Sermon by Lindon Eaves, Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, 2010.
Psalm 42:13. All day long they mock me: and say to me, "Where now is your God?"
1 Kings 19: Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence... Then the LORD said to him, "Go. Return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus."
Today's passage from Luke's gospel is pretty dark and ugly. It begins with madness. A loud-voiced, attention-grabbing man. Where does he live? Not in the tranquility of a normal home, but among the death and stench of the tombs. He was almost superhuman. He could not be controlled. He would not shut up. The language and the action are violent. It is a frightening place. It is disorienting. It is both fascinating and repulsive. Yet the madman is all too familiar with Jesus. He recognizes him. He claims to know him. He shouts out his name. "I know who you are...Jeee-zus!"
It doesn't take too much imagination to find a public figure, church leader, preacher, senator, congressman, newscaster, CEO, governor or attorney general somewhere, or talk-show host who would not qualify as the Gerasene madman. I hear many chilling and threatening words that sound like they come straight from the same graveyard. My candidate for "Gerasene Madman of the Week" this week was the woman who used the phrase: "Second amendment remedies." Smooth words. They pass almost un-noticed: "Second amendment remedies". They sound important. But as we read in one psalm "They cover sin with smooth names." What do they really mean? I think they really mean something like "If we don't like what you do or say we might just blow your head off." These are the shouts from the graveyard of civilization. They are the voice of the Gerasene madman ringing through the tombs. I am frightened. This is not the America I joined when I stood before the judge and recited the pledge of allegiance.
Carry a Bible in one hand. Carry a gun in the other. And shout "Jeee-zus" while you do it. Does it sound familiar? It is the night-time voice of the madman among the tombs. It is violent. It is powerful. It is frightening. It won't go away. Its name is "Legion" because it is everywhere. "Legion" often calls himself by another name. He calls himself "Christian." The madman has stolen my name. The identity created over a lifetime has been stolen. I am disoriented. I no longer know how to describe myself. The madman steals my identity. James Madison is turning in his grave.
Once upon a time I used to call myself "Christian" also. Timidly, maybe, out of recognition that I am no saint. But I did mean it and it did matter to me. Maybe not loudly, not often, but when pushed I called myself "Christian" as if it said something you needed to know about me. Calling myself "Episcopalian" or "Anglican" doesn't quite have the same force as calling myself "Christian". Now my name has been stolen by people who live and cry out from the graves on the hillside. I don't think I'm an atheist yet. I want to run away from the madness. But I do not know where to hide.
Elijah had the same problem. He was running from the government. The posse was close behind. Where would he hide? Where would he find the God he had tried to love and serve all his life? Elijah did what many 3rd and 4th century Christians did in the face of the government. He took off to the desert and hid in a cave. And there he waited for God to find him.
And find him God did. Not in the force of the hurricane. Not in the life-threatening fire. Not in the earth-shattering violence of the earthquake. Not in the noise of the waves and the madness of the people but in the deep silence of the cave. Elijah's cave was the place where the quiet voice of God could be heard above the raging of the sea, the noise of the waves, and the madness of the people. The cave was where Elijah could hide from the Queen's posse hard on his heels. It was a place where the quiet voice of truth could be heard.
What was that truth? What was the word to Elijah in the silence of the cave? It wasn't very spectacular. Maybe even a bit disappointing; puzzling; mysterious even. "Go" says God "Go on your way. Return to the wilderness of Damascus." It feels a bit of an anticlimax, maybe even a bit of a loose end. But with the word from God there is the implied promise. "Keep faithful, Elijah. Go on your way in faith. I am who I am. Where you will be, I will be. Do not be afraid."
This morning I have run with Elijah to the cave. I have come here to find refuge from the madness, to find God in the middle of the whirlwind. I have come seeking for reason in the middle of madness. I have come seeking life in the middle of the graveyard. I have come to find direction when the compass needle is spinning wildly before my eyes. I need a place to think; a place to be. I need a cave where I can be safe as I try to hear the still small voice of reason that is lost amid the shouting from the graveyard.
What do I find? I find you. I find other people who have also run from the madman: others who have fled from the shouting among the tombs of civilization. What do we see?
We see the madness transformed. We see the naked, raving madmen clothed, seated in their right mind, listening for the word of God. What do we hear? What is the word of God to those of us who cower with Elijah in this cave on the corner of Walton and Hawthorne? The word of God is very close to us. It is not spectacular. It is not earth-shattering. But it is world-changing. It is the word of Paul in Galatians: "As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus."
There is no shouting. No earthquake, wind and fire. No madness. "No second amendment remedy". But the still voice of calm. The word of God to us in our cave is pretty much the same as the word of God to Elijah in his. Keep on with your journey. Do not be distracted by noise. Love one another. You are not mad. You are sitting clothed and in your right mind here in the cave. You are clothed with Christ. You are "Christian" simply when you welcome the stranger and embrace your neighbor. For here in quiet welcome "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one". Your name is not "Legion". Your name is "Christian."
And with this simple word, in this cave almost hidden on the corner of Hawthorne and Walton, we re-discover our true name, the name given in Baptism. We get back the identity that has been stolen by the madness of the people. It doesn't matter what demagogues, preachers, bishops, or talk-show hosts say. In this cave there are no second amendment remedies. There is no threat. No earthquake. No fire. No hurricane. Just a simple practical way of behaving: Here in this cave "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one." And with this word we hear also God's explicit promise: "And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to the promise." This is the promise Elijah heard in the silence. It is the final word of Jesus in his gospel. "I am with you. Always."