Hilton Head Island, SC – March 3, 2013
The Chapel Without Walls
Luke 8:26-39; Luke 7:1-10
A Sermon by John M. Miller
Text – Now a centurion had a slave who was dear to him, who was sick and at the point of death. – Luke 7:2 (RSV)
The Messiah Who Answers Questions
3) The Answer to Excluvisity
This past Wednesday morning there was a flock of perhaps fifty robins on the street in front of our house when I went out to get the newspaper. They were in our back yard again on Friday afternoon. We see robins on Hilton Head Island almost never, but when we do see them, it is always at this time of year, and there are always many of them at one time. They are here for a few days, and then they are on their way north. I don’t know why that is that their pattern of avian behavior, but that’s the way it always is.
Birds of a feather flock together. That old expression is used for numerous occasions and situations. For example, little girls tend to play with little girls, and little boys with little boys. Teenagers hang out with one another; they have little or nothing to do with young children or people in their twenties and thirties. Here on the island or in Bluffton or elsewhere in the USA, Latinos spend most of their time with other Latinos. But among Latinos, Mexicans are with Mexicans more than with other Spanish-speakers, Hondurans with other Hondurans, Columbians with Columbians, and so on.
On the other hand, Catholics don’t interact only with Catholics, or Episcopalians only with Episcopalians, or Methodists only with Methodists. Most people of German descent do not specifically seek out others of German descent, nor Italians with Italians, nor Irish with Irish, nor English with English, because most such folks are several generations removed from Ellis Island. But if Americans of any ethnic background are living in a foreign country, they tend to seek one another out, just to have somebody close from “back home,” even if they might have lived three thousand miles away from one another “back home.”
Tribe, clan, ethnicity, nationality, location, and religion all have a tendency to create exclusivity. It isn’t necessarily that people intend to become exclusive as such, but their commonality in one or more aspects of their existence may indirectly shut out people from other groups. That’s why human birds of a feather usually flock together. This can work itself out in unanticipated ways. For instance, countless friendships have been formed in this community because people meet people here who came from “back home” --- in New Jersey or the Philadelphia area or Ohio or Chicago or wherever else. These people might never have become friends with us back there, but because they’re here, and they have this new commonality from back there, they become the best of buddies here. It’s a phenomenon of location sociology.
First century Judea was much more of a melting pot than we might assume. Although the great majority of people living there were Jews, not all were Jews. And of the Jews, not all were the same kind of Jews. There were the Am ha-Aretz, literally “the people of the land,” meaning, in the Greek expression, the hoi poloi, literally “the people of the city,” the common people, the lower class. In Judea there also were the religious high mucky-mucks, the Pharisees and Sadducees and Essenes and priests, and then everyone else. But in addition to the Jews living in Judea there were other ethnic groups: Samaritans, other non-Aramaic-speaking Semites, people from what now we call Jordan or Syria or Lebanon. The region where Jesus lived, called the Galilee, or the northern section of Judea, had more “foreigners” living there than in the south, around Jerusalem. But many of the Gentiles in Judea had been there for generations, just as many Germans, English, French, and Canadians in ethnicity have lived in this country for generations.
How should we live with people of different cultures or ethnic backgrounds or religions who are our neighbors? That was an issue Jesus addressed frequently during the few years he conducted his prophetic ministry among the Galileans. Should we exclude people who are different from us, or should we include them? What should we do if our differences are great, where matters of faith or class or ethnicity seriously divide us?
Jesus grew up in the town of Nazareth. Thirty miles east of Nazareth, or thirty miles north, the people living in those places were almost totally different in every way: religiously, culturally, and linguistically. The people in what we now call Syria or Jordan or Lebanon were Semitic, like the Jews, but they spoke different languages, and they were polytheists, as compared to the monotheists among the Jews of Judea. Jews didn’t systematically shun such people, but they didn’t go out of their way to welcome them into their social circle either. The reverse was true as well. Syrians hung out with Syrians, Lebanese with Lebanese, and so on. They didn’t spend much time with Jews. Besides, they didn’t travel around nearly as much as we do.
