June 19, 2016
1 Kings 19:1-15a
Luke 8:26-39

Have you been watching Game of Thrones? It seems that maybe the Hound is ready to take the disorienting and daring plunge of accepting new possibilities for his life.
The “Hound” is the nickname of the ruthless guard for the now deceased and utterly detestable child king, Geoffrey. Having lost his king and his position the Hound has been on a long journey through the wars and scheming politics that have turned the 7 kingdoms into a bloody and chaotic mess. Somehow through his harrowing journey, which is too detailed to tell here, he’s ended up alive. But, in these last two episodes it seems he’s lost any sense that living is worth all that much anyway. The world is a mess, and his existence has only made it messier. The wicked and the good seem to perish alike, only the lucky survive, and the gods (if they exist) seem to operate without any hint of rhyme or reason. To accept new possibilities for his life, to believe that he might be something more, or other, than what he was, is to risk believing that despite it all life matters, goodness matters, he matters. Despite the confusion, despite pain and suffering, despite the apparent senselessness of history’s course, being better somehow matters. It is a risky thing to believe because that kind of a leap will change who he is. He won’t be who he’s been, but then, what will be become?
It is interesting to me that the loss of personal identity, the crisis of individual personhood and meaning and purpose in this life, was also a topic with which the biblical authors struggled and for which their stories offered insight.
David Lose comments on today’s gospel lesson. “The demoniac’s response to Jesus is one of the more heartbreaking verses in Scripture,” he says. “Asked for his name, the man replies that he has none; or, more accurately, he says that his name is ‘Legion,’ that is, ‘a multitude.’ Oppressed by too many demons to count, he has lost himself in the cacophony of their voices and has ceased being a self, an individual, a person.” Lose asks, “How many of our hearers are similarly overwhelmed by the voices raging at them from inside and out, denigrating their identity and driving them to places of extreme loneliness or despair?”
I’m reminded of the guy from AA at one of my previous churches. “Pastor,” he said, “I ran into some of your parishioners. I just want to tell you what a wonderful church community you have. Everyone here is so nice and friendly. I’m really impressed.” I said, “Well, thank you. I’m so glad that that has been your experience. Why don’t you come and join us on a Sunday morning. We would love to welcome you to worship as well.” But, with those words his whole demeanor changed. A wall went right up. “Oh, I could never come to church. Not after the life I’ve lived.”
Jesus gave the possessed man a new identity, a new self relieved of the burden of the voices that would tear him down and isolate him. I can’t imagine that Jesus wouldn’t want that same for this man from AA. But, the legion didn’t have a choice, and so I supposed that he had it a bit easier. Like the Hound, my friend from AA had a risk to weigh. Was he ready to see himself differently? To see his place in this life differently? To see his higher power differently?
The matter comes up again in our story about Elijah. For some reason the lectionary has us jumping around a bit in 1 Kings. The passage immediately preceding today’s passage was the lection from May 29. You may remember that Elijah orchestrated a bull burning contest between the prophets of the Canaanite god “Baal” and YHWH, the God of the people of Israel. He did this because Ahab, the Israelite king, was worshiping Baal and in so doing encouraging the people of Israel to do the same. Elijah’s contest was a way of undermining the King’s idolatry and calling the people back to the worship of God alone. And so, outnumbered 450 to one, Elijah mocks the priests of Baal as they call upon their god to burn their sacrifice. They cry out and cry out for Baal, but nothing happens. And then it is Elijah’s turn. He calls upon God who in dramatic fashion rains down fire and consumes the bull and the altar and everything else that had been prepared. The lectionary reading ends with verse 39, “When all the people saw it, they fell on their faces and said, ‘The Lord indeed is God; the Lord indeed is God.”
The thing is, today’s passage doesn’t make much sense if we don’t also read verse 40. It says this: “Elijah said to them, ‘Seize the prophets of Baal; do not let one of them escape.’ Then they seized them; and Elijah brought them down to the Wadi Kishon, and killed them there.” …In the light of his victory and in all his confidence Elijah killed 450 men. Proven right before all the people, Elijah became a mass murderer.
This isn’t simply a story about the perils of idolatry. Rather, it is the story of a faith gone wrong, of a misguided hero, of certainty in a realm where certainty doesn’t belong, of power wrongly assumed and wrongly used. It becomes the story of a prophet on the run, fearing for his life, confused over Queen Jezebel’s ability to have him hunted and killed despite all his glory and victory.
What does it all mean? I thought I was right? What was I doing? Why am I all alone? What was it God wanted? All his fervor and confidence is gone. Elijah is suddenly a wrecked man. He goes a day’s journey and sits himself down under a solitary tree where he asks God that he might die. “It is enough now O God, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” But, here again he finds that he’s not in control. Twice an angel wakes him, “Get up and eat. Get up and go.”
Elijah’s journey lasts 40 days and takes him to a cave in Mt. Horeb. There the Lord asks him, “Why are you here, Elijah?” I hear that as a way of saying, “Think about how you ended up here. What brought you here? What are you doing with your life? Who are you?” Elijah gives a despairing answer about being the last faithful person left in Israel and having a bounty on his head. And then there’s this famous scene where the Lord passes by. First, there’s a mighty wind, but the Lord isn’t in the wind. And then there’s an earthquake, but the Lord isn’t in the earthquake. There was a fire, but the Lord wasn’t in the fire either. Finally, there’s silence, “the sound of sheer silence.” The story doesn’t tell us if God was in the silence. We just know something has happened. Come has come near. The Lord is on the move. And yet, when God asks him again that question, “Elijah, why are you here,” Elijah gives the same hopeless answer.
So, God gives him the answer. God tells him what to do. He says, “Elijah, go!” That’s it! Go!
Maybe that seems a bit insufficient, a little less than helpful. But, if you think about it, to be commissioned by God despite what he’s done and despite his dejection and despite his state of utter hopelessness is really, in the end, to be given new life. God says, “You are not alone. I will be with you. I will work through you. I will love you. But, in order for you to know this, in order for you to feel this, in order for this to be true for you, you must go; you must do; you must be willing to put faith into action.”
This I believe is the same for us all. The journey of faith is never smooth sailing. We’re all subject to hard, and confusing, and depressing times. We all make errors, and we all find ourselves wondering what God is doing.
Someone stopped by my office the other day and said, “I don’t know how you do it. How do you remain positive, how do you remain cheerful when things are the way they are in this world?” The immediate event on her mind was the mass shooting in Orlando, but I expect she had in mind other dynamics like Isis, and wars, and mass migrations, and the unsettling presidential campaign that is unfolding before us.
I said, “I don’t think I do always stay positive.” In fact, I feel pretty dumb about it all. I don’t have solutions and I don’t know what God is doing. What use am I?
But then, I got an email that someone is in the hospital. So I went and I found his daughter sitting by his side. And we talked together and we prayed and I could feel the love that was in that room, and I was reminded that despite the mess of things life is sacred, and God is near.
And then on the way home I got a call to visit a woman on hospice care. And though she is dying, and though this is a difficult time for her family, there was something very holy about being with them, about witnessing their tender care and their love for that person, and I was reminded that love wins, that in the end that’s all there will be.
“Go!” God says. “If you want to find your life, you must go.” Go and serve. Go and care. Go and try to forgive. Go and pray like you mean it. Go and offer a helping hand. Go and give. Go and love in one way or another. Go and remember, you are never alone.