Sunday Message
June 20, 2004
Richard L Sheffield
Text: Luke 8:26-39

"A first grade teacher told her students to bring something [to class] pertaining to their religion." Don't ask me how she got away with that -- she just did. "A Catholic girl brought her crucifix; a Jewish boy brought his yarmulke; and a Presbyterian boy brought his mother's casserole dish." ¹ I read that and I laughed. Then I remembered all those Sunday dinners on the grounds, and church suppers, and potluck dinners that have been as much a part of my own faith development as Sunday Schools and Seminaries -- maybe more. The casserole dish is a pretty good "religious" symbol of a faith that finds its footings in the community of the faithful! In what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called "Life Together."

But after I laughed, I worried. I worried in the words of the title of a book published back in the 1970's called Will Our Children Have Faith? I worried about that. Will they? What if that's all there is to their faith: a casserole dish.

But John Westerhoff, in the book, Will Our Children Have Faith? notes that "there is a great difference between learning about the Bible and living as a disciple of Jesus Christ." ² Between knowing the words to say, or even saying them, and living them. You might say, between defining faith and having faith.

When I quit laughing and started worrying I found myself brought up short by the wisdom of that small boy. Yes, the stories of our faith, the symbols of our faith, learning about our faith, are all important, but they are not all important. All important to all of us is having faith -- sharing faith -- living with one another in a way that says we love one another -- we trust one another -- we trust God -- whether we're in a classroom, studying a catechism, or a kitchen making a casserole for a potluck dinner. With that in mind, I decided not to worry.

But what worries you? What keeps you awake at night? What keeps you from getting done those things that ought to be done? What keeps you doing those things that ought not to be done, because you're afraid of what would happen if you didn't? What worries you?

I suspect that if that were more than a rhetorical question, which you well know I'm not expecting you to answer -- at least not out loud, right now, the list you would make would be long. And one of you at least is thinking about now, "O Gosh! Now he's going to have me worrying about worrying!" Well maybe you should. Because maybe, just maybe, that's something you can actually do something about! As my grandma used to say, you can "quit your worrying!"

Grandma said that. But Grandma worried too. Just like you, and just like me, and just like "All the people of the surrounding country of the Gerasenes" ³ in that story I read. The Gerasenes were worried to the point of fear. I wonder why?

Luke tells us that a man whose madness had led him to live naked in a graveyard met Jesus one day in "the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee." ⁴ The man was possessed by many demons. Explain that as you wish -- medically or metaphorically -- it doesn't really matter. What matters is that the man's life was a living hell. And he clearly made life difficult for those around him. He was a worry for his friends. Luke says they tried to chain him up -- to restrain him -- but he broke his bonds, embarrassed his neighbors, and probably scared their kids.

When Jesus confronted his problems, which were "legion" according to Luke, the "demons" made a curious request. It was clear they were "out'a there!" So they asked to be in a herd of pigs. Desperate that Jesus "not order them to go back into the abyss" it says the demons "begged Jesus to let them enter a large herd of swine." ⁵ Devils apparently would rather go to the pigs than go to hell! One commentator notes that the presence of the pigs makes it pretty clear that the man and his neighbors were not Jews. So Jesus was reaching out beyond "His people," to all people in his compassion for this man.

If it weren't so pitiful, it would be laughable. Now, instead of a mad man, there is a herd of mad pigs -- who rush lemming-like to the sea and drown. It is laughable, if you picture it. Try this at your next party. Quote the old saw, "Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun." That's from a rather funny song by Noel Coward. It's actually a lampoon of British colonialism -- political satire. So quote Coward, which will establish you as someone literary, "Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun," and then ask: "What do mad pigs do?" When no one knows, quote Luke!

The Bible can be funny! But the man's friends and neighbors weren't laughing. In fact they were worried to the point of being afraid. The swineherds ran into town to tell everybody what happened, and everybody ran out to see for themselves. It says "They found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind." ⁶ The owner of the pigs had good reason to be upset! But you'd expect everyone else to rejoice! Maybe take advantage of the situation and throw a bar-b-que! I'm not being flip, I don't understand! They weren't happy for the man. They were afraid for themselves. They were worried. They were so lacking in wonder, and so full of worry, that all they could think to do was to ask "Jesus to leave them." ⁷

Who knows what they were worried about. The detrimental impact on pork futures? The possibility that their newly sane neighbor might turn out to be more of a problem in his right mind than in his wrong one? That Jesus might use his power to heal them and help them, and then hold it over them like Damocles' sword? Damocles had something to worry about -- a sword that hung by a hair above his head. What were these friends and neighbors of the now formerly mad man afraid of? What had them so worried? What worried them so much that they would send Jesus away without so much as a word of thanks? I wonder. And that's about all I can do, because it doesn't say.

