The Rev. Dr. Paul J. Carling

Name Calling

Galatians 3: 23-29; Luke 8: 26-39

Sermon

June 20, 2010

Saint Luke’s Parish

Darien, Connecticut

In the name of God who creates, who redeems, and who sets us free.

Today, Luke introduces us to a man completely possessed by demons. By the time he meets Jesus, he’s the community outcast, kept under guard, and bound with chains and shackles. He wanders around naked and lives not in a house but in the tombs. He isn’t dead, but he might as well be.

Jesus asks, “What is your name?” The man replies “Legion,” for, as Luke explains, “many demons had entered him.” But in this simple response, we see his real problem. The name this man gives himself is what holds him captive. He has become his demons. He’s lost every shred of identity other than his demons.

A friend of mine once shared what he’d learned after 30 years of AA meetings. “Most of the demons we struggle with, the names we call ourselves” he said, “are inside: memories of parental neglect or abuse; of childhood taunts and humiliations; living with the road not taken – whether a career choice or a romantic choice. The knowledge of our failures and imperfections are inside. The losses and fears we carry with us and can’t seem to let go of are inside. In AA,” he concluded, “we call it ‘stinking thinking,’ and we never forget what power these demons have to possess us and destroy us.”

How powerful the names we use can be, especially when we use them to define all of a person. The fact that today is Father’s Day reminds me that our favorite target for name-calling is often the opposite gender. Men like to say (at least to other men) that women are space cadets who’d rather spend all their time shopping, right? Come on, admit it. Women, in turn, insist that men are irresponsible slobs who love nothing more than football and beer. Right? Women say that the problem with men is that they think Christmas gifts can be purchased for 25 people on the day before Christmas… and all in just 45 minutes, hmmmm? And men complain that women don’t seem to be able to go to the bathroom without a support group.

And, of course we have our share of stereotypes about fathers too. When I was a professor, I used to teach a class called: Sex Roles: A Psychological Perspective. It was wildly popular, probably because it was the only course in the college catalog that began with the word “sex.” When we reached the lecture on Fatherhood, inevitably the young women in the class would describe how incompetent they expected their future husbands to be when they had children. Each one outdid the next with apocryphal predictions of babies being dropped, impaled with diaper pins, or simply abandoned on the sidewalk while dad lost track of time in the hardware store.

These stereotypes are good for a laugh, of course, but underneath lie real demons – demons that can imprison us just like the man in today’s gospel. Surprisingly, some of the most dangerous demons are the ones we’ve been taught are positive ways to define each other. Like the assumption that Fathers are supposed to be the ‘breadwinners’ or ‘providers’ – great huh? – until we realize that means we’re supposed to leave home before it’s light and return well after dark; that the kids are long asleep by the time we get home; that we rarely have dinner together as a family; that weekends are spent recovering just enough so that we can begin again on Monday morning. Remind you of the man in today’s gospel who breaks free from his demons for a brief time, only to find himself captured and bound up again?

Or the assumption that moms are supposed to be ‘homemakers’ – great, huh? – until, regardless of our abundance of gifts and skills, we see our identity become focused exclusively on caring for children; and keeping the house beautiful; and working out so that we never appear to age. Or how about the modern version, “super-mom,” in which you get to do all the jobs I just listed, plus “enjoy” a successful professional career?

Becoming imprisoned in these narrow definitions of who we’re supposed to be, leads many of us to a kind of desperation for something, anything to make us feel better about our lives, a desperation that either breeds all kinds of addictions... or can lead us directly back to Jesus.

In Luke’s gospel, did you notice how, once the man is freed from his demons, his first thought is to run away from the community he’s been ostracized from? We might call that the “midlife crisis option.” But Jesus is clear that not only is he in the business of freeing people, but that this freedom has a very specific purpose. Is it to reduce our level of stress… or to give us a greater sense of balance? Sure, those are important, but they’re small potatoes. The real joy comes when we realize that Jesus is recruiting us for a whole new level of meaning in our lives, for no less than his mission of reconciling and repairing God’s world – starting in our in our homes and workplaces, and then in our communities and around the globe. “Return to your home,” Jesus says after casting out the demons, “and declare how much God has done for you.”

This is the same mission that Paul talks about when he says that when we were baptized, we were “clothed with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male or female, for you are all children of God.” Children of God, completely beloved and accepted just for ourselves, freed to cast off any of the distinctions of gender or race or education or income, or anything else that lets us feel better than someone else, anything that separates us from God and from the rest of our brothers and sisters in Christ. Now that’s freedom.

In the film Tender Mercies, Robert Duvall plays an old cowboy who’s lived a hard life. He drinks too much, he can’t hold a job and he’s estranged from his ex-wife and his daughter. But he meets a woman, played by Tess Harper, who has a son of about 12. Slowly they take the cowboy in and begin to love him. They invite him to the tiny clapboard church where they worship, and he reluctantly goes. One Sunday, he and the boy join the church and are baptized. Driving home in his truck, the boy says to the cowboy, “So, we got baptized.” “Yeah,” the man says. “Do you feel any different?” the boy asks. “Nah,” the cowboy replies, and they ride along in silence.

But he’s wrong – that day is a turning point in his life. He dries out. He begins to reconcile with his estranged daughter and his ex-wife. He opens up his heart and takes in this woman and her son. This is exactly what Paul means about the power of baptism to change our lives in ways that nothing else can.

And this is very good news for us – whether we were baptized as adults, or as infants many years ago. Just as he did in today’s gospel, Jesus stands ready at every moment to de-fang each of our demons, to cast them out, if only we’re willing to cooperate. His sole interest is to help us see who we really are, to claim the name that transcends every other name, our common identity as a “child of God.” Because it’s only by claiming that name – a “child of God” – that we have any shot at all of becoming free, becoming whole – living as healthy, joyful, generous disciples working together to usher in the kingdom of God.

Jesus is waiting to set each one of us free. We just have to be ready with our answer when he asks, “What is your name?”