Psalm 111; Mark 1:21-28
So far in this service, I've given us quite a rosy picture of what it's like to be gathered together, worshipping and praising God. But of course, in synagogues, and in churches too, life doesn't always run smoothly and peacefully.
For while we who are church members have promised to follow Jesus and to love and support each other, we are all still on the way to God, and all of us one way or another have been wounded by life: things we've gone through, things that have been said or done to us, things we have said or done to others.
Sometimes people inside and outside churches expect Christians to be perfect, and are disappointed when we are not; yet if we think about it, it's obvious that because we do not leave ourselves at the door when we come into church, we also bring into worship our share of the demons which attack all humanity: greed and self-centredness, pride and vanity, frustration and bitterness, self-hatred and despair.
Now that may sound like pretty bad news - at this point Iona may be wondering if she's chosen the right congregation to join - but in fact it's not. For our Gospel reading this morning tells us firstly of a man in the synagogue congregation whose demons have got hold of him, but secondly of Jesus' reaction: not to reject or to condemn the man, but to confront his demons and to expel them, transforming his life entirely.
Now I don't intend to denounce demons from the pulpit this morning - not directly, anyway. I have heard that ministers of St Andrew's could speak pretty much to the point when they saw particular faults and flaws in the congregation - condemning cliques, for example, of people who were only interested in their particular friends. Tales of thundering sermons have been relayed to me with approval, though presumably it wasn't the people who felt they were being got at who would pass those stories on to me. But while I always pray while I write my sermon that God will speak through what I say and through what you hear, I reckon Jesus often deals with our demons less spectacularly - and certainly not just through me.
For church membership in our denomination is very important indeed. We do not believe that it is only what the minister says and does that informs our relationship with God. It is through the ministry of us all, through the love and support and service that we offer to each other, that God is made known among us.
Sometimes that ministry is one of healing and encouragement. I know that there are people in this church whose own bereavement has helped them support others going through that dark experience. When we are with someone who knows something of what we are going through, we may be bold to whisper how we really feel and not how we think, as Christians, we should be feeling - and if that support is there from a fellow member or friend in this congregation, I am glad that Christ is casting out demons of isolation and fear in our midst.
Sometimes our ministry to one another may be more questioning, helping people consider how they may react under temptation. I know none of you would be crass enough to lay down the law to one another. This is what you must do, and you'd be wicked or a fool to do otherwise, always makes me want to rush off and do the opposite. But if we listen with care, and question with tact, our very concern may help each other to make a decision starting us off on the road of dealing with our demons.
Of course, care is a two-way process. It takes trust to share the thoughts we dread, to overcome the fear of misunderstanding, laughter or scorn in order to bring our demons into the light of day. And when we do offer support and help to one another, we must take care to promise only what we can fulfil; for hope and trust in help once disappointed will be slower to rekindle another time. And though in our Gospel reading this morning, Jesus no sooner saw the man than he expelled his tormentors, it often takes a while for old patterns of thought and behaviour to shift. Such new beginnings need to be thought through rather than a flash in the pan, or in the long run the change in our lives may be for the worse - remember Jesus' story about the man whose demon was expelled, only to have seven others take up residence within him?
None of this will be news to you. Members of this church were putting care into practice for decades before ever I came to Sheffield. But I wonder how much you have connected your care to your belonging to a church? As many would be quick to argue, and I would agree, we Christians have no monopoly on caring. Yet as we are Jesus' followers, should we not be distinctive in some way from others who care?
Looking at Jesus' actions in the synagogue, right at the beginning of his ministry - even before people started to get upset by him - I see two things. Whatever he says and does, teaching or healing, carries a personal authority which could not as yet have been based on his reputation. Even when he is recognised by the man's demons, rather than acknowledging their truth he silences them. Here Mark is starting to build up the tension which will only be released halfway through his Gospel, when Peter publicly acclaims Jesus as God's leader, the Messiah. Until that point, no one is to know just who he is - except us, Mark's readers, whom he has let into the secret from the start. But today, rather than expecting public respect because we are Christians, let's get on with the work of following Jesus: showing care for all, especially those who are outsiders to our community.
For the other thing I take from this brief story is that Jesus, far from being annoyed with a stranger interrupting his teaching in the synagogue with personal problems, sees the man's anguish and acts to relieve it. He does not tell him to pull his socks up, things could be worse; and the demons themselves recognise that their defeat is at hand. God cares about the demons that torment us, enough to face them with us, enough to face them down for us.
We are shortly going to be celebrating the meal that for Jesus and his friends would first have recalled God's liberation of Moses and the Israelites from Egypt, when God heard their groans in slavery and decided to help. But for them and for us that meal of bread and wine has also gained another meaning, foreshadowing Jesus' battle on the cross with all that would damage or destroy us, foreshadowing his death, and foreshadowing too the life transformed which God gave him and which God offers us too, individually and together as a congregation.