Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost 5. June 23, 2013. Facing our fears What does the edge of the world look like? If you have seen ‘The Gods must be Crazy’ (excellent movie) you would know that the end of the world is a cliff with rolling clouds over which is a good place to throw problem causing Coke bottles. When !Xi finds this place after his long journey he knows that he has gone to the very edge, as far as it is possible to go, tosses over the Coke bottle and returns to his family. Or if you have seen ‘Voyage of the Dawn Treader’ then you will know that the end of the world is a cliff of water, a wave, beyond which is the Land of Aslan. Reepicheep the brave mouse is the one who faces the fear of the unknown and ventures beyond the edge. In the ancient world the place at the edge was called Ultima Thule – the islands at the end of the world. And maps in the not so ancient world had pictures around the edges of the fearsome things beyond and signs like “There be dragons!” The known world has always been encapsulated in some way with boundaries – boundaries which hold us in, which hold others or other things out and which delineate the extent of the world with which we can cope. Edges can be feared places but they are also places to face our fears. Yet they are often places where control can be seen being exercised. Richard Dawkins is doing exactly that in his attempts to put boundaries around what is ‘real’. He reveals the extent of what he is able or prepared to see and he is contemptuous of those whose world is larger. The extent of the world, the extent of ‘reality’ according to Dawkins is bounded by what is able to be ‘sensed’ by our five senses (sight, touch, hearing, taste and smell) enhanced where necessary by what he calls ‘special instruments’ (The Magic of Reality, p12). It is empirical science which helps us to ‘make sense’ of the experiences which we have. Dawkins does admit that there are things which appear to be outside of physical reality but insists that this is just a problem of not having go the science right yet. If things are experienced which appear to lie outside of explanations, which are beyond science then (for Dawkins) it does not mean that there is any reality beyond the world of the five senses. We just need better science, better special instruments, to help us to understand (p256). Unfortunately the impression that Dawkins gives over and over again is of fear, that his world view will collapse if he admits to realities beyond what he is prepared to recognise. Today’s Gospel reading (Luke 8:26-39) is an exercise in exploring the edges of the world on many levels. Jesus and the disciples travel across to the far side of the Sea of Galilee. This large lake marks the border between the land which is clearly part of the north of Israel and the surrounding lands. Even in modern times the border with Syria was just on the eastern side of the lake, in the area where these events took place. This is dangerous territory – now and then. It is beyond the borders and the people there are unlikely to be Jewish or Samaritans (the believers in God who lived in the north of Israel). Jews and Samaritans had hardly any polite contact with each other and good Jews were supposed to keep themselves away from contact with gentiles. Jesus steps out of the boat and encounters a (probably) gentile man. The man was deeply mentally disturbed. Mental disturbance was feared in the ancient world – and among many people even now. Someone who behaves in unusual ways is shunned, feared. The description of this man is that he had demons. I will come back to that description but for the moment it is enough to note that he was a deeply disturbed and deeply disturbing person. And such people are pushed to the edges. And he was naked. Nakedness is frightening in some societies. How do you hold a normal conversation with a naked stranger? It is something which makes most people very uncomfortable – then, now, in most places. We have a ‘clothing optional’ beach in Adelaide but it is way down south out of easy sight and transport. And in polite ‘normal’ society there are rules about how much of the bodies of men and women can be shown without attracting the attention of the law. For some even the functional nakedness of breastfeeding is alarming and offensive! Nakedness is an edgy thing now. And even more so then. And the man lived in the tombs. Fear of death and avoidance of death connects the ancient and modern worlds. Would you ever choose to sleep in a cemetery? The curate’s house at St Jude’s Brighton, which is where we were living when Peter was born, was right on the edge of the cemetery. They were our nearest neighbours! In fact the only real neighbours for a long way! It was a little strange, not spooky but strange. It felt like a very ‘on the edge’ place to be living! And there is the strength beyond control which the man seemed to have. People who can’t be controlled, who don’t conform, who don’t behave are deeply disturbing to those who want order and control and the status quo. And then there is the knowledge that the man seemed to have. Here is this man from outside, from beyond the community of the people who would be expected to have some idea about the Messiah, weird, edgy, naked, living among the dead AND with special insight. Could there have been a description MORE designed to say here is someone right out on the edge!! But there is more. There is a herd of pigs