When Demons Have Names: Legion and the Layers of Our Separation
The Man, the Demon, and the Story Beneath the Story
This past Sunday, we explored the story of Legion in Mark 5—a haunting and complex account of a man afflicted by demons, isolated from community, and healed by Jesus. But what if this is more than just a miracle story? What if it's an enacted parable, revealing something deeper about the human condition and the systems that divide us?
Because this isn't just a man with a demon. This is someone buried beneath layer upon layer of separation. Social isolation. Public nakedness, which in Jewish culture was deeply shameful (remember Noah?). Ritual impurity from contact with blood (Leviticus 15) or tombs (Numbers 19). Everything about him screams "untouchable" by the religious, social, and political standards of his time. He is the embodiment of "them" — the cast out, the other, the outsider.
When Pigs Tell the Story
Then there's the peculiar detail of the pigs. In Jewish culture, pigs were unclean. But these pigs are living on formerly Jewish lands, in the region of the Gerasenes — likely a deliberate pun, suggesting "the cast out ones." And when Jesus casts the demon into these pigs, they run headlong into the sea. Remember, Jesus just calmed this very sea on the boat ride over. He has already demonstrated dominion over the chaos.
So what is happening here? Jesus isn't just healing a man. He's crossing boundaries — religious, social, geographical, even cosmic. He is stepping into "the other side," confronting the forces that divide us, and dismantling them one by one.
A Legion by Any Other Name
But there's another layer. The demon names itself "Legion"—a Roman military term referring to a specific number of occupying soldiers. That can't be coincidence. Especially when we learn that the symbol of the 10th Roman Legion (Forensis), the very one that would conquer Jerusalem decades later, was a wild boar. That kind of imagery would not have been lost on the early Christian communities hearing this story.
So how do we reconcile this? How could Jesus embed such precise symbolism in a moment that predates the Roman conquest by decades?
Prophetic Layers or Literary Intent?
Two possible ways to read this. First, if Jesus truly is the Incarnate Divine, perhaps he speaks prophetically—enacting a parable that reveals more and more meaning as history unfolds. He warns of Jerusalem's coming destruction. He understands where violence leads, even when we tell ourselves it's justified. Maybe he's performing a story with future resonance built in.
Second, maybe this is the hand of the gospel writer. Maybe Mark, looking back through the trauma of Roman occupation, recalls stories of Jesus and crafts them carefully. He isn't inventing Jesus, but curating him. Embellishing, perhaps, in order to tell the deeper truth about what it was like to be in the presence of this teacher and healer.
We see this elsewhere: Matthew collects Jesus' sayings into neatly packaged sermons, like the Sermon on the Mount. Luke places teachings along the journey to Jerusalem. Mark, perhaps, offers this dramatic encounter as a political allegory dressed in miracle language.
Beyond the Boars
Whether you lean toward prophetic enactment or narrative embellishment, either way, this story confronts us with something real: the insidious forces that demonize and divide. The social and spiritual boundaries we build. The way fear and shame isolate us from one another.
And Jesus? Jesus is interested in crossing all of those lines.
So, what if the question isn't whether this happened exactly as described, but rather: What is this story still trying to do in us today?
Because Mark 5 is not just about one man's healing. It's about how the Divine meets us in our isolation, names the forces that oppress us, and drives them into the sea—boars and all.
