Sermon on Matt 8:28-9:1 

Two demons meet Jesus and cry out, “What have you to do with us, O Son of God?” (Matt 8:29) Now, a demon is an angel that strives to separate itself and others totally from the light, utterly devoid of kindness, grace, truth, and love. In other words, they seek to have nothing whatsoever to do with God or God’s son. And this is the basis of their question. Their malice and the grace of God have nothing in common (Remig.). As Paul observes, there can be no fellowship of light with darkness (2 Cor 6:14).

John teaches us that “God is light and that in him there is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). Whereas the sole project of these demonic creatures is to snuff out all the light, if such were possible.

Now, this relationship between the darkness and the light, between good and evil, between presence and absence, between life and death is not a balanced or symmetrical relationship. You can find that idea in other religions, but not in Christianity.

You have probably at some point seen a yin yang. This is a Taoist symbol. A circle divided by an S-shaped line, half black and half white, with a small circle of black in the white and the small circle of white in the black. I’m oversimplifying, but this is meant to show that everything is in balance and that seemingly opposing forces – like darkness and light, life and death, and so on – are actually dependent on each other. This is not the Christian perspective.

Remember, “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all.” There is no dark circle in the light of God. If we were to draw a similar symbol as Christians, we would put no dark circle in the light segment. However, the opposite is not true. There is indeed a bright circle in the dark segment. That is to say, there is goodness and light in everything that exist. But there is not evil and darkness in everything. There is no evil or darkness in God. Our perspective is asymmetrical. We recognize a dualism between good and evil, but ours is a modified, imbalanced dualism, with the scale tipping very much in favor of the good.

According to Abbot Tryphon, some Gnostics taught “that the entirety of being is made up of two realms which have forever existed together: the kingdom of light, and the kingdom of darkness.” Now someone might say, “Oh, that sounds like heaven and hell.” But this is to misunderstand that relationship totally. We reject this teaching and any notion of equivalence between light and darkness, between life and death, or between God and the evil one.

We do believe there is a devil and that he is indeed a powerful creature. The gospel today tells us of demons and of some of the destructive power that they can wield over human lives. But notice that I call them “creatures.” They are created. They are not uncreated like God. They are not his equals. They are dependent upon him for everything, even for their being, for their very existence. Just as you are and just as I am. We are creatures too.

It is plain in today’s gospel that, although the demons have destructive power, and although they want to have nothing to do with the Son of God, they remain entirely under his authority. They can sense that he is going cast him out and that they therefore will be cast out, and so they beg for permission to enter the swine. They and we can do nothing without the permission of our creator.

He tells them to go into the swine and they do go, driving the whole herd to its death in the waters. They take any opportunity for death and destruction they can get, no matter how petty.

Before I said that there is goodness in everything that exists, and I mean that. But, what about these demons? you may ask. Is there is goodness in them? Well, do they exist?

Let me back up. Evil does not exist in and of itself. It has no essence of its own and it was not created by God. We reject the Gnostic notion of uncreated and eternal evil existing alongside the uncreated good God. Darkness is not a thing that exists, but is only the absence of light. Likewise, cold is the only absence of warmth. And death is only the absence of life. And evil is only the absence of good.

But the opposites are not true. Good is not merely the absence of evil. Evil is a privation, but good is what really is.

For example, you are not your sin. Who you are is good. You are a good image of God. That’s what makes your sin a sin – it goes against who you really are.

An evil cannot exist without a good to deprive, but good has always existed for all eternity before creation and for all eternity yet to come, and it has existed without any evil in it at all. God, who alone is both uncreated and everlasting, is entirely good and in him there is no evil at all.

God created angels, just as he created every creature that exists, and his creation is good. Those angels who choose to use their God-given power destructively, rebelliously, and pridefully we call demons. But inasmuch as the demons continue to exist, there remains some good in them. If there did not, they would cease to exist. The paradox is that without that good of existence, they could do no evil.

It remains an unplumbable mystery as to why God allows evil to exist. There is no answer to that question. But today Jesus gives us the clear example of how to deal with it. Tell it to go.

Let’s do the good we can do. Bring comfort to the afflicted, as Jesus does today to the two men possessed by demons, even at the expense of a herd of pigs. Two human beings are worth more than many pigs, and you are worth more than many sparrows (Matt 10:31). See the value in one another and go to whatever lengths and expense necessary to love another, comfort one another, support one another. This will go a long way in driving out the evil influences in our lives.

And for some additional ammo against the evil ones, remember what Saint Anthony of Egypt said: “The devil is afraid of us when we pray and make sacrifices. He is also afraid when we are humble and good. He is especially afraid when we love Jesus very much. He runs away when we make the Sign of the Cross.”

Sermon on Matt 8:5-13. 

All of us are under authority. Most of us have some authority.

And Many of us have problems with authority.

A mother says to her son, “Go.” And the son says, “Send my brother instead. He’s not doing anything.” A priest says to his parishioners, “Come.” And they say, “Maybe we’ll come next time. We’re too busy with other things at the moment.” A manager says to his worker, “Do this.” And the worker says, “Do it yourself.” Maybe the worker gets fired for this, but it feels really good for a minute to tell off the boss. Many of us would like to say something like that to our boss, because many of us have problems with authority.

Of course, maybe the parent or the priest or the boss is an autocratic tyrant. That’s another kind of problem with authority – a failure of the authority to recognize that they are also under authority. There’s an important distinction between being authoritative and being authoritarian.

