DANCING WITH THE DEVIL

 A SERMON FOR THE 15TH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

When we think of children’s stories, tranquil images of unicorns and rainbows pop into our mind, and we relax to think of our little ones filling their heads with such wholesome and idyllic thoughts.  But this was not always the case.  There was a time, not too long ago, when anthologies of tales for children contained horrific stories of violence, fear, and horror.  Wolves, who disguised themselves as little old ladies so they could eat the little girls who came to visit them; misshapen dwarves who bribed kings by spinning gold thread in exchange for their little girls; wicked queens who envied the beauty of their stepdaughters and who plotted murder by putting poison in their apples; witches who lived in gingerbread cottages in the forest, enticing young children so they could cook them up for dinner.  These are the stories of which nightmares are made, and yet, our parents fondly read them to us every night and expected us to have a good night’s sleep!

There’s one story in particular though, that awakens in us, more than any other, the most primal fear of all.  It draws its horror from three factors—first of all, because of the large number of child victims; secondly, because the ending is left to our imagination; and third, most disturbing of all, is that it seems to be based on actual events. 

It takes place in a picturesque little town in Lower Saxony, Germany, back in the thirteenth century, and tells the tale of a terrible plague of rats.  Rats are frightening enough at the best of times, but back then, they were even more terrifying as the bearers of the dreaded bubonic plague that was sweeping across Europe at the time.  Known as the Black Death, this was probably the first great pandemic, and it wreaked true havoc, killing about 25 million people in Europe.  So when more and more rats began to infest the town of Hamelin, the town elders got together and vowed to call in a rat catcher—a Rattenfänger.

And so, into the town of Hamelin came one rat catcher after another.  They were all armed, typically, with a terrier who would sniff out the rats, and a few sharp knives to kill them with.  But none of them were successful.  Try as they would, the rats remained and continued to multiply.  Finally, as the townfolk became desperate in their plight, into the town strutted a man unlike any rat catcher anyone had ever seen.  He was dressed to the knives in gaily-colored fancy clothes, and all he carried was a little flute.  You can imagine the skepticism and curiosity of the townspeople as they wondered how on earth he was going to rid them of their plague of rats.  He promised them, however, that after he had finished, there would be no more rats in Hamelin, and so the town elders agreed to a very high price for the job, figuring this effeminate musician in fancy dress would be no match for the thousands of rats that infested their town. 

But this pied piper started to play a tune on his flute and suddenly, to everyone’s astonishment, all the rats came out of their hiding places and flocked to listen.  He continued playing as he led the procession of rats through the streets, past the city gates and out of the town.  The rats were gone forever. But when the piper returned for his money, the elders now refused to pay him.  In his rage, he picked up his flute and started playing again.  This time it was not rats but the children of the town who flocked to him and started to dance in a hysterical frenzy.  It was the dreaded St. Vitus’ dance, and the townsfolk were powerless to drag them away from the hypnotic music.  Again, out through the city gates he led them in procession, and the pied piper and children disappeared over the hill, never to be seen again.

There is an ancient plaque attached to one of the medieval half-timbered houses of Hamelin that gives credence to the horrific event:  “A.D. 1284 – on the 26th of June – the day of St. John and St. Paul – 130 children – born in Hamelin – were led out of the town by a piper wearing multicoloured clothes. After passing the Calvary near the Koppenberg they disappeared forever.”  Further adding to the evidence that this was a true story, the official records of the town contain an entry dating to 1384, which laments that, “It is 100 years since our children left.” 

Today, we are passing through something eerily similar to the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin.  It hasn’t finished coming together yet, and we don’t yet know the ending, but we must remain vigilant that things don’t turn out as badly as they did in Hamelin.  Once again, our world has been hit with a pandemic.  This time it isn’t the rat who gets the blame, but our modern technology has been able to identify the true villain as a virus.  Just as in Hamelin, our modern-day “rat catchers”, now known as doctors and scientists, have been unable to eradicate the plague from our midst.  The tune they play has become annoyingly familiar, “Wear your mask!”, “Social distancing,” “Close the schools, the restaurants, the hair salons.”  And in step with the tune, we now have thousands of people, not dancing in the street, but rioting, in acts of frenzied hatred equal to the dreadful throes of St. Vitus’ dance.  Decent people are fleeing the cities just like the rats in the story.

