Who here does
laundry in their house? Does your spouse or partner do it, or do you?
Every couple
has a story of their partner doing the wash, and mistakenly putting the red
shirt in with the whites, with the inevitable result that all white items,
including socks and men’s undershirts and briefs, become a lovely shade of
Pepto-Bismol pink.
This is the reason why, on the back of every bottle of
laundry detergent, or in the instruction manual for each washing machine, these
instructions appear: “sort before washing.” Sort out the colored clothes, which
will be washed in cold or tepid water, and the white clothes, which are often
washed in hot water, with bleach. Why? Because the dye which creates the colors
in garments sometimes runs, and will stain the white clothes. Sort and wash.
You can
actually buy laundry sorting carts to aid you in this chore at Bed, Bath and
Beyond, or even Amazon.com, for prices ranging from a mere $20 to the
astounding price of $229.95, which buys you a “Mobile Complete Laundry Center
including a Fold-Away Ironing Board.” Who knew we needed such a thing?
Some of us are
a little more basic in our approach, but the underlying theory is the same. We
always do that sorting thing first, because we’ve learned the lesson of the
pink BVDs. Sort and wash. Separate out into categories – darks, whites,
delicates – first.
Sorting is
nothing new. We know this because we have two stories of sorting in our
readings from Scripture today, and there’s a little bit of washing up, too.
First the easy
one: in the Gospel passage, we hear of Jesus’ healing of a crazy guy. The fancy
Biblical scholar name for him is “the Gerasene demoniac,” but for our purposes,
it’s enough to know that he was a crazy guy. In ancient times, crazy people,
people who were considered possessed by demons, were usually cared for by their
families. We’ve read of other situations where people brought their
demon-possessed relative to Jesus for healing. But this story is different.
This fellow was so uncontrollable that the family abandoned him, and he lived
on the edge of town, in the caves that were used for tombs. He didn’t have any
clothes, and any time anyone went near those caves, his place of refuge, he
would come out and scream at them, because of the demons that possessed him. When
he was at the height of his madness, even shackles and chains would not hold
him, and everyone feared him and his demons.
Jesus came
upon him, and commanded the demons to leave the man. In essence, he was sorting
before washing - sorting out the man’s true nature from the crazy stuff, the
demons. Then he could cast out those demons – the washing part. But the demons
were quite comfortable living in this poor man, and said, “Jesus, leave us
alone.” Remarkable thing that the demons recognized who Jesus was, when so many
of the supposedly righteous and spiritually healthy did not, but that’s a sermon
for another day. But Jesus was sorting him out, so he responded to the demons
and said “what is your name?” The response came back “Legion.” Legion, the word
that means many – there were many demons in him. The people who originally
heard Luke’s story would have also gotten the wry pun – a legion is a unit of
6000 soldiers. This man was possessed by a huge number of demons, just as the
Jewish people were occupied – possessed, in a way, by legions of Roman
soldiers. They were soldiers who didn’t
belong in Israel, just as the demons did not belong in this poor man. And Jesus
was all about the sorting and the washing out of that which didn’t belong.
So after the
demons identified themselves as “Legion” Jesus did an odd thing – he asked them
what they would like him to do. He was going to do the sorting, have no doubt,
but he was offering them a choice in where they would go before they were
washed out of the man.
They said,
“put us into that herd of pigs over there.” This is another odd thing. We’re in
Israel, a Jewish country. Pigs are unclean animals, unfit for consumption.
Maybe they are there because the predominant population in the immediate area
is Gentile rather than Jewish, but maybe they are there because the Roman
soldiers like their bacon – who knows? – but the pigs are available, and they
are considered expendable, just dumb animals, and unclean ones at that, so
Jesus washes out the demons from the man and puts them into the pigs, just as
they’ve requested. The pigs aren’t too happy about this – Luke reports that
they run down the steep hill into the sea where they drown. Pretty dramatic
kind of washing out of the demons from the man. Not many washing machines could
do as effective a job!
And then the
man is sitting there, no longer the crazy guy who used to break chains and
shackles, just an average man wondering where he can find some clothes to cover
himself, and by the time the swineherds have told people in the village what
has happened, and they all come up to see for themselves, the man is dressed,
coherent, smiling, washed clean of his demons and his madness.
