Sermon preached Sunday, June 23rd, 2013
St. Cyprian's Episcopal Church
The Reverend Will Scott
Luke 8:26-39
from Teddy's Johnson's Lame Goat |
Imagine this person struggling with internal
arguments, over powered by strange forces far beyond his or anybody else’s
control, compelled to live in the midst of tombs, surrounded by death,
alienated from family and friends. Imagine what people said about him, how they
described this naked tormented character, living in a graveyard. Oh the stories
that must have been shared among passersby. Look out for that weird guy.
Imagine his family and friends, how they too must have struggled to know what
to do about their antisocial relative, the guilt they must have felt for not
being able to help him, for attempting to forget him. Perhaps he had once been
popular, had served a purpose, perhaps he had been a soldier in the Roman Army,
until some aspect of being part of an imperial occupying force broke him ---
perhaps he is suffering from some kind of PTSD? The demons that possess him
call themselves legion after all, there was even one army that had a boar on
its standard. Perhaps that’s why they wanted to go into the swine.
This story, like so many in scripture, raises more
questions than answers. Thankfully Jesus was not intimidated by the challenge
that stood before him as he stepped out of that boat on the shore. Jesus after
all has already cast out seven demons from Mary Magdalene, raised a dead man,
and just finished calming a storm that scared the heck out of experienced
fisherman. If this were Man of Steel you might miss this next special effect as
you blink inside your 3d glasses. But keep your eyes open. Watch what this
super therapist, hero can do. Jesus has an affinity for outcasts and before
uttering a single word is already attempting to extract the demons from this
beleaguered man. Perhaps the most important sentence in the passage comes next,
Jesus asks the man “What is your name?” but it’s the demons that respond. Their
eagerness for attention is the hook that Jesus grabs hold of --- and instead of
wrestling them to the ground, Jesus gives the demons what they want. Jesus
gives the demons permission to enter the swine, and off they go into the lake.
The swine herders, who have just inexplicably lost their livelihood by the way,
run off to tell someone somewhere what just happened. When the townspeople
follow them back to Jesus, the man is clothed and sitting at Jesus feet like
many San Franciscans might wait on a yoga mat for class to begin, or patiently
wait in line for a pastry at The Mill, ice cream at Bi-Rite, a performance at the African American Arts & Culture Complex or a coffee at Matching Half – the guy
has gone from drunken Bay 2 Breakers runner to the epitome of civilized and
sober in a matter of seconds. Of course the crowd is freaked out by Jesus, the
text says they were seized with great fear, perhaps they were concerned that if
this liberator/exorcist hung around too much longer, swine herders wouldn’t be
the only ones out of a job. The freed man begs Jesus that he might be with him
--- perhaps he wants to become a follower --- that would probably have been
easier than doing what Jesus asks which is that he go home and tell folks the
good that God had done for him. One wonders what kind of home the man might
have to return to, and whether folks would be willing and able to welcome him
with open arms.
So here we are, St. Cyprian’s, here we are
neighbors, friends and family, here we are Bishop Marc, Canon Stefani, here we
are together. Are we possessed people making a home in a graveyard, casualties
of imperialism run amok? Are we awestruck fisherfolk followers of the action
hero Jesus hanging back to see what happens next? Are we swine herders wondering
what we did wrong to have our livelihood lost in an epic battle? Are we town
gossips coming to catch the latest titillating tale only to be seized by
immobilizing fear?
I hope we are people curious about Jesus --- but wary of religions and politics that contribute to the marginalization of any person, possessed or liberated. I hope we are people that dig below the surface, that like Jesus are working our miracle before words come out of our mouths, I hope we ask one another regularly and deeply “what is your name?” whether at church or Lucky's, Bi-Rite or the Panhandle Park, Alamo Square or Divisadero Street, an SF Live Arts concert, or Free Community Dinner. “What is your name?” I hope we freely let go of our possessions for the liberation of others --- I hope we are people that beg to be with Jesus, that let our hearts’ desires be heard and acknowledged and yet are also courageous enough to look our oppressors, haters, and doubters in the eye and tell them what hope, healing, and freedom look like.
I hope we are people curious about Jesus --- but wary of religions and politics that contribute to the marginalization of any person, possessed or liberated. I hope we are people that dig below the surface, that like Jesus are working our miracle before words come out of our mouths, I hope we ask one another regularly and deeply “what is your name?” whether at church or Lucky's, Bi-Rite or the Panhandle Park, Alamo Square or Divisadero Street, an SF Live Arts concert, or Free Community Dinner. “What is your name?” I hope we freely let go of our possessions for the liberation of others --- I hope we are people that beg to be with Jesus, that let our hearts’ desires be heard and acknowledged and yet are also courageous enough to look our oppressors, haters, and doubters in the eye and tell them what hope, healing, and freedom look like.
Our name, our identities are not the demons that
have possessed us. We are not the failures and disappointments, the wounds of
abuse or the casualties of a long forgotten war. Our home is not a graveyard.
Jesus who looks each of us in the eye and asks us our name, knows who we really
are, even when the demons speak louder than our true voice, Jesus loves us and
liberates each and every one of us from all that oppresses, intimidates or
possesses --- giving us dignity and new life.
There is a poem that an artist, Teddy Johnson,
introduced to me long ago. Teddy’s
sister Jenny Johnson is an old high school friend of mine from Frederick County, Virginia. Jenny used to teach
at Mission High School next to Dolores Park and is a friend of your daughter
Pilar, Bishop Marc, I think they worked at the UVA young writers summer program many years
ago.
This poem has come to my mind many times during my
four years at St. Cyprian’s, especially in light of today’s gospel. The poem itself
is by Rumi and is called The Lame Goat.
You have seen a herd of goats
going down to the water.
The lame and dreamy goat
brings up the rear.
There are worried faces about that one,
but now they're laughing,
because look, as they return,
that one is leading.
There are many different ways of knowing.
The lame goat's kind is a branch
that traces back to the roots of presence.
Learn from the lame goat,
and lead the herd home.
Thank you St. Cyprian’s for teaching me some of the
many ways of knowing --- keep dreaming and may you lead all of us home.