The Herd of Swine Destroyed

S. Mark v. 11–20

It creates a feeling of surprise that there should be so large a herd of swine feeding in a country where to keep such animals was strictly prohibited by the Jewish Law. On the supposition that the owners were Jews, a motive has been sought for their destruction in its penal character. Nothing could be more natural than that our Lord should manifest His displeasure, if occasion offered, at such an overt act of disobedience. But it is doubtful whether the facts of the case justify the interpretation. History tells us how, after the conquest of Palestine, large numbers of Romans settled in that neighbourhood; and in addition to this, it was the region of Decapolis, of the ten cities which had remained in the heathen’s 1 hands after the return of the Jews from captivity.

It will be well, therefore, to account for the destruction on other grounds; but we revert first to the circumstances which led to it. During their conversation with our Lord the devils besought Him that He would send them into the swine. It is difficult to decide whether such a desire may be taken as indicative of their natural propensity to all that was unclean, or as a proof of their craft and subtlety.

“Unclean” spirits would seize instinctively upon the bodies of those who, by excessive sensuality and indulgence of the flesh, had laid themselves open to their inroads. They seem, moreover, to have found a congenial dwelling-place in the tombs of the dead, which to the ancients were types of all impurity. “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones and of all uncleanness.” It may have been the same natural impulse that prompted them, when about to be driven out of the bodies of men, to seek for a lodgment in the lowest and most unclean of the brutes: — “Send us into the swine.”

Or again, it may have been nothing but a deep designing plot to revenge themselves upon their destroyer. If only they could be the means of annihilating their herds, the owners would inevitably rise up against Him, at Whose bidding the destruction had been caused. They would not tolerate His Presence, but would drive Him out of their coasts. And so we know it came to pass.

But whatever their motive in making the request, it was instantly granted. No sooner was the permission given than a wild panic seized the herd, and they rushed “madly down the almost perpendicular declivity — those behind tumbling over and thrusting forward those before; and as there was neither time nor space to recover on the narrow shelf between the base and the lake, they were crowded headlong into the water and perished.”

The swineherds fled in terror and dismay to the town hard by, and told to their masters all that had happened; and the whole population was stirred by the tidings, and went out to meet Jesus.

The account closes with two requests, which stand in striking contrast to each other. The one was granted; the other denied. When the owners of the swine came to Jesus, they saw the poor demoniac, whom they had known and feared, no longer naked and wild and raving, but “clothed, and in his right mind;” but, instead of falling at His feet Who had wrought that incredible change, and seeking for themselves some gifts of grace, they could think only of their miserable herds, and fill their minds with superstitious fear, lest some worse loss should befall them. They saw in the Saviour of men’s souls “no beauty that they should desire Him,” and begged Him to “depart out of their coasts.” It was in accordance with a mysterious and perplexing principle, often illustrated in Scripture History, by which men estranged from God come offering a petition which is not refused, that the prayer of the Gerasenes was at once complied with. The request was granted, but how fatal the gift! “He gave them their own desire: they were not disappointed of their lust.”

And this was the second request. “When He was come unto the ship, he that had been possessed with the devil prayed Him that he might be with Him” — but that was refused!

Where could he have been better, than where he craved to be? Where in the whole wide world could he find greater safety from a relapse into the power from which he had been rescued, than in the companionship of his Deliverer? But He sent him away. The Gerasenes may drive the Master from their shores, but the servant must remain, because God would not leave Himself without a witness. It was possible that the man, whom they knew, might win acceptance where the Stranger was feared, and so He left him behind, that as he had been a signal illustration in the neighbourhood of the working of sin and evil, he might henceforward be seen as a living monument of the transforming power of grace and mercy. Thou “when thou art converted strengthen thy brethren.”

Now, setting aside the interpretation which regards the destruction of the swine as a penalty inflicted on Jews for the transgression of the Law, men’s minds have been exercised to find any satisfactory justification for an apparently unnecessary waste of life and property. In considering the question we can only appeal to one other miracle bearing any analogy to it; for often as Jesus exercised His almighty power to give life, He exercised it only twice to take it away. In neither case was it human life. It was that of the lowest of the creatures in the animal, and of the fig-tree in the vegetable, world. It is almost incredible that with all the provocation that He received, in all the perilous circumstances in which He was placed, He should never have revenged Himself, as men are so eager to do, or have taken away another’s life to save His Own.

It should fill us with the highest conception of His superhuman meekness; and our wondering admiration should be increased by the realisation of the fact that, almost immediately after His departure, one of the very first miracles wrought by the power which He had delegated to the Apostles was for the destruction of two human beings. The deaths of Ananias and Sapphira were no doubt a most salutary warning to the infant Church, of the imperative obligation of perfect truth and candour; but, looking at our Lord’s acts, we are sure that what seemed inevitable to S. Peter would somehow have been avoided by Him, if only because He came expressly to save life, and not to destroy it.

We shall, however, find ample justification for the two solitary exceptions which the history of His miracles has left on record. The withering of the fig-tree was a parable in act, designed to impress the Jews when words had completely failed; and the destruction of the swine resulted in the salvation of the man. Now, if it be in accordance with Divine Providence that so many animals should be slaughtered daily to sustain men’s bodies, we need feel no surprise that so great a sacrifice should be made to save an immortal soul. And when we realise what the “possession” had been, we can appreciate the difficulty the poor demoniac must have experienced in apprehending the possibility of deliverance. Not till he saw the evil spirits by which he had been tortured transferred to others — to the bodies of other creatures — not till he saw them working upon others the very effects from which he had suffered, could he be convinced of his salvation. Surely, then, “those who know the worth of a human soul — of a life restored to itself, to its fellow-men, and to God — will hesitate before they presume to say that this destruction of the swine was too dear a price to pay for its restoration.”

Note: Lightfoot says:” You may not improperly guess that these hogs belonged not to the Jews, but to the heathen dwelling among the Gadarene Jews; for such a mixture was very usual in the cities and countries of the land of Israel.”

Note: This seems to contradict what was said above; but all that was intended there was that there were cases where “possession” was not necessarily the result of a sinful life.

Note: Milman and some others have imagined that the swine were driven down the precipice by the demoniacs in a paroxysm of frenzy. This is inconsistent with the narrative, which lends our Lord’s sanction to what they did. Paulus supposes that they began fighting among themselves, and in the confusion fell over the cliff.