The Rev. Josh Shipman
The 5th Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, 2016
Luke 8:26-39
Not long ago,
an article on NPR
gave it a name.
That thing that happened to me
on a drive, the other day.
There I was,
on my way to Bellefonte for a meeting,
enjoying the scenery—
and certainly not speeding.
It popped into my head.
This song:
“You wired me awake
And hit me with a hand of broken nails
You tied my lead and pulled my chain
To watch my blood begin to boil
But I'm gonna break I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run
Yeah I'm gonna break I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run
Too cold to start a fire
I'm burning diesel burning dinosaur bones
I'll take the river down to still water and ride a pack of dogs
But I'm gonna break I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run
Hit like a Phillips head into my brain
It's gonna be too dark to sleep again
Cutting my teeth on bars and rusty chains
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run
When the forest burns along the road
Like God's eyes in my headlights
When the dogs are looking for their bones
And it's raining ice picks on your steel shore
I'm gonna break I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run
I'm gonna break I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run”[1]
(pause)
An earworm,
I believe that’s what NPR called it.
When you wake up
with that song in your head,
or you’re speeding… er…driving politely
down the interstate,
and that little concert begins to play
in your brain.
So, if you are familiar
with the band Soundgarden,
or if you, like me,
have savored the Johnny Cash version—
you’re welcome for this morning’s earworm.
And whether you know the tune,
and whether or not it’s playing in your head
right now,
you can at least be astonished
at the imagery:
wired,
broken nails,
chains,
rusty cage,
pack of dogs,
cutting teeth,
God’s eyes,
icepick.
It’s been a number of years
since I’ve interpreted literature,
so I’m a bit rusty.
But I would daresay
that this person—be it the writer—
or the “character” of the song,
seems to be suffering.
Is it anxiety?
Is he feeling,
despite much rage,
like a rodent in a cage?
Who knows.
When literature is released
to the general public,
it becomes their property, really.
For me,
the song popped into my head
when I was meditating
on today’s Gospel lesson.
wired,
broken nails,
chains,
rusty cage,
pack of dogs,
cutting teeth,
God’s eyes,
icepick.
Lay that out beside
this list of themes:
homelessness,
clothinglessness
tombs,
shouting,
seized,
guard and bound,
chains and shackles,
demons.
Perhaps our demoniac, today,
would be welcomed
into a reunited Soundgarden—
or some other such band,
something more hardcore
than Vampire Weekend
or the Alabama shakes, surely.
(pause)
He was welcomed nowhere
in his own day.
Without honor,
in his own home.
An unclean thing—
what was Jesus even doing
over in that part of town?
This was Gentile territory—
who else would raise swine,
a food ritually unclean to Jews?
And if being a Gentile wasn’t
unclean enough,
this guy is hanging out
in tombs with dead people.
To the good religious sensibilities
of the day,
shocking,
unfathomable,
filthy.
This man could pollute
a pure person just by
looking at them.
And, yet, we find Jesus
over in this territory.
Imagine if you are traveling
to a sketchy part of town,
we’ll say,
and you’re met
by a naked madman,
screaming at you.
Honestly,
you’d probably hop in the car
and step on the gas.
I would.
Jesus says,
What is your name?
The man,
possessed by so many things,
that he doesn’t even have a name,
says Legion.
One writer notes,
“The name ‘Legion’ has a double meaning.
Literally, it means,
‘Many, thousands, multitudes.’
But it also alludes
to the occupying Roman soldier
legions which numbered
3,000 to 6,000 each.
Many Israelites
felt the Roman legions
were another form
of demonic possession.”[2]
So, we have a statement
of the man’s troubles,
as well as a dig at one of the causes
of those troubles: the occupying force
in the land.
(pause)
Once again, though,
Jesus chooses to
step across physical
and cultural boundaries,
and bring wholeness to this man.
But nobody is amazed
or rejoices at this restoration.
Jesus has upset the
social and economic order.
The swineherders are out of a job.
And the people of the town,
who have for years,
chained this man,
cast him off into cemeteries,
have face him,
have to look him in the eye.
(pause)
My brothers and sisters,
the Kingdom of God,
in its inbreaking,
is not all lollypops,
good times,
and happy clappy music.
It’s dangerous.
It’s unnerving.
We are confronted
with the rusty cages
we construct for ourselves,
our ideologies,
our idolatries,
our very identities, sometimes.
And told to break them
and run.
Jesus does more than
cast demons from this man
into the abyss,
he casts this man out
out of the tombs,
out of his former life,
and into a new role
as chief disciple, chief missioner, if you will,
to the Gentiles.
Who in here
is in need of a casting out?
What rusty cage
are you in need
of breaking free of?
(pause)
In the past week,
in light of the Orlando shooting
that I wrote about in your bulletin insert,
I’ve seen a number of rusty cages,
of chains—especially in the media
and social media worlds.
Partisan politics
Tired old talking points
Blaming the victims
Fear
Idolatry
(pause)
wired,
broken nails,
chains,
rusty cage,
pack of dogs,
cutting teeth,
God’s eyes,
icepick.
(pause)
homelessness,
clothinglessness
tombs,
shouting,
seized,
guard and bound,
chains and shackles,
demons.
Jesus calls us out of all of this.
Jesus calls us into uncomfortable
new horizons in our lives
and in ministry.
But note that the man
made whole by Jesus
didn’t begin an itinerant ministry.
When he asked to follow Jesus,
Jesus told him to stay put,
to minister among his own people.
Our call to ministry
isn’t always a call to move
across the country
or the world.
Sometimes ministry begins
right in our own backyards.
But our call to ministry
is always a call to step
outside of the things that bind us—
the fears,
the ideologies,
the expectations,
anything that would hold us back
from loving fully God
and our neighbor—
and our neighbor is everyone.
We are all called to this ministry.
So,
I’m gonna break,
I’m gonna break my,
I’m gonna break my rusty cage
and run.
Won’t you?
Work consulted:
Bartlett, David L., and Barbara B. Taylor.Feasting on the Word. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008., pp 166-171.
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