The
Preacher’s Study
5th
Sunday after Pentecost, 2016
John W.B. Hill
1 Kings 19.1-4, (5-7), 8-15a
Psalm 42 & 43;
Galatians 3.23-29;
Luke 8.26-39
The story
of the Gerasene demoniac is one of the richest and most revealing exorcism
stories of the gospel; it also makes high demands upon our symbolic
imagination. But first we must attend to the details.
This story
is not just about one sick individual; it’s about “a man of the city” and the
sick relationship between him and his fellow-citizens, which Jesus seeks
to heal. Nor is the relationship the consequence of one climactic
breakup; “many times [the demon] had seized him; he was kept under guard and
bound ... but he would break the bonds and be driven into the wilds.” We
get a picture of a cyclical pattern within an ambivalent relationship: he
causes alarms among the citizens, but they cannot bring themselves to be rid of
him. As the conclusion of the story makes clear, they consider his
healing a threat; they need him to be sick — which may be why
they keep trying to chain him (sort of), knowing that he will escape (sort
of). It’s a relation of co-dependency.
In a
dysfunctional society, people develop adaptive behaviour for survival. If
they are not accepted for who they are, they may assume a false-self
role. In the case of someone with deviant behaviour, that role may be
‘the scapegoat,’ acting out the dysfunction of the society, and then being
accused of causing society’s problems (what we call ‘demonizing’).
The scapegoat may ultimately come to accept the accusations (i.e., may become
‘demon-possessed’). If so, he absolves everyone else of society’s
problem.
Jesus
challenges every such manifestation of the ‘Kingdom of the Accuser,’ for he is
the very presence of the ‘Kingdom of God.’ Those enmeshed in Satan’s
Kingdom cannot see what is going on, but the ‘demon’ (the personification of
the dysfunctionality) knows instinctively that its power is threatened by
Jesus’ arrival. It even whines about being persecuted: “I beg you, do not
torment me.”
The extreme
form of scapegoating culminates in killing the accused — by a lynch mob or, in
ancient culture, by stoning or pushing off the edge of a cliff. (Just
challenging the social system can trigger this kind of scapegoating: see, for
example, Luke 4: 16 - 30.)
The text of
this story shows signs of a complex development. The pigs charging over the
edge into the sea may be a later folk embellishment; nevertheless, this clearly
serves the purpose of the tale, for the ‘demons’ are the accusations he has
endured (and internalised). Their name is ‘legion,’ for he is truly
‘enemy occupied territory.’ If he fails to cooperate with their need for
someone to blame, he too may be pushed off a cliff.
Thus the
emotional climax of the story is seeing his demons go over the cliff
themselves. More importantly, the evangelical climax is seeing the
man “sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind.” He is
a model of true conversion; he has been “clothed with Christ” (as today’s
second reading puts it) and then sent on a mission of reconciliation.
The prophet
Elijah is another model of conversion. Today’s first (semicontinuous)
reading continues the story we heard some weeks ago, the sacrificial contest on
Mount Carmel. We expect to hear that Elijah is basking in that victory;
instead he insists it was a failure: “the Israelites have forsaken your
covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the
sword.” The clue is the symmetry: Elijah had slaughtered prophets too —
the prophets of Baal. Violence cannot achieve God’s purposes. Even
a triumphant sacrifice is still violence, justifying a violent social order —
unless, like the cross of Christ, it awakens us to the futility of
violence. “The Lord was not in the wind [or] the earthquake [or] the
fire.” But entering the “sheer silence,” one may hear his voice and rediscover
one’s calling.
6th century mosaic from Church
of Sant'Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna
Quite a nice piece.
ReplyDeleteQuite a nice piece.
ReplyDelete