Dread.
There were a lot of other feelings, but that one stood out: dread. Every time they had to pass by the rocks where tombs had been cut into the caves, they felt dread. While it didn't happen always, it was too often. As soon as they drew near to that part of the shoreline, he would come out, screaming and crying, raging and bellowing. Evoking pity or fear, or sometimes both, but always dread.
He was an awful sight to see. Not particularly large, and usually starving, he was covered with sores -- cuts, gashes and scrapes -- and masses of scar tissue from older wounds. Some seemed never to have healed. They were so easy to see because he never wore anything, except dirt, mud, and bits of stray vegetation that stuck in his hair, or to his wounds. And the smell -- Oh! The stink of death hung on him, in part because he generally lived in the tombs and slept with the dead bodies, which couldn't be buried for the rocky soil.
Whenever there was a funeral, they'd have to pay a hefty fee for the stronger fellows to try and catch him. If he ran away, fine. The burial could take place in peace with him gone. If not, they would have to bind him with ropes or chains, and drag him off a ways. Then they would have to perform the burial rites somewhat hurriedly. No telling when he would finally break the bonds and come screaming back. It seemed he often had a fragment of rope or chain still wrapped around a wrist or ankle.
They feared killing him would let the demons loose on the town. There seemed enough curses already without adding to their woes. So they tolerated him as best they could, and tried to warn visitors to avoid the bluffs near the shore of the sea. Still, many would beach their boats there because it was the best landing: a quiet little inlet, with a shallow bottom. The shore ran down gently to the inlet. Every other spot along the shore in that area was a sharp drop into deep water, usually off a cliff.
Then, one day, that Jewish Rabbi and his crew showed up. As usual, the wild man ran out to give his special welcome -- screaming the most insane things at the top of his lungs. That day, he was bellowing something about the Rabbi coming to banish him. If only he could! Instead, the Rabbi seemed to stop the whole show at once. He stood facing the madman, who was now prostrated at the Rabbi's feet. The Rabbi stood relaxed, while his disciples ranged around him, painfully nervous, while ready to defend their Master.
The Rabbi spoke quietly with the tomb dweller, who then turned to point at the herd of pigs that fed the village. The Rabbi said something that seemed rather a command of dismissal. Suddenly the madman slumped, apparently dead. At the same instant, the feeding swine all jolted from their grazing and grunting. With a cacophony of squeals and growls, they all ran down the bank into the sea! Of course, it was deep there and the pigs drowned, burbling and squealing as they sank.
Meanwhile the madman lived, and seemed completely different. The Rabbi guided him to the water's edge where they both washed his wounds. One of the disciples produced a jar of oil to dress them, then from the boat they brought out clothing to dress his body. Everyone was rejoicing, as the former madman hugged everyone in the group, weeping and shouting. Finally, the whole group sat on the shore, and this new creature begged to join the Master's group...
"Well, that's something I just won't put up with!" How often have weheard that? It's a common phrase that signals a line drawn, a barrier to mark the boundary. Cross it and die! Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration... or is it? That depends on what you mean by "death."
This is an age of overly sensitive concern about feelings and discomforts, when everyone expects instant gratification for their unique whims. We simply must have the newest and latest gizmo, the central heat and air for our single-family dwelling in the nicest neighborhood, the sexiest car or truck (with its own heat and air conditioning), and so it goes. We'll gladly go deeply into debt to get these things.
What about the debt we owe Our Savior? It's not fair, of course, to compare His everyday living conditions with ours. Things have indeed changed, and mostly for the better. If nothing else, a simple head cold is no longer fatal, as it once was at times, because sinus infection is so easy to treat or prevent now. People with allergies tended to die young, if the allergic reaction was strong enough. We strive so very hard now to guard our health. And rightly so, as our bodies are the Temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19). We are now His property, and should treat that property with respect.
What if He intends to burn His house down? Is it so far out of His character to sacrifice a yielded life to draw other lives to yielding? We need only look at the Cross for the answer. At the peak of His manhood, Jesus willingly gave Himself to an unjust death. Worse, it was not a merciful passing by any definition. How many times have we heard or read just how painful crucifixion was then?
The Gaderene Demoniac had experienced a living death until Jesus came along. It was a miracle he had survived so long, with conditions so dangerous to simple survival. To join the wandering band, living under conditions somewhat less than pleasant for Jesus' time would have been a vast improvement for him. Yet, all Jesus wanted was for the man to move back into society where he was, and talk to others about his experience with the Master. Not too challenging, since it meant greater creature comforts than Jesus and the Twelve had most of the time.
Jesus lived like that largely because it enabled going to people who needed Him, meeting them where they were. The poor and humble, or the outcast of that time, all welcomed Him. They shared willingly what they had, just to keep Him around a while. The Disciples, called to be near Him, had to go along, and endure the same conditions.
That included some pretty repugnant situations. Gadara, which scholars haven't really identified yet, was almost surely on the east shore of Galilee -- pagan territory. Folks raised and ate pigs there, to the disgust of Jews. When Jesus traversed Samaria, that was one of the worst times for them. To Jews, it would be better to thirst in the desert than tread Samaritan soil. They had been enemies for so long, and the bitterness between them would be hard to exaggerate. And then there was the sleeping in sinners' houses, eating with them...
Going places and living in conditions known to be health risks is just part of going to the Lost. Fussing about cigarette smoke is downright petty when it's your reason for refusing a call to witness to truckers, for example. It's one thing to try and protect others, especially children, from unhealthy living conditions, but quite another when the only one who suffers discomfort is yourself. You are indeed the property of God, and He reserves the right to give you a shorter life, to send you to primitive, pagan cultures, to live with any number of risks, and you're going fuss about "passive smoking"?
Ask the Gadarene man about willing sacrifice. We, the whiney, are too far from him. How many will die in sin because we refuse to endure a bit of discomfort?
Ed Hurst
03 August 2003
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