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Morning Devotion for the Season after Pentecost

October 8, 2023

Invitatory

Lord, open our lips.

And our mouth shall proclaim your praise.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the Holy Ghost;

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: world without end. Amen.

Reading: Matthew 8:28-34 (David Bentley Hart Translation)

And when he had come across to the far shore, into the country of the Gadarenes, two men possessed by demons came out from among the tombs and met him: men so extremely dangerous that no one was strong enough to pass by that road. And look: They cried out, saying, “What do we and you have to do with one another, Son of God? Did you come here to torment us before a due season?” Now at a good distance from them a herd of swine was feeding. And the demons implored him, saying, “If you exorcize us, send us into the herd of swine.” And he said to them, “Go.” And they came out and went into the swine; and look: The whole herd charged down the precipice into the sea and died in the waters. Then the herdsmen fled and, going away into the city, reported it all, including the things concerning the demoniacs. And look: The whole city came out to meet Jesus and, on seeing him, begged that he might pass on beyond their borders.

Meditation – Peter Vanderveen

This text from Matthew is probably the closest you’ll find in the Gospels to a bona fide horror story. ‘Tis the season.

Horror is an interesting genre. It’s easy to reduce horror to fright or fear, which can be just as easily generated by non-stop and indiscriminate violence. Add gruesomeness and just a bit of suspense and most audiences will be satisfied. This kind of terror is very direct. It’s made all the more intense by what is graphically shown. We may watch, but we may also try to claim a bit of distance by holding our fingers in front of our eyes.

But there is also a horror that haunts. It’s intangible, a kind of warp that can be intuited but can’t quite be located. It’s a slipperiness that lurks just beneath the guise of normality. Something is wrong around the edges, which creates an unsettling disquietude. It’s what isn’t shown that disorients us, a dimension of our world that can be felt but not seen.

Just about everything in Matthew’s account above instills a haunting horror. Two men emerge from the tombs, and it can’t be determined whether they’re the walking dead or just deadly inclined. They are possessed, which means, eerily, that they are not themselves. When the demons that speak are cast into the swine, nothing is said about the resulting state of the two men. When the herd of swine storm into the sea, nothing more is said of the demons. Matthew confronts us here with a liminal space, where the usually strong line between life and death is suddenly made too porous. Death feels too close. Life feels too fragile. Which makes us begin to feel too vulnerable. Something terribly dark is just a whisper away.

I like David Bentley Hart’s translation because three times the reader is told to “look” at what is happening. There’s a forceful insistence to this that simply isn’t found in the common translation “behold.” Hart makes us aware that our inclination when faced with this kind of horror is to turn away or close our eyes or watch through our raised fingers. But we are explicitly told to “look” at what can’t be adequately seen so that our blithe confidence in ourselves and in our own understanding is shaken. We are not as masterful as we think. That’s haunting.

The people begged Jesus to leave – notably expressed as “to pass on beyond their borders.” They preferred to remain untroubled. Not surprising. I’d be tempted to do the same. But an important pattern has been established. Matthew implores us to “look” beyond ourselves to see what we don’t like to see or be haunted by so that the full and comprehensive salvation of God can be better grasped. Even what haunts us most will be subject to God’s redemption.

Prayer

Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy Name,

thy kingdom come,

thy will be done,

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

         as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

         but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory,

         forever and ever. Amen.