Adrian Dannhauser

Adrian Dannhauser

Sunday, June 19, 2016

“The Tombs”

There's a city jail in downtown Manhattan known as the Tombs. Originally built in the 1830s, it sits a few blocks from City Hall. The name is believed to have come from the first architectural design; the facade of the building was built in the style of an Egyptian mausoleum. The jail bears no resemblance to a mausoleum now, and its formal name has never been the Tombs.

Yet this eerie and ominous moniker has stuck throughout the centuries. The Tombs is not especially notorious – certainly not like the abuse-plagued Rikers Island. But it has a legacy of suicide, police brutality, corruption, and unconstitutional living conditions. And just as many New Yorkers have no idea a jail even exists in the Financial District, the Tombs doesn't get much attention from city officials, which can lead to unreported violence. Even a member of the Board of Corrections has said of the Tombs "out of sight, out of mind."

The same words might be used to describe the Gerasene demoniac, whom we read about in the Gospel of Luke. He lives among the rock-hewn tombs, overhanging the shore of the Sea of Galilee. He is imprisoned by demons who have driven him to the tombs and away from society. He is violent, dangerous, and tormented. The townspeople at one time tried to tame him with shackles and chains. But now they consider him a hopeless case. No one can help him and he cannot help himself, so best to leave him alone. Out of sight, out of mind.

From his home in the tombs, among death and decay, the demoniac sees Jesus come ashore, and he immediately falls at Jesus' feet. It's the action of a man desperate for release from these demons. It’s also the action of demons desperate to inhabit the man. The conflation of identity between the two is astonishing. When the man speaks, it's the demons' words that come out. He doesn't tell Jesus his given name as a human being. He tells Jesus the name of the demons - Legion, for they are many.

Jesus casts the demons out of the man, and in a somewhat strange move, lets them enter a herd of pigs. Among other things, this part of the story serves as a literary device to get the townspeople on the scene. The pigs run off a cliff, which causes the swine herds to tell the townspeople, who then come out to see this man whom Jesus has healed.

And how does the crowd respond to this miracle? They freak out and run Jesus out of town. Luke tells us, that after seeing the Gerasene demoniac healed, clothed, and in his right mind, they "asked Jesus to leave them; for they were seized with great fear." Apparently, they preferred the wild and naked demoniac who kept to himself in the tombs. They would rather him be tormented as long as he was out of sight and out of mind.

It's important to note that the word "fear," as it used in this passage, does not mean a sense of awe and wonder. This is not the kind of "fear and trembling" that we associate with coming into God's presence of greatness. It is not fearful amazement at Jesus' miracle. This fear that seized the townspeople is something very different. The Greek word that Luke uses is "phobos" – as in, phobia. Phobia is how we describe an extreme or irrational fear and aversion to something. The people who saw the redemption of the Gerasene demoniac – his resurrection, if you will – were being phobic. Unfortunately, this is not an unusual response to resurrection, especially resurrection that we can't explain. When we see new life, in others and sometimes even in ourselves, we can become suspicious because it is so different from what we've known. From what we're accustomed to. So we become fearful. We can't accept this new life, and we try to kill it.

Perhaps this is what happened with the Orlando massacre last weekend. Omar Mateen could not accept homosexuality, so he killed 50 people in a gay nightclub. He could not let them embrace their sexuality freely. He could not let them be who God created them to be. Just like the townspeople in our Gospel today, he was scared. He was phobic. He was homophobic.

Homophobia is the demon in thisstory. But it's not just Mateen's personal demon. It is rampant, possessing entire families, religious communities, and society at large. Mateen's hate crime simply shined a light on how vast and destructive this demon is. Incidentally, it's brought to light other demons as well.

Mateen not only shot up a gay club, he chose to do it when the theme of the club was Latin night – the demon of racism.

He claimed allegiance to ISIS – the demon of terrorism and radical Islam.

He was on a terrorist watch list yet legally acquired an assault rifle. Not a shotgun for hunting; not a pistol for self-defense; but an AR 15 – the demon of unrestricted legal access to military-style weapons.

Something else we've learned through all of this is that Mateen physically and emotionally abused his first wife – the demon of domestic violence and the subjugation of women.

In reaction to this tragedy, some people propose that Muslims be banned from entering the country – the demon of Islamophobia.

And some claim we should not even mourn those who died because Old Testament law forbids gay sex – the demon of radical Christianity.

Seven demons. That is legion. All exposed through a single event. All rooted in irrational fear.

So where do we go from here? Well, the first thing we have to do is refrain from demonizing anyone. Our Gospel reading teaches us that no person should be confused or conflated with the demons that afflict them. To quote a clergy colleague, the only entity that can truly demonize is the Devil, and we don't want to do his work for him.

Rather, we must acknowledge the demons at play and renounce them in the name of Jesus. In what we say. In what we pray. In how we act. In how we stand with those who are victimized and assure them of God's love, and favor, and promise of resurrection.

And there will be resurrection. It will come in our response to this tragedy. So much evil has been so exposed, which means it can't slide under the radar. That's the beautiful and brilliant irony of the situation. There is no "out of sight, out of mind." The forces of wickedness are front and center, and there is power in naming them for what they are.

We see this concept in our Gospel. As soon as Jesus knows Legion's name, he casts it out. We see this concept in our personal lives. When we can name the alcohol problem, or the toxic relationship, or the childhood trauma we've experienced, we begin to undermine the power of those negative forces. The power begins to shift to us because we can finally make a change. We can stare death in the face because that's what Jesus did, and we can say, "No more."

Now is the time to say, "No more." We will rise above. We will rise with love. And we will not tolerate anything less. We know that God is always bringing life out of death. God is always taking what’s intended for evil and using it for good. It is my firm, heartfelt, and unwavering belief that resurrection is coming in the wake of Orlando.

Just like the Gerasene demoniac emerged from the tombs, restored to health and wholeness. Just like Jesus emerged from the tomb victorious over the powers of darkness. God will mobilize good in the face of this evil. So let's be part of the story. God's story, in which light always outshines the darkness, hope always overcomes fear, and love is always, always stronger than death.

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