DEALING WITH DEMONS

A sermon by the Rev. Dr. James G. Kirk

Harundale Presbyterian Church

Glen Burnie, Maryland

July 20, 2004

Text: “He said, ‘Legion’; for many demons had entered him.” (Luke 8:30)

First Reading: 1 Kings 19:1-4, 8-15a

Second Reading: Galatians 3:23-29

Soon many of us will be going on holiday. School’s out now and with that comes the annual tradition of “getting away from it all!” There’s anticipation in the air, anticipation of days spent at the beach or in the mountains; anticipation of new sights to be explored; anticipation of leisurely days without the customary routine, or just the anticipation of not having to do anything at all. So, the bags will be packed; the car loaded and off people will go in search of whatever anticipation’s been driving them.

The only problem with such a holiday is that along with their packed bags will be all the baggage they continue to carry every other day of the year. Along with their packed bags will be the worry over their sister’s newly found ovarian cancer. There will be the concern about their son’s marriage, whether it can be saved or will end in divorce. There will be the nagging pain that medication won’t touch and just continues to hinder walking any distance at all. There will be the temptation to charge everything on the credit card, only driving the debt higher and higher without any thought to how and when it’s going to get paid. And then, of course, every time they look in a mirror they’re reminded yet again of the need to lose some weight. Any discipline they’ve exercised is only going to fall by the wayside, knowing eating habits are sure to change while they’re away.

Dealing with demons doesn’t take a holiday just because of some anticipated tradition of “getting away from it all!” Just ask Jesus! Now Gerasa is no Aruba, but it’s on the other side of the lake and it’s where Jesus finds himself in today’s story. Samuel Wells offers an interpretation of what’s going on in this story that I’ve never heard before. We’ve all heard about the Gerasene Demoniac and how the demons enter into the swine feeding on the hill and plunge themselves into the lake. Wells changes the focus of the story. In his mind emphasis should be on the Demoniac’s name, “Legion.” For him it’s the key to the story.

“Everything begins to make sense when we allow the meaning of ‘legion’ to dictate the shape of the story. It’s a story about Rome whose legions possessed Israel. Israel lived in internal exile. Why are there so many pigs, when Jews would have no use for pigs? Because pigs had one purpose only—to feed the bands of Roman recruits…The passage retells the story of Jesus’ ministry. He arrives at the ‘far country’—far from his heavenly home. As he begins his ministry (‘steps out on land’) he meets with conflict straightaway. Those who confront him are exiles from their true home. They find themselves unclean—defiled by death as Israel is defiled be gentile rule. And daily they have an impossible choice: confront Rome, and find that their shackles are fastened more tightly or that they are ‘driven into the wilds’’ or allow the Romans to possess them, and lose their identity. Jesus faces the question of identity head on: ‘What is your name? The man has lost his identity: he says, ‘My name is Rome.’

“Drastic action is needed. Jesus delivers the people. The transformation is terrifying. Less fascinated by the sane and clothed state of the man, the people are horrified by the costs and consequences of the salvation Jesus brings. Fancy living without pigs! It’s too scary. They ask Jesus to leave. The last scene of the story anticipates the last scene of the Gospel: just as later the disciples are ‘continually in the Temple, blessing God,’ so here the former demoniac proclaims throughout the city how much Jesus has done for him.

“This is the kind of thing that happens when Jesus goes on holiday. The customs, adventures and challenges vary, but the holiday’s real significance is in the way it recasts what is taking place at home…On the far side of the lake, in Gerasa, many die so that one man can be saved. On this side of the lake, in Jerusalem, it is the other way round: one man is to die so that many can be saved.” (The Christian Century, June 15, 2004, page 18).

Today is Father’s Day and there’s another story about what one father did to save his son from the demon in his own life. “The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents’ bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the far. As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.

“I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate’s treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank. Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck. Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. ‘Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You’re going to do better than me. This old mill town’s not going to hold you back.’ Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly. ‘These are for my son’s college fund. He’ll never work at the mill all his life like me.’

“We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. ‘When we get home, we’ll start filling the jar again. You’ll get there. I’ll see to that.’ The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done.

“When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me. No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar. To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. ‘When you finish college, Son,’ he told me, his eyes glistening, ‘You’ll never have to eat beans again…unless you want to.’

“The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad’s arms. ‘She probably needs to be changed,’ she said, carrying the baby into my parents’ bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. ‘Look,’ she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions chocking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.”

There is no getting away from the demons in our lives, but there are ways to find help. The father did what he could so that his son would have a better life. Jesus, Son of the Most High God spent his ministry driving away the demons from those he met. Today, God sends his Son that we may have life and that abundantly. So, as you anticipate the summer months ahead of you, when there are happy moments, praise God. When there are difficult moments, seek God. During those quiet moments, worship God. If there are painful moments, trust God and every moment, be sure to thank God.

Thanks be to God,

Amen