“Commanding Power”                                                                                Deuteronomy 18:15-20

February 1, 2009 – Epiphany 4                                                                                       Psalm 111

Henrietta United Church of Christ                                                                I Corinthians 8:1-13

Rev. Martha Koenig Stone                                                                                       Mark 1:21-28

 

What is power?  Where does it come from?

 

Maybe you’ve know people in your life who act as though they know everything.  No matter what the topic is, they can expound on it.  No matter what the issue, they have an opinion.  And they’re very sure that they know.  And they’re very sure that they’re right.  They take authority upon themselves and they like to tell everyone else what to do.  Trouble is, when folks try to tell you what to do, it can be pretty annoying—you want to walk the other way!  My daughter says I’m like that sometimes….

 

Then there are the folks you encounter from time to time who really seem to know what they’re doing in life.  They might be well educated, or simply schooled in experience, but they’re happy to share what they know, and what they say rings true.   They might not be loud or bossy, but if necessary, they can take charge, and very often, they have done amazing things in their lives.  You get the feeling that they could move mountains if they wanted to.  And when you’re in their presence, you feel as if you have the power to move mountains as well.  You feel good and whole and strong and sure.

 

What is power?  Who has it?  How do you get it?

 

President Obama has a certain kind of power—he has the power of rhetoric, to stir people’s hope.  He has the power of his office, the power of consent from the people.  He has the authority to make decisions on behalf of this nation, and the power to influence what others think and do.  He has the power to command armies, and when he speaks, the whole world listens.

 

Bill Gates has a certain kind of power.  He has the power to get anything he wants by purchasing it.  He has the power to hire and fire people and to hold their lives in the balance.  He has great intellect, and can come up with great ideas that spread like wildfire.

 

Oprah has power.  She has the ability to put her finger on the pulse of the people.  She can make you feel like she really understands your problems and your issues.  She can put into words what folks are thinking and feeling and ask just the right questions to help them go a bit deeper.  She knows how to put together a really entertaining show!

 

Doctors have power.  They can take a power drill and a metal plate and some screws and repair a broken bone.  They can replace a dead kidney with a live one from a human donor.  They can treat diseases of many kinds and bring health and healing where there has been sickness and pain. 

 

All of these kinds of power are useful and can be used for good.  Whole books have been written about what makes a powerful person—what’s that one called—The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People—and you can learn a lot from books like that.

 

But today’s Gospel reading is quite brief.  It describes Jesus in the synagogue, teaching.  He was probably talking about the scriptures—that’s what you did in the synagogue, you studied the law and the prophets and the other writings in the Hebrew Scriptures.   As Jesus taught, the people who observed him were amazed!  He wasn’t like the other teachers they’d heard.  Oh, there were some good teachers there—the Scribes had lots of interesting things to say about the fine points of biblical law, and they knew their scriptures inside and out—but this Jesus, he was different.  He seemed to have a special kind of authority, and the people were intrigued.  Somehow, his teaching seemed altogether new and different.  

 

Then one man who was there caused a big ruckus.  He cried out to Jesus, “What are you trying to do here?  Why are you talking with us?  Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are!  You’re the Holy One of God!”   It was like he was possessed or something.  The text says he had an unclean spirit—was he sick?  Mentally ill?  Angry?  Demented?  What was he afraid of?  Was there something threatening about what Jesus was saying?

 

Well, it was disruptive behavior, to say the least.  The teachers among us can certainly relate!  You just can’t have people shouting out when you’re trying to teach something.  Normally someone freaks out like that you feel like you want to usher them right out of the room.  

 

But Jesus didn’t do that.  Instead, he spoke right to that unclean spirit, whatever it was, and said, “Be silent!  Come out!  Shhhhh!”  And the man shook and cried out, and became calm—the unclean spirit was gone.  And the people who saw it were amazed.

 

“What is this?  His teaching comes with authority!  He really knows what he’s doing.  He can even command the spirits, and they do what he tells them to do!  This is something new!”

 

What kind of power was this?  It wasn’t the kind of power that comes from higher education and specialized degrees—oh, Jesus was learned, to be sure—he had studied in the Temple, and he knew his scriptures—but he wasn’t like the other scholars of his day.

 

It wasn’t a presidential kind of power—he wasn’t commanding armies, and he didn’t hold any democratically elected office. 

 

It wasn’t economic power—Jesus lived on the edge of poverty!

 

It wasn’t the power of celebrity, either—Jesus could tell a pretty good story, for sure, and his fame spread around the countryside, but he wasn’t trying to be in any spotlight and he wasn’t worried about popularity. 

 

Jesus’ power wasn’t even medical power, really—although he had a gift for healing, but he had no medical degree, no modern drugs or equipment. 

