Archive for Jesus

Telling the story from the inside out

I noticed a small thing today. One of those little places in the world that seem to radiate meaning and order when you are in the right frame of mind. I found it in the middle of the account of the woman healed by touching Jesus’ garment–an event which is itself in the middle of the story of Jairus’ daughter.

It’s easier to see in reading than to hear in the telling, so if you look at the center of the story, you’ll find these carefully constructed sentences:

For she said, “If I touch even his garments, I shall be made well.”  And immediately the hemorrhage ceased; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone forth from him, immediately turned about in the crowd, and said, “Who touched my garments?”

There’s a lovely bit of symmetry in the telling of this miracle. At the story’s core is the moment of connection and perception: where the woman feels in her body that she is healed and Jesus perceives that the power has gone forth. Two sentences side-by-side, and on either side of those perceptions, wrapping the moment like a cloak, are the two phrases about touching Jesus’ garments.

You can read through the stories of Jairus’ daughter and the woman linearly–and you have to to get the narrative straight. But if you think of them as a whole, as a story-within-a-story, it’s as if Mark has written from the inside out, everything radiating from the place where faith touches the Divine.

 

Torment and mercy

The Gerasene demoniac
from the Madeburg Ivories
Milan, 10th century

 

They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Ger′asenes. And when he had come out of the boat, there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit, who lived among the tombs; and no one could bind him any more, even with a chain; for he had often been bound with fetters and chains, but the chains he wrenched apart, and the fetters he broke in pieces; and no one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always crying out, and bruising himself with stones.  And when he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and worshiped him; and crying out with a loud voice, he said, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.”  For he had said to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!”  And Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “My name is Legion; for we are many.” And he begged him eagerly not to send them out of the country.  Now a great herd of swine was feeding there on the hillside;  and they begged him, “Send us to the swine, let us enter them.” So he gave them leave. And the unclean spirits came out, and entered the swine; and the herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea, and were drowned in the sea.

The herdsmen fled, and told it in the city and in the country. And people came to see what it was that had happened. And they came to Jesus, and saw the demoniac sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, the man who had had the legion; and they were afraid.  And those who had seen it told what had happened to the demoniac and to the swine.  And they began to beg Jesus to depart from their neighborhood. And as he was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed with demons begged him that he might be with him.  But he refused, and said to him, “Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decap′olis how much Jesus had done for him; and all men marveled.

–Mark 5:1-20

This morning I read again the story of the Gerasene Demoniac and thought, as I often do, about the pigs. I pity those pigs. They never knew what hit them, but it was so terrible and so terrifying that they rushed into the sea to make it stop.

Why would Jesus do that to pigs? Why not just cast out the demons? Was it a trick? A way to destroy the unclean spirits at the expense of the swine? It’s an unsettling idea—so much collateral damage—and so this morning I pondered the demons and the swine.

“I adjure you by God, do not torment me” …And he begged him eagerly not to send them out of the country.

It’s difficult to read about a demoniac and unclean spirits without an overlay of modern medical thinking, but if I stay within the context of the story, then I ask myself, what would torment a spirit? Why do they beg to enter the swine? Do they fear disembodiment? Could it be that unclean spirits seek a home of sorts? Is this why the story takes place among graves?

I thought about all the ghost stories in human cultures; about spirits in torment; I thought about the Dead Men of Dunharrow from The Lord of the Rings–another fearsome Legion.  And it seemed to me that permitting the unclean spirits to enter the unclean animals was appropriate. And that death in this case might be a sort of mercy, a laying to rest, a burial in the bodies of creatures that I knew were raised to be killed.

There is much violence and fear in this story. The cost of this healing is high. But in the end, the man who lived among the tombs is returned to life with his friends (does he still have friends?) and the legion who filled him are buried at last. Perhaps in this way the lives of the pigs are not wasted, but are accepted as a sort of sacrifice. I don’t know, but I wonder.

 

Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.”…and all men marveled.

 

 

Led or driven?

First Temptation of Christ
from Champagne-Ardenne, France c.1170-1180
Victoria & Albert Museum

 

Each year as Lent begins we read the story of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness. There are three versions found in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Matthew and Luke are similar, but for some reason, Mark leaves out all the specifics of the temptation and condenses the account to two verses.

There’s a lot to think about in this story and in the way it’s told, but the one detail that stops me every year is this: in Matthew and Luke, Jesus is led by the Spirit into the wilderness, but Mark says that he was driven.  Led or driven? Did he jump or was he pushed?

The Spirit in both these accounts is one I recognize.  Sometimes the Spirit leads you gently: reassuring you, beckoning you to step forward. Other times, he drives you like Jonah to Nineveh.  Don’t even try to ignore the prodding, the Holy Ghost is not going to let you be, and he won’t stand for dawdling either.  It feels like the difference between “I want to” and “I can do no other.”  Not that we always mind being compelled to action. There is a certain reassurance in feeling that God is actually telling you something specific, since he is more often vague in his communications.

But I wonder about Jesus’ time in the wilderness. Did he know what was out there before he arrived? And why is it that Luke doesn’t tell of angels ministering to Jesus (a nice, comforting detail), but says Jesus “returned in the power of the Spirit into Galilee” making it sound like the Spirit drove Jesus out of the wilderness?

I guess for me, this one troublesome detail isn’t so much about Jesus and his preparation for ministry as it is about the Holy Spirit and the way God moves in this world among us, preparing us for difficult tasks ahead.  Sometimes he leads and sometimes he pushes.  But if we respond to the Spirit’s direction, then perhaps he will take us to the place we need to be, to learn what we need to know.  I hope so—even if it is a desert.