Pigs over People
Pigs over People
Key Passage: Mark 5:1-20
One of my favorite stories in the Gospel of Mark is a story that used to make me angry with Jesus, because something He chose to do in that story seems so out of character for Him. It seems inconsiderate and unloving — even cruel.
As sacrilegious as it sounds, I used to think Jesus was kind of being a jerk. But I don’t think so anymore, because God opened my eyes so that I could see the story in a whole new light…
Jesus and the man possessed by demons
In Mark 5:1-20, we find Jesus coming across a man possessed by a whole host of violent and destructive demons. The man had been this way for a very long time, and over the years, his situation had gotten worse and worse and worse — to the point that he had been driven out of his hometown, because those who knew him were afraid of him, and he’d been left to live among tombs. Tombs! It was a not so subtle way of communicating to him, “You’re as good as dead, and you’re dead to us!”
Can you even imagine? Could there possibly be a more hopeless situation?
Let’s jump into the text, right as the demoniac encounters Jesus.
When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and fell on his knees in front of him. He shouted at the top of his voice, “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? In God’s name don’t torture me!” For Jesus had said to him, “Come out of this man, you impure spirit!” - Mark 5:6-8 (NIV)
Alright, let’s break this down.
First, the man sees Jesus and runs at Him. I know that the next thing the text tells us is that the man fell on his knees in front of Jesus, but if we look closely, we’ll see that this is in response to Jesus having spoken first. And maybe this is reading between the lines, but I don’t think the man had any idea who Jesus was before he ran at him. I think he saw a person coming toward him, and registered that “people mean pain,” and so he was going to attack Jesus before Jesus had the chance to hurt him first.
But Jesus, seeing the heart of the matter, and caring about this man, addressed his problem directly: He called out the demons. And the demons recognized Jesus’ authority, and so, the man stopped running at Jesus, and bowed before Him instead.
One of the most fascinating parts of the dialogue in this story, to me, is how the man’s wording shifts, from statement to statement. Sometimes, you hear his voice. Sometimes, you hear the demons’ voice.
The demons recognize that Jesus is the Son of God, and so this revelation comes out in the man’s response.
But also, the man knows (from his personal experiences) that any interaction with another person means pain for him, and so he begs for mercy.
And Jesus’ next question is so beautiful:
Then Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” - Mark 5:9a (NIV)
I used to assume Jesus was asking the demons their name. Now, however, I think Jesus was asking the man for his name.
Jesus saw the man for who he was as an individual, distinct from the demons, and Jesus cared to know his name. But the answer Jesus was given was that of the demons.
“My name is Legion,” he replied, “for we are many.” - Mark 5:9b (NIV)
I think this was the demons’ way of perpetuating a lie that the man had been believing for a long time, that his identity was wrapped up in theirs. They were a package deal. Where he went, they went. And I think that’s why the man’s next response was this:
And he begged Jesus again and again not to send them out of the area. - Mark 5:10 (NIV)
Remember, the man had already been driven out of his hometown, because of the demons — though he could likely still see the town, off in the distance. I can’t help but think this man must’ve believed Jesus had come with the sole purpose of sending him on his way, once again. To tell him, he wasn’t wanted there. To tell him, he wasn’t welcome to stay any longer. To tell him, there was no place for him back home, nor anywhere nearby.
But Jesus had no intention of sending the man away, and the demons knew this as well. And this is where the story takes an unexpected turn…
Jesus and the people’s Pigs
A large herd of pigs was feeding on the nearby hillside. The demons begged Jesus, “Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them.” - Mark 5:11-12 (NIV)
We see one final shift in voice, here, as the demons realize they’re about to lose control of the man they’ve held captive for so long. In a last ditch effort to maintain some control, the demons make a bid for one last opportunity to destroy something or someone. And this is the point at which I used to get really mad at Jesus, because Jesus lets them.
[Jesus] gave them permission, and the impure spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned. - Mark 5:13 (NIV)
If you’re not fond of animals, maybe you can read that verse and feel perfectly okay about it. But if you’re like me, and you love animals — how do we reconcile Jesus signing off on the slaughter of 2,000 innocent pigs with Jesus being merciful and kind?
Not only that, but those pigs belonged to real people, because the very next verse tells us:
Those tending the pigs ran off and reported this in the town and countryside, and the people went out to see what had happened. - Mark 5:14 (NIV)
Jesus let the pigs be drowned.
And Jesus did this, knowing these pigs belonged to real people.
These were difficult facts for me to wrap my head around, and it took some serious wrestling, along with some prayerful digging into the text for me to come to terms with them.
“Jesus, I believe you’re good and kind and loving… but this just seems so wrong and unnecessarily cruel and, frankly, inconsiderate. I can’t understand this. Please, help me understand…”
And God, in His faithful goodness, let me see what I couldn’t see before...
Pigs over people, or people over pigs?
The pig herders were nearby when Jesus set the man possessed by demons free. We can surmise from the narrative that they were within earshot of the man and able to keep a close eye on him, though far enough away to feel safe and avoid interaction.
