Clothed and In My Right Mind

As it happens, I belong to an adult Sunday school class at my church.  Members are put on teams to teach the weekly lessons, quarterly.  This is my team's quarter.  Unfortunately, the members of my team have dwindled--some with health problems, some with the health problems of family, and some that simply have too much stage fright to teach a group of adults.  Thus, the responsibility tends to fall on me (a retired teacher) and my grandparent-partner-in-crime, Judy Heffelman (a retired nurse).  Bless her, Judy is one of those people to whom people look to get things done.  She's in everything, does everything, and knows everyone--which, I think, is what keeps her young at heart.  She also sings in the choir which makes her sometimes unavailable to teach Sunday school on an expected basis.  I, however, have been very spotty in my church attendance of the last few months for one reason and another.  I promised her faithfully that, as soon as I got back from my sister's last time, I would take on teaching the lessons for the duration of our quarter.  And I have.

The series that I am teaching from is called Lazarus Awakening, which takes the miracle of Jesus's raising Lazarus from the dead to provide us with lessons in how to release ourselves from our own tombs.  (It isn't as simple as that, but you get the picture.)  Today's lesson had to do with the things that cause us to stay apart from ourselves and apart from God.  Part of that lesson had to do with another of Jesus's miracles: casting out demons from a demoniac who lived among the tombs.  I had long ago forgotten that story, or maybe never knew it, because I didn't understand it.  I do now.

Tombs in the Holy Land were often grottoes dug out of rock, with two rooms:  one was a vestibule with a stone seat, and the other was a place where the dead were lain to let decay do its job for a year or so before the bones of the dead could be removed and put in an ossuary to make room for the next family member to die.  According to the author of the series, it was not at all unusual for the poor or insane--outcasts of society--to live in the vestibules of graves..."among the tombs"...not quite out in the sunshine but not quite in the place of the dead, either.  (The metaphor is obvious.  Those of us who "dwell among the tombs" keep ourselves apart from sanity and grace.)

The story goes (in Mark 5), that Jesus and his disciples crossed a body of water and were confronted by a demoniac--someone who was insane.  (Psychiatry hadn't been invented yet, although mental illness surely existed in those days.)  This man was so far gone that he couldn't even be chained up to prevent him from hurting others or himself because he was so strong that he broke all of the chains and fetters.  Jesus drove the demons out of him into a flock (herd??) of pigs, and the pigs then ran down the hillside into the sea and were drowned.  Later, when others heard of the miracle and gathered 'round, they were amazed to see the crazy man calmly sitting there "clothed and in his right mind".

I had to chuckle to myself when I read those words.  My mother would occasionally call and ask if I was "up, clothed, and in my right mind".  I never realized this was a biblical reference.  I just thought it was one of my mother's quirky little sayings!  (I should have known better.  Mom had a very spiritual upbringing, although she rarely talked about it.  It showed in a lot of ways.)

For some reason, the lesson today was very successful with the class.  They were "with me" for the duration of our time together.  That is very gratifying to me, although I can't take credit for what it meant to the members of the class.  Talking about the lies we tell ourselves and the things that keep us figuratively in the tomb, worked.  Why?  Because there wasn't a single person in that room who could say they had never held a grudge against another.  No one could say that there were no issues that held them back from being the best person they could be in God's image.  Not one could honestly admit that they didn't feel sometimes unwilling to give up their normal way of responding to the ways of the world.  They/We keep ourselves entombed.

Today...just for today, perhaps...I am up, clothed, and in my right mind.  Tomorrow will happen as it does.  Still, I will take today's lesson into the week with me.  The walls we raise to keep us in the tomb keep out nothing except our understanding that we are loved and we are worthy.  God bless you this week!