Wednesday, June 20, 2007 at 12:12am
Leaving Jesus room to work
Column: New Houses from Old Bricks
In our weekly Bible study today, we read Luke's version of Jesus casting out the demons from a Gerasene man (Luke 8:26-39). In the story, Jesus encounters a man possessed by a "legion" of demons and casts them out. The demons go into a herd of pigs instead, and promptly rush into the lake and drown.
When I read of Jesus healing sickness, my imagination stretches that far. Demon possession, I have a harder time with. I come from a culture that has defined demons right out of existence — defining them as mental illness, most commonly. So I find it hard to enter Luke's context, in which demons are external, personal and beyond human control. In Luke's context, human beings were at the mercy of these evil spirits.
People felt powerless as they faced demons, and Jesus was a revelation: Here was someone who was not powerless at all. No wonder the text had often confused me: I had been trying to understand the demons, trying to figure out how to "translate" them into my own frame of reference. But the story isn't about the demons: It's about Jesus. Just look at what comes right before this story: Jesus calms the storm, and his disciples wonder, "Who is this guy?" And then it's almost as if Luke says, "You thought that was something; watch this." Jesus demonstrates his power over these demons, and people are amazed, even a little freaked out. But the story is great news for Luke's readers: With Jesus around, people no longer have to fear the demons. God's power goes far beyond their own.
So, is the story still good news in our context, with human knowledge and power stretching so much further? Or does it just make Jesus look a bit silly, gullible even, "mastering" something that many people believe doesn't exist?
Perhaps Jesus' power is only good news once you've encountered something you feel powerless over, as people in Luke's time felt toward the demons and the storms. For example, for those facing addiction with the 12 Steps, powerlessness over the addiction is the beginning, the very first step. This makes sense: A Higher Power can't be relevant until you figure out you're not it, and neither is anyone else you can see. This is a difficult step — even impossible for some, it seems — in a culture that loves to demonstrate mastery over everything, including "acts of nature" and death itself. If we can't control it, at least we can predict it or measure it or mitigate it.
But while the idea of mastery helps us cope with our fears, it doesn't really fool us for long. The fear simmers below and nags at us. The worst part, though, is that by our pretend power, we deprive ourselves of the only thing that can truly calm the fear: the good news of God's power. When you still think you can figure out the waves and medicate the demons yourself, why would you want to hear about Jesus?
Mastery is hard work; so is surrendering to powerlessness. But at least the latter leaves room for Jesus to work.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.
When I read of Jesus healing sickness, my imagination stretches that far. Demon possession, I have a harder time with. I come from a culture that has defined demons right out of existence — defining them as mental illness, most commonly. So I find it hard to enter Luke's context, in which demons are external, personal and beyond human control. In Luke's context, human beings were at the mercy of these evil spirits.
People felt powerless as they faced demons, and Jesus was a revelation: Here was someone who was not powerless at all. No wonder the text had often confused me: I had been trying to understand the demons, trying to figure out how to "translate" them into my own frame of reference. But the story isn't about the demons: It's about Jesus. Just look at what comes right before this story: Jesus calms the storm, and his disciples wonder, "Who is this guy?" And then it's almost as if Luke says, "You thought that was something; watch this." Jesus demonstrates his power over these demons, and people are amazed, even a little freaked out. But the story is great news for Luke's readers: With Jesus around, people no longer have to fear the demons. God's power goes far beyond their own.
So, is the story still good news in our context, with human knowledge and power stretching so much further? Or does it just make Jesus look a bit silly, gullible even, "mastering" something that many people believe doesn't exist?
Perhaps Jesus' power is only good news once you've encountered something you feel powerless over, as people in Luke's time felt toward the demons and the storms. For example, for those facing addiction with the 12 Steps, powerlessness over the addiction is the beginning, the very first step. This makes sense: A Higher Power can't be relevant until you figure out you're not it, and neither is anyone else you can see. This is a difficult step — even impossible for some, it seems — in a culture that loves to demonstrate mastery over everything, including "acts of nature" and death itself. If we can't control it, at least we can predict it or measure it or mitigate it.
But while the idea of mastery helps us cope with our fears, it doesn't really fool us for long. The fear simmers below and nags at us. The worst part, though, is that by our pretend power, we deprive ourselves of the only thing that can truly calm the fear: the good news of God's power. When you still think you can figure out the waves and medicate the demons yourself, why would you want to hear about Jesus?
Mastery is hard work; so is surrendering to powerlessness. But at least the latter leaves room for Jesus to work.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.