Sermon

Heal Your Fear, Unleash Your Power:
My Name is Legion

March 16, 2003, 11:00 AM Service

By Rev. Dr. G. Penny Nixon

It's easy to visualize a story of tombs, healings, evil spirits and drowning pigs taking place eons ago. I daresay none of us, at least at this moment are wandering the tombs or calling mental issues evil spirits and last time I looked there weren't herds of pigs hurling themselves off the Marin headlands. But when we take a story and allow ourselves get inside it and inside the minds of the people in the story, it snaps to life. In that dramatic moment we witness a person, chains hanging from his body, hearing voices and struggling with his fears. Perhaps some of us here will identify with the chains that bind us. Is there a person in this room that has not, at one time or another, wrestled with pain and fears, with trembling, with agony over situations in our own life or in the lives of people we have loved.

Heal your fear. Unleash your power.

I've always loved this story, Mark 5: 1-20; it's so dramatic. Mark and Luke tell the exact same story. You have to believe it was true because who could have made it up? And they each tell it in exacting detail. The man they describe, the man in the tombs was one whom no one could bind anymore. Apparently, at one point, people had tried to chain him, hand and foot; maybe not in cruelty, but more like chaining up a dog for its own safety; but perhaps as some form of kindness-- chaining him to the community so that he was part of the community. But the power of his fears, his agony and his anguish became so great that they together broke the chains, separating himself from his community.

In fact, when Jesus arrives in this region—picture it: the hillside, pigs are grazing and as Jesus steps out of the boat, he hears a sound. It is the man screaming in the tombs; a sound the neighborhood is too very familiar with. It echoes out night after night after night. For as deeply as they try to push this man into the tombs, physically, psychically they can still hear his cries. And this is what Jesus hears when he gets out of the boat. The man runs towards Goodness, falls to his knees, and cries, even in the face of Goodness, “Please don't torture me." Why these words first? Because when you are tortured on the inside, or you have been tortured or abused by others, you cannot find it within yourself, to believe that anything or anyone would be all-loving and all-good toward you. So he pleads, “do not torture me."

Do we handle madness any better today? Do we know what to do with madness, with great expressions of fear, or of anguish? In small towns and villages, those who live on the margins socially and mentally held or contained by their community. Because in a small town—they say San Francisco is a small town, but it is not really a small town. I came from a town of five hundred with one gas station, one post office, and one country store, and they were all the same building; that's a small town. When you are part of a small town or a village, and there's someone seen as an outsider or as someone not quite right (immediately we want to give it a name and then, of course, we judge who's really not right and who is, but...) the village can contain that person through a shared understanding, a shared language, and a strong awareness of community. The people come together to hold that one. But in a city, such as ours, we can no longer hold those who need to be held most. We are overwhelmed with the critical mass of people who are left on the streets, many mentally compromised, who need, more than anything, to be housed and clothed.

Is there a single person in this room who hasn't been touched either personally or by someone in their family history who has endured some form of mental illness? No stigma attached to my question-- just naming it for what is it. There's a reason why it's so pervasive in our society. It's just not what's within our psyches; it's what's swirling without, all the time. In fact, I believe that the kind of imagery that we see on television—the kind of MTV world that we live in, the quick images like the snapping of our fingers—must affect our brainwaves making it more difficult and more difficult to actually be still; because what we need in order to function, or to feel alive is constant stimuli. What we really need most for survival is to be able to stop, experience some calm and touch that place within us. That place of stillness where the deep waters that are so powerful and calm are available to every one of us in this room, no matter who you are today and no matter what you have been through. What we saw in these verses was a snapshot of the state of this person's being and by the Spirit of God, became clothed in their right mind and restored to community from which, through fear, he had been barred. And the tombs from which he was finally freed, do they not represent past, represent death, represent a culture of destruction.

I spent some time this week reading about the debate around abortion. The Bush administration said "We want to promote a culture of life in this society." I thought, 'Let me put on my glasses and read that again.' "We want to promote a culture of life in this society," and I thought, ‘then we are sure going about it the wrong way.' Because this week, we are cutting off some of the most important jobs in our nation The teachers in our state, in the greater Bay Area, in our city, are about to lose their jobs. Not only will the teachers be taken from the children but classes in music, arts, and physical education. Now I know that you gay men are not real sad about the physical education thing. Okay? But for us dykes—that saved our lives! And for you gay men and others in the room, music and art—where would you be without the joys those classes brought into your young lives? These opportunities are going to be taken from our children in a time when needed most. In this day and age, not to be able to express one self through music, or through art, or through all forms of beauty, sports included, is a tragic thing for our children. This is promoting a "culture of life!" And who are most affected. Once again, it will be on the backs of the poor. For those that can, they will send their children to private schools. That's not a bad thing; it's just inequitable, that's all. Many do not have the means, and so again we, with great intention (it seems), widen and widen and widen the gap between the Haves and the Have-Nots. Instead of a culture of life, we are in some ways creating our own tombs AND, in fact, a culture of destruction.

