Broken-Hearted, Soft-Hearted, Open-Hearted Disciples
Luke 8:26-39
Lyndale UCC- June 22, 2025
Rev. Dr. Rebecca Voelkel
You do not carry this alone. No, you do not carry this all alone. This is way too big for you to carry on your own. So, you do not carry this all alone.
Last weekend, seven of us from Lyndale were gathered with about 200 UCC folks from around the Minnesota Conference for Annual Meeting. It is a place and space I’ve been to for almost thirty years and it holds many, many beloved colleagues and friends. On Saturday morning, as we were in a plenary session, we began to get news that there had been a shooting in Brooklyn Park. And then, a member of Robbinsdale-Parkway stood and shared the news that Melissa and Mark Hortman had been killed and that John and Yvette Hoffman were in critical condition. We all sat in stunned silence while many wept openly. T Michael and Monica Powers and Victoria Wilgocki and I just laid our hands on each other’s shoulders as the tears flowed.
I could feel my heart breaking as I let in the news and I was overcome with grief.
I’ve felt my heart break a lot this last week: as Kathy Hayden and I laid flowers and notes on the memorial for Speaker Hortman at the Capitol… as I gathered with several thousand folks on the steps of the Capitol for the candle vigil and the Minnesota Orchestra played How Great Thou Art and Amazing Grace: “through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come…” as I heard the story that Melissa carried a copy of the prayer of St. Francis in her wallet, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love…” and then saw a copy of the prayer that had been laid on the memorial…
As I’ve spoken with others, broken hearted is how so many of us are feeling.
This morning, I’d like for us to consider the sacred task of letting our hearts break. I’d like for us to consider the spiritual work of grieving and mourning and keeping our hearts softened and open.
[pause]
Our scripture for this morning comes from Luke’s gospel, a portion of the eighth chapter. There is a lot that can be said about this text. And I need to say one word of caution before I engage with it.
Texts like these and others that speak of demonic possession have far too often been used to abuse and oppress people living with mental illness or who are queer or have physical disabilities. There has been an equation between mental or physical disability or queerness and demon possession. This kind of equation is wrong. It is scriptural abuse. It’s also just bad biblical scholarship. Scripture should never be used as a weapon.
[pause]
Instead, this text is a story about resistance, healing, love, and the power of a broken heart. It is at once a pastoral story and an allegory of Jesus’ struggle against Empire. Let me talk about the allegory part of the story first.
The horde of demons possessing the Gentile man are called “legion.” This is an odd name until we understand that legion is the name of a Roman fighting unit comprised of about 6000 soldiers. Interestingly the Roman 10th legion was based in Syro-Palestine (the region in which this story takes place) and had a wild boar as the insignia on its standards and seal. What is more, historian Josephus alleges that during the Jewish revolt that Vespasian sent Lucius Annius on a raid against Gerasa, this city in which this story takes place, where the city and surrounding villages were burned and destroyed.[1]
This story of the Gerasene man possessed by a demon is found in all three synoptic gospels (Mark, Matthew, and Luke) with almost the same language. Many liberation and post-colonial biblical scholars point to three things in the story to argue that it is an allegory about Jesus’ resistance to the Roman Empire. First, the possessed man identifies himself as “Legion.” Second, the recent history of the Roman destruction of Gerasa. And, third, the way the story has the legion of demons enter the pigs and the fact that the Tenth Roman legion that was based in Syro-Palestine had a wild boar as its insignia.
So, this story is very much the story of Jesus and his confrontation with, and ultimately liberation from the violent colonization of the Roman Empire.
But, those same scholars are quick to note that Jesus is deeply pastoral in this story, too. The fact is that the violence of Empire has deeply possessed and colonized the mind, body, and spirit of this man. He is unable to live in community, he is hurting himself and others. He is being tormented by his possession.
Jesus sees this and his heart is broken by the man’s pain. He has empathy for the man. Because of his broken hearted empathy, Jesus confronts the demons, heals the man, and restores him to community.
There is so much more I could say about this story. But this morning, I want to talk about Jesus’ empathetic, compassionate ministry and the hard-hearted Empire moment we find ourselves living in.
We’ve talked some here at Lyndale about the ways in which Project 2025, the New Apostolic Reformation, and the Seven Mountain Mandate movements are all overlapping and how they are simply modern re-articulations of the Doctrine of Discovery. At their core, they posit that only White Christians are human beings deserving of dignity and respect. The Seven Mountain Mandate explicitly talks about calling for White, Straight, Cisgender, Able-bodied, Christian men to be in charge of the seven areas of society.
Furthermore, these movements lift up the notion of “toxic empathy” and the “sin of empathy.” They say that true Christians need to turn away from Satan as he tempts Christians to feel empathy, particularly for queer and trans people, for people seeking reproductive health care, for people of other religious traditions, for immigrants. When people feel empathy for these people, it is sinful or toxic and it is a temptation from Satan.
Additionally, like with the Doctrine of Discovery, if violence is necessary to keep domination in the hands of white Christians, then there is God’s blessing for this.
As more and more emerges about the shooter who assassinated Melissa and Mark Hortman and shot John and Yvette Hoffman seventeen times, it is becoming clear that he was deeply rooted in the New Apostolic Reformation.[2]
In much the same way as Pharoah’s heart was hardened, the shooter’s heart was hardened. As he dehumanized queer people, people seeking reproductive health care, Democrats, immigrants, non-Christians, his heart became hardened and his mind became more and more colonized by the lies of the New Apostolic Reformation.
