Jesus Stories for Monday 2/26

The Good Book Club 
Monday, Feb 26, Luke 8:26-56

 Then they arrive at the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. As he steps out on land, a man of the city who had demons meets him. For a long time he had worn no clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs.  When he sees Jesus, he falls down before him and shouts at the top of his voice, ‘What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?  

I beg you, do not torment me’— for Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. (For many times it had seized him; he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.) Jesus then asks him, ‘What is your name?’ He said, ‘Legion’; for many demons had entered him. They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss.

 Now there on the hillside a large herd of swine was feeding; and the demons begged Jesus to let them enter these. So he gave them permission. Then the demons come out of the man and  enter the swine, and the herd rushes down the steep bank into the lake and are drowned.


 When the swineherds saw what had happened, they ran off and told it in the city and in the country. Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they come to Jesus, they find the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid. Those who had seen it told them how the one who had been possessed by demons had been healed. Then all the people of the surrounding country of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them; for they were seized with great fear. So he got into the boat and returned. The man from whom the demons had gone begged that he might be with him; but Jesus sent him away, saying, ‘Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.’ So he went away, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.


 Now when Jesus returned, the crowd welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him. Just then there comes a man named Jairus, a leader of the synagogue. He falls at Jesus’ feet and begs him to come to his house, for he had an only daughter, about twelve years old, who was dying.

As he went, the crowds pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years; and though she had spent all she had on physicians, no one could cure her. She came up behind him and touched the fringe of his clothes, and immediately her hemorrhage stopped. Then Jesus asks, ‘Who touched me?’ When all denied it, Peter said, ‘Master, the crowds surround you and press in on  you.’ 

But Jesus says, ‘Someone touched me; for I noticed that power (dunamis) had gone out from me.’ When the woman saw that she could not remain hidden, she came trembling; and falling down before him, she declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. He says to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.’

 While he was still speaking, someone came from the leader’s house to say, ‘Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the teacher any longer.’ When Jesus hears this, he replies, ‘Do not fear. Only believe, and she will be saved.’ When he comes to the house, he does not allow anyone to enter with him, except Peter, John, and James, and the child’s father and mother. They were all weeping and wailing for her; but he says, ‘Do not weep; for she is not dead but sleeping.’ And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But he takes her by the hand and calls out, ‘Child, get up!’  


Her spirit returned, and she got up at once. Then he directed them to give her something to eat. Her parents were astounded; but he ordered them to tell no one what had happened. 

THOUGHTS FOR MONDAY. Wow, two stories, and three, the stuff of forty jillion sermons across the past two millennia; half of which, twenty jillion, I’ve preached myself in the seven churches I served in various ways during my years of parish ministry. Jesus & the Gerasene Demoniac; Jesus & the Woman with an Issue of Blood; Jesus & Jairus’ Daughter. We know and love these good old Sunday School Bible stories. Luke’s source is Mark, with poetic license. 

Jesus in Gerasa is a delightful story that reminds me of equally good-old campfire stories from the Old Testament, where beloved old communal stories are the glue that holds a tribe together, shared stories that unite them as a people. The tribe storyteller relates a familiar old story again as the Israelites nod their heads, clapping as they recognize his opening words like we do when Dolly Parton starts a song. They grin at each other, chortling, remembering together even if the event was generations ago. Sometimes giggling, snickering when the story is a bit off-colorly suggestive, as for example the story of Jacob waking up the dawn after his idyllic, magical, lusty, long-dreamed-of, wedding night with the woman he has loved for so long, but with the light in the eastern light seeing that he has been tricked into spending all night long in the dark tent getting the ugly one pregnant. Chortle, chortle, heads nodding, snicker, fate has caught up with Jacob at last: karma reigns! Jewish folklore is full of old stories including where we Israelites get the best of those stupid morons, our contemptible cousins the Edomites first by trading their clueless father our Uncle Esau a bowl of soup for his inheritance; and then again later by dressing up like the hairy ape Esau is and tricking the old man, Isaac, out of Esau’s blessing, yuk yuk yuk. Somehow, we overlook our shame that the only thing Esau did wrong was to trust his beloved twin brother, who shamefully cheated him out of everything.

Laughably similar now, here’s a story any mid-first-century Palestinian Jew can love but that will go completely over the head of those obtuse Roman imbeciles. The evil demon, the detested Roman occupation Legions are cast out (wow, that was a perceived mission of the messiah in the first place, wasn’t it), and not only cast out, but the stupid, filthy Roman pigs (the nastiest, most unclean creature a Jew could imagine) throw themselves into the sea and drown. Hee, hee, hee, snicker, it don’t git no better’n ’nis!!! No Israelite campfire story is more chortle-able than this, heard by a Jewish audience in first-century occupied Palestine; and I like to visualize Mark writing it down while he sits on a stone among the still smoking, smoldering ruins of Jerusalem in 70 AD. But that’s just me, and let the reader understand or scratch her/his head, I don’t care. 

 I do notice that in Mark's version Jesus tells the former madman to go tell how much ὁ κύριός the Lord has done for him - - that Luke changes it to go tell how much ὁ θεός God has done for him - - and I wonder if in the generation between Mark (c.a. 70 AD) and Luke's writing (c.a. 95 AD) church doctrine is evolving such that a christological dawning shows here. I wouldn't think so, except that Luke is followed close-on by the high christology of Gospel John.    

Okay, so Jesus is summoned by a frantic Jairus, whose beloved daughter is near death. Hurry, Jesus, hurry, hurry, come on, hurry for chrissakes, she’s dying. But the evangelist (gospel writer) sets up a pause, a literary device: a time delay when we readers are so anxious that he hurry to save the little girl. Jesus lets himself get distracted on the way by some woman in the crowd who’s been bleeding twelve years, ever since Talitha was born twelve years ago, life and blood the same age, a coincidence of Time for Luke/Mark or not? And if it's intended what does it mean? IDK. But oh my god, he’s stopping to talk with the woman and the child is in her death rattle, can’t you hurry, Jesus, hurry, please.

Chats with the woman, now healed, “your faith has made you whole.” So alright, enough already, Jesus, hurry, please.

Then it’s too late, Jairus is told that she is dead. Calmly, peacefully, Jesus says, “don’t worry, have faith.” He walks not runs the rest of the way, goes into Jairus’ house, takes the dead girl’s hand, tenderly says, “Child! Get up!” and steals forever the heart of every daddy who ever loved a daughter more than life itself. BTDT, in fact, I’m still there with my girls. My only disappointment in this story is that instead of Mark’s “Talitha,” a tender word that I love, Luke changes it to Ἡ παῖς, which is “child.” From παῖς (pais or paidon) we get ped as in pediatrician or the child product Pedialyte.

Filled with points and morals and “show and tells” about God and Jesus, wonderful stories, including that God seems never in a hurry, which is certainly my own experience, and Jesus as Son isn’t deterred in his love and his dynamis, power of God, by events beyond which we created beings are helpless. 

 But OMG, the anguish, my agony: where are you, Jesus, where where you when we needed you last week at the high school in Parkland, Florida. There’s a lot more of a theological nature there … and the pain goes on and on, stretching beyond eternity. Talitha, cum. Our hearts are broken. Talitha, Talitha, get up, angel, OMG, Jesus, please ... Maranatha, come, Lord.