the divine spirit far in excess of anything they had ever seen. And, they wanted him to go away. They were used to living in bondage and the freedom Jesus offered was just too much.
It reminds me of something I read in Merton, which he called the worst ambiguity: “the impression that one can be grossly unfaithful to life, to experience, to love, to other people, to one’s own deepest self, and yet be ‘saved’ by an act of stubborn conformity, by the will to be correct. In the end,” he says, “this seems to me to be fatally like the very act by which one is lost: the determination to be ‘right’ at all costs, by dint of hardening one’s core around an arbitrary choice of a fixed position.” In other words, it is evidence of a kind of dehumanization, an unwillingness to be fully human in love, in experience and towards others and your own self.
Jesus certainly broke open the fixed positions of those he encountered. It resulted in healing for those who were willing to be broken open. It resulted in hardening opposition by those who refused, who by their refusal simply aligned themselves with those very dark powers that Jesus came to defeat and drive out of this world. His Cross was the ultimate victory over them; his coming again will mark the final expulsion of all darkness from our own hearts and the life of this world. Meanwhile we live in the power of his victory over the dark forces and can be victorious ourselves—over our own darkness and over the darkness of the world in which we live. And the most powerful way to live in the light is to live as fully human beings: faithful to life, to experience, to love, to others, to one’s own deepest self, and to God.
Let us pray. Almighty God, you have broken the tyranny of the evil one and have sent the Spirit of your Son into our hearts whereby we call you Father; give us grace to dedicate our freedom to your service, that we and all creation may be brought to the glorious liberty of the children of God. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.