This whole mix was further complicated by the fact that for a full century prior to the time Jesus began his preaching and teaching, the Roman Empire was an occupying military force in Judea. The Romans had thousands of soldiers stationed throughout Judea to maintain an edgy peace. For generations, the Tenth Legion of the Roman Army occupied the land of the Jews, just as the Israeli Army currently occupies the land of the Palestinians. In much the same way, for ten years members of the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions have occupied Iraq and Afghanistan. Locals are never thrilled to be occupied by the armed forces of other countries.
With all that as background, I want for us to look at two episodes from the life of Jesus which specifically refer to the issue of exclusivity or inclusivity. One involves a Syrian, and the other a Roman.
In our first scripture reading today, we learned that Jesus went with the disciples in a boat to the east side of the Sea of Galilee, the large natural lake that is part of the Great Rift Valley which runs from Mount Hermon at the joint borders of contemporary Syria, Lebanon, and Israel, and extends thousands of miles south to East Africa and Lake Victoria, at the borders of Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. This enormous geologic fault line has separated nations and ethnic groups for many millennia. Up until the Six-Day War in 1967, the land on the east side of the lake of the Galilee belonged to Syria. Gentiles always lived over there; Jews didn’t.
Why would Jesus want to go into what clearly was Gentile territory? According to earlier narratives, Jesus felt he needed a break from the multitudes who constantly followed him, demanding that he heal their sick and debilitated. Apparently Jesus just wanted a few days of R&R away from the madding crowds. He wasn’t permanently fleeing the masses; he was just trying to escape them for a short time to regenerate himself and his energy.
However, no sooner had Jesus set foot onto dry land than he was confronted by a Gentile suffering from a very serious mental disorder. Listen again to Luke’s description of the scene. “And as he stepped out on land, there met him a man from the city who had demons; for a long time he had worn no clothes, and he lived not in a house but among the tombs. When he saw Jesus, he cried out and fell down before him, and said with a loud voice, ‘What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beseech you, do not torment me’” (Luke 8:27-28).
There are a couple of factors in this narrative which are problematic for modern readers. First, it suggests that mental illness is a result of being possessed by demons. We reject that ancient notion. Second, it suggests that somehow this deranged man, who had never seen Jesus before, knew his identity, and he, a pagan, also called Jesus the Son of the Most High God. I’d like to say two things about these two things. First, it is a good idea to reject the idea that demons cause mental illness, and second, I don’t have a clue how this man knew who Jesus was, and I implore you not to get hung up on wondering about that.
“Oy veh,” said Jesus to himself, when confronted by a naked crazy homeless man. “All I wanted was to relax and get a few rays on the beach of Gadera, and here I am, forced again into being a healer, which is not what I want. I have far more important fish to fry.”
Nevertheless, Jesus being Jesus, he could not and did not ignore this poor soul. He asked him what his name was. The man said, “Legion.” This is a fascinating cross-cultural linguistic reference. “Legion” was a Roman word, not a Semitic word. When the purported demons inside the man’s head heard this, they begged Jesus not to cast them into the lake. But there was a herd of pigs nearby (if you were uncertain whether this was Gentile territory, now you know), and Jesus sent the demons into the pigs, which rushed down the hill into the lake, apparently drowning both themselves and the pigs.
Let’s face it: this story is filled with problems for modern people. It raises more questions that it answers. Some of you will be upset because of the pigs, others because of the claim that demons exist, and others because you wonder how a Canaanite could have a Roman name. If so, I recognize your difficulties with the narrative, and I hear you, but that’s not what I want to talk about. My point in choosing to address this particular narrative is to say that Jesus of Nazareth refused to exclude this disturbed Gentile from his sphere of concerns. The man needed help, and Jesus helped him. It didn’t matter if he was mentally unbalanced, or a Gentile, or naked, or homeless, or exceedingly peculiar. Jesus provided an answer to the fact that the man had been excluded by everyone for virtually his whole life; Jesus treated him like a member of the beloved community, and instantly healed him of his illness. When the people of Gadera later saw the man clothed and in his right mind, Luke tells us they were afraid. It isn’t surprising. Who sees such things happen and is not a little frightened? And if it does happen, how does it happen? Or why? Jesus didn’t explain any of that. He just told the man to tell others what God had done for him - - - not what he had done, but what God had done.
