Yikes Scripture #2! The Gerasene Demoniac!

I can’t think of a more graphic story from Jesus’ Galilean ministry than the exorcism of the Gerasene demoniac.  Sometimes when I read it, I find it funny.  Sometimes I find it troubling.  But I never get tired of it!

The story is told with particular zeal in Mark, who is known for narrating stories in a way that makes you feel like you are right there.  He usually achieves this with details and dialogue that seep into your mind and make it easy to imagine the scene.  In this account (Mk. 5:1-20), the details draw you into the distress of the possessed man (“he was always howling and bruising himself with stones”), the power of Jesus to expel “Legion,” the desperation of the swine as they throw themselves into the sea, and the fear that grips the local people.

This is perhaps the most fascinating part of the story – the fact that the people of Gerasa were so disturbed by this healing that they asked Jesus to leave!  As the swine hurl themselves off a cliff, you think the story can’t get any weirder.  But it definitely does!  The townspeople, who were once burdened with a crazy man who could not be subdued, who was so powerful that he wrenched apart chains and broke shackles into pieces, are now presented with a man “clothed and in his right mind” (Mk. 5:15)!  Why in the world would you want to get rid of the person responsible for this amazing transformation?

I suppose one might ask this question all the way to the Cross.  There were certainly reasons that people kept trying to get rid of Jesus, until they succeeded (sort of) by crucifying him.  But in this particular case, in Gerasa, think for a moment how startling, how alarming, how supernatural and unfamiliar, was this power of God on full display in the person of Jesus.  Imagine standing near that cliff, hearing the demoniac unable to speak his own name (he could only speak the name of the demons), begging Jesus to send them into swine.  Hear Jesus shout “Go!” (Mt. 8:32).  Hear the thundering hoofs of the swine and watch the dust fly until you see them do something completely unnatural for animals to do.  Watch them splash into the water and see the demoniac, now just a man, sink to the ground, exhausted, healed, relieved.

When I was a kid I prayed a few times that I might see an angel or Mary or Jesus.  Then I started thinking about what it would really be like.  I knew that in order to see what might already be there, I would have to enter into another way of thinking and perceiving, coexist with something totally beyond my understanding or experience.  When I really thought about that, I was afraid.  I withdrew my request!  I understood why the angel’s first words to Mary were, “Do not be afraid.”

Something happened on the cliffs of Gerasa that had people shaking.  This was a power far beyond breaking chains and shackles, it was of another realm, it did not make sense in their world, and it frightened them.  I think we can understand this.  And yet there was one man who had a front row seat but did not ask Jesus to leave.  Instead this man “begged him that he might be with him” (Mk. 5:18).  Yes, this was the demoniac.  This man was no stranger to supernatural powers.  For him, there was nothing left to fear, not for his whole life. 

The Gerasene Demoniac by Sebastian Bourdon (1653)

Obscure Scriptures #2: Tough Words from Jesus

But he looked at them and said, “What then does this text mean: ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone’? Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls” (Lk. 20:17-18). 

There are not many “obscure Scriptures” in the Gospels, so it can really take you aback when you read something there that you feel you’ve never read or noticed before.  I felt that way when I came across this passage.  We are familiar with Jesus quoting Psalm 118:22 in reference to himself:  “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”  But what is obscure, or lesser known, is the commentary he adds in both Matthew and Luke:  “Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls.”

Here Jesus is likely referring to another Old Testament passage (Isa. 8:14-15), but that doesn’t soften the blow.  And yes, he was speaking directly to the scribes, chief priests, and elders – but this does not soften the blow either.  We know that whatever Jesus says to those who opposed him most, we must hear for ourselves.

 Luke is known for highlighting the compassion of Christ.  But he does not “edit” or “cut” these somewhat harsh words. Indeed, the Gospels are full of grim warnings and serious demands made by Jesus.  You may have noticed that it’s pretty hard to read through an entire Gospel (I recommend Mark) without feeling an urgent need to change.  It’s true that the highest motivation for anything is love; but sometimes we might just need a tough warning first.  For this we can always count on the Cornerstone.  New Testament scholar Luke Timothy Johnson remarks in reference to this passage:  “This stone is not simply a passive block against which one may stumble – it can fall on someone!”

Like a Mirror for Your Mind

“Holy Scripture is set before the eyes of the mind like a mirror, that we may see our inward person in it; for therein we learn the deformities; therein we learn the beauties that we possess.”

-- St. Gregory the Great

God's First Act of Mercy?

Mercy is a special kind of love.  It is compassionate love for one who does not deserve it, or for one who desperately needs it but can do nothing on his or her own to get it.  A man who has been bested in a duel, who lies on the ground looking up at the sword point of the victor, has but one request – “Mercy!”  The man who has been robbed and beaten, who lies bleeding on the side of the road, needs but one thing from all the passers-by – mercy. 

A beautiful hidden gem of a verse in the third chapter of Genesis may just be a description of God’s first act of mercy.  Of course we should qualify this by acknowledging that the stories of creation and the fall of humanity are not to be read literally in the sense of historical narratives.  But they are stories of fundamental, essential spiritual truth, and for that reason, we can and should mine them again and again, drawing out of them all the sparkle and richness and value that we possibly can.

The verse I am referring to immediately follows the account of the first sin of Adam and Eve, the self-centered choice that begins a downward spiral of escalating violence and ultimately leads to the destruction of all but a small remnant of humanity (and all of this by Genesis 7!).  The choice made by Adam and Eve to oppose God justly leads to their punishment, including banishment from the Garden of Eden.  But it is this expulsion that prompts God’s mercy.  It is as though he is thinking of the difficulties that await his children (for though they have sinned they are still and always will be his children) beyond the garden.  Although he knows that Adam and Eve must leave the place of their sin, he wants to protect them.  And so, “[f]or the man and his wife, the Lord God made leather garments, with which he clothed them” (Gen. 3:21).

True, you may say God was only covering the newfound shame of Adam and Eve (3:10-11).  But he could have left this task to their own toil.  Instead, he takes it upon himself to clothe them.  He covers their nakedness, and in doing so, he protects them from the brutal sun and the harsher conditions they are likely to find outside the paradisal Eden.

In this verse, we read and imagine an unforgettable scene, an admittedly anthropomorphic image that conveys a very accurate truth about our God.  Even when we bring suffering upon ourselves, he does not abandon us.  He is moved with compassion.  He himself takes up needle and thread and sews up protective garments, handcrafted from the bounty of his own creation, to clothe us in his mercy. 

Memory of the Garden of Eden by Vincent Van Gogh

He's Got a Point

“The word of Scripture is truly the body of Christ and his blood; it is divine doctrine. If at any time we approach the Sacrament — the faithful know what I mean — and a tiny crumb should fall, we are appalled. Even so, if at any time we hear the word of God, through which the body and blood of Christ is being poured into our ears, and we yield carelessly to distraction, how are we not responsible for our failing?”

-- St. Jerome, Reflections on Psalm 147:12-20