Swineherds
Proper 7, Year C
Art: “Jesus, the Gerasene, and the Unclean Spirits” by Luke the Cypriot, 1594
Throughout Scripture, shepherds get most of the attention. At the very least, they get far more publicity than those in similar lines of work. Perhaps this is for good reason. After all, the Lord Jesus Christ identifies himself as the Good Shepherd, born in the line of the shepherd David, and whose birth was first identified, and subsequently announced, by the shepherds on the Bethlehem hillside. The shepherd motif has been well documented and extrapolated by scholars and homilists alike, but in today’s text we encounter their oft-forgotten counterparts: the swineherds. It’s a far less common word today than shepherd is. Perhaps, like me, you even had to second guess how it was pronounced in your head as you read it. My grandfather was known simply as a hog farmer, and while his work didn’t precisely resemble the vocation of the swineherds in this week’s text, there is something undeniable about the similarity in the ways that swine are presented in this story and the way hog farms and their farmers have been perceived in my lifetime.
Many have rightly pointed out that the presence of a herd of swine at all should tip us off that this work of Jesus is not like all the others. These swineherds were either Gentile, or disobedient Jews swayed by the potential riches of this industry, perhaps enough to offset the offense of uncleanliness. In either case, while swine were a product with incredible return on investment, marked by an unmatched profit margin in the husbandry world, there were certainly drawbacks. As I have seen with my own eyes many times on the farm, swine can hardly be driven, especially in large numbers. So the task of the swineherd is actually somewhat different than that of the shepherd. Shepherds are drivers and guides, while it was everything a swineherd could do to keep the swine from scattering and destroying the neighbor’s crops. And, of course, the well-known sanitary habits of the swine cannot be ignored. All things considered, we shouldn’t be surprised that unlike sheep, the stars of the show, swine are just barely worth the trouble.
What better place to send the legion of demons, then, than this herd of walking abominations? We aren’t sure why a herd of swine was so close to both Jesus and this possessed man. Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that the animals on the margins of society are in such close proximity to a man marginalized by his condition. After all, we read that, perhaps more so than for other possessed people, this man’s affliction is more socially detrimental than it is spiritually. To complete this trifecta of marginality, this work of Jesus is taking place on the very physical outskirts of the region of Jesus’ life and ministry. It seems here that, in more ways than one, Jesus is entering and engaging with that which the people would prefer to remain as remote as possible.
On its face, this text might not seem to reveal much about Jesus that we haven’t already learned by this point in the gospel account of Luke. In a sense, it seems that he is working on an even playing field with the demons, accommodating their desire for more death and destruction. It can be tempting to see this as an unnecessary concession by Jesus. Must the legion have another host once expelled? Because Jesus saw and knew the destructive power of this multitude of demons, it seems he might have made this accommodation with the knowledge that while it will be detrimental to the herd of swine, it will also surely catch the attention of the swineherds, to see their livelihood take a literal dive all at once. And not unlike the celebrated shepherds from the beginning of this same gospel account, the swineherds run and proclaim what they have seen. Of course, we don’t know what their message was exactly, nor do we know whether or not they were more focused on the healing of the man or the destruction of their stock. Perhaps it is my gratitude and appreciation for the unforgiving and unglamorous work of the hog farmers I’ve known, but I lean toward the belief that these herders knew just as well as the shepherds that they have seen something miraculous, and cannot help but communicate what they have seen to anyone who might listen. If we take “those who had seen it” from verse 36 to be the swineherds, it’s hard to argue that they didn’t have any clue about what was going on. In fact, they wisely identify not just a miracle of demon shuffling, but true and thorough healing, which the other Gerasenes seem to have missed.
Jesus’ choice to release the demons into the herd suggests something I think we ought not miss: It might be the case that those who have lingered in the muck and the mire of life have the context, the perception, and the capacity to taste and see what the Lord has done among them. It might be that those who have been disregarded have a perspective on healing that most others can’t imagine. Finally, friends, it might be that the beautiful feet that bring good news might have tramped through a few pigsties along the way. May we always receive them not as those who fear what they bring, but as those who hope for deliverance and healing in unexpected ways.