Did you read about Jason Huckleberry a few weeks ago? (The Oregonian 8 June 2007, pg C1)  Jason was born in 1979 to a 14 year-old Alaskan native.  Raised by this young, single mother, Jason grew up dependent upon the twin toxins of alcohol and anger.  The only way he knew to solve his problems was the use of violence and fighting.  He and his mother lived a life of poverty, liquor, and drugs.  He knew many demons, first hand.  He would have identified with today’s Gospel story about demons and disaster.

This is a great, dramatic, spooky, interesting story in Luke’s Gospel, but we rarely read or discuss it.  I surely never heard it in the Methodist Sunday School I attended as a child.  It doesn’t quite measure up to old favorites like The Good Samaritan, the Woman Searching for the Lost Coin, or The Prodigal Son, does it?  Today, however, we’re going to take a look at this story, rich in symbol and metaphor.

But, before I get into some of the meanings and analogies, I want to make a disclaimer.  I’m going to assume that this story, the characters, and the events are all there to prove a point, to make meaning and to teach a lesson, but I want to be clear that, if I were to take this story literally (and I don’t), I’d be the first to say that this man is sick and needs medical attention.  He probably has a mental illness or, at the very least, has epilepsy, and I don’t want to make light of any of those very real conditions.  Given that, let’s look at this story as metaphor.

Jesus goes over to the other side.  Right there we have code language for going across the Sea of Galilee and it would be obvious to the First Century audience that this meant Jesus was in the land of the non-Jews, the Gentiles.  Here he’s among the foreigners, the aliens, the others; those who are “different.”  In other words: Jesus visits you and me.

Immediately upon arrival, Jesus encounters a strange person.  Here is a man who is possessed by demons, who is mad or crazy.  Let’s call him Mr. Madman; who is so overwrought that he’s lost everything—he has no clothes, no home, no connections, he is alone.  He exhibits all the signs of grief, loss and hopelessness—stripped bare and down in the dumps or, in this case, the cemetery.  There is no more hopeless place than there, among the dead.  His world has fallen apart, the rug has been pulled out from under him and he has sunk into depression.  And he has grown accustomed to it.  This has become his “norm.”  Even worse, those around him have come to also accept this extraordinary situation.  Where is God? in the midst of this pain and suffering?

The story tells us that Jesus immediately tries to help Mr. Madman but he wants none of that.  Jesus has tried to call and cast out the demons that possess him; the demons of guilt, anger, fear, sorrow and despair.  These are the emotions that entomb all of us at some time or another, but this man is stuck with them.  Even though Jesus is trying to help and get rid of the demons, Mr. Madman doesn’t want to change—he resists the change that will bring about the healing that we all know he needs.

But isn’t that the way of life for all of us?  We all resist change.  We may not be stuck in the doldrums or the cemetery like Mr. Madman, but nevertheless, we don’t like to change.  Our life, our emotions, our situation may stink—much like the cemetery or the dumps, but we have grown so accustomed to it, we don’t want to change.  Change is somehow worse or more frightening than the present situation.

We are in the midst of change here in this church as we bid farewell to one pastor and await the arrival of another.  Many here are feeling grief, some are angry, some are fearful, some are just a bit anxious.  What this story tells us, however, is that Jesus and God’s love help us get out of that place of depression and disorder.

Leontine Kelley is a retired Bishop in the United Methodist Church.  She tells her story often.  She was the young wife of a Methodist pastor, mother of several young children when her husband unexpectedly died.  The church was distraught and sought her leadership through their grief and despair.  Leontine was trained as a teacher, but was called upon in this crisis to preach and to lead the little congregation in Virginia.  When she began, she expected to fill in for a few weeks until things settled down and the Conference sent a new pastor.  However, at the urging of the congregation and through her prayers, she responded to a call from God and found a way to go to seminary and get trained to be a pastor and preacher in her own right.  She never expected it, never sought it, but the change she experienced blessed her life and the lives of many others.  She has now been recognized as one of the great preachers and religious leaders of our time.  However, she didn’t want to change, to move on, or to get out of the cemetery when she first was called.

John Wesley believed in change.  The founder of Methodism based the fledgling church on the foundation of small groups of lay people who held one another in prayer and counsel and support.  The clergy came by occasionally to offer inspiration and the sacraments.  The clergy came with different skills, different gifts and graces and the people learned and grew partly because of those differences.  The itinerant ministry system of the Methodist church is based on the understanding that the clergy are resource people; the laity is the church; the gathering of people who care for and about one another.

But the story in Luke’s Gospel doesn’t end here with torment, depression and disaster.  There is more to the story of the demons and the madman.

[Luke 8:32-39]

Now, we have more symbolism: one of the most unclean animals to the Jews is a pig, and here we have a whole herd of swine.  Jesus allows the demons to come out from Mr. Madman and enter the pigs, only to have the now doubly dirty creatures rush headlong into the lake and eliminated.  Whew!  I read where one preacher called this story Deviled Ham… I guess so!  The unclean is now demon possessed and Jesus is the agent of change and cleansing.

And then we have a bit of human nature—the swineherds who witnessed the amazing fete of healing ran and told others who immediately came to see for themselves.  They saw Mr. Madman now clothed, sane and looking and acting just like them.  It was a miracle!  So… their reaction?  They were afraid!  They don’t like change, remember?  So when Mr. Madman is healed, their world is turned topsy-turvy and they are afraid.  Sometimes even good news is too much for us to take.

Some of us live in fear and anxiety most of the time.  My dear mother, bless her soul, was sort of like that.  I learned as a teen-ager that mother’s first response to a new idea or plan was always “no.”  Which didn’t necessarily mean absolutely not, but actually usually meant, let me think about it some.  She was always a bit fearful of the new, of change, of something that would upset the status quo.  I remember when Larry and I told her that we planned to adopt a baby.  Mother’s reaction was predictably negative: Are you sure?  Why?  You never know what sort of child you might get.  Couples can be happy without children.  Etc.  But, when we brought home our 2-week-old son, Jeffrey, he stole her heart and soon she was the devoted grandmother to this precious, smiley, happy baby.  Nearly two years later when I told her that we were applying to adopt another child, you could guess her reaction: Why?  You have a perfect child now, why risk the unknown?  You never know what you might get.  Etc.  Even experiencing one happy event, another was just as scary to her.  So, a few months later, when we brought home four-week-old Karen, you could guess her response: she fell in love with her, also.  In fact, I believe my mother would have loved any child we brought into our house, but her anxiety got the best of her as she anticipated the unknown.  Once she held the real baby in her arms, the fear of the unknown was past.  And so it often is with us—anticipation is the worst part of change.

These folks in Gerasene were no different.  They couldn’t quite get their hearts and minds around the changed, new Mr. Madman in their midst.

Then, of course we have Mr. Madman who wants to go with Jesus as he is driven out of town.  But Jesus has other work for him to do.  Go and witness to what God has done for you.  And so it is the instruction for all of us.  Be open to change and possibility, to the casting out of demons and, above all, to proclaim to all what God has done and is doing for us here and now.  God didn’t stop acting at the last page of the Biblical account, but no one will know where and how you have witnessed God in action now, if you don’t tell the stories of your life, your blessings, your healing.

Oh, and about Jason Huckleberry—he just graduated from Oregon Health and Science University School of Medicine and is on his way to the New Mexico Medical Center and a residency in diagnostic radiology.  His demons have been cast aside; he is embarking on a new stage of life.  Is he scared of the new and the unknown, of course?  But he knows where he has been, can see the progress and healing he has known and goes forward with confidence and trust.

May it be so for all of us.  Amen.