RLPDV
- a dramatized version of a gospel story
This story was originally published in two parts. You can read the comments from
part two
here.
His real name was almost forgotten, known only
to a few and never spoken aloud, because he was the crazy man who lived in the
graveyard. They called him Daimonias, because he was touched by the demons.
Years ago they tried to control him or at least
to contain him, but no one ever could. His parents used to tie him to a stake
beside their house when he was a boy, where he would howl and gibber at all who
dared to pass by. His father died and his mother stole away one night, leaving
him as a parting curse upon the village. For years he lived on the edges of
town, stealing scraps of food and frightening people.
They tied him to a stake again, but he was a
grown man then and very strong. He threw his full weight against the ropes
around his wrists again, and again, and again, tearing the skin until his
forearms were slick with blood. Finally, he uprooted the stake and ran through
the streets, covered in blood and whirling the rope and stake around his head.
It took two days and seven men to catch and subdue him, and they only succeeded
because exhaustion and loss of blood weakened him at last.
They put him in an iron cage, but his howling
and pitiful cries were impossible to endure. Children wept and no one could
sleep. In the end, they dragged his cage down near the graveyard and set him
loose. Someone came and tossed food on the ground every other day, and in time
an uneasy and unspoken truce developed. He preferred to stay among the graves,
where he would cry out at night and cut himself with stones. As long as they
brought food, he stayed away from the village.
But always there was the fear of him. Stories
of his past were wildly exaggerated and became legendary. Parents told
misbehaving children that he would come and night to get them. No one ever went
to the graveyard alone. Armed guards accompanied every burial procession, and
there were always people straggling after the funeral parties, hoping to visit
the graves of their loved ones while the guards kept Daimonias away.
He was the face and reality of evil for his
people. It was thought that he was a curse for some ancient and long-forgotten
sin, and they considered him to be completely beyond redemption. The crude
provisions they left for him were dark offerings to the capricious cruelty of
the gods. After many years, his name became an oath of vengeance. Men would
mutter, “By Daimonias, I will have my revenge,” and all who heard it would
shudder.
This was the life of the man they called
Daimonias. And this is the way he lived, year after year.
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It was Jesus who suggested they get away for a
few days. He thought the south side of the Sea of Galilee might be nice.
Peter pulled him aside.
“It won’t work.”
Jesus tilted his head a little and said, “What
do you mean?”
“Trying to get away from people. It won’t
work.”
“Why not?”
“Because of who you are. I’m not saying I know
who you are, because I haven’t figured that out yet. But everyone wants
something from you. Those who are sick think you can heal them. Others want to
hear you teach and speak. It’s the way you do things, something about it. Even
the ones who don’t like you are curious enough to come for a look.”
Jesus put the pad of his thumb in his mouth and
sucked on it gently. Then he chewed his thumb as his eyes traveled down Peter’s
robe to his sandals and back up again to his eyes.
“Hmm” was what he said, and he dragged the word
out for several seconds.
“Let’s try it anyway.”
They got into a boat and headed out into the
center of the Sea of Galilee. The weather was horrible and caused them great
distress and trouble, but eventually they reached the other side. The
waterlogged disciples leapt out of the boat and dragged it up onto the shore.
This land was as unfamiliar to them as if they
had landed on another continent. None of them had been there before, but they
had heard legends of the barbaric, Gerasene Gentiles that populated the south
shore. They could have landed anywhere up and down a five-mile strip of
shoreline. Unfortunately, they pulled ashore within sight and smell of a large
herd of pigs that were grazing on a hill with a steep slope that led down to the
water. No one said anything, but most of the disciples looked over at the pigs
and took no trouble to hide their disgust.
“Okay, that’s just sickening. Look at them.
Wallowing, filthy beasts. Why would anyone would eat them?”
Peter was tying the boat to a large rock. He
said, “Oh they love pigs in these parts. Love to eat em. Yum, yum. They eat
snakes too, or so I hear. Snakes on a stick. The people are civilized enough
though; occasionally the women wear tops. And take heart, it’s rumored that they
bathe at least once a month.”
The others burst into raucous laughter, and
even Jesus smiled in spite of himself. Peter had such a funny way of saying
things. Then his face got serious, and he said, “Okay guys, knock it off. Be
nice. People are people, wherever you go.”
“Check it out,” said Andrew, motioning toward a
wild grove of scrubby trees and bushes. “Welcoming committee.”
