They came to the other side of the sea, to the region of the Gerasenes. And when he had stepped out of the boat, immediately a man from the tombs with an unclean spirit met him. He lived among the tombs, and no one could restrain him any more, even with a chain, for he had often been restrained with shackles and chains, but the chains he wrenched apart, and the shackles he broke in pieces, and no one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always howling and bruising himself with stones. When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and bowed down before him, and he shouted at the top of his voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.” For he had said to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!” Then Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “My name is Legion, for we are many.” He begged him earnestly not to send them out of the region. Now there on the hillside a great herd of swine was feeding, and the unclean spirits begged him, “Send us into the swine; let us enter them.” So he gave them permission. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the swine, and the herd, numbering about two thousand, stampeded down the steep bank into the sea and were drowned in the sea.
The swineherds ran off and told it in the city and in the country. Then people came to see what it was that had happened. They came to Jesus and saw the man possessed by demons sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, the very man who had had the legion, and they became frightened. Those who had seen what had happened to the man possessed by demons and to the swine reported it. Then they began to beg Jesus to leave their neighborhood. As he was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed by demons begged him that he might be with him. But Jesus refused and said to him, “Go home to your own people, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you and what mercy he has shown you.” And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone was amazed. --Mark 5:1-20 (NRSV)
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Creator, Jesus Christ, our Redeemer, and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Sustainer. Amen.
Fear. It’s the topic of our text today - a story that is preceded by the story of Jesus and his disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee. It’s that story of a storm that comes up while they are in the middle of the Sea of Galilee - a big lake really. And of Jesus calming the waters. Yet, it's interesting to me that the very last thing Jesus says before they reach the eastern shore and step into today’s story - the last thing Jesus says to the disciples is “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?”
Fear. Why are you afraid? What are you afraid of? Now, I know our very American culture demands that we respond to that question with “Nothing. I’m afraid of nothing.” Yet, I wonder. I wonder if we move beyond that claim and think about those times, perhaps. Or those people, perhaps. Or those places, perhaps. That, if we are paying attention to our body and the reaction of our body to those particular times, people or places, we have to admit our fear.
On my vacation last week I had an opportunity to have a long conversation with an old friend who has lived in Los Angeles since he moved there from southern Indiana right after college. Like so many of us when we’re first starting out, he lived in what could be called “not the best part of town.” Maybe you’ve had a similar experience, where with limited income you had to find a place you could afford. A place that didn’t always feel safe. Even if you haven’t had that experience, think about what it feels like to walk at night from a restaurant or a bar or some other place in a “not so good” location. Those little twinges you feel as you hold your keys in your hand ready to open your car door. Or to protect yourself. Or as you pull your purse or your loved one closer to you. Just a little fearful of something or someone that might step out of the dark and turn your life upside down.
So, this friend, as he moved up and made more money, then, as he got married to a woman who was also successful, he began to move closer and closer to the westside of Los Angeles. The side where those with money live. And as he made that move, his attitudes began to change. Especially his attitude around the homeless.
Homelessness is a huge problem in Los Angeles as it is in many cities, including here in Louisville. There, especially, it’s a combination of the climate, housing costs that have spiraled out of control and out of reach for so many, plus drug addiction and a lack of mental health resources. All of this together has created a huge homeless population in L.A. - a population that, especially over the last ten years, has moved throughout the city, including into the west side. Into his neighborhood.
There’s been a lot of public discussion there over how to deal with this issue, especially around how to deal with the homeless who suffer from mental illness. My friend has a good heart, but he, like many, has come to the position that the laws should be changed to allow those with mental health issues, especially those who seem out of control, to be forcibly removed from the streets and institutionalized.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Just like the man in today’s story. This man named Legion is demon-possessed. Not just by one demon, but by many. He is uncontrollable. And, according to our text, not violent toward the people in the nearby village, but hurtful to himself. And as much as the villagers have tried to control him, placing him in chains and leg irons, their attempts have been futile. So, he has been banished apparently. Wandering in the tombs and hills nearby.
Out of sight, out of mind.
It’s a story that would make any Jew uncomfortable. Located in the land of the Gerasenes, it’s a Gentile area, so to begin with it’s unclean and out of bounds. There's a herd of swine there, too, which suggests impurity. Plus there’s that cemetery nearby, which for a Jew would be off limits. The man who comes to Jesus has an unclean spirit. This whole place, this man, this whole situation would be taboo for any Jew. But, as we have seen so often before, this is exactly the forbidden territory into which Jesus ventures.
He sends the man’s demons packing. Specifically, at their request, into a herd of swine nearby. Who, then, unexpectedly run off a cliff into the sea, drowning the unclean spirits. The word gets around and the villagers come out to see this man, previously possessed, now clothed and in his right mind. One might think that they would rejoice with him, celebrate over a life restored. But, instead, when they see him sitting there, they are afraid. 
Jesus’ healing action has upset their status quo. They find Jesus threatening. Their world, as they have created, it is tolerable. Even demons can be endured as long as the possessed are relegated to a place outside civilized territory - among the tombs on the outskirts of town. But, when they see the transformation of this man, they are fearful.
What’s so frightening about Jesus and this action? Because, unlike them - and unlike us, Jesus refuses to leave the world as it is. Jesus transgresses those boundaries and rescues those who are “beyond help.” Such a person - like Jesus - can’t be controlled. Such a person - like Jesus - can only be followed. And they are unwilling. So, they ask him to leave. Because the cure of this demon-possessed man is too expensive. Not just in terms of pigs, but in terms of social stability. Jesus upsets the status quo. The Kingdom of God upsets the status quo. And, as we see in this story and in many of the stories of these past 13 weeks, humanity, its society and its institutions - we - often impede the in-breaking of God’s kingdom more than we expedite it.
But God’s reign breaks into the world. Not so much through flawed institutions and individuals, but in spite of them. God’s reign comes with power - power to do things neither you nor I, nor any other human being, can do on our own. God’s reign forces us to perceive the truth that we are not in control. As we seek to control our lives and our world, we hold onto what we perceive as safe. As we push down our fear with the claim that nothing frightens us. As our world unravels around us and we lose complete control. Or we lose the control we thought we had. It is then, and only then, when we are vulnerable enough to see that only God is in control. That only God is at work in our midst. Turning things around. Skewing the world toward justice. Bringing resurrection out of death. For us. So that we might be free.
And so that our fear might be out of sight, out of mind.
May God grant it. Amen.
Preached September 4, 2022, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, KY, with Third Lutheran, Louisville, KY.
13th Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Mark 5:1-20, Psalm 65
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