But What about the Pigs?

Psalm 42/43 and Luke 8:29-36

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost Year C

June 23, 2013

First and Harmony Presbyterian Churches

Dr. Robert Wm Lowry          

          From time to time I find myself wondering if the writers of hymns pay attention to what they write.

          Some just don’t make sense.  Consider the Christmas hymn, a sentimental favorite, Away in a Manger.  According to the hymn…

          The cattle are lowing,

          The poor baby wakes,

          But little Lord Jesus,

          No crying he makes.

          Really?  NO crying?  Has this guy ever spent a night in a house with a newborn?  My guess is that more than one time those first few nights, sleepless Mary turned to sleepless Joseph and said with a sleepy gaze, “your turn.”

          Some hymns are just badly written and overwrought or sentimental to the point that their sweetness hurts your teeth when you sing them.

          Some, though, are just theologically bad. 

          One of those theologically bad hymns came to mind as I was doing the pre-writing dance with this text.

          Written in the early 1800’s by a prolific hymn writer, Arthur T. Russell, O God of Life, Whose Power Benign may be the most theologically bankrupt piece of music I have ever heard. 

O God of life, whose power benign

Doth oér the world in mercy shine,

Accept our praise, for we are Thine. 

          Whose power benign?

          Did this guy ever read Luke?  Did he ever read this story?  Did he ever think about the fact that if God’s power is anything it is anything but benign? 

          The God who created heaven and earth;

          The God who brought the people of Israel out of Egypt;

          The God who raised Jesus from the dead is not benign.

          If the power of God is anything it is anything but benign.

          In the story recounted for us in Luke’s gospel this morning, Jesus encounters a man tormented by demons.  Not just one or two but so many that they call themselves legion- he is possessed by an army of demons.  At the heart of this text is the truth of the care and love of Jesus Christ for us all and that is a comforting story- an important story.

          When Jesus encounters the man, the demons have such total control over him that they speak first.  It is as if they have taken total control of the poor man and he is without any will or identity of his own.  If ever there was a candidate for Jesus’s healing mercy, this guy fits the bill.

          The legion of demons confronts Jesus and recognizing him as the son of God and the power that entails they ask that if Jesus is going to cast them out to at least cast them into some other living being so that they are not sent back into the abyss.  For reasons left unexplained, Jesus, ever gracious and ever generous, acquiesces to their request and drives the demons from the man into a nearby herd of pigs.  Of course the favor is short lived because the pigs run over the cliff into the sea and are drowned.  But for that brief moment, even the demons know the grace and generosity of God.

          There is nothing benign in that moment; not in in Jesus’s healing and there is nothing benign in that sort of love- that sort of divine generosity that even a legion of demons possessing a man’s body is granted the wish of its heart.  That sort of love is active, it is transformative, it is awe-inspiring.  It is anything but benign.

At the heart of this text is the truth of the powerful and transformative care and love of Jesus Christ for us all and that is a comforting story- an important story.-  but it is not the whole story.

          Beyond the wonder of Jesus’s gracious act in healing the possessed man and granting Legion’s request and beyond the wonder of a God whose love is so incredibly vast is a question that demands our attention…what about the pigs?

          Yes, Jesus does a generous thing and yes Jesus does a miraculous thing but on some level we have to acknowledge that Jesus also did a pretty costly and troublign thing.  He cast the demons out of the man and into some poor herdsman’s livelihood.  Herds of domesticated pigs did not just wander around the ancient near east.  Where there was a herd of anything there was a herdsman charged with their care so it does not take too much of a leap to assume that with these pigs there was someone who cared for and about them. 

          How, I wonder, did he react to Jesus’s act of incredible generosity toward Legion?

          How did he feel about the events that day?

          My guess is that he did not like it much.  I sure wouldn’t.  Think about it.  How would you feel if your neighbor called on Jesus for help and Jesus responded by destroying your career.  That is essentially what happens here.  Do you think anyone would hire that herdsman again?  No one is going to trust a new herd to the guy who lost his last herd off a cliff!

          If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t like the events of this story very much.  No I would not like it at all.

          Yes, Jesus was generous.  Yes, Jesus was merciful.  Yes, Jesus was kind.  But Jesus ruined my job!  No, I would not have liked this one bit.

          And that, friends, brings us to the rest of the heart of this story.

          God’s is a disruptive power.

          Luke is silent about the reaction of the herdsman whose livelihood just ran headlong into the lake, but he does tell us about the reaction of the crowd that witnessed this miracle of healing and the crowd that gathered to hear the story retold; they were afraid.

          They were afraid.

          Given the speed with which the possessed man shows up on the scene, it is safe to say that he was known to the people in the community.  His madness, his ravings, his oddness was not unknown and although they might have tried to put him out of mind, they knew him and were, on some level, used to him.

          When Jesus shows up on the scene and his first act is to heal the man, you would think that the crowd would stand in awe and wonder celebrating the miraculous work of God and that word of the healing would draw a crowd of admirers or at least curious onlookers.  But they don’t. 

          They were afraid.

          They saw the work of God in their midst and they were afraid.

          They saw the power of God and witnessed its disruptive power and collectively they thought, “better the devil you know.” 

          How often do we do that?  How often are we confronted by the work and the power of God only to retreat into the familiar?  It was easier for them to accept the madness of their possessed neighbor than to accept the potential cost and disruption that would come from letting the work of God loose in their midst.  The power of God was right there in front of them and they asked it to leave town rather than bear the cost that may come with it.

          Better the devil you know, you know?

          This text is a favorite among some transitional pastors.  Part of congregational transformation is working with a church to excise those things that are dragging down its spirit and ministry; naming the legion of bad habits and old patterns that though familiar are nonetheless holding us back.  Part of letting go of those old habits is understanding that they may take something or someone valuable with them when they go. 

          When we allow God to chase out the forces of anxiety about the future, it may just rob us of the illusion of control.

          When we allow God to cast out the power of “we always did it that way,” it may just take the ease of stale but familiar ministry with it.

          When we allow God to exorcise our reliance on the same small group of volunteers to do everything, it may just cost us a little of our own time to make the ministries of the church thrive.

          The work of God in our midst comes with a cost.  The question that confronts us- that confronted the Gerasene community in Luke’s gospel- is whether or not we are willing to give a little of the familiar to make room for the divine. 

          Can we let go the devil we know to make room for the blessing we do not?

          That day on the lakeshore, a Gerasene man experienced what I think Luke wants us all to know; when we allow God to work in our midst, it may be frightening, it may be costly, but it will always be worth it.

          God’s is a disruptive power but it is God’s and God is gracious, generous, loving and merciful.  I don’t know about you, but I could use a disruption like that in my life.  Even if it means losing a few pigs along the way.

          Sola Deo Gloria!  To God alone be the glory!  Amen.