A reflection on Mark 1:21-28.

In 2013 the alt-rock band Imagine Dragons released their debut album, Night Visions. It was an instant success, becoming the fourth most purchased album nationally that year. One of the songs on this album, Demons, spent 61 weeks on the Billboard Hot 100 list, peaking at number six.

What makes this song, Demons, so successful? I’ll give you my take on that. The lyrics describe a certain darkness to the human condition, in language people can understand, in ways they can relate. In Lutheran terms, where we are both saint and sinner, at all times, it’s not the saint piece we’re talking about.

Lyrics to Demons describe the dark side to the human condition poetically:

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood’s run stale

Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Sometimes where the demons hide is crystal clear.

When Omar Mateen shot and killed 49 people, wounding 53 others in a mass shooting at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando in 2016, there was no doubt. Something dark and unholy was afoot. Dear God, cast out the twin American demons of gun violence and hate crimes in our land that continue to this day. Lord, hear our prayers.

Other times the nature of the demon is less than obvious. That is the case with today’s scripture text. Modern translations of Mark chapter 1 use the phrase unclean spirit to describe what this man was possessed with, so let’s go with that. In biblical language to be unclean is to be impure. To be impure means simply contrary to the sacred. Aka not according to God’s plan.

Unclean Spirits
Today’s text finds Jesus, very early in his ministry, teaching in the temple on the Sabbath. Then, amid the normalcy of a typical worship gathering, right in the middle of his sermon, something unexpected happens. A man shows up, speaking directly to the preacher, saying, “What have you to do with us? I know who you are, Jesus!”

We don’t know the nature of this unclean spirit, so it would be unfair to speculate. We do know it recognized Jesus, and Jesus recognized the spirit as something not according to God’s plan. And with Christ, who was sent to earth to live out God’s plan, well, something had to give.

Jesus, in this moment didn’t launch into a parable. He didn’t draw signs in the dirt. And he didn’t shuffle off to the next town to teach elsewhere, as he sometime did when conflict arose.

Instead he acted, commanding the unclean spirit to leave the man, casting it out right then and there. The people gathered that day were amazed, realizing this Man doesn’t just teach, but acts. And even the unclean spirits, those spirits that aren’t according to God’s plan, obey him. At once the words and deeds of this new preacher began to spread.

Imagine if something like that happened here, during worship. Picture Pastor Pam and I on vacation, and another preacher were here in our place. And imagine if, right in the middle of the sermon, someone challenged them, and then had their unclean spirit removed, fully healing them in mind, body and spirit. Imagine that happening right before your eyes. You’d likely be amazed too. And would have plenty to talk about after service during coffee hour 😊.

Yet other times noticing unclean spirits, what they are, and how they are contrary to the sacred, and what we are called to do in those moments we encounter them, well, at times it can be a little more difficult to discern.

Here is one story about that.

Utopia
It was a gorgeous South Florida Sunday, about fifteen years ago, I remember it well. Kathi and I got up, showered, put clean clothes on and went to church. After service the congregation was invited outside for a pancake brunch, complete with eggs, sausage patties, hot coffee and fresh-squeezed Florida orange juice, mmmmmm, so tasty. The meal was spread out across several long rectangular picnic tables. People began to form a line to fill their plates, fill their stomachs.

Kathi and I got our food and sat down underneath a large, covered patio that protected us from the sun. We settled in to enjoy a good meal and good conversation. We were with people we knew, people we liked.

And what of the temperatures, my wintery Iowan friends? They were in the mid-70s; a light ocean breeze blew through the space, cooling everyone.

This is one of those moments I love most about participating in the life of the church. Music, prayer, message and communion, followed by the community gathering together for relationship, conversation, and a shared meal.

It was then, in the middle of a personal churchy utopia, that a member of the congregation came up and whispered something in my ear.

Casting Out
“A homeless man is here,” they said, “and in line for food. Should we do something?” I looked over at the serving line and easily spotted the man. Sporting a disheveled beard and filthy clothes, standing amongst the members of our congregation, all in their Sunday best, he was impossible to miss.

This was pre-seminary for me, pre-ordination, years before I’d first approach a pulpit to preach. Yet I was the Vice President of church council, and was being asked to take action. Asked to address this perceived issue one way or another.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I replied, heading back to my pancakes and orange juice. I remember thinking in that moment, what’s the big deal? Let the guy sit down. Let the guy eat. Maybe he’ll make a few friends. But I did nothing, settling for inaction instead.

A few minutes later, another church leader approached me with a different narrative. “There was a homeless person here that made a few people uncomfortable. So I went over, spoke with him, gave him some food, and escorted him off the property. I thought you should know.”

This unclean homeless man, physically unclean at least, had literally just been cast out from our church gathering.

My personal churchy utopia, a South Floridian garden of Eden of sorts, suddenly felt a little unclean too.

Taken in the context of today’s scripture, a question: who had the unclean spirit?

• Was it the homeless man, unclean physically, who had been cast out?
• Or was it me, who had taken no action, settling for personal comfort instead?
• Or was the unclean spirit not dwelling in one person, but instead a shared symptom of the congregation itself?

And if this unclean spirit was a shared symptom of this South Florida church how else could we – should we – have responded? I’ve held on to this story for fifteen years now and continue to grapple with it. My hope is you too are challenged by it. My hope is also that it might inform how we minister to the unhoused and food insecure here at St. John’s too.

Close
Sometimes demons in our world are really easy to spot, especially in our era where news is so readily shared. Other times, the nature of unclean spirits is more nuanced, and asks us to take a deeper look within.

It is here where Christ breaks into our world and sees us for who we are, as spiritually clean or spiritually unclean as that may be. Jesus lived a life of transformation, of action, and stands ready to remove the unclean spirits that are not according to God’s plan, and pluck them from us.

The Imagine Dragons song Demons closes with these fitting lyrics, that point us right back to our savior:

Your eyes, they shine so bright
I want to save their light
I can’t escape this now
Unless you show me how

Dear Lord, show us the unclean spirits within ourselves, those spirits that act contrary to your plan, whatever they may be. Cast out those unclean spirits, leaving us only Your heart for Your people. Guide us to model you and then act, moved by the Holy Spirit, being part of the transformation of this world you so love.

Then empower us to make room at the table you invite each of us to for a grand banquet. It is a table where none are sent away, and ALL ARE WELCOME, without exception. It is a table where we share in the heavenly feast, right here on earth together, as one. Amen.