 

As I explored this question about Jesus’ power, I focused in on the word that’s translated “authority” in this text.  It comes from the Greek word exousia.  It’s a word that can be used in many ways.  It can mean ability or permission, or absolute power, or ruling power, or official power.  It can mean the freedom to act and choose.  It can mean power over others.  It can mean knowledge.  But at its root is the word ousia, which means “essence.”   Think about that for a minute.  Jesus had authority because he spoke from his essence.  He had power because he connected with the very ground of his being.  He could look at a disturbed man and see, not just a troublemaker, but a troubled spirit.  He didn’t need to send the many away because he could get to the heart of the matter and identify the cause of the trouble and say to the man, “Shhhh! Be still.”

 

What might the church be like if we could receive this gift from Jesus—if we could tap into that same source of power, connect with God’s very essence, and touch the ground of our being?  What demons might be stilled?  What authority might we claim—and share?  God knows, there are many demons that possess us, even now, many places in our lives and in our communities that long for a sense of peace and wholeness and direction.

 

I hear in this gospel story an invitation to be still and to reconnect with what is essential—to let all the frenzy of my life fall away and to attend to the very essence of God, and to let it shape my life and all of my interactions with others.

 

What demons in you might be stilled by a word from Jesus?  Where might you be called to look past someone’s demons, right down to their soul, and help them to connect with their essence, that ground of being which comes from God?

 

I read a story in the United Church News (1) a while back about a church that had been blessed with a new family—a husband and wife and three small kids, who came one Sunday and decided to stay.  The church was thrilled!  They hoped that this might signal the beginning of a new growth spurt for their congregation.  But one day the pastor came back from vacation and found the church in an uproar.  As the article explained, “A video had surfaced on YouTube showing one of the newer families in the church making racial and anti-Semitic remarks on a late night TV talk show…their remarks were vitriolic and full of hate.  The deacons peppered their pastor with questions.  “Did you know about this?  How could you let these people into our church?  Why didn’t you warn us?”  In spite of their claim to welcome everyone, the church ended up driving this family away.  No matter that, in the time they had been at the church, their attitudes about race had changed.  No one bothered to find that out.  No one stopped to listen to what they had become since they had joined the church.  Perhaps it was just easier to banish this family than to learn with and from them.  Or perhaps the church was not willing to confront their own demons and allow Jesus to lead them to wholeness. 

 

Contrast that with a story from of one of my favorite German TV shows, called Edel und Stark.  Its part legal show, part comedy, and Randy and I loved to watch it when we lived in Berlin.  In this particular episode, a lawsuit had been brought against a man who was working as a therapist, but he had no actual training in psychology or psychiatry.  Still, he had managed to help lots of people work through their troubles—without uttering a single word!   Since age 14, following a terrible illness, he had become mute.  So instead of talking to people, he simply listened.  He would hold his hand to his ear and close his eyes…and his patients would begin to talk…and he would continue to listen.  In the presence of that listening ear, with no judgment, no advice given, the patients were able to listen honestly to their own thoughts and sort out their confusion.  And so, in spite of all the legal wrangling and argumentation in the court case, the judge had to admit that this man had a real knack for helping people see deeply into themselves, and that his gift had helped countless people become well.

 

What a contrast, these two stories!  In the words of I Corinthians, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” 

 

I want to leave you this morning with the wonderful poetry of a hymn that is based on the story of Jesus healing the man with the unclean spirit.  It’s written by Tom Troeger, formerly a professor at Colgate-Rochester Divinity School, who had many encounters with troubled spirits in the course of his ministry:

 

“Silence! Frenzied, unclean spirit,” cried God’s healing Holy One.

“Cease your ranting!  Flesh can’t bear it.  Flee as night before the sun.”

At Christ’s voice the demon trembled, from its victim madly rushed,

While the crowd that was assembled stood in wonder, stunned and hushed.

 

Christ, the demons still are thriving in the grey cells of the mind:

Tyrant voices, shrill and driving, twisted thoughts that grip and bind,

Doubts that stir the heart to panic, fears distorting reason’s sight,

Guilt that makes our loving frantic, dreams that cloud the soul with fright.

 

Silence, Christ, the unclean spirit, in our mind and in our heart.

Speak your word that when we hear it all our demons shall depart.

Clear our thought and calm our feeling, still the fractured warring soul.

By the power of your healing make us faithful, true and whole.   (2)

 

 

 

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1. Gaffney, E.S., “Who’s in the pew next to you?” in United Church News, December/January 2009, p. A9.

 

2. Troeger, Thomas, “Silence, Frenzied, Unclean Spirit,” copyright 1984, rev. 1993, Oxford University Press, Inc.  (Printed in the New Century Hymnal, #176.)