Our second episode is equally well known, although not quite as bizarre. A Roman centurion sent some Jewish elders to Jesus with an urgent request. Listen closely. This is a Roman, a soldier of the occupation. He is a Roman centurion. A centurion was an officer in charge of a hundred soldiers. In our military equivalency, he would be like a captain or a major. So this was a foreign military officer asking help from a Jewish prophet, rabbi, and healer.
The Roman had a slave who – quote – “was dear to him.” He wanted Jesus to heal the slave. Do not get hung up in the 21st century that this man was a 1st century slave, and that Jesus didn’t attack the wicked institution of slavery. Just go with the flow of the story. Besides, the Jewish elders whom the centurion sent to Jesus told Jesus, “He is worthy to have you do this for him, for he loves our nation, and he built us our synagogue” (Luke 7:4-5). Obviously this was an extraordinary human being. He felt deeply about his slave, he loved the country his army had occupied, and he paid for the synagogue building in the town where the elders lived. Those factors alone might have prompted Jesus to look into the matter, apart from any other considerations. How many US Army officers do you suppose paid for new mosques in Iraq or Afghanistan? You could probably count them on the fingers of one hand, after the fingers had been blown off by an IED. People like this Roman centurion are few and far between.
But there is more to the story. When the elders came close to the centurion’s quarters, the Roman sent messengers telling Jesus to avoid coming any farther. He probably feared it would damage Jesus’ reputation were anyone to know Jesus had anything to do with an officer of the occupation. “Lord, do not trouble yourself,” the messengers told Jesus on behalf of their friend, “for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; therefore I do not presume to come to you. But say the word, and let my servant be healed. For I am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and he does it’” (Luke 7:6-8).
Jesus was astounded at the level of psychological and philosophical comprehension of the centurion. Jesus said to his followers, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” And when the messengers got back to tell the centurion what had happened, they found the slave was completely healed of whatever it was that had afflicted him.
Even when it might interfere with his personal life, Jesus refused to exclude anybody from receiving whatever he had to offer them. Did an insane Gentile acting in a bizarre manner need help? Jesus helped him. Did an officer of the Roman army of occupation want something from Jesus? He gave him what he wanted. For his own personal well being, Jesus might have ignored the Gadarene demoniac or the Roman centurion, but he did not. Nor can we ignore the excluded around us: the ethnic others, the poor, the racially separated, the immigrants – legal or illegal, the people of unusual sexual orientations, the people of the other political party, the people whose religion is quite different from ours, the people who deliberately avoid religion altogether. Nor can we exclude the mean-spirited or ill-tempered or conniving, or the bigots or racists or hard-hearted. If we want to live as Jesus lived, we need to include the excluded, and to love the unlovely and unlovable.
Jesus did not possess such superior equanimity that he never got angry. He did get angry --- many times. We are frequently told about how he disputed with the Pharisees, Sadducees, priests, and scribes. But in his mind and his actions, he never excluded anyone from his presence, even when he strongly disagreed with them. If we want to be Christians, we need to follow his example.
When I was in chorus class in the East Junior High School of Madison, Wisconsin, I remember singing a song, part of whose lyrics said this: “We need one another/ So I will defend/ Each man as my brother/ Each man as my friend.” I am glad I was raised in Madison, which was them one of the most open-minded and liberal communities in the nation. With what is happening in Wisconsin politics these days, I’m not so sure that is true anymore. Nonetheless, the sentiments of that song still are valid, and I’m grateful for the lady who chose it for us to sing, whose name I have forgotten, even though I shall always remember her song.
Exclusivity kills, if not literally, then figuratively. We’re all in this life together, not separately. We need one another. Sadly, we tend to divide, but God always unites. In Christ there is no East or West/ In him no South or North. If Jesus insisted on inclusion, so must we.
The answer to exclusivity is inclusivity. There is no other answer.