Salvation, Fear and Cliff Diving Pigs

 Scripture Reading--Luke 8: 22-39

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 swine tenders 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 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.

Reflection: Salvation, Fear and Cliff Diving Pigs

Rev. Debra McKnight - October 4, 2020

Jesus is working around the Sea of Galilee, maybe he loves the water and maybe it’s because Herod Jr. is “developing” the area which is costing the local communities, creating hardship for the small fishing businesses and making profit for Rome. Jesus is walking among the folks who need him, find him, and this time it’s a naked man living among the tombs calling out, “What have you to do with me!” Most of us would be flustered…Jesus however picks up the conversation like everything is totally normal and asks, “What is your name?” This scripture can feel so strange to us because the language and the methods of healing are so different, unfamiliar to us. We don’t use the word ‘demon’ a lot…ok, I don’t really use it ever, unless I am reading the Bible. It bothers me. Not only because the whole scene sends our minds to some horrifying exorcism movie, but because I have heard folks use that language and mean it. It reminds me of people trying to pray the demon out of someone they should be loving and these prayers didn’t happen 50 years ago, they are happening to folks right now in churches in Omaha. But none of what you and I might bring to the text really reflects what Jesus is inviting us to hear. We may not use the language of being possessed by a demon, but we can understand what it feels like or looks like to not be self-possessed, to be possessed by some struggle, sickness or addiction.

And if we are really honest we might know this man living in the tombs. We might see his silhouette in the folks dwelling among the vacant buildings or resting on the sidewalks after all the businesses have closed for the night. We can see them caring everything they possess in a cart or the duffle bag slung over their shoulder. We can hear this man in one who shouts at us as we pass by with the other folks who are a little frightened, a little grieved, and mostly unsure what to do.

We live in a country where one in five adults experience some struggle with mental health each year and one in 25 experience a severe crisis. Perhaps you have witnessed or experienced the struggle for a healthy mind, body and spirit. Maybe you have advocated for someone you love to receive care, better care, or longer stays in the hospital. Perhaps you have witnessed when insurance companies change coverage and suddenly that medication so essential to the one you love is $700 dollars a month and the process to find new medication leads them to spiral into crisis. We may use different language and even different technology, but if we are honest, we have met the man living in the tombs. And the thing that made Jesus unique is that he did, too. Healing was the work of the temples; all the things Jesus does, whether it is healing the bent over woman, restoring vision or casting out these spirits, happens in the temples…for a price. The miracle of Jesus isn’t the method, it’s the access.

What we know about this man is that he is naked. He is living in the cemetery or among the tombs and he is strong, strong enough to break the chains and unwilling to be restrained. We are left to imagine his journey. We can imagine his family loving him and something happened: some trauma, some loss, or just coming of age and this struggle took hold. Maybe they took him to the temple for care and couldn’t find the healing, the right doctor, or the right medicine. Maybe they tried to keep him at home and maybe the neighbors loved him and prayed for him. Until one day when he became a risk to himself or others. Maybe they got scared, but they tried to chain him and that didn’t even work. Maybe they tried and tried, but got tired or exhausted and made peace with him living among the dead, dwelling among the tombs, existing but not really living.

This is where he encountered Jesus who asks him his name and the demons answer, “Legion.” This names that they are mighty, powerful, and a multitude. It also names the Roman Occupation, the Roman Legion that brings trauma and violence and sickness to the community. The demon is smart enough to know it’s leaving and negotiates with Jesus. Rather than being sent into the abyss, the demon is sent into a herd of swine. It is easy for us to miss the symbols here. The legion of the Roman army stationed in this particular region has a symbol (a mascot if you will) and their mascot is a pig. Not only that, but we have to ask the questions of why there is a hillside of pigs in a region where Jewish folks don’t eat pork. This is a cash crop, big business, part of the oppression of the people and we can see that in what happens next.

Jesus sends the spirits, the sickness, into the pigs and the pigs are not having it. They run off the hillside and into the sea. The ones tending the pigs run to tell the story and the folks from the community arrive to see for themselves. The first thing they see is that their once wild, naked unwell neighbor sitting with Jesus, is clothed and in his right mind. He is well, he possesses himself and they respond with fear. They are not afraid when the man is naked, wild, breaking chains, but now they are afraid.

This is the most astounding part of the story. They are afraid. So afraid they ask Jesus to leave. He has healed a man, perhaps the son of their neighbor, perhaps as the kids played within the city square, perhaps the one who was beloved and lost to sickness. The story says Jesus heals, but the word could also be translated to saved. Jesus saves. Healing and salvation are the same root, SALV. And there is nothing about this saving moment that is some magical afterlife. Jesus does not ask the man if he is his lord and savior. Jesus heals him; it's what he said he would do in the beginning of Luke and it’s what he does over and over. Salvation is a present action. Salvation transformed this man and the community responds not in gratitude, but fear; not in joy, but in worry. They send Jesus away. They witness salvation and they ask the sacred to get out of town.

Why? Perhaps the one who owns the pigs and just watched his money jump off the cliff is too much for them to escape. Maybe they can’t handle salvation and healing if it changes everything they had gotten used to, even if they wish it could be better. Or maybe, just maybe, it served some folks to have a wild, naked scary neighbor living in the tombs. That is the question we have to ask ourselves when we struggle to change, when we struggle to heal, when we refuse to make changes to our healthcare system: are we like the ones who saw healing and salvation and then sent Jesus away?

We have a modern healthcare system that needs so much change and, even as we profess to value community and equity, we can not make the hard choices to really invest and change. We have corporations profiting from healthcare for the mind and body. They get paid first and they do not provide the care. Our neighbors have to choose between medical debt and well-being. We have more research to do and gains to make in access to mental health care. More providers and social workers, doctors and nurses are needed. The changes we need feel so overwhelming and perhaps even unsettling because there are so many competing agendas that it is tempting to send the sacred away and choose fear over healing.

Even as Jesus left the town, he asked the man to stay. The one who was now clothed and in his right mind and this man had asked to go with Jesus. And Jesus says, “No.” It seems harsh on the surface, right? But it is a reminder that everyone who follows Jesus has a special call. This man stays and reminds the community what salvation can be, what healing can look like if they choose love over fear. We can do that, too. Perhaps as we work for vast change we can work on our own life and community. We can work on our language, to always put the person before the disease. To stop saying things that hurt or wound or dehumanize. We can stop saying anything to a person struggling with mental health that you wouldn’t say to a person struggling with physical health and we can start thinking, “Would I say that to someone with cancer or about some one with heart disease?” We can stop saying “committed suicide.” We inherit not only a broken healthcare system, but the sins of the church in relating to mental health. Suicide has long been named a sin and a big one, so serious that the Roman Catholic church had official practices of limiting care after one died by suicide. And while they have changed, the residue clings to us all. To die by suicide should be approached as a tragedy and a loss, not as a shameful sin.

Will we be the community that sees salvation and sends the sacred away or will we invite change? We can be the people who work for new systems and advocate for budgets that bring care and expand access. We can also be the people who show up with a casserole and send a card when we know our neighbors are experiencing a mental health crisis just like we would if they were struggling with cancer. We can be the people who send a text and make a phone call. We can be the people who listen without judgement and who apologize when we say the wrong thing.  We can be the people who embrace healing rather than the town who sends Jesus away.

May we have the courage. Amen.