Sermon

Boundaries

by The Very Rev. Terry White, Dean

Several years ago, when the children were much younger, and so was I, my Father’s Day gift was a combination badminton/volleyball set. Each is simple game that requires hours of setup, and seemingly a degree in engineering, to finally get the net just right. Being Father’s Day, I “supervised” the work of Linda Sue and the kids while watching the U.S. Open Golf Championship. Once the net was finally set, we played our first games and had a blast.

During the rest of that week, I watched several matches of badminton and volleyball as Timothy and Rebekah invited friends to play. Gauging by the laughter, they, too, had a lot of fun.

Before every game, a ritual took place: The liturgy of Setting the Boundaries. At first, no markers were used. Wherever the badminton birdie landed, a player stood there, lined things up, and judged whether it was "In" or "Out."

Initially that worked, until an opposing player disagreed. In the hope that disputes might be less frequent, there followed various attempts to mark boundaries with sticks, or a small rock, or a pile of dead grass. This made the imaginary lines a little easier to see, but mainly, it was still up to the players to agree whether a shot was in or out.

As games of volleyball became more frequent, another dimension was added. The ball would bounce and roll, so it wasn’t nearly so easy to tell if a shot landed in bounds or out.

At this point, the game took a backseat to winning an argument. "It was out." "It was in." "It was out." "It was in." Not surprisingly, there emerged a consistent pattern. Whoever last hit the ball always said, "It was in." The opponent always countered, "It was out."

Such a pattern is so common not only in our back yards, but in most of our occupations, communities, politics, and the Church. We set boundaries that can become more important than the game, or than life itself. Whether something is really out of bounds is too often not the point. Allowing me to say what is in and out becomes the issue.

It is very tempting to define in and out, right and wrong, loved and despised, sacred and profane by standards of our own creation, standards which change according to personal preferences or in deference to the preferences of those who surround us. And the worst concluding episode of this pattern is when the proclamation is made, with complete confidence: "God says this is out of bounds."

In the Gospel stories of Jesus’ life, the Lord calls us to be especially careful of this. The Lord cautions religious leaders most of all to beware of declaring “God can’t possibly be found in that person or in this situation.”

Last Sunday we heard how Jesus ate with the ritually unclean, and let a known sinner touch him and wash his feet with her tears. His host for the evening, a Pharisee, ruled, "That’s out of bounds." Jesus responded, "No. This is exactly how one forgiven by God should live."

That story ended the seventh chapter of Luke. By the time we encounter today’s Gospel well into the 8th chapter, since that dinner party hosted by the Pharisee, Jesus has been on the road, preaching the good news and healing those afflicted with infirmities and evil spirits. He has told the parables of the sower and the lighted lamp that should not be hidden, and has boarded a boat to cross the lake, only to be called upon to calm a raging storm. Now, as today’s reading begins, the boat has arrived near Gerasa, and immediately Jesus encounters an member of the Gerasene community, known by all, and feared by all, who has been named legio, legion, for it seems an army of evil spirits rules this person. He is naked, living amongst the graves of the dead, and when caught, is shackled to ensure he remains out of bounds.

Jesus heals him. And when news reaches the town and people come to see, they find him clothed, in his right mind, sitting at Jesus’ feet. The evil spirits are gone, the community is no longer in danger, the man is whole. The healed one says he wants to follow Jesus. How does the community respond? With joy and celebration? No. They are seized with great fear, and ask Jesus to leave them alone.

Such a puzzling response, astounding really. Is it possible that communities prefer to say “you and you are out of bounds, not welcome.” Is it possible communities prefer unhealth and disease in certain circumstances? Luke’s phraseology that the people were “seized by fear” is a reminder that when God changes our boundaries, thanksgiving may seem to be the obvious response, but unfortunately it is not the only response.

Two items from this past week have been on my mind and heart.

First, last Sunday, our Presiding Bishop was in London at Southwark Cathedral to celebrate and preach at the principal Eucharist at the invitation of the Dean. Bishop Katharine was notified by Lambeth Palace that she was not to wear a mitre at the cathedral. She was prohibited from wearing the sign of her office, whether because of her gender, and/or because of something else, we don’t know. A boundary issue to ponder.  (Read the Episcopal News Service article here.)

Second, I heard from a young man Linda Sue and I knew as a child twenty years ago when I was a vicar in Wisconsin. He had come across my name and decided to be in touch. He told us that this spring, after completing a graduate degree, he spent two weeks in Kenya. He wrote, "our second day there was spent visiting one of the slums in Nairobi. I get back to the States and I'm like - 'why do we worry about all these trivial things when there are real problems affecting real people everywhere?' So, while I am searching for my next job, I'm also doing research on how to get laptops and internet access for seven libraries scattered throughout East Africa."

Here, too, is a boundary issue, and a response. When boundaries are named, addressed, moved or removed, you and I can choose to respond with thanksgiving, and be agents of life.

This morning our diocese embarks on a ministry with our companion diocese of Botswana to minister to children in great need. The cathedral through the Social Action Committee has pledged a leadership gift of $10,000 to begin a ministry leading to health and a better life for children. A boundary is being moved. With your continued generosity, work, and prayers, we can actually obliterate this boundary.

The healed man wanted to follow Jesus. But the Lord told him he needed to stay in Gerasa, and testify to all that God had done for him. We, too, are called to proclaim all that God has done for us.

May the risen Lord deliver us from being seized by fear as he walks among us and offers us his grace and wholeness. As Christ heals us from the legions of evil spirits as well as the “trivial things we worry about,” may the Spirit breathe into us new life and make us agents of hope.

For the sake of Him who came not be served but to serve, may we leave the boundary-setting to God – and may you and I focus more and more on loving our neighbors as ourselves.

© Grace and Holy Trinity Cathedral