We probably won't last another week or two without a war. And while you know that I could talk about that at length, what I'm really interested in, in this moment, is the war that rages and wages within our bodies and within our minds. Can you hear Jesus saying to the man, "What is your name?" "My name is Legion, for we are many." "My name is Legion, for we are many." His pain was his name. If I ask you, "What are your fears?" would you be able to list them readily and right now? Let me suggest some of them: our cultural, collective fears, how about terrorism, war, North Korea (that's a regional problem—right), loss of employment, loss of health insurance. This is Cover the Uninsured Week. Do you know how many people in the most powerful country in the world have no health insurance? Perhaps some of you are in this room. And then what about individual fears? Are your memories anxiety-producing? Have the power of these memories instilled fear and do you find yourself incessantly reviewing them. Jesus says "What is your name?" What is the name of your most powerful fear this morning? Forget about Legion. Just name one that you might want to let go of before you leave this sanctuary today. Name the fear you'd like not to carry back into the world?
Notice that Jesus interrupts, focuses on the man and says, "What is your name?" The question produces a cleansing release; the man remembers his true name, rediscovers his true sense of self. He heard what he needed to hear-- God saying through this One who is Goodness, "You are not you fears. You are not your pain. You are not your mind. Release." You and I are not our fears. You and I are not our pain or our memories. You and I are not our minds. I believe we must be free from the war that goes on in our own minds.

Did you ever just wish that you could find your "off" button? It would be so easy if each of us had a little remote that we could point at ourselves: MUTE, PAUSE, STOP, OFF; even if just for a moment. Truth is we're all afflicted with this addiction of incessant thinking. We think it's normal because everyone's afflicted. D But it is not so. We are not our mind. Let me ask you a really honest question: how many negative or judgmental or critical thoughts have you had since you walked in the door this morning? I'm always grateful that I don't have one of those digital signs coming out of my head with the little red letters flashing across. Can you imagine? A constant streaming of our thoughts. None of us would have any friends. We can develop the ability, though, to stop the negative, judging thoughts. We can reprogram from here (points to heart) rather than from here all the time (points to head). Because these criticisms and judgments and these analyses we experience with one another keep us from true relationship; they really do, and they keep us from relationship with ourselves. If you can find a way, step by step, to stop judging yourself, you will stop judging others. I guarantee it.

We have to stop thinking that we are our mind, because we're not. Have you experienced in this last week any of these feelings: unease, anxiety, tension (when my shirt gets caught in my earring, I know that I am tense because my shoulders are up around my ears), worry? If you've experienced any one of these feelings, are they not all really forms of fear, fears about the future, so how can one be in the present. (This is from the book, "The Power of Now" which is really wonderful). If you're experiencing guilt, regret, resentment, grievances, or any form of non-forgiveness, are they not all forms of fear rooted in the past. This is a great exercise to do. It brings you directly to the present moment; it reminds us to release these feelings and to recognize that in this perfect moment of now, everything is all right. Right now, imagine it, everybody in this moment, the present, eternal now, where everything is all right. This moment is all we have and it’s in this moment that we experience God’s presence.

If we want to live in peace, realize peace begins right here as much as out there as violence begins here—not there. I have been on a journey for many years; a journey of "self mastery" I call it. It’s about being able to have control over my emotions. Not to suppress them and not to deny them, but because I can tend to be a bit over reactive, or too passionate at times, and since subtlety is not my strong suit, it would be helpful for me to learn how to control my emotions so I could channel them responsibly and with integrity. But now I'm embarking on a new journey that has far greater challenges; that challenge is mastery over my mind. On too many days, my mind has control over me, rather that me having mastery over it. I know that more than ever in these days, that if I'm going to be a woman, an out and proud queer, a queer of peace and of non-violence, then I must have mastery over my mind and thus my thoughts.

And so I invite you to join with me, through meditation, through prayer, through singing, through dancing and movement, through anything that disengages your mind for a few moments, to touch that part of you that is your essence. And to do this during Lent so that your fears might also be released. Ask yourself, how many of your fears keep you from relationship? Have you ever found that what you wanted most in life, you actually went the other way? Or like me, experienced yourself, now and then, sabotaging what you wanted most and not moving forward because of fears or because of judgments, criticisms, or old beliefs.

Back to the man sitting there in his right mind. Did you notice what follows? Somebody went to get the town people, because, you know, in small towns news travels really fast. The townspeople came running. You can just imagine it "You won't believe what happened." The Gospel then says: "The town people got there. They saw the man from the tombs sitting there, clothed and in his right mind." And do you know what the next sentence is? "And they were afraid." Why? Because when you can no longer identify "crazy" or "mad" out there, then guess what? You've got to look at where the real fears are. "And the people were afraid."

And then, these evil spirits—call them what you will—said "Don't send us out of the air yet." In other words, the fears wanted to stay and perhaps knew that the townspeople would prefer to stay with their familiar fears and seek the easier way—get Jesus out of there. Is this so strange? I believe that this is an example illustrating that particular fears can be more prevalent in particular areas than in others which lead to particular paths of destruction. For instance, in the gay community, I think that the destructions of addiction and of self-loathing are pandemic to our community. And as a community, we need to be released from these paths. The power of good needs to come forward for healing to take place.

That day was a truly tragic day for the pigs and was surely an economically tragic day for the pig farmers. Real change comes at a cost. We want things to change, but we don't want it to cost us anything. The townspeople, as they watched their livelihood take the long dive into the sea, were afraid of the changes coming their way. People say, “how can this be a story of goodness when the pigs died; why would Jesus do that?" I don't think Jesus did that at all; I think fear had to go somewhere. So, in your imaginary mind, send your fears to the pigs. Release them. Let them go running, squealing where ever they will; they do not need to be in your body or in your mind. Send them away, however you need to do that, and let them dive into the big surf of the ocean so that each of us, you and I together, might find our right minds, our right selves, our deepest selves. Remember, we are not our fears, no matter what happens this week You are not your pain, however much it is at this moment. You are not your mind. You are called by name to your deepest, most profound self, and invited, once again to experience that Spirit, which transcends, and is within us all.

May it be so. Amen.