Sermon for Sunday 31 January 2021

 

Sermon for Sunday 31 January 2021

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger

Mark 1:21-28

 

On Thursday of this week, my Lutheran colleagues from the English, Arabic, Danish, German, and Swedish-speaking communities in Jerusalem walked from Redeemer Church in the historic Muristan section of the Old City to the Latin Patriarchate near Jaffa Gate. It felt so good to see one another after many weeks of strict lockdown in Jerusalem. We wore masks, of course, but I’m certain our smiles were visible through our eyes as we approached the entrance of the Latin patriarchate down the street from the Lutheran church.

Once inside, we positioned ourselves socially distanced (with at least one seat in between us...not hard in the massive hall) and awaited the arrival of the new Patriarch, His Beatitude Pierbattista Pizzaballa. A few minutes later we greeted him, treated with a shot of Bailey’s Irish Creme and a fancy chocolate, followed by a cup of Arabic coffee. As always, status quo, thanks be to God, Amen.

At some point in our (relatively) casual Lutheran-Catholic dialogue, the conversation turned from COVID and the mutual struggles our churches and schools are facing to the ongoing struggle for peace in the Holy Land. His Beatitude Pizzaballa sighed and said, “You know, when the bishops meet to talk about peace, it’s as if we are talking about making peace on the moon. We need to bring it down to earth!”

Amen!

Making peace on the moon…I thought about this image as I read the appointed Gospel text for this week. Here we have a story about Jesus casting out an unclean spirit, a story that can feel like a story from long long ago and far far away—a story from the moon. From my perspective here in Jerusalem, it’s a particularly strange thing to read stories like this, because on the one hand I have been to Capernaum, so it’s a real place in my mind. On the other hand, as a 21st century person, this is a story about a possessed person entering a synagogue in a frenzy, and Jesus casting the unclean spirit out, which feels a bit other-worldly, something out of a movie

Often, when we read these stories from the life of Jesus, it can seem we’re talking about events happening on the moon. These feel like stories from far far away and long long ago, having nothing to do with our lives or our world today.

And yet…there is usually something from these Gospel stories that connects with our lives today. This week’s story is no different. Hear this story again: 

Jesus and the disciples went to the synagogue to pray, and while they were there, a man came to disturb them, saying “Who do you think you are? Have you come to destroy the things we are accustomed to?”

Do you recognize this scene?  Do you recognize these people today? I sure do. The Bible calls them unclean spirits, but I know these as adversaries. I think you know them, too: These are the ones who confront us, in person or on social media, asking us “Who do you think you are? Why are you posting that? Why are you choosing that for your family?” These are the ones who point fingers and declare: “I know who you are. I know which side you’re on. I know where to put you.”

I think reading and preaching on stories of healing and casting out demons is more fraught today than it’s ever been in all my years as a pastor and a missionary. What can one possibly say about Jesus’ healing miracles in the midst of the current pandemic, without being criticized? How can one talk about unclean spirits and exorcism in a time of such nasty political division, without angering half of the congregation? Where do we see Jesus’ healing powers at work today?

Sigh.

Here’s the truth: Nearly every day of this past week I was sitting on the same couch, in the same room, in this same house, in the middle of the same pandemic you are all enduring. And I was grappling with the same questions I just posed to you. I was thinking: Really, Jesus? Can’t you just fix this already? Come on!

As a person of faith, I think it’s super difficult to look at what the world is experiencing at this time and not question God. In fact, as I think about today’s Gospel lesson, I might identify more with the man with the unclean spirit in this story. I might be the one storming the synagogue, asking questions, demanding answers. I might want to say, along with the unclean interloper, “Jesus, have you come to destroy us?"

Today's Gospel story is from long ago and far away...it could be from the moon! And yet, it also feels so relevant to our lives today. The casting out of unclean spirits isn’t a fairy tale. In fact, casting out spirits is one of the things we are called to do as followers of Jesus. Episcopal priest and author Sara Miles talks about Christian discipleship as the work of feeding, healing, and raising the dead. This is not only the work of Jesus, this is also the work of those who follow Jesus. She says, powerfully, that Jesus “Gives us the power to be Jesus." We are called to look evil in the eye and say “Be silent, and come out of him!” Be gone, white supremacy. Be gone, patriarchy. Be gone, violence.  Be gone, occupation. Be gone, ugliness and war and cancer and COVID. Be gone, be silent, come out of every person and every church! Be gone, every unclean spirit. 