About a hundred feet away a man in rags lurched
out of the bushes. He seemed to have been heading for the shore, but he stopped
when he saw Jesus and the disciples standing beside the boat. He stood staring
at them, swaying slightly. He was twitching the fingers of his right hand and
talking to himself. His head moved with a funny, jerking motion.
“He’s a big sonuvabitch, idn’t he?” said
Phillip. He reached into the boat and laid his hand on a hook that was used to
pull in large fish.
The man started walking toward them. Phillip
tightened his hand on the hook. Andrew reached into the boat and pulled an oar
close to the side.
As the man came closer, they could see that he
was indeed very tall, close to six feet. Powerful muscles flexed beneath the
rips and shreds of the rags he was wearing. He was carrying a large bone that
had a chunk of unidentifiable meat clinging to it. Flies were buzzing all around
him.
James, who was standing near the front with
Jesus, turned around and said, “That’s nice. That’s what you wanna see. I know,
let’s go to the south shore of Galilee and get our heads beaten in by a lunatic
who uses a bloody bone for a club. Remind me to vacation with you fellas more
often.”
“Shhhh,” hissed Jesus, for the man had drawn
close.
He stood about 25 feet away, watching them.
Then he tilted back his head and let out a mournful and twisting wail. It was
deep and guttural, but it had a sharp edge to it as well, almost a scraping kind
of sound. It was the most frightening and inhuman voice any of them had ever
heard. The man raised the bone above his head. The little swarm of flies
followed the meat upward and buzzed around it furiously. He began to whirl his
horrific weapon around in a threatening manner.
The disciples out front instinctively moved
back into the edge of the water near the boat. But Jesus shocked them all by
walking toward the man with bold, unafraid steps. The man whirled the bone
faster. His face had a strange look to it. He was not angry or afraid. He looked
like a wild animal seeing something it had never seen before. His eyes showed no
spark of intelligence or emotion.
Jesus walked right up to him and shouted in a
very loud and authoritative voice. The sound of it startled all of the
disciples. Andrew pulled the oar out of the boat and held it in front of him,
trembling.
“Daimon Beelzebul, hear the sound of my voice.
It is an ancient sound and you know it well. I command you in the name of the
Lord God Most High to come out of this man at once!”
The strange man reacted as if he’d been struck
in the forehead with a mallet. His hands dropped to his side, and the bone
slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground. His mouth fell open and he
stared at Jesus for thirty extremely long seconds. Jesus said nothing.
The man began to tremble, and he fell on his
knees, crying out, “What do you want with me, Jesus, son of the Most High?”
Then, in a different voice, he said, “I want
nothing to do with you. Please, do not torment me. I can only be what I am and
do what I must do.”
“What is your name?” demanded Jesus.
The man shrank away in horror and shook his
head. Then he spoke reluctantly, as if he was forced to do so.
“We are called Legion, for we are many.”
Jesus bent over and put his hand on the man’s
cheek. Daimonias began to weep softly.
“I command you to come out of him immediately.”
“No!” the man cried out. “Have mercy, Jesus,
even on the damned. Do not send us into nothingness. At least allow us to go
into the pigs.”
Jesus turned and looked at the pigs grazing on
the top of the hill. He bit his lower lip and looked back at Daimonias. He took
one more look at the pigs and said, “Go then.”
The man convulsed once, hard, and fell to the
earth as if he was dead. At that moment, the pigs on the hill began to squeal
violently and rush about. The two men watching them snatched up their staffs and
ran here and there among the herd, but there was nothing they could do. The pigs
ran around in a frenzy, colliding with each other and with trees and rocks. Then
the entire herd rushed down the steep bank and into the sea, where they thrashed
and grunted in the foaming water until one by one they drowned. After a few
moments the surface of the sea became still.
This was, of course, a disaster of the highest
order, and the two men who had been watching the pigs turned and ran away. They
did not slow down until they reached the center of the village.
“There are strangers by the shore, and they
were speaking with Daimonias. Daimonias fell down, and at that moment, the herd
went berserk and rushed into the sea. All of them were drowned.”
The people who heard this were incredulous.
“What, all of them? All of the pigs are lost?”
“Lost. Dead. All of them. We don’t know who
these strange men are, but they are surely the cause of this. They have spoken
with the one who is touched. They have meddled with the forces of darkness.”
The pigs were owned by three or four families
and provided most of the meat for the village. Those who owned them fell to
their knees and wept. “We’re ruined!” shouted one man.