You’d think that
the villagers would be ecstatic about this. No more worrying if they will be
accosted by a crazy guy every time somebody is laid to rest in the tombs! But
this sorting and washing is frightening to them. If they have been the sort of
folks who have withstood the Roman occupation by keeping their heads low and
doing nothing to get the attention of the authorities, you can understand their
fear. Mightn’t Roman soldiers think “if this Jewish magic man can sort the
demons out of a crazy man, wash them out of him and send them into pigs,
perhaps he is thinking about washing us out of this place…maybe even turning us
into some sort of animal and killing us?”
So the
villagers tell Jesus, “yes, this is all well and good, this sorting and washing
business, and we are grateful that you helped this man, but you are drawing too
much attention to us, so please leave.” No more sorting and washing here, they
say. We just want to lay low, like pigs wallowing in the mud, as invisible as
we can make ourselves. But the man who had been possessed knows what happened,
and keeps telling the story to anyone who will listen.
We have
another story of sorting and washing in our Old Testament tale. We are
continuing in our story about the prophet Elijah. You may recall that last
week, Elijah challenged Jezebel’s husband, King Ahab, calling him to task for
murdering Naboth to get his vineyard. He’s done some sorting by telling Ahab of
his sin, and that he must repent. Ahab’s wife Jezebel, who had planned the
plot, intends to see Elijah killed. So this week, Elijah is on the run, and he
stops to catch his breath under a tree. He’s feeling pretty sorry for himself,
having realized that the person who does the sorting is not always appreciated
(just as Jesus found when the villagers said, “no more sorting here, please)
and he says to God “I’ve had enough. Let me die.” But he sleeps and dreams, and
is told to watch out for God, who is coming to bring him the next sorting and
washing instructions.
He waits in a
cave, and watches for the Lord. First, there’s a mighty wind, like a tornado.
Pretty scary stuff. Elijah thinks, “God sure likes a dramatic entrance,” so he
peeks out of the cave. No God. Hmmm.
It’s quiet for
a while. Then everything starts shaking. It’s an earthquake! Even more scary
than the tornado. “Elijah thinks, “okay, you’ve got my attention. Sorry for
whining before – I was just tired.” When the ground stops shaking, he looks out
the entrance to the cave. Nothing. Nada. No Lord.
Now Elijah’s
nervous. What will God do for His third act? Before he knows it, a wildfire
sweeps through. Elijah’s glad he is in a cave made of rock, and not under that
little tree, or else he would have been a little pile of ash. He peers out
through the smoke. “Surely God is here now,” he thinks, “because all of these
disasters are God’s handiwork.” But still nothing. Just utter stillness. A
desolate silence, but for the crackle of an ember.
Elijah goes
out and God whispers to him a question, the same question God has asked him
before. “What have you been up to, Elijah?” He responds, “I’ve been doing what
you told me to do. I’ve told the people of Israel how they have turned from
you. I’ve told Ahab he was doing bad things. And now all of the other prophets
are dead. All the others were sorted and tossed away. I’m the last one
standing, and I expect they’re coming for me soon.”
The one
prophet left after the sorting, afraid, broken by fear, but somehow still able
to stand and face his Lord. And the Lord said “Go.” As if Elijah had not only
been sorted out from the other prophets, but had been washed by the trials he
had faced, and was now ready to be sent somewhere different, somewhere new. “Go.
To Damascus. Continue in the work I have given you to sort and to wash clean
again my people.”
Sometimes the
sorting and washing is energizing – Jesus certainly doesn’t seem to slow down
after the healing of the Gerasene demoniac and the pathetic response of the
villagers. Sometimes it is a long hard slog. Elijah is exhausted, but that
still small voice of God, clear as wind chimes, says “Go. There is more work to
be done.”
Not a surprise
to those of us who do laundry. Sometimes, when all the laundry is washed and
dried and folded, the colors in one pile, the whites in another, the delicates
in yet another, it feels good. What good work we have done! Other times, we
feel drained, because we know that in a day or so the laundry will once again
pile up, will once again need the sorting and the washing. And if we feel that
way, can we imagine God as the great laundry superintendent in the heavens, who
always has another load of souls to be sorted, washed clean, and neatly tucked away?
And how it feels to know that the odds are that they won’t stay neat and clean,
they’ll more likely get soiled again and the whole cycle will repeat itself?
Sorting and
washing. It’s a part of our life. It seems like it’s a part of God’s life as
well. Good thing God doesn’t seem to tire of the task.
Amen.
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