Big, bold, black letters painted on the sidewalk along a busy street near our home: “I AM READY TO DIE!” Do we live in an age of denying, dodging, and defying death? Death is a fact of life – a key component that offers both humility and perspective. Is it bravado to claim that one is ready to enter this singular passageway to what is yet to be? Maybe. Maybe not.

It seems possible that too many people are readier to die, to go so far as to taunt or to court death, rather than to deal with the challenges in front of them. What do they have to live for? Piling up more of whatever they deem as worthwhile? Cheap thrills? The riveted attention of the masses (or at least of someone)? They can never be the absolutely outstanding idol that social pressure goads them to be. They mistake fantasy for reality.

To live takes resources beyond one’s self and demands courage and resilience. To live well invites us to put aside childish, self-centered ways (the line of least resistance): to choose the path of integrity and self-gifting love, to discover and to become passionate about the gift we have been given to develop and to share, moved by God’s Spirit to work wholeheartedly to make this world of ours the place that God dreams it to be. In short, life to the full requires all that we are and all that we have. That’s what makes it worthwhile. 

The question is: “AM I READY TO LIVE?”

Who does Jesus send out on mission? If we look at the names and remember their stories, it’s crystal clear. These are not the best and the brightest. Nor are they morally perfect. On their own, they will not conquer the world; they will not even be able to stick with Jesus when his life is on the line. Yet, Jesus called them and empowered them with life-transforming authority (Matthew 10:1-7).

Out of their personal experience of Jesus, early on, the Twelve were able to bring healing and liberation to those who were feeling lost, aimless, worthless before God and humanity. The combination of their words (echoing Jesus’) and actions (imitating Jesus’ all-inclusive compassion) gave credibility to their proclamation of God’s in-breaking Kingdom.

Our world today needs this Good News. People are lost, wandering – lives going nowhere. Do we think that we’re not worthy to do this crucial work? Have we ceded our responsibility to a class of “experts” (who may or may not know how to be shepherds, or are separate from the daily struggles and joys of their “sheep”)? Do we believe that sharing our experience of Jesus today, and his vision that offers forgiveness, second chances, hope…can’t make a difference? 

We have all we need. We believe in a God who’s crazy in love with us – with everyone. The Spirit of Jesus has been entrusted to us. Healing and liberation are still available.

What’s the catch? Oh yes! We need to allow ourselves to be emptied of our fear, ego, expectations – all that closes us in on ourselves. So what if we can’t take credit for all that we have been given? Are we willing to make this tradeoff – self-centeredness for the indelible experience of being loved. And sent out to help transform the lives of others.

Not in our neighborhood! Not in my backyard! We just don’t feel right, or comfortable, or (maybe) safe with that kind around here. We’re good, honest, hardworking folk. We just want to be left alone to live our lives the way we want. How can we say this clearly? “You just don’t belong here.” Get the message!

Beginning the 5th chapter of Mark’s Gospel (Mark 5:1-20) is the story of a man, in the territory of the Gerasenes, who is possessed by a violent, destructive spirit (like we are sometimes?). Jesus has crossed over the Sea of Galilee, and as soon as he disembarks, the possessed man comes charging out of the local graveyard to confront whomever has come into his home turf, disturbing his chosen isolation.

Here is someone so interiorly enraged and in turmoil that no one can approach, much less restrain the man. Smashing, gashing, shattering all that is within reach – including himself. Somehow he recognizes who this is who has invaded his domain – his home,   unclean from the rotting corpses and bones of the dead, surrounded by a pig (unclean animal) pasture, in a pagan (unclean) land. He screams, “What are you doing here?” This isn’t where you belong! “Are you going to hurt me even more then I already am?”

Long story short: Jesus heals and liberates this man, fills him with a profound, unknown peace. Even conceding the final request of sending the mob of demons out of the man into an extremely large herd of pigs, who rush headlong over a cliff into the sea and drown. The swineherds, knowing that this will not turn out well for them, immediately hurry to the nearest village to report what had happened. It’s not our fault.

The villagers come out to see for themselves (maybe searching for 20 freshly emptied wineskins?). Occurrences such as this don’t take place here. We like things just the way they are. Don’t change a thing. But there is the raft of floating swine corpses, there is the madman from the tombs dressed, tranquil, lucid (even pleasant?), and there is an outsider, a foreigner, a stranger. 

This intruder has entered unwelcome, interfered in their lives, destroyed a major part of the local economy… Afraid, they ask this outsider to leave, now, please. They show absolutely no regard for the one who has been healed of unimaginable torment. The man asks Jesus, if he can go with him, away from this inhuman place, this madhouse. Jesus gently directs him back to his family. He probably has work to do to reconcile the hurt that he has caused, and Jesus gives him the mission to share the Good News as he himself has experienced it.

Jesus comes into our messed up, beautiful, crazy, wonderful world. What is our response? Welcome, or You don’t belong here? Habitual fear wrestles with hope. What radical change are we willing to endure, to embrace, in order that we, those we love, those we don’t even know, our world can be healed and liberated?