St.

Lukes Presbyterian Church, Rolling Hills, CA January 29, 2012

Mark 1: 2128 Deuteronomy 18: 18 20

Confronting the Screaming Demon

There is a rather pointed jab at the establishment in this account of the opening of Jesus public ministry in the Gospel of Mark. Did you catch it? The second verse reads, They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Oh, really? I can feature squirming scribes in the background who might quarrel with that review, regretting that they ever gave a platform to this upstart from Nazareth. As Jesus continued his public ministry in Galilee and beyond, there would be ever more cause for them to squirm in discomfort and dismay. On the Sabbath Jesus entered the synagogue to teach in the Galilean hometown of one of his disciples and seems to have made a smashing first impression. At this point, no one seems terribly concerned that his reputation is gaining luster at the expense of the scribes who ordinarily ruled the roost in this house of worship. No one, that is, with the exception of a disordered individual who seems determined to disrupt the lesson with a rude challenge, ambushing Jesus from the middle of a normally well-mannered house of worship. Well return to him later. First, Id like to focus our attention on what qualities of Jesus and his teaching there may have been that contributed to the recognition he achieved and the contrast he presented to well-established authority. While the Gospel of Mark provides scant details about just what happened here, there are a couple of things that may offer us some clues. Timing seems to have been important. This appearance in the Capernaum synagogue follows not long after the arrest of John the Baptist. From the earlier account of the baptism of Jesus by John, the Gospel of Mark discloses what a wide following the rugged and weatherbeaten John had attracted with his decidedly anti-establishment summons to repentance. From the Dead Sea scrolls, we know that the Essenes may have also taken to the wilderness near this time out of disgust for the Temple authorities and in search of a purer expression of their Jewish faith. In the midst of oppressive Roman occupation, were the Temple authorities experiencing a backlash as common people passed judgment on their collusions and

compromises with imperial Roman power? Their Torah and passages such as todays lesson from Deuteronomy may have ceased to promote their authority and to insulate them from the challenge of new voices raised in opposition. Were they secretly relieved now that John the Baptist was safely out of the way? Next, from the context we can draw some conclusions about the content of the lesson that Jesus presented. Mark neatly summarizes the message of Jesus as he began ministry in Galilee with his words, The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news. Surely, such a fresh and riveting proclamation would be well-received by an audience who were long beyond being simply weary of waiting for something that would offer some hope. Jesus awakens them to the astonishing news that their long wait is over! But just when Jesus has rocked this congregation back on its heels, a loud voice of opposition interrupts with a challenge. As I reflected on how alarmingly easy it can be for authority to slip from ones grasp, a recent communication prompted me to flash back to the peculiar dynamics of a junior high classroom and wonder how different a first century Capernaum synagogue could be. A neighbor of more than fifty years from the old neighborhood in Culver City died a couple of weeks ago. She was a Hungarian Jewish holocaust survivor who struggled valiantly throughout her life, losing a son my age to leukemia about ten years ago. I joined my family in paying respects at moving services in her memory at Hillside Memorial Park. Just a week ago, her daughter posted on Facebook that she would be returning to her Middle School classroom to teach on Monday and was genuinely concerned that her tender young students would inadvertently say something that would lead her to lose her composure and render her undone. I have utmost respect for those with the fortitude to teach young people that age and have just enough experience to appreciate the sheer terror of losing your grip on authority with them. The contrast between two social studies classes I experienced in 8th grade remains vivid in my memory still. I started the year in an undisciplined classroom with student who had become extremely proficient in pushing Miss Gross buttons. She would regularly erupt with roaring,

angry impatience at the infractions which the students inflicted on her and on the rest of us. Utter pandemonium! Demons ran amuck. In despair and at her wits end, she finally arranged to transfer me to the class next door for my own good. I guess she considered me worth saving. It was a totally different world in Mrs. Drusts classroom, and I think it was an important turning point for me. I remember this teacher being far gentler and rarely needing to raise her voice. Something about her manner stirred our imaginations, unleashed creativity and raised our sights to new possibilities. She commanded respect and kept a far firmer grip on her authority seemingly by just being authentically who she was. If there were challenges to her authority, she turned them back without escalating the conflict. As I thought about how to respond to my former neighbor worried about coming undone in front of her middle school students, I remembered something Quaker educator and philosopher Parker Palmer had written. A portion is quoted as our preparation for worship. For me, it illustrates both the kind of authority Jesus modeled and why some feel compelled to turn to more forceful or violent alternatives. The full quotation is as follows There are at least two ways for the heart to break, and both of them have political as well as personal implications. The heart can break apart, shattering into a million pieces, no longer able to hold the pain and the joy of our own lives, let alone anyone elses. And sometimes, as the heart breaks, it gets hurled like a fragment grenade at the source of its pain. Politically, thats what some people call the politics of rage. Violence is what happens when we dont know what else to do with our suffering. But theres another way, and we see it around us every day. Suffering can break the heart open into a new largeness, expanding its capacity to hold our pain and joy as well as that of other people. I know many whove suffered the loss of the dearest person in their lives. After long nights of darkness and grief, they gradually awaken to the fact that their great loss has broken their hearts open: they are more understanding, forgiving and compassionate than they were before their hearts were broken. The broken-open heart can give rise to the politics of generosity, a politics thats worthy of the human spirit.

The supple heart breaks into largeness. The brittle heart breaks into pieces. So in our personal and political lives, heres a question worth pondering: What am I doing day by day to make my heart supple enough to break open, not apart, when I encounter whatever it is that breaks my heart?1 Before a congregation of weary, heartbroken people in a synagogue in Capernaum, Jesus encountered opposition determined to push his buttons and challenge the aura of authority he had so decisively won. Perhaps giving voice to the discomfort and jealousy Jesus aroused in Temple authorities, the unclean spirit inhabiting the man spoke, saying What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? (Please note here the sure-fire technique of belittling humble origins.) Have you come to destroy us?, the demon persisted. I know who you are, the Holy One of God. A fragment grenade hurled at a source of pain? Or perhaps the death-rattle voice of an authority that has lost its way? The demon clearly knew very well who Jesus was, and he was on a mission to put a halt to what he could see coming. Be silent, and come out of him!, Jesus rebuked the demon. The man inhabited by the demon screamed and his body went into violent convulsions as the demon left him, leaving all in the synagogue to wonder about what they had just witnessed. And from this distance in time and space, we pause and wonder too. The voice of one demon spoke for much of a fearful, wounded world unprepared to accept the reality that a new day of hope had dawned at last. From time to time demonic voices still disrupt our careful plans and the halting, painful steps toward realization of the Kingdom. There are times when even Presbyterian decency and order collapse! We pause and remember that Jesus triumphed in this initial challenge to his ministry and went on to meet new challenges. Wholeness and hope overcame fear. We need not descend into chaos if we follow the example of Jesus and cultivate supple, open and generous hearts. We need not fear the screaming demon. Jesus didnt. Neither should we.

See Parker Palmer: Healing the Heart of Democracy: The Courage to Create a Politics Worthy of the Human Spirit (San Francisco: Jossey Bass, 2011) p. 60 for a similar discussion of the two kinds of heartbreak. The original quote was taken from an internet posting by the author.