Pulpitations: "The Sound of Authority"

My chance to preach again came only three months after our sixth Affirmiversary service back in October. The lectionary reading was "The Man With an UInclean Spirit" from Mark 1:21-28).

The Man with an Unclean Spirit
They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

As has been mentioned previously (and innumerably), I often struggle to reconcile tales of miracles and magic to the world I live in, and discerning the ancient wisdom that I am sure must be in such lessons is not always easy.

But, strangely enough, thanks to political unrest in a neighbouring country, I felt like I had a clearer path this time around, focusing on dialogue and direct action, and... well, I suppose I could just let you read it for yourself, couldn't I? (You can also watch it on video at the SAUC Vimeo channel here, but fair warning: the mask makes me lisp a little and I was never sure where the camera was, so I look lost most of the time.)

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Today’s gospel lesson deals with authority, and once again I am astonished and humbled by not only the relevance of today’s Gospel reading but also its timeliness and synchronicity.

You see, being an amateur sermonologist, it sometimes takes me a while to tease out the focus of my reflection, so I started outlining this one early in the month, around the sixth of January. You probably haven’t forgotten, but just for clarity I will state for the record that January 6 was the day in the U.S. that a violent mob, at the urging of their own president, overpowered police and stormed their own country’s capitol building hoping to overturn the results of a free and fair election. Or worse.

And here in Canada, just over a week ago, our nation’s own Governor-General resigned from her position on the heels of a report confirming the accusation of toxicity in the workplace she was responsible for.

Even though the scales between these two examples are vastly different, both of them amply illustrate how devastating the results can be when authority is misused, Mark’s story of the man with an unclean spirit is an example of how authority is meant to be used - not to push down but to lift up.

On the surface, this story appears to be a simple case of Jesus producing his credentials; establishing his bona fides, as it were. There he is, teaching in the synagogue - and when we say teaching, we mean teaching - not just reading, not reciting, like the scribes or an amateur sermonologist might. Not trotting out time-worn lessons and hoping the listeners remember the important bits, but providing real insight as someone with a deep and meaningful connection to the source material.

Where was I? Oh right - so there was Jesus, teaching in the synagogue, and people are really getting it, when out of nowhere this loudmouth rolls up and starts making a ruckus! Yelling and carrying on, calling the rabbi by name, saying he knows him but then asking if Jesus has come to destroy them. Crazy!

But even crazier, to the spectators at least, is Jesus’ response. He only says seven words in this story: “Be silent and come out of him!”

And darned if that doesn’t work.

The unclean spirit doesn’t leave easily, and makes an even bigger scene on the exit than on the entrance, thrashing on the ground and wailing and all like a toddler tantrum in a fancy store. But it leaves, and everyone is astonished. The spectators again draw attention to the authority that Jesus clearly has. They express amazement at how even unclean spirits obey this teacher from Nazareth, this carpenter’s son, and notably, they do not keep it to themselves.

As a result of this, word of Jesus and his feats and, presumably, his authority, spreads “throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.” Unaided by radio, television, or social media, Jesus becomes famous.

Now, in most stories and for most people, defeating an unclean spirit and getting famous for it would rank as a pretty happy ending, right?

So why is it that we have four or five other accounts in Mark’s Gospel where Jesus tells his followers not to reveal who he is? To keep his legitimate identity on the sly? Was Jesus the very first superhero with a secret identity?

There are a few possible explanations as to why Jesus is reluctant to take credit or win fame later in Mark. It may have had to do with timing, as there was much he needed to do before returning to Jerusalem in order to fulfill prophecy and meet his fate. There were a lot of moving parts in play here, and obviously no opportunity for a do-over if things went off the rails. Fame could have meant more opposition from both the Romans and the religious establishment of the day, and even more delays and obstructions.

It could have been that he did not want to be perceived as someone desiring celebrity or fame or even infamy. The holy lands at this time were practically teeming with wanna-be prophets, suspicious saviours and even misguided, malicious messiahs. Who would want to be associated with such cure hucksters or snake oil salesmen?

The most intriguing notion to me is that Jesus came to help and to heal and to set an undying example as a servant of God, and the manner in which that work is accomplished and even the person who does it is not nearly as important.

Is the key message in this story that God wants his children to be happy, and people can help make that happen on his behalf? That the authority here is not so much bestowed but accepted as a responsibility? And as followers of Christ, don’t we have an obligation to continue that work?

“But Stephen,” I hear you say, even though you aren’t here in the sanctuary with me, “how am I, an accountant from St. Albert, a dental hygienist from Edmonton, a restaurant owner from Morinville, supposed to forcibly remove unclean spirits? Does the bible contain any specific instruction as to the best way to cast out demons? Is it true you offer a six-part online symposium on practical exorcism and spiritual combat techniques?”

