Epiphany 4B (Mark 1:21-28)

Today’s gospel story, I think, should be perceived a bit differently. What I mean by “perceived a bit differently” is that it’s not just about Jesus exorcising the legion of unclean spirits. This phenomenon is rarely seen in our time. What we see much more often or perhaps too often is ourselves suffering from the legion of thoughts and feelings generated by those thoughts (thus feelings we obtain from the unreality, the imagined and nonexistent what-ifs). This legion’s presence is much more visible during this ongoing pandemic crisis. It’s not coincident that there’s even a TV show titled, “The United States of Anxiety.” 

The man with an unclean spirit in the lesson is situated in a strange setting where he doesn’t quite fit in. He’s in a synagogue on the sabbath day. He’s in the place where God’s laws are taught on the day set apart for worship. His presence of unrest, disturbance, and disharmony in the midst of what people consider holy and sacred is either awkwardly hidden or intentionally ignored until Jesus shows up. He has probably been the elephant in the room, yet no one would say anything about him. The unclean spirits in this man react and recognize Jesus immediately, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” Unspoken anxiety in the synagogue finally manifests itself and becomes public.  

While we can see in this story how Jesus reveals what’s hidden and thus unhealthy in a seemingly fine and even sacred time and place and how we as the body of Christ should do likewise in our communities and nation. Yet this is easier said than done unless we first look right into what’s hidden and what can become toxic in ourselves. This opening ourselves up happens when we invite Jesus into our hearts. Who he is and how he lives out his own teaching of love and compassion brighten our fear and anxiety. We don’t just face them on our own but with God who leads Jesus to the cross and to the resurrection. Our personified fear and anxiety might react and say, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”

“Be silent,” says Jesus to the shout. Silence is Jesus’ spiritual prescription for us to destroy the unreality where God isn’t and lead us back to the reality where God is. This silence, in other words, is Jesus’ call to “go into your inner room, close your door, and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you.” (Matthew 6:6) The rewards are the freedom from the legion of negative thoughts and feelings (or many selves in us), the peace that follows after, and the wisdom to see God’s presence within ourselves, among us, and in the world. Silence lets the devil come out. 

This contemplative silence takes practice. We learn to be silent by doing it. We shouldn’t be disappointed too quickly if a sense of calmness or peace is not experienced immediately. As soon as we desire to be in silence so we sit down quietly, courageously longing to face our fear and anxiety and to be in the presence of God, we’re no longer preoccupied with thoughts that make us anxious and afraid. I believe this spiritual practice of silence in particular can help us better deal with the pandemic crisis and political uncertainty we face. 

We start from the place of survival and move to the place of thrival as our profound silence in God deepens and connects us with the here-and-now where God is. Silence is the key to disconnect from the legion of negative thoughts and feelings and to connect with God. We also learn how to connect with one another, not just in person but in spirit. Through the breath we breathe in and out and the breath of God the Holy Spirit as we silently contemplate, we are in communion with one another. 

As we enter in the silence of God, let’s quietly ponder:

Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)
For God alone my soul in silence waits. (Psalm 62:6)
Be silent and come out of him (or ourselves). (Mark 1:25)