“They” were the disciples, “the sea” was the Sea of
Galilee and the “He” that got out of the boat was Jesus. “The man” who met him was demon possessed,
living in the tombs and tearing away the chains from his hands and feet that
had been used to restrain him.
Just before Christmas Joe and I had spent a few days with
family. It was the thirtieth anniversary
of my brother-in-law’s fortieth birthday and there was a party. We can’t always get to these things in term
time, but I was recovering from medical treatment and had a sick line off work. There was also a new great nephew to meet.
We stayed in a pub in the village. The window of our room
looked out over the wall and onto the gardens of the village Manor House. I remember that they used to open the gardens
every year for the village May Day celebrations and dancing around the Maypole.
The back wall of the pub carpark overlooked the cemetery. Every day I intended to take a walk through
the cemetery to pay a visit to my mum’s grave.
The family have plans for a proper gravestone, but right now, which row
she and my dad, David, are buried in – my sister knows, but I would only be
guessing. I didn’t visit the grave and
it’s something I regret. I didn’t have
any flowers to leave so I just chose not to go.
Had I been Jewish I wouldn’t have needed flowers – just a
small stone to place somewhere to show respect.
Better if the stone had come from my garden or was some coloured pebble
to mark the person’s life. Jews tend to
be infrequent visitors to graveyards.
Bonding with life is more important than dwelling with the
deceased. Some days are just better
suited to visiting graves than other days.
In the country of the Gerasenes there were no better suited
days – no days at all for visiting graves. “The
man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him anymore, not even with a
chain. He had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart
and broke the irons on his feet. No one
was strong enough to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and in the hills
he would cry out and cut himself with stones.” (Mark 5:3-5)
It appeared that the nearby villagers had simply
surrendered the cemetery to him. They
had tried to restrain him but he broke free.
He lived in the tombs and they let him.
Perhaps the thinking was if they left him alone, he would leave them alone,
so they gave him the cemetery and stopped visiting to place their stones on the
graves.
Sometimes the path of least resistance comes when we surrender
something. “For the sake of peace” we
tell ourselves. Or we convince ourselves
that what we surrendered is something we don’t really miss, or it’s not really
that important. We can live, we tell
ourselves, without placing our stones on their graves. And we
do…
When Jesus casts out the demons and leaves the man
sitting, dressed and in his right mind, He doesn’t just restore a man. He gives
back to the community a man in his right mind and He gives them back their
cemetery. The place they had surrendered
to a demon possessed man has been restored to them.
It’s not just people that Jesus restores but it is the
places that these people inhabit that also get restored.
Sometimes we get used to living with areas of our lives
surrendered, not to God, but to other things.
We adjust to accommodate things when we shouldn’t have to and we slap a “No Entry” sign on to a door.
Maybe it’s time to ask Jesus to restore those things and
those places to us so that we may live life to the full.
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