nearby. Pigs were and still are the easily identified animals to avoid for some religious traditions! You have heard I am sure the expression of something being awkward as being like a pork chop at a bar mitzvah. At the heart of that restriction around pork is fear. Pigs at an earlier time were – or were believed to be – carriers of disease. It was fear of illness which led to the prohibition. The images from the edge do not end there though. Most people in that place and time didn’t swim. They sailed and they fished but most didn’t swim, and so the water was a scary place. That adds an edge to the stories of Jesus and then later Peter walking on the water. They were overcoming the terrifying place. When Jesus releases the man from whatever was destroying his life the feared thing goes into another feared and loathed thing – the pigs – and on further to plunge into another feared place – the lake. It is as if the fears are tumbling like a house of cards, then they are gone. Everything about this story is a confrontation with life of the edge. What does Jesus do? Does He take people away from the edge? Does he avoid those fears? No, He engages with them and in doing that he transforms them. The man who had been possessed is now sane, clothed, accepted, embraced and in the place of honour! The people who were used to this man being the deviant out among the tombs were now frightened at the transformation. Fears do strange things to people. They strangle us. And they make victims of ourselves and of others. The French philosopher Rene Girard has explored deeply the way in which so much human interaction seems to be driven by fear and victimisation up to and deeply embedded in the story of Jesus, and (of course) ever since. Yet in Jesus we find the invitation to step away from that pattern of fear and making victims of the people who disturb us, stepping away from the pattern of fear and avoidance of those places in which we feel uneasy and to embrace, transform and heal the fears. There was a strange spiritual reality in this story beyond what Richard Dawkins would be able to explain. Something, which is identified as demons, was holding this man’s life captive. In the power of God Jesus confronted what was binding the man and put it aside. Jesus’ lack of fear was what overcame. I wonder how long it was since that man had been treated with love and not fear? I wonder how long it was since he had been accepted. I have no qualms about recognising the supernatural elements in this story as part of its rich layers. But I refuse to be frightened by them any more than I am frightened by the patterns of exclusion which had pushed this man to the edge and victimised him. When we allow fear to define us then we give opportunity to those who would control us for their own purposes. When we allow fear to define us then we empty ourselves of power. When we allow ourselves to be the victim or when we make others victims of our own disrupted desires then we are diminishing life and love. When we embrace and engage and face the ‘edge’ people and situations then there is a wealth of healing for ourselves and others. What does this look like for you? Where are your deepest fears, the things which isolate you from others? Where do you feel a victim? And where are those who may fear you, those relationships in which an unhealthy desire for control leads to dis-ease? Being on the edge and being different are not places and states to fear. They are places of deep encounter. They are places to find deeper belonging, reconciliation and healing than we might recognise or be open to when we are safe and secure and in the centre of life. Elijah found the same lesson on Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19). So where and with whom might you need to stop and listen and be patient and trust? Where and with whom might you need to persevere and refuse to be put off by what is out of the ordinary, disturbing the ‘normal’, challenging the usual and settled patterns? Who might be the stranger and the edge person who has insight and new perspective to share which you would miss if fear remains the dominant emotion in the encounter? Who will you embrace? To whom will you show radical love? What does this look like for us as a community, as a nation? Refugees come to us from the edge: different, perhaps frightening, with needs and experiences and expectations and hopes and dreams which so many Australians find frightening. And in our fear we demonise and reject and sideline them. Many refugees come with such horrific experiences from their journeys or from the terror which caused them to flee their homelands that they are as traumatised and as traumatic to encounter as the man in this reading today. Children who have watched family members killed, friends drop dead from hunger or be taken by wild animals; People who have been bashed and worse for their beliefs or skin colour or gender or some other prejudice. In the gospel story it was Jesus who stepped off the boat. How do we treat them when they step off the boats. We imprison them and re-traumatise them all over again. If that offends you as much as it offends me – what will we do about it? Facing our fears – in personal relationships and in public engagement – is an invitation to choose love, the sort of love which we have and which we see and which we find in Jesus. Inspirational love casts out fear. Be inspired. Paul Mitchell
Posted on: Sat, 22 Jun 2013 13:49:08 +0000