Pentecost 2C 2025

THE REV. E. WAYNE ROLLINS

Each lesson today presents a variety of topics for the preacher. And, since we
come to these without the “back story,” we could spend a lot of time building up to
where we want to be. It’s a good thing that it’s summertime, and none of us have
anything to do for the next, say, 50 hours.

Now that the high holy days are completed, we return to the Gospel of Luke and
the story of the demon-possessed man in the Gerasene region. He lives in caves on the
eastern side of the Sea of Galilee, a geographic distinction that tells us Jesus, for the only
time in Luke’s Gospel, goes into Gentile territory.

The interpretations of this story are, to borrow a term, legion. The man, who
remains unnamed, is almost unrecognizable as a human being. You might compare
him to the creature Gollum from the Lord of the Rings, a being changed from the human
once known as Smeagol. He is a hobbit by birth, but his obsession with the ring of
power changes him, to his destruction on many levels.

We can make much use of our time talking about the pigs. They are an obvious
sign that this is not Jewish territory, and that their presence means they are also a vital
part of the livelihood of the residents. The response to the pigs’ failed attempt to
imitate Esther Williams or Michael Phelps contributes to that conclusion.

A bit of ancient Middle Eastern mythology is at work here. Evil spirits were
believed to be intolerant of water, as it would lead to their destruction. I can imagine a
whole evening’s discussion about baptism beginning with that idea. Or, you can let
your mind wander over to the scene where the Wicked Witch of the West is dissolved
in The Wizard of Oz. It’s a whole other discussion of that movie’s slightly hidden
purpose to be a parody of religion itself. It also presents the pigs as having the wisdom
to do what’s necessary to rid themselves of demons, something human beings don’t
seem to be able to do.

I come to today’s Gospel with a bit of puzzlement. The demons know who Jesus
is. His companions on the boat aren’t quite so sure about him. Jesus asks who the
demons are as if he doesn’t know. Another aspect of ancient thought comes to the fore.
By calling someone by their proper name, we exercise not only familiarity, but often
assume a position of authority over them. Notice that idea when we call those with
some authority over us by their given name, even a nickname, and not by title, which
recognizes their authority. I’ll refer you back to commandment number three to begin
that discussion.

That leads me to wonder whether we might be able to name the demons in our
own lives who know very well who we are. We each have many identities in our
1relationships with others. Son, daughter, husband, wife, aunt, uncle, grandchild, sister,
brother, friend, neighbor. You get the idea. Those identities help us navigate our
relationships and act appropriately while living in them. Names are different. They go
to the core of our being and remain with us throughout and in every aspect of our lives.
I’ve sometimes questioned what that means to the choices made in changing names
because of the marriage relationship. Again, only the beginning of that discussion.

There is a name given to us that we often forget. It was given to Israel as a
reminder when they were much farther from their home than in today’s Gospel. Li-
attah. Mine. It’s a name given to us in Holy Baptism when the priest marks us with a
special oil, called chrism. The words you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and
marked as Christ’s own forever are said at that time. Isaiah’s words are from God—I have
called you by name. You are Mine. Capital M. It is a name given to us by God, whom we
call Father, at our rebirth in baptism, much as our own names are given to us by our
parents at birth.

Legions of demons want to obscure that name by replacing our God-given name
with their own. Hatred, greed, selfishness, jealousy, power, wealth. The list goes on. It
might also include “past-clinger,” whether it be fondly remembered or manifest as a
growing anger. All of these want to prevent us from living the truth of our name given
in Baptism. Christ’s own. Mine. A name given at rebirth, a name of promised new life.
The waters of Baptism are a sign of our redemption by the same God who spoke
to Israel by the waters of the Euphrates and that cleansed a wild man by the sea of
Galilee. The font stands at our entrance here to remind us not just who we are, but
whose we are by virtue of God’s word made present in the sacrament.

We carry the presence of the One by whom we are named when we offer
compassion and healing and new life wherever we find ourselves stepping out of our
safe boats. It can be overwhelming at times, and not everyone will join us in agreement.
After all, sometimes the demon of self-preservation, often referred to as “the devil we
know,” causes us to reject the healing love found in the risen Christ.
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And when that happens, and all else fails, follow the lesson in today’s Gospel.
Return to the font, remind yourself of your baptism and its sign of the removal of all
that stands between us and God. In other words, in some life-giving way, be the pig.