But whatever it was, it had the effect that worry always has -- of cutting them off from what might have been in their lives and in the life of their community. Grandma would say, "They worried it to death." "Dr. Charles Mayo, who helped found the Mayo Clinic, [said] "Worry affects the circulation, heart, glands, the whole nervous system, and profoundly affects the health. I've never known anyone who died of overwork, but I know many who died of worry. You can worry yourself to death, but you'll never worry yourself into a long life." ⁸

The Gerasenes saw for themselves what life could look like with Jesus, and worried themselves right out of it. They said to Jesus, "Please sir, would you just leave." Let us get back to life as usual. The life we know how to live. The madman became a disciple of Jesus, "proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him." ⁹ But saner men and women than he, sought refuge in what was, out of fear and worry of what might have been, if the power of Jesus Christ to heal and make whole had been unleashed in their lives.

That's more a worry than you might think -- or want to admit in our lives. That when God promises change, he might actually change something. He might even change you. He won't make you. Luke's story suggests that. But what if you let him -- like the man? That's a worry.

It was a worry for a woman named Susan Peabody. She writes in an article entitled, "Are You Afraid to Get Well?" ¹⁰

"I believe that to get well we have to face our fear. In 1982, when a friend suggested I go to a 12-Step program, I blurted out, 'I can't, I'm afraid they might cure me.' Little did I realize what I was saying about myself. It was years before I was able to face the fear I expressed to my friend that day, but the time finally came. I was discussing my hesitancy about going to a 12-Step program with my therapist, when he suddenly asked me, 'What holds you back from getting well? What do you think the block is?' Without thinking, I simply admitted that recovery was unfamiliar. It was a mystery that lay beyond a closed door and I had no peep hole. That mystery felt like a beast ready to devour me if I opened the door. 'What if getting better is worse than being sick?' I said to him. 'It can happen. Besides, I think I have bonded to my vision of myself as a victim. I prefer self-pity to self-esteem.' My therapist looked at me in surprise, but before he could say anything I left." ¹¹

Know anybody like that? Know that about yourself? Know that worry is wearing you down? Know that that well worn rut that worry keeps you in has become "a grave with the ends knocked out?" ¹² Dr. Laurence J. Peter described a worried life that way: "as a grave with the ends knocked out." He's the guy who wrote "The Peter Principle." The theory that in a hierarchical organization people get promoted until they reach their level of incompetence and then they stay there. You might say Luke, in his story, was promulgating "The Gerasene Principle." The reality that confronted with life, we worry it to death.

But Jesus doesn't say, "Don't worry!" At least not here. Not to the Gerasenes. I wonder why. Actually, I find the end of this little story frustrating. I want Jesus to do something about all those worry warts. What he did was leave. Maybe because he knew that no one ever quit worrying by worrying about it! Maybe because he knew you can't stop worrying until you start trusting. Until you trust God the way that little boy with the casserole dish trusted Mom; the way the man trusted Jesus. His trust made him the sanest man around. So Jesus left him there to show them how life could be.

1. Marj Carpenter, Presbyterian Outlook, June 14, 2004, 2.
2. John H. Westerhoff, Will Our Children Have Faith?, Chapter 1.
3. Luke 8:37 NRSV.
4. Luke 8:26 NRSV.
5. Luke 8:31-32 NRSV.
6. Luke 8:35 NRSV.
7. Luke 8:37 NRSV.
8. http://articles.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m0826/is_4_16/ai_63536198, What? Me Worry? - worry and stress management, Vibrant Life July, 2000, Kathy Simmons.
9. Luke 8:39 NRSV.
10. http://www.selfgrowth.com/articles/Peabody3.html
11. Ibid.
12. Dr. Laurence J Peter.