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The sermon manuscript I used follows below:
The Twelfth Sunday of Ordinary Time; June 20, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: 1 Kings 19: 1-15a
Psalms 42 and 43
Galatians 3:23-29
Luke 8: 26-39 *
“Being Sent Away”
--} For all the grief we might give King Ahab for marrying evil Queen Jezebel, I still will forever have a personal reminder about his genius. King Ahab [about 700 years or so before Jesus was born] was responsible for adding an amazing addition to the fortress at Megiddo—otherwise known as Armageddon. This ancient site on the plains between Galilee and Judea has been occupied by no less than 14 different human civilizations—of which King Solomon’s was about 7th. The fortress is naturally located on a small rise on the landscape; which means it’s easily well-defended in addition to providing a healthy view of invading or attacking armies. But prior to King Ahab, the fortress had one substantial weakness—it had no internal water supply. So King Ahab ordered a tunnel be dug down—mostly through solid rock—into the ground, and then spanning across the landscape for almost a mile to a freshwater spring. He ordered the spring’s exterior side to be hidden and mostly filled in, so that the only access point to the water was from the inside. And when construction was completed, Megiddo, or Armageddon—was a true and rightful fortress with storage enough and access to water to last for years!
I remember this because it’s not often that one has the chance to walk through a tunnel engineered and constructed nearly 3,000 years ago! And so when I reflect on Ahab’s kingship now, it isn’t always just about his wife—the “evil” Queen Jezebel. And when I read in today’s story about Jezebel’s threats against Elijah’s life after the great prophet of God defeated all the prophets of Baal, I’m reminded not just of Elijah’s fearful fleeing, but how often human beings respond to our hurts, faults, and failures with hope that might makes right, or that our use of violence and banishment can prevail. And that’s exactly what Jezebel had in mind—banishment, and violence aimed at vengeance. And how often her story has been or becomes OUR story. Our own sense of justice and vengeance too OFTEN results in people being “sent away.”
This weekend it seems appropriate that we do some thinking or remembering about those who are often “sent away” on our behalf as we remember fathers and sons especially. Too often, we know it’s been they who have been called on again and again to be “sent away.” As we continue to have fighting men and women on foreign soils, as we remember the sacrifices (more often than not) our “fathers” and “sons” have been asked to make, from our nation’s infamous beginnings and the first continental army spending that cold, harsh winter in the field at Valley Forge, to the Civil War, to two great world wars, and all the various conflicts and police actions, including now various wars on drugs, terrorism, and in defense of freedom… we send fathers and sons away a lot—and often, without the benefit, comforts, and ingenious defenses of Ahab’s transformation of Megiddo.
History teaches us that men boys have too often been asked to go off to war—in every civilization—not just our modern one. Tall requirements of sacrifice have always been placed on their shoulders—sometimes willingly accepted, and sometimes not. And always when they are sent away in such a fashion, we find our fathers and sons put in harms away, in order to put in harms way other fathers and sons. It is a vicious human cycle.
But it is why, I think, that Luke’s story about Jesus healing the Gerasene Demoniac—Legion—gives us a critical look toward the Kingdom of God. Because while we often send people away to exact damage, destruction, and revenge, notice how Luke tells us about Jesus—sending the healed man to his home to “declare how much God had done for him.” How might our world and our lives be different if we could learn such a lesson ourselves? Instead of being sent away with fear and trembling, afraid of what might come to be—of being victimized or left to use the violence of the world and its power of the sword—what if we could be sent away not only with the promise of God’s having helped us but the promise of God’s help for others as well? Notice the differences between Elijah’s flight in fear and Jesus’ sending away the Demoniac—Restored!
Jesus makes a dangerous crossing of the Sea of Galilee at night, amidst a storm; he arrives at Gentile territory. He’s away from the home crowds, almost as if he’s on foreign soil—but it’s not that far away. He immediately meets Legion, inhabited by many demons, and without provocation, Jesus attempts to relieve him. “Legion” is his name (a military name), because many demons had entered him—or been placed upon him. Maybe, like us, some of them were received willingly—maybe they seemed right and good at first. But their influx has meant this man has lived “sent away” from his home and community—he’s been living among the tombs, either because he has nowhere else he can go or because every time the fearful townspeople try to bind him, he breaks free. Maybe the cemetery is his only solace. Maybe he, too, is ready to give up his life like the Old Testament prophet—having been through enough. Whatever it is, Jesus arrives, and proceeds in restoring what was lost; and it begins by unburdening the man of the demons. Despite the protests by the demons and the people who can’t believe it, Jesus—who’s unafraid of the consequences of disrupting the demons or the socio-economic structure—orders the demons out and restores this man to his right mind.
