Isn’t it nice to be able to enter a holy space, take a deep breath, and know that you’re safe? If you’ve been here before, you know pretty well what you’re going to get, as far as worship is concerned. We’ll say some words, chant a psalm, sing some songs, hear the choir sing, pray together, eat bread and drink wine, then shake hands and pat each other on the back and get some coffee and get on with our lives.

Gathering here for worship isn’t a bad thing—this is one way to observe the Sabbath, to follow the commandment that there is to be a day of rest. And while it feels nice to think of ourselves as righteous on the basis of observing this commandment, we can admit to ourselves that part of the reason we’re here is because we need a break from the rest of the world. We need a break from a world that tells us our value is in how much money we earn or how we are dressed or how we look or how young or old we are. We need to be reminded that we are children of God, that our status isn’t earned, that our citizenship is not bestowed upon the deserving or upon those born in a certain place. We are claimed in baptism, and of this we are reminded every week in worship that God has chosen us. And what a relief! We need to be reminded that we are beloved.

I suspect the good people of Capernaum gathered in their synagogue on the Sabbath as usual, knowing pretty well what to expect in gathering for worship and learning. They’d see the familiar faces of fellow believers, they’d hear from the students of the law about what to do and what not to do, and then they would head home for a day of rest. But something different happened on the day that Jesus showed up.

First of all, he taught as one having authority—as though he knew what he was talking about and really believed it. This was, at the same time, familiar and also new. And then something really crazy happened: a man showed up, right there in the middle of the synagogue, and started yelling. You could feel the air go out of the room. Everyone got tense and started looking around, with wide eyes. Where are the ushers? Everyone expected someone else to escort the loud man out of the synagogue so he could take his yelling somewhere else. And then they could get back to listening to this new teacher, Jesus, and try to figure him out. Later on, we can all have a laugh about that yelling guy—what was he talking about? Good thing he didn’t hang around to bother us for too long. Let’s get back to the point of the lesson.

Except something surprising happens. This new teacher, Jesus, doesn’t dismiss the disturbance as mere craziness. Jesus doesn’t blush and stammer, waiting for someone else to act. He speaks directly to the unclean spirit—he recognizes it and calls the thing what it is—and instead of dismissing the person, Jesus dismisses the unclean spirit. And now…back to the lesson? Back to business as usual? Back to the familiar and understandable? Well, it seems there is no going back now.

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near,” Jesus says. “Repent, and believe in the good news.” Our gospel writer Mark reports this as Jesus’s first sermon, and this is the clue to help us understand everything that comes after it. Just after saying this, Jesus is calling followers, who leave their jobs and their paychecks to follow Jesus, without even knowing where he’s really going, except that the destination is the kingdom of God, wherever that is. And, as they follow, they discover this new way of life references familiar activities, like going to the synagogue on the Sabbath, in Capernaum. But somehow the social order is disrupted if a person who is yelling in the synagogue is attended to in a loving way, when Jesus casts out the unclean spirit rather than casting out the person. This is not business as usual—this is the messiness of life, showing up in the synagogue, in the holy place, but instead of disrupting it, Jesus sees this as an opportunity to reveal the kingdom of God. This is an opportunity to reveal the truth, that the kingdom of God is a place of healing.

How nice it might be if this sanctuary were truly an escape—that we could gather here for worship and we could ignore the problems of the world for a sweet little while! But our demons and our unclean spirits arrive here with us. This is difficult for us to talk about, because we don’t say we recognize demons in the same way people did in Jesus’s culture. We look to medical discipline for diagnoses of mental conditions and chemical imbalances which lead to the kind of behavior that might look like demon possession. We expect science to explain everything that goes on in the physical world. And while great strides have been made and healing has happened, I suspect that science leaves our culture wanting, as long as we can look to science fiction and movies about exorcisms and the supernatural. I think it’s more than entertainment: it’s searching for some explanation for the forces that possess us.

Because we do still talk about being possessed by emotions, even if we don’t call these demons. Who can say they haven’t occasionally been possessed by anger or jealousy or prejudice? Who doesn’t behave differently while they’re experiencing pain? Some of us have experience with addictions, either within ourselves or in our friends or family. Can we be our God-created, beloved selves when possessed by the effects of addiction to alcohol or drugs or gambling or pornography? It’s also possible to be possessed by unclean spirits that appear acceptable, like workaholism, affluenza, or greed. But even if none of these things possesses us, the unclean spirit that often creeps in unnoticed—right here into this holy space—is fear. We fear the future, we fear the church’s budget, we fear the consequences of a budget deficit, we fear the loss of influence in our neighborhood and in society and in our own opinions. Our demons don’t always call out in the middle of worship and disrupt the liturgy, but these unclean spirits are nonetheless disruptive to our lives and to our life together as a church.

Can we ignore these things? Is there a way to politely escort the unclean spirits out of the holy space? The man with the unclean spirit cries out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us?” And Jesus speaks directly to the unclean spirit and says, actually, yes.

David Lose of Luther Seminary says that the first part of Mark’s gospel could be explained this way: “Jesus has been baptized, tempted in the wilderness, and now comes to proclaim and demonstrate the kingdom of God on earth, and he does this by opposing the forces of evil which would rob the children of God of all that God hopes and intends for them.”

The kingdom of God has come near—a kingdom of right relationships and a kingdom of healing. This good news speaks louder than the voices of the unclean spirits. And that is why we have confidence in this holy space. Because Jesus speaks with clarity—with authority!—and speaks directly to the unclean spirits and tells them to be silent. Casting out the unclean spirits makes way for the Holy Spirit, which makes way for healing, which makes way for the unexpected, which makes way for the kingdom of God, which is right here among us, right now.

And do you know how I know the kingdom of God is near? It’s not because we’re perfect or because we aren’t occasionally possessed by unclean spirits. But I know the kingdom of God is near because healing is going on. Here we have children writing encouraging words to a beloved teacher, expressing hope for his physical healing, and here we have people caring for him who aren’t biologically related to him except that we have become family as children of God. I know the kingdom of God is near because you care for one another; you even care for each other’s animals. I know the kingdom of God is near because you feed the hungry, faithfully—with Meals on Wheels for almost 37 years and with Mount Olive Lutheran Church’s food pantry ministry for many years as well.

I know the kingdom of God is near because you pay attention to the healing of the environment, recycling materials and being conscious of water usage and tending plants and flowers. I know the kingdom of God is near because you care for the vulnerable, especially children, through the Child Development Center and also through teaching classes on Sundays. And I know the kingdom of God is near because you also willingly learn from the children—even when the lesson is a confusing one with lots of noise and activity, and before long, we’re all singing “Jesus Calls Us O’er the Tumult” and laughing as we realize IT’S SO TRUE!

I know the kingdom of God is near because Jesus calls us, and we are following. And we don’t have to fear disruptions or the future because we know that God is with us, Jesus is leading us through the Holy Spirit.

Isn’t it nice to enter this holy space, take a deep breath, and know that God is at work? “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” Amen.