Pentecost 2C / Proper 7 (Luke 8:26–39)

​Peace is the word that every single religion, without a doubt, teaches and promotes. It wouldn’t be too much of a generalization to say that peace is also what every single person strives for. This morning, I’d like us to ponder two questions: 1) What is peace for us Christians? and 2) how can we access this spiritual and mental state of peace?

1) One of the most effective ways to learn something is by exploring its opposite. The man Jesus encounters in the country of the Gerasenes in today’s gospel lesson is a powerful example of a spiritual and mental state far from peace. “Legion” symbolizes his condition. In his mind, a war is raging—fighting day and night. He is clearly losing this war, stripped of his defenses, naked, bound in chains and shackles, under constant guard. He is a prisoner of an inner war, in which many selves argue endlessly. The legion wins over his mind, and he is left half-dead, wandering among the tombs.

No peace is found here. The closest semblance might be death itself, which may explain why the man finds rest only in isolation among the tombs. The only peace he can imagine lies behind the gate of the tomb. Yet it is this very tomb that the risen Christ empties—filling it not with decay, but with the peace of resurrection. To this man, Christ essentially says, “Peace be with you.” And yet, the presence of resurrection peace feels to him like torment. It brings order to his chaos, and that order feels like chaos. In this sense, peace is like antiseptic on an open wound. Christ’s presence—full of peace—is divine medicine.

2) The path to resurrection peace isn’t always peaceful, but it’s not always bumpy either. Every road trip has its ups and downs, and so does our peace trip. The difference is this: on a road trip, the bumps are on the road. On a peace trip, the bumps come from too many hands on the wheel. When not well managed, peace is delayed, and a legion is formed within.

It’s crucial on this peace trip that only two hands hold the wheel.

Think of our mind as a committee, filled with members who each carry different traits. (How many thoughts and feelings are already arising in our minds—even now?) Running a committee well requires the ability to facilitate—to stay focused on a central task. We must discern what’s important and learn to traffic-control the many side opinions. These thoughts may be valuable in their own way, but not all serve the goal of peace.

A key facilitation skill is active listening—paying close attention to what each committee member is saying in the mind. But there’s also another skill: paying attention to the movement of the mind. One way to do this is by checking in with the breath. Notice how you breathe when a thought or feeling arises. For instance, a committee member like “Sadness” might speak in slow, heavy breaths. Another, like “Anger,” may come with rapid, forceful breathing. We listen to each member—not just for what they say, but how they breathe.

As we concentrate on breath itself and regulate it according to the body’s need (does the body need energy, or rest?), the committee falls into order. And where there is order, there is no legion.

This work of the breath is the work of God’s breath—the breath that resurrects the dead and winds through the tomb. With this skill of inner facilitation, the risen Christ sends us back—back into the places of chaos. There, in the midst of it, we become the presence of order. The presence of Christ’s peace.



"The mind is a theater of many voices, not all of them our own." — William James
"You are not one, but many—and which one you are depends on who is looking." — Fernando Pessoa (The Book of Disquiet)
"We wear many masks, and beneath them lies not one true face, but many." — Hermann Hesse
"The 'I' is a crowd, a parliament, a marketplace of voices." — Julian Barnes
"Inside you, there are a thousand versions of yourself waiting to be lived." — Atticus
"I am large, I contain multitudes." — Walt Whitman (Song of Myself)