I think about the things we “send people away” for. Whether it’s “war” where we need soldiers; or whether it’s bank robbers, thieves, and murderers who deserve a stint of punishment in prison; maybe it’s a father who’s molested a child or brother guilty of drunk driving. There are lots of burdens that become demons for people—some taken willingly, others not. But Jesus’ response is quick—restore these men to their right mind and let the people see the difference; and having healed the demons, he sends this man away to go home and tell the things God has done for him. Isn’t that really how this story goes? Even amidst horrific human circumstances?
Luke is bold to tell us about this Jesus who goes out of his way to relieve human suffering—not just in terms of feeding the poor or clothing the naked or preaching good news—a Jesus who doesn’t even have to be asked first! Jesus demonstrates the overwhelming willingness of the kingdom of God to put things back in order; much like the much-needed respite the Old Testament prophet receives from God. The ways of the world, particularly violence and oppression, will not—do not—cannot—prevail. In the face of the living Christ, we are given a better way of being as human beings. And the question we might ought to ask ourselves is why we settle for being “sent away,” in the manner of human beings rather than going to proclaim what good God has done for us?
Isn’t Luke’s invitation for us to see Jesus as one who relieves us of our demons? And isn’t Jesus’ invitation not for us simply to remain “with Jesus,” but rather, to be sent away to proclaim all that God has done for us. To be sent away, not to participate in the things of the world, but to tell of the things of God! To be sent away, not with an attitude of hopelessness—so hopeless that we’ll be willing to give up and die—but having been relieved of our demons, to proclaim the goodness of the things God has done for us.
Hear me carefully. This is not to denigrate the sacrifice so many fathers and sons have made on our behalf—collectively and personally. This doesn’t mean it’s bad to sacrifice, to lay down one’s life, to volunteer for danger and violence and carry the sword. But it does mean that we also have Jesus, who stands clearly on behalf of all of us who ned to be relieved of our demons and have our lives returned to the vision of God’s kingdom. We have Jesus who is unafraid of visiting places beyond, of talking with and ministering to people who aren’t just Israelites; of inviting Legion and us to be “relieved” and made whole again.
And the truth is, for his efforts, Jesus is “sent away.” He’s asked to leave the Gerasenes, told essentially to “go home.” Even at the expense of being thrown out, dismissed, “sent away,” Jesus stands true to the values of the Kingdom of God. Relieve. Restore. Revive. Resurrect.
In that sense, just as the Old Testament Prophet is “sent away” to be visited by God on the mountain, safely hidden from Jezebel—as his life is restored, revived, resurrected—such is the promise when Jesus appears to us, among us, with us. And then we are “sent away”—but sent away” to declare what God has done for us. “Sent away,” as new (renewed) human beings with the promises of the Kingdom of God. And of what shall we declare to others? Do we tell them what we have seen and heard, of God’s intentions through Jesus the Christ? Or do we tell them the ways of the world seem right and fair and just, and fend for ourselves the best we can?
Most days, fathers and sons don’t just go off to war, and aren’t just “sent away.” Most days, fathers and sons leave the family at home and go to work, aiming to better themselves and their lives. Aiming to provide, to endure, to build up, and make safe. And most days, far more demons than we can count, tempt, cajole, tear into, and do their best to make us into creatures separated from the Kingdom of God. But don’t you believe it.
Jesus, the living Christ, crosses the barriers on our behalf. And it doesn’t mean we can change the past, or put back what has become of us. Instead, it means we can still live into the kingdom Jesus promises as God has decreed. This day, God is inviting us once again to be “sent away,” to declare the good things God has done for us. “Sent away,” like Jesus. “Called away,” like Elijah. Can we declare the good things God has done for us, or not?
--+ Friends, the Holy Spirit has come; Christ has been raised—and so are we. This is our best opportunity to say goodbye to old ways of living and to become the people of God’s kingdom—followers of Christ, and declarers of all the good things God has done for us. AMEN.
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