You see, it wasn’t the rats and it isn’t the Coronavirus that are the true villains.  We await the arrival of a pied piper who will appear to save the day, but at what expense?  He will no doubt be a fascinating villain who will allure many away with his tempting speech.  Even many of the elect shall be deceived.  Will we be saved by a vaccine that will somehow take away our ability to control our own destiny—perhaps by denying us the ability to function economically if we refuse it?  Will we be forced to wear masks and maintain social distancing forever, thereby destroying human society in all its forms?  Could it even be that they will dare to take away our children if they discover that either they, or we, test positive for the disease and that we must be separated?  Rumors to this effect abound.

Let’s be very careful what price we agree to pay if the powers that be declare such provisions and create new laws “for our own good.”  Oftentimes, the cure is worse than the disease, and when it comes time to pay the piper and realize the true value of the price we’re forced to pay, it’s too late to do anything about it.  Let’s be ready to refuse the piper’s alluring tune of “health and safety,” “mutual protection”, and so on.  There comes a time when we must refuse the state if it ever claims the right to defy the laws of God.

Today’s Gospel is a mirror image of the fairy tale of the Pied Piper.  It takes us to the city gate, not of Hamelin but of Nain.  A procession is leaving the city, not of many children but of only one, escorted by his mother and townsfolk.  The child is dead.  And now we witness the difference between God and the Devil.  Satan, in the alluring robes of the Pied Piper, leads the living children out of the city, presumably to a horrible fate.  Our blessed Lord on the other hand stands at the city gate and raises a dead child to life.  The historical plaque in Hamelin describes how the children passed the Calvary near the Koppenberg and then disappeared.  In our Gospel, the widow’s dead son has already passed through his own Calvary of suffering and death, and rather than being led to an even worse fate, he is instead restored to life. 

The Pied Piper makes sure the children don’t stop at the Calvary on their way out of town.  These Calvaries are shrines placed on country paths throughout Germany, with life-size crucifixes offering a resting place for travelers to stop and pray.  He doesn’t want them to stop and pray, obviously, and instead, he leads them straight past and on to the Koppenberg, or Koppen Mountain.  Koppen in German means cobblestones, and in certain German dialects cobblestones are referred to as Kinderkoppen—children’s heads…  This is the destination for the Pied Piper’s 130 children.

I don’t know who the mysterious Pied Piper really was.  But I suspect that, with his magical powers, he was more demonic than human.  The people in today’s Gospel, on the other hand, are left in no doubt who the miracle worker is.  “They glorified God, saying, That a great prophet is risen up among us; and, That God hath visited his people.  The Devil leaves a town in tragic mourning, not unlike the town of Bethlehem after the slaughter of the Holy Innocents.  Our Lord leaves the town of Nain in great joy and wonder, the townsfolk praising God and giving thanks and glory.

This is why, whatever this current plague has in store for us, we must place our trust not in those who would lead us into temptation, sin, and a godless lifestyle, the pied pipers of our time.  We must trust only in the Good Shepherd: “He leadeth me beside the still waters, he restoreth my soul.  He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his Name's sake.”  Whatever life has in store for us, the remedy against all ills is always to remain close to the side of this Good Shepherd and be led only by him.  If we are lost, he will find us.  All we have to do is call out to let him know that we want to be found.  Pray hard for all sinners, ourselves included, and especially at the hour of our death.  And as we remember the Pied Piper of Hamelin today, think of those of our young people who have followed the Pied Pipers of self-interest, pleasure, greed, and apathy, and no longer come to Mass or receive the sacraments.  They are outside the city walls, where there is no salvation, and we must pray they break away from whatever evil leads them, and return to the safety of the fold.  They may be far from death, with many years of opportunity to return to the faith.  Or they may not.  So many of our children are dancing with the Devil, and sooner or later, the Devil will turn around and dance on their toes.  Pray that they escape his clutches and are not led to the Koppenberg, but back to the Calvary of Grace and Redemption.