They witnessed the whole thing. And I don’t mean that they just overhead Jesus permitting the demons to possess their pigs. I mean, start to finish, they watched the man being given back his life!
Those tending the pigs ran off and reported this in the town and countryside, and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they saw the man who had been possessed by the legion of demons, sitting there, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid. Those who had seen it told the people what had happened to the demon-possessed man—and told about the pigs as well. Then the people began to plead with Jesus to leave their region. - Mark 5:14-17 (NIV)
Jesus had given a man his life back, but all the herdsmen cared about — all they initially ran off to report — was that all of their pigs had drowned because of some guy named Jesus. Sure, when the townspeople saw the demoniac no longer possessed by demons, they had questions. And the herdsmen quickly explained, recounting how his demons were the reason their pigs were dead, and how all of it was because of this other man, Jesus.
Jesus was very unpopular with the people of that town. They didn’t see Him as a miracle-working Savior; they saw Him as a pig-slaughtering meddler, and they told him — just like the man who’d been possessed by demons — that He was not welcome there.
I firmly believe that Jesus cared about their pigs, too. I think it hurt Him, to watch them being drowned. The heart of Jesus beats in time with the heart of His Father, and there are plenty of verses in the Bible that support the fact that God cares about animals (Genesis 1:20-25; Genesis 6:19-20; Psalm 147:9; Matthew 6:26), and that He condemns animal cruelty (Proverbs 12:10). So to suggest that Jesus didn’t care about the pigs would be to suggest that God isn’t truly how He describes Himself.
And Jesus cared about the people, too. Not just the demoniac, but also, the people who lost their pigs that day. He’s not inconsiderate of others, so when something God does seems uncharacteristically inconsiderate, then we’re the ones who’ve missed or misunderstood something. In His sovereignty and perfect understanding, God orchestrates all things to work in the best interest of anyone called by Him, who will love Him (Romans 8:28).
Just as He did with the man possessed by demons, with regard to the townspeople, Jesus saw all the way to the heart of the matter. And He addressed a problem, hidden far beneath the surface, deep within the hearts of the people — a heart issue that likely would have remained unascertainable to them, had Jesus refused to let the pigs be killed by the demons.
The problem was this:
The people cared more about the pigs being drowned than they did about the man possessed by demons being given his life back.
Still, in true Jesus fashion, Jesus didn’t point fingers and call them out directly. He simply set them up with everything they’d need to ultimately understand, though none of them understood right away.
I actually doubt that any of them felt a tinge of remorse that day, nor had a change of heart. In fact, it may have been weeks or months (or even years) before a single one of them saw the actual problem with what had happened — the problem with their perspectives and priorities.
But the story goes on to tell us that the tale of what Jesus had done for the man spread from person to person, from town to town (Mark 5:18-20). And eventually, I bet the tale made it back to their hometown as well. Except, I bet the spin on it was a little different, when told by others who perceived the miracle for what it really was: a compassionate act by a merciful Savior, who saw a man where everyone else saw a problem.
“Have you heard of this miracle-worker, Jesus — how He saved a man possessed by thousands of demons? How He gave him back his life?”
Some, of course, would scoff in response.
“Pffft. Miracle-worker, eh? Don’t you mean pig-killer? He destroyed our herds! What’s one man’s life, in comparison to our livelihoods? We were better off without His miracle-working ways!”
I can’t help but wonder, though, if the hearts of some didn’t soften over time. If hearing others make much about how Jesus had given that man back his life — a man whom they’d seen suffering for so long, whose suffering perhaps they had even played a part in making worse — might have led some of them to feel conviction about their lack of love.
And maybe, some of them repented.
And maybe, just maybe, when those same people later heard the Good News of Jesus after His resurrection — this same Jesus who had saved the life of the demoniac — they found salvation and new life for themselves as well! And wouldn’t that have been worth it all?
This story’s not just about one man who was saved and 2,000 pigs who were slaughtered. It’s also about a whole town full of people who didn’t recognize how much they needed Jesus.
It’s about how Jesus, in His compassion and foresight, let them lose the possessions they valued most, so that someday, some of them might also be freed from a kind of possession of their own — one just as destructive and deadly. And then, they too would go on to tell others about this miracle-worker, Jesus, who gave them back their lives!
An afterthought
I’m just as bad as the townspeople, by the way.
For years and years, I’d read that passage, and I’d walk away incensed about the pigs and angry on behalf of the herdsmen.
Never once was my greatest concern for the man possessed and tormented by the demons. Never once did I walk away more upset about the very real man who’d been labeled a threat and hopeless case by his former community, and forced out of town.
Maybe I was less concerned for the man because his ending, in the story, is a happy one.
Or maybe — more likely — I was less concerned about him, because I also cared more about pigs than a person.
And maybe I valued people’s rights to their possession over one person’s right to live freely.
It’s been over 2,000 years since the miracle-worker, Jesus, gave a man back his life, and some of us are still being convicted because of this story. Some of us are still needing to repent, starting with me.
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