The Wolfman’s Brother

Pentecost 4C  06/20/10

Luke 8:26-39

May my words be your Word, and may what is heard be the proclamation of new life in Christ Jesus.

Have you ever heard of the rock band Phish? That’s P H I S H, not F I S H. They’re one of those “jam” bands whose songs go on forever thanks to ridiculously extended solos. Anyway, I bring them up, not because it’s 110 degrees and I’d love a cool, delicious bowl of the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream named for the band—Phish Food. Rather I mention them because today’s gospel reminded me of one of their songs. It’s called The Wolfman’s Brother. It’s a good tune. I won’t sing it for you. Couldn’t tell you any of the lyrics—except for “The wolfman’s brother.”

So, what was it about this song that reminded me of today’s gospel? It was the title that really struck a chord in me. Looking at the story of Jesus’ healing of the Gerasene demoniac made me think of all the werewolf movies I’ve seen. It seemed to me that the demoniac was a lot like the wolfman. He ran wild without clothes, and slept in graveyards. He was feared in the villages and the countryside. The people tried to restrain him, but he broke the chains they laid on him and returned to the wild. Add a full moon and some fur and you got the wolfman!

But there’s one glaring difference between the Gerasene demoniac and the wolfman. The interaction of the people.

First the swineherds. How do they react to the demoniac’s healing? Purely economically. They’re more concerned about the pigs they just lost. Their lack of astonishment at what transpired right in front of their faces is unbelievable. It’s like when I was working at camp, mowing the playfields, and the tractor slipped down an embankment and right into the Cape Fear River—with me in the driver’s seat. Luckily it hit an underwater obstruction and stopped. But when I called my boss and told him the harrowing tale, all he had to say was, “Is the tractor alright?” Yeah, thanks for asking. The pig tenders freak out about their deviled hams. And they go into town and seek backup. They don’t congratulate the one formerly know as demoniac.

And the towns people! You would think after years of tending and trying to tame the beast within him, after both fearing and pitying him, both being morbidly drawn to him and repulsed by him—you would think that they would at least be happy when they got there and saw him refreshed, relaxed, clothed, and sitting calmly at Jesus’ feet. Happy, or overjoyed—or at least awed. You’d expect the townspeople to go up to the man, clap him on the back and give him a big old bear hug. The women to kiss his cheek, the young ones giggling at the completeness of his transformation. The children inching closer for a better look at the one they had been warned to steer clear of, now smiling and waving at them. You’d expect that kind of reaction.

But instead the entire population is engulfed in fear. And they ask Jesus to go away.  Sooner not later. Get lost. Take a hike. Vamanos. Make like a tree and leave. Why?

Because Jesus has broken their perfectly good demoniac.

Now, the way I’m interpreting this is obviously outside the box. It puts a modern day spin on the relationship between the demoniac and the locals. A relationship that I never really noticed before—but one that is definitely present. A dysfunctional relationship. And although the demons that infest the Gerasene demoniac have been interpreted to refer to everything from mental illness to alcoholism to epilepsy, my take on the demons is that they are representative of the people’s anxiety, projected on, in this case a man. So rather than be plagued with demons of his own making, the man has been demonized by the people, who benefit from that demonization through a reduction in their anxiety.

My thesis is this: that all of us have demoniacs in our lives. Individually and corporately. In school and at work. At home and at church. He may be a single person. He may be a group of persons. He may be Legion. He might be a she. But he’s there. The wolfman is out there, running wild! Scaring us, worrying us, annoying us, and, strangely enough, comforting us. Because he represents a way to hold society together, a way in which we can unload the responsibilities that we find too hard or too odious, and a way in which we can jettison blame for dire situations, real or imagined. We need our demoniacs. We heart our demoniacs!

Who are our demoniacs? They are the people we blame for the downfall of our society. People who are different. People who live differently. They are the persons in our lives whom we don’t trust, don’t like, don’t really even know. The poor. The gays. That person at church who just rubs you the wrong way. Old folks. The mentally ill. The chronically ill. People of other religions. The health care system. The big oil companies. People who are conveniently available for demonizing so that we don’t have to deal. Deal with justice, deal with equity, deal with compassion and self sacrifice, deal with an imbalance between caring for the earth and seas and ignoring the fact that we as Americans use petroleum like water. And water like it is inexhaustible. All of these and many more are ones on who we have deposited the demons we spawned in our inept sinfulness. Ones that relieve the pressures of living, who are forced to bear the burdens of the consequence of our sin. Who we need to keep our dysfunctional way of life in balance.

So, you can imagine what happens when Jesus steps onto our territory, and, sizing up the situation, immediately and without our permission, removes our carefully placed demons, scattering them and exposing them to the light of day where we can see them and are then forced to deal with them. Jesus reveals God’s favor for the poor. He attracts the sick so that they appear in numbers too great to ignore. He tells us to love one another—even those different—even those who are our enemies. Jesus casts out the demons of racial profiling, white privilege, human trafficking, addictions and greed. Things that unknown to us, prop up our standard of living and dodge responsibilities that God himself has placed upon us. Jesus exorcizes them all!

That ticks us off! That’s like someone else—a stranger—setting your kids free from timeout. Against your wishes. Maddening! Enough to make us escort this interloper, Jesus, to the nearest exit. Instead of rejoicing that the demoniac has been returned to his rightful place amongst his people, we frantically make plans to reinstall those demons. To restore our equilibrium any way possible

Lucky Jesus outsmarted us by seeing to it that the demons themselves are destroyed. (Drowned in water. Sound familiar?) Not that we won’t create new ones. But Jesus covered that contingency also. Instead of taking the former demoniac with him back to Jewish territory, Jesus ordered instead that he stay with his people, telling his story of what God did for him. To be a living reminder that a legion of their nastiest demons is still no match for Jesus. To be a walking, talking, not wild but calm, example of what we are to strive for in our relationships.

What the restored demoniac offers his people is not a silver bullet that will fix things without hardship, hurt feelings, and effort. He offers the good news that, thanks to Jesus Christ, we are all the wolfman’s brother. And treating each other like brothers we further the mission that Jesus began when he stepped out into Gerasene territory and unleashed the gospel on the world.

And that’s not just me howling at the moon!

Now may my words, imperfect though they are, still provide room for the Holy Spirit to work within you, bringing you greater understanding of God and God’s great love for you! AMEN