A group of important citizens and two or three
soldiers gathered and marched out toward the place where the pigs grazed. As
they walked, their anger grew, and by the time they reached the shore, they were
seething with rage. But when they drew near to Jesus and the disciples, they
were shocked to see that Daimonias was seated comfortably in the midst of them.
He was still wearing his tattered rags, but one of the disciples had given him a
cloak which was draped over his shoulders. He was speaking intently with Jesus.
As they approached, both Jesus and Daimonias turned and looked calmly at them.
Daimonias recognized the men. Even in his
wretched and miserable state, he had been aware of the people around him. He
looked meek and embarrassed, and he gave them a timid little wave. It was the
first time any of them had seen Daimonias communicate with other people, and
they drew back with fear. Clearly there was powerful magic at work here. Or
perhaps these men were of the gods.
One of the villagers spoke to Jesus.
“Are you responsible for all of this?” He
pointed at Daimonias, and then opened his palm and swept his hand back toward
the hill where the pigs had been grazing.
“Yes,” said Jesus. “I AM sorry about the
animals. It was…necessary. Unavoidable. Defeating evil is always shockingly
expensive. But this child of God was worth it. I have no money to pay you for
the loss of your herd, but I give you back your son and brother.”
Daimonias rose to his feet and took a step
toward the men. They backed away from him in a panic, holding their hands up
with their palms out. They muttered suspiciously and whispered among themselves.
Daimonias looked back at Jesus. He seemed confused about what he should do.
One of the soldiers spoke to Jesus again. “We
ask you humbly, be you a god or a wizard, that you leave us in peace. What you
have done is disastrous, and many will suffer because of it.” He motioned with
his head toward the hill.
Jesus looked at them for a moment and then
said, “We’ll be on our way.” With that he turned and began moving toward the
boat. The disciples followed him silently.
Peter leaned close to Jesus and said, “Told you
so. Everywhere you go, it’s the same thing. You can’t escape it.”
Jesus looked mournfully at Peter and exhaled
loudly. His lips moved, but no one could hear the words he whispered.
“Wait!” shouted Daimonias. He turned and looked
at the crowd of men who regarded him with angry fear.
“Take me with you, please. I can help with all
sorts of things. I’m very strong, and I would serve you always. Just let me go
with you. There is nothing for me here.”
Jesus looked at him with a sad smile. How could
he make this man understand that it was impossible for him to come back to
Galilee? He knew nothing of the Jewish people, their traditions, or their world.
He did not know that he was an outsider who would not be welcomed.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”
Daimonias looked heartbroken and panicked. He
turned and looked again at the men behind him again.
“Why not? Why can’t I go with you?”
“The time of the Gentiles has not yet come,”
said Jesus. “You’re a little early, my friend.”
Daimonias frowned with puzzlement. “What?”
Jesus chuckled softly. “Nothing - forget I said
anything. Listen, you said you would serve me always. Here’s what I want you to
do. Go back to your people and make peace with them. They have wronged you, and
you have wronged them. Yes, you had choices to make along the way too. Now it is
time to set things right.”
“But how?” pleaded Daimonias. “How can I
possibly…what can I do? What will I say to people?”
“What is your name?” asked Jesus.
“I don’t know. I seem to have lost my name
along the way, or maybe I never even knew it.”
“Then I will give you a new name. From now on
you will be called Joseph, for he is a great hero of my people who was once
enslaved by evil but broke free and became a great man. As for what you shall
do, that is easy enough. Tell your story. Tell people what I have done for you.
Always tell your story and the truth. Let everything else take care of itself.”
The two stared at each other for a moment.
Jesus smiled.
“See ya Joe. It’s time for us to go.”
Jesus climbed in the boat, and the disciples
began rowing away from the shore. Their faces were serious, and they rowed hard
and steady. Jesus was the only one who looked back. The man who had been called
Daimonias stood watching as the boat drifted away. He raised a hand. It could
have been a wave, or it might have been a final plea for them to come back.
Jesus watched as he grew smaller and smaller.
When it was clear that the boat was gone for
good, he slowly lowered his hand and turned to look at the men from the village.
“My name is Joseph,” he called out. Then he
took a deep breath and began walking toward them.
----------------
And he went everywhere in those parts,
proclaiming what Jesus had done for him. And all who heard him marveled.
Mark 5:20 paraphrase
rlp
Mark's version
of the story
Luke's version of the story