But hard-hearted dehumanizing is not what we are called to do and be.
My dear friend and colleague, Jessica Intermill, wrote: “Walking through this week as a Minnesotan, my heart is broken. But I’d rather it break 10,000 more times than let it harden. That is our work.”
I see in our story of the Gerasene man, a Jesus who lets his heart break- both at the brutality of the Roman legion and at the suffering that Empire possession causes- in the man and in those he attacks. And out of his broken heartedness, Jesus liberates the man, defeats Empire’s legions, and restores the man to beloved community.
My friends, we are living in a time of Empire’s possession. We are living in a time when too many of our kindred are possessed by hard-hearted cruelty. ICE raids, legislation that would take health care away from over 10 million people, the military turned on civilians… and assassins who are possessed by an unrecognizably desecrated Christianity.
And it isn’t just out there, it is in our individual and family lives. I don’t know about you, but I have felt the desire for retribution and revenge rise up in me. I feel the siren call of hard-heartedness.
But as ones called to be followers of the Jesus way, we are called to stay broken-hearted, soft-hearted, open-hearted. For that is the way that makes for love… and compassion… and empathy… and peace. And I know that the only way I can return to my heart is by hearing from Jessica and others. None of us can do this alone. We need each other to help us stay in our broken and soft hearts.
Before he left, T Michael asked that we hold him and the seventy male-identified folks he has been with this week. They are, as we speak, in their closing rituals. T Michael asked for these prayers amidst a conversation about Melissa and Mark’s murders. He said the work that he and his kindred are engaging is the quest for a spiritually mature and soft-hearted masculinity. He said, in this moment that is filled with the siren calls of toxic masculinity, he and his companions are doing the spiritual work of vulnerability, and broken-heartedness, of empathy and compassion.
This is particular work for male-identified people right now. But it is work for all of us. How do we stay present to and honoring of, our broken hearts? How do we stay vulnerable and soft-hearted?
But I think there’s one other piece to name. Paying attention to our hearts, allowing them to break, following them as they lead us toward one another isn’t just about grief and sorrow. It’s also about joy and claiming the world we want to build. It’s how we get free.
Yesterday, I had the honor to be with Jae and Micah Louwagie, lux knutsen cowles, Max Brumberg-Kraus, Kelly Waterman, Seth Anderson-Matz and about fifty others as we participated in a trans flag raising. Now, that might sound like a weird thing. And I honestly didn’t have any idea what it was going to be. I went because people I love asked me to be there. And I was overwhelmed by how much I needed that space and the medicine of the joy, connection, and creativity.
With a brass band, about a dozen people, all carrying different flags, marched down the block toward the small park where we stood. When they got to us, we took about 45 min to hear from the artist and story-teller. They had interviewed trans and non-binary people from ages 14 to 80 and asked them about their lives, their loves, and their values and dreams. Out of that, the artist created different flags to claim the power and joy of each of their lives. As each flag was presented to be raised, the artist read about its meaning. At the end, the artist said, I did this project, especially in these times of such pain and hardship for non-binary and trans people, because my heart told me to. We need to claim joy, it is the only way we’re going to survive and thrive.
My friends, this, too, is our work right now. We are disciples of a broken-hearted liberator. We are followers of an empathetic healer. We are co-conspirators of an Empire-dismantling prophet. We are members of a heart-following, joyous community.
We are not alone. We are deeply connected. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Wild Grief by Chris Heeter
Start up close and from the back side.
Don’t reach for the long view yet.
It’s too much to ask of your grieving heart.
Look close up, to the silhouette of seed heads on Wild grass.
Stand behind a sunflower, on the back side,
where each extended petal glows with sunlight.
When Wild grief envelops you
from the loss of something or someone beloved.
It is not something to get over
or that will wear off with time.
Wild grief is what walks beside you.
A wholly unwelcome guest turned companion.
The only one who truly understands.
Who bears witness to the depths of sadness
but also sees the glint of light in your eyes.
That small part of you that dares to hope.
For now, start up close and from the back side.
Look with lidded eyes on the smallest
of what is breathtaking in our world.
Let that stand, for now,
as your nourishment and your promise.
Wild grief is full of contradictions.
It guides your eyes to the empty places
that once were inhabited,
but then whispers ‘All is well.’
My advice?
Let Wild grief have its Weh with you.
Clear anything that is clearable from your time.
Make room so it can move,
not through you, but with you.
Feel what must be felt.
Wherever that takes you.
There is no running from this one.
Nor, with time, would you want to.
I have found that it is in my deepest anguished cry
when I feel most broken open
that Wild grief turns to grace;
shows its contradictory nature,
thins the veil,
and lets love speak.
The intent is not to get over or through.
The dappled sunlight path of Wild grief
is the discovery that carrying your grief is light—
far lighter than the burden of setting it down.
I know you don’t believe me yet,
but joy grows like a seed—
watered by tears
and warmed by the love of those with you in the garden.
It will blossom with heart-stopping beauty.
When you are ready.
Only when you would welcome such a thing.
And I get that you might not.
For now, start up close and from the back side.
Be gentle with your tender heart
that dares to love without reservation
in a world that is impermanent.
[1] https://www.patheos.com/blogs/euangelion/2017/04/post-colonial-interpretation-mark-51-20/
[2] https://www.wired.com/story/christian-nationalist-roots-suspected-minnesota-assassin/
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