Good storytelling is all about the pacing. An experienced storyteller carefully scripts the increase in tension until the climax of the plot is delivered, and the denouement leaves everyone basking in amazement at the marvelous rendering they have just experienced.
It’s frustrating when others try to interject comments into the storyteller’s sequence of events. Those who know how the story will unfold egg the storyteller on, as if she needs their help. And of course, this simply destroys the craft of the storyteller and ends up annoying everyone.
I confess that I am sometimes one of the annoying intrusions into the art of storytelling. I don’t mean any harm by it, but I am so excited about the end of the story that I find myself trying to barge in with details. It is not helpful.
There are more serious examples of storytelling for which an interruption or interjection could give great offense. Victims of unspeakable crimes deserve the respect afforded their stories. Because of what they have been subjected to, they are the only ones who can relate their stories with integrity. For anyone to interrupt the telling of their narrative would be utterly disrespectful.
Each of us has our own personal stories to tell, and when we do so, we are vulnerable. It is our story to share, not someone else’s. We share something of our past or our present to which only we are privy. No one else really has the right to interrupt those stories or to tell them for us because we are the ones who have experienced what we are going to share.
And so it is not surprising that when Jesus casts out demons, he does not let the demons speak. They are trying to interrupt the story of his ministry, but it is not their story to tell.
This is the second week in a row in which we have heard of Jesus’ ministry of exorcism. If we can, let’s try to enter into this spiritual world. The modern mind, conjuring up grotesque images from the movies with heads spinning around, has all but dismissed the possibility of demonic spirits. But Scripture and our tradition tell us otherwise. And it hardly seems reasonable to assume that only the age of Jesus knew the reality of evil forces.
Earlier in this chapter of Mark’s Gospel, when Jesus heals a man with an unclean spirit, the demons cry out. They call Jesus by name and boldly claim to know who he is. But Jesus rebukes and silences them. Today, we hear of many demons that Jesus casts out, and whom he again does not permit to speak. Jesus has a story to tell, and the demons, as hard as they may try, do not have the right to tell this story. They do not really know the story. And they certainly don’t know how to tell it.
In the first chapter of Mark, we are already beginning to get a sense of something mysterious about Jesus, which some have called the Markan secret. He does miraculous things and yet does not want anyone to speak of them. And this applies to the demons, too. When the demons correctly identify him as a holy man, he silences them. It is not for them to tell his story. They want to share the end of the story, but it’s only the beginning.
The crowd, too, is wowed by Jesus, so much so that at one point in his early public ministry, the entire city gathers around the door of the house where Jesus has just healed Simon’s mother-in-law. And on the next day, when everyone is trying to track Jesus down, he suggests to his disciples that they move on to another town. Jesus is not ready for the spotlight yet. He is not ready to be crowned as Messiah because no one is ready for the kind of Messiah that he will be.
The bottom line is that Jesus has a story to tell. It is a story so profound, so shocking, and so unbelievably full of good news that Jesus must tell it in his own good time. He must tell it through his life. He is the storyteller, and no one else should impede on the structure of its plot line.
But there’s something else to it as well. Jesus knows that early on in his story, to try to sum it up in a few words would be to dishonor its depth. The demons who want to interrupt Jesus’ story want to proclaim his identity to the world too early in the game. The crowds who press in on the door of the house seem to desire the benefit of his healing, but are they really prepared to encounter the profundity of his narrative? They seem more interested in his miraculous deeds than in the full trajectory of his life, which will end in abandonment on a cross and ignominy.
And Jesus’ story will not be told simply in extravagant words but will be voiced also through his deeds: his healings, his miracles, his feedings, his breaking bread with others, his humility, and ultimately the laying down of his life for those who persecute him. This story will take time. To understand this story will take patience built in community. Jesus’ story is not just in the dramatic healings that cause people to break the door down to reach him. There is something deeper beneath it all.
For the demons to assert his identity too early in the story is for them to try to make Jesus’ story their own. If they steal the story, they will deceive the spiritually immature. They will claim a false power through their strident voices and deflect attention from Jesus. They want to channel their anger against the power of goodness that is so much stronger than they are. And they want to distort the message of the Messiah.
Not long before Jesus begins silencing the demons, he emerges from his temptation in the wilderness. We know that in the anguished time of desert solitude, the devil used Jesus’ authority and status to tempt him to abuse that authority. And Jesus did not give in.
Nor will he give in to the death gasps of the demons who recognize that a force greater than they has emerged on the scene. They want to interrupt his story out of fear. But this story can only be told by Jesus.
In our own day, who is commissioned to tell this story? With the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry, we know the story does not end. It is we who have been authorized to tell this story, and what a tall order it seems that we have his story to tell.
And with that great commission comes so much risk. This story is so sacred that it must be handled with care. It must be protected from those who would disrespect its magnitude or use it for their own ends.
We should be cautious of the bellowing voices who try to hijack this beautiful story and make it their own and not Jesus’. These voices will rush to glory far too soon. They will focus on the miracles and healings and the empty tomb, but they will forget about the sufferings and gory agony of death on the cross.
They will take a truth and twist it to buttress their own authority. These voices do not have the humility to let Jesus tell his story through us, as Jesus had the humility to let God tell his story through him. False voices want to assert Jesus’ identity as a way of building up their own perceived authority. They want to have the upper hand, the last word. And this is precisely why Jesus shuts down the voices of the demons. He is the only person who can tell his story, which Jesus knows is actually God’s story.
If we are going to authentically share the story of good news with which we have been entrusted, we are going to have to speak from our own experience of the good news. And this experience comes with the frustrations of life that ground us ever more in the depths of humility. This experience will mature as God strips away all our pretenses and accomplishments to hollow out a receptacle for his grace to fill us to the brim.
The story we share will not be a recounting of our own accomplishments and projects to which we attach God’s Name but of how God has redeemed our struggles, misdeeds, and missteps time and again through his unbounded mercy.
Notice how the demons are drawn to the drama of Jesus’ ministry. Notice how the crowds flock to Jesus when he is obviously working miracles and able to do something for them. And notice how they all flee when he drags his cross to Calvary.
So, what voices will we allow to speak, and which ones will we silence for the sake of the Gospel? We should fully expect to hear screaming and anguished cries when God is up to goodness among us. When God’s holiness cuts to the quick of life, the demons cry out. When God’s grace is at work, be on your guard for the wiles of the Evil One.
Gently notice this, and then move on. Because if there’s one thing we learn from Jesus’ encounter with the demons, it’s that there is a power and authority far greater than that of evil. And the demons know it, which is why they cry out in a last grasp at control.
We know that there’s a story that has changed the world for over two thousand years, and it is still being told. When it was first told, many chose not to hear it. And today, there are still many who choose not to hear it. But it still needs to be told. And we have been charged with continuing to tell this story.
This is not a story for impostors to tell. This is not a story for one sitting. It is not to be condensed into blanket promises of prosperity, and it should never be interrupted by bullying voices who want to mold the story into their own creation.
This story will cause the demons to cry out, and it will evoke rebellion from many. It will require patient telling. It will demand wisdom, discernment, and knowledge of the depth of suffering.
But it has an ending so glorious that we will be changed forever. Don’t interrupt the story. Let it play out in your lives. Let it sink into your bones. Let Jesus tell this story in you.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
February 7, 2021