That last part is not only patently and demonstrably untrue, but also depicts something completely unneeded for the task at hand. Look, the truth of the matter is that it is all about picking your fights.

Let’s consider the situation Jesus was in: accosted by an unquiet, unsettled man, coherent enough to call him by name but disturbed enough to accuse the Son of Man of coming to destroy them. Whether this man was possessed by some infernal entity, or was mentally ill at a time and place where this could not be diagnosed, or if he was simply struggling with the same inner demons that many of us face every day is immaterial.

For my part, when I hear the words “unclean spirit,” my mind does not immediately reach for a supernatural explanation like a ghost or a demon (which is maybe a bit surprising, given the extraordinary amount of fantasy and horror stories I have been exposed to over the years). Just like the way that the enemies spoken of in the psalms don’t have to be literal soldiers, my focus on stories containing devils or miracles isn’t so much “did this really happen?” but rather, “What does this really mean?”

No, when I hear “unclean spirit” my immediate thought is that what Jesus has encountered in the synagogue is a contaminated soul. And in many ways, this is much more frightening, because I know very few people who would claim to have witnessed a demonic possession, but I know that most of us, perhaps all of us, have probably encountered a contaminated soul.

I wish more of you were here in the sanctuary so I could say “can I get an amen?”

And here at last do we reach what I think is most important: how does Jesus deal with the problem? A reasonable person might call the temple guard - an unreasonable one might encourage the crowd to sort it out for him, maybe by beating him up. But Jesus resolves the issues with words alone, talking directly to the problem, and with authority. Seven words, at least in our language: “Be silent, and come out of him!”

I don’t want to pretend that this is a dialogue, but I really think it is important to note that Jesus confronts the issue, this unclean spirit, directly. In an age where we are free to pick and choose the sources of our information, at a time where truth is not perhaps as universally accepted as we imagine it once was, where national leaders present the world with “alternative facts”, a world where people on both sides of common ideological divides are accused of limiting their discourse to echo chambers and reflective bubbles, Jesus addresses his opposition openly, honestly and personally.

Jesus sees a man who is not only disruptive but unwell, and instead of ignoring him, he confronts the issue that is plaguing him. I believe his authority is derived not only from God, but because he is acting in service of the truth. The unclean spirit has no business corrupting that man, and needs to go.

In Psalm 111 we hear that “the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom.” This is sometimes taken to mean “a wise person should recognize and dread God’s vigilance and punishment,” but once again I hear something different. Not to be afraid but that we should be in awe of the love and truth that God represents. Awe and amazement, just like the spectators in the synagogue felt after Jesus commanded the unclean spirit.

So what did I mean earlier with my talk about accepting responsibility for authority and picking your fights? Let me be very clear here, in saying that we should not jeopardize our own safety or sanity or that of our families or friends by intervening into situations we are clearly not equipped for! If it is a bank robbery, call the police. If it is a monster, I dunno, call Ghostbusters.

But when we encounter the unclean spirits or contaminated souls that are all too prevalent in the time and place we live in, whether it is on a bus, in a crowd, in the workplace or even in our own homes, ask yourself if this is the moment to reach out. And maybe it isn’t! And that is okay.

But don’t ignore it. Don’t do the easy thing and turn away. Don’t pretend you never saw it. Don’t just make believe like it is somebody else’s problem. If you can’t deal with it in the moment, find someone who can. If the police are needed, get them in there. If the situation calls for a social worker, you can get one of them too. If you don’t have food or funds on you for a hungry person, make sure you are giving regularly to the food bank. If a co-worker says something racist or homophobic, call them out on it. When a friend tells you they’re troubled, find a way to reach out to them - it is possible, even during a lockdown. More than possible, it is a necessity. When a family member asks “honestly, why are people so afraid of fascism anyways?” don’t laugh it off or turn your back, but engage them, talk with them -and not at, with - because that is the only way things can truly change - one mind at a time.

Your authority, like that of Jesus, is derived from the very will of God: to help, to heal, to make a better world, all in accordance with God’s wishes for us. It is not an authority of dominance, nor meant to help us hold ourselves above others - no matter what ex-presidents or former Governors-General might say. This authority is not intended to bring us fame or renown. It is an unassailable authority borne out of truth and love.

Jesus presents us with a model of bravery, compassion and humility, and if we follow his example, then, like the psalm says, we will truly be grounded in justice and truth, standing fast forever and ever, in the company of the upright.

Amen.