Our society is so given over to democratic ideas, we may be particularly bad at understanding and accepting authority – other than our own authority over our own selves. Nobody else better tell me what to do, we think. We forget – some of us – that heaven is a kingdom. And that Jesus Christ is King – not president – of every nation. But the government of God is not by the consent of the people – the δῆμος. Whether or not you have voted for Jesus Christ, he is your king. His authority over you and me is real and essential.

You see, real authority comes from above – from God – not from below – neither from the δῆμος or the demonic. But both people and demons seek to imitate authority – to seize power that is not theirs but truthfully is God’s, to assert their own will upon others instead of submitting to the will of God.

Well, the centurion in Capernaum (kuh-PERR-nay-uhm ) has something to teach us about authority – both about leadership and obedience. He lived and worked in a framework of authority – a chain of command – that helped him to understand the authority of Jesus Christ, the Word, who can heal the servant by his word.

A centurion in the Roman army was a person who had command of a century, which sounds like it would be a hundred soldiers but was usually around eighty. But he was also under authority. He was in the midst of a chain of command – both one to give orders and one to follow them. Maybe he can help us with our problems with authority.

He says to Jesus, “I also am a man under authority,” and, he says, “[There are] soldiers under me; and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and he does it” (Matt 8:9). Such crisp obedience he speaks of. How alien to us! The centurion is a witness for us of both leadership and obedience.

Firstly, unlike autocrats, who are concerned first of all always with themselves – always with maintaining their own authority over others – the centurion, who bears his authority well, is concerned first of all for the welfare of those under him. This is to be the priority for those who lead.

The centurion’s servant “was dear to him,” according to Luke (7:2). He comes to Jesus full of concern and solicitude for his servant. He comes to Jesus and beseeches him – “with grief,” as St. Rabanus puts it – and says, “Lord, my servant is lying paralyzed at home in terrible distress.” And he says, “Only say the word and my servant will be healed.” He seeks what is good for his servant: healing from the true healer. He treats his servant with compassion. As St. Rabanus says, “In like manner, ought all to feel for their servants and to take thought for them.”

We can see easily enough, I hope, how good and appropriate it is for a leader to take care of those under his authority in this way. What we might miss if we don’t understand the historical-cultural context of this passage is how counterculturally the centurion is behaving.

He comes to Jesus about his “servant.” The word used for “servant” here is “παῖς.” Now, a παῖς is a boy – rather like a garçon. But the word connotes more than that. The next entry in the lexicon is παίω, which means to strike or to smite – to hit as if by a single blow with the fist. Now, these words are likely related because a παῖς is a boy whom you may beat with impunity – a punching bag, a whipping boy. A παῖς is really more a kind of slave than what we would think of as a servant. In fact, in Luke’s version of the story, he’s called a δοῦλος – a slave (Luke 7:2-10).

Now, you wouldn’t want to be a slave under Roman law. It was chattel slavery. It was almost – though not quite – as bad as American slavery. It was even permitted – and thought in some cases economically well-advised – to work your slaves to death, rather than wasting resources on feeding them and housing them.

But this is not how the centurion treats his servant. Even in defiance of his own culture, he cares for those over whom he has authority. A real leader must not succumb to the social and cultural pressures all around him to do other than what is best and right for those whom he leads.

The centurion does not seek the best way to use others for his own purposes and ends and goods, but seeks their own good with humility – admitting to the Lord that he is not worthy that the Lord should enter under his roof (Matt 8:8).

He is not first of all concerned with self-promotion or causing others to recognize his authority. He is concerned first of all with helping one under him who is suffering, and he does this by honoring the authority of someone else – namely, the authority of Jesus Christ over all things and his power to heal all sicknesses.

The centurion recognizes the real authority of Jesus Christ. He is intimately familiar with the workings of authority in ways that we – in our more democratic age – may not be. He even kind of identifies himself with Jesus. Pseudo-Chrysostom says that the centurion “clearly” does not draw a “distinction,” but points “to a resemblance… between himself and Christ.” Listen to the way he says to Jesus, “I also am under authority.”

What authority is Jesus under? Pseudo-Chrysostom says he is “under the command of the Father, in so far as [he is] man, yet [he has] power over the Angels.”

Then, it’s as if the centurion goes on to intimate, “I also wield authority. As one who has authority, I recognize that you have authority, too. I give commands and my soldiers obey. You, O Lord, give commands and the whole cosmos obeys. You order all creation by your word. Your authority is the source of all authority. Only say the word and my servant will be healed.”  This is the absolute authority of Christ. What he says is so. Just like that. If he says, “Let it be,” then it is.

Let’s consider the authority of Christ for a moment. Authority – ἐξουσία – means literally that which comes out of essence or being. And Christ himself is the being one – ὁ ὤν – the one who is – the very God and ground of all being who reveals himself to Moses in the burning bush. When truth himself and the author of truth speaks, it is clear enough he speaks with authority. And, more than this, he is the ground of all authority that exists. We may covet power, authority over others, control of others, but unless the authority is given by Christ, it is no authority at all but only an illusion of authority.

And, if we have indeed been given authority, we must always remember, like the centurion, and even in some ways like Jesus, that we are also under authority. Leaders actually function in a long line of authorities responsible for guiding and protecting others. And the Lord – the true and highest authority – will hold leaders accountable for how they exercise their power.

Drawing on his experience in a chain of command, the centurion was able to see and understand the spiritual workings of authority in the Kingdom of Heaven so well that Jesus says of him, “not even in Israel have I found such faith.” Let us share his faith and wield our God-given authority as he does – with humility, with obedience to all who truly have authority over us, with awareness of Christ’s absolute authority, and with care, concern, and love for those we lead.