This feels like a lot, doesn’t it? I mean, I can barely bring myself to wear pants with an actual waistband these days, much less cast out evil spirits.

And still…as baptized children of God, we are empowered to do this work. This work, this Good News, is being born among us and through us every day. In fact, the liberating power of God is being born through many, in unexpected ways and in unexpected places.

To this point:

Earlier this week, here in Jerusalem, far far away and a long long time removed from 1995, I was knitting and listening to a podcast about the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing.

This was a particularly poignant story for me, because I remember the exact moment of the OKC bombing. I was walking across the campus of Oklahoma State University with my roommate Jennifer just after 9 in the morning. We looked at each other at the same moment and said “What was that?” The earth had moved under our feet. We were 50 miles from Oklahoma City, and it was pre-internet, pre-smart phones. We had no idea what had just happened. We only knew that the earth was shaken. So we went on our way…Jennifer to class, and me to the local public library to study.

As I entered the library, finding no one at the front desk, I wandered until I found a group of people huddled silently in a tiny room, near a small television, staring at images of the crumbled Alfred P. Murrah Federal building. We didn’t move again for more than an hour.

That day, for Oklahomans and many Americans, is talked about like Pearl Harbor, or 9/11, or the Intifadas here in Palestine. It changed us and changed how we see the world. But the podcast I was listening to this week recounted the events of that terrible day from a different perspective. 

This journalist talked about the trauma visited upon the Muslim residents of Oklahoma. In the aftermath of the bombing, many people immediately assumed Muslims were responsible (when, in fact, it was a white supremacist Christian who committed this act, the worst act of domestic terrorism in US history)

It was hard to hear the story of this bombing again. However, I was moved by the story the journalist told. They told the story of a Muslim man who was serving as an Imam in Oklahoma City in 1995. In the days after the bombing, protestors gathered outside his community’s mosque. The imam came out and asked, “What are you doing here?” One of the protestors shouted: “I’m protesting Islam!” The imam came closer to ask, “OK. Why?”

The imam came face to face with the man, who was yelling all sorts of obscenities to him. It wasn't so much a conversation as an altercation. But at some point, the imam noticed that the protestor had a large mole on this face. He said to him, “You should get that checked.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t have insurance” said the protestor.

“Come inside” said the imam. “We have a free clinic here at the mosque.”

And after a bit more conversation, the man reluctantly agreed.

He had the mole checked.

It was cancerous.

And he received free treatment through the mosque’s free clinic.

Eventually, after the cancer was treated, the former protestor was employed as security for the mosque.

“Be silent, and come out of him!” said Jesus.

What does it look like to follow Jesus today? What does it look like to feed, and heal, and cast out unclean spirits?

To be honest, discipleship feels like a lot to ask during a global pandemic. Sometimes I don’t have the energy to cast out anything except maybe, my laundry.

But here’s the thing: we don’t have to do all the things all the time. We don’t need to heal every broken thing all by ourselves. I’m so glad to lean on the mighty power of a loving God!

But through the power of the crucified and risen Christ, as followers of Jesus our brother, we do have the power to heal some things. 

The love of God in Christ Jesus gives us the foundation to come face to face with those who disagree with us, and to see them for who they are: humans loved by God.

Wow, that's hard some days.

But through the love of God, this is what we have been commissioned and empowered to do: to feed the hungry, to heal the sick and yes, to cast out evil and unclean spirits. 

Some days, this might feel like more work, like law, like yet another burden…but on other days, this feels like good news. 

To me, today, this knowledge feels like grace. It feels like hope. It feels like having the first vaccine shot. It feels like empowerment. It feels like the love of God.

We can cast out unclean spirits, and we can create a better world…through love. Through care. Through understanding. Through community. Through telling the truth.

This is not making peace on the moon. This is making peace, creating community, right here, right now. Wherever we are, strengthened by the love of Christ.

May the peace of God which passes all understanding keep you hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.