Sandals
Luke 8:26-39 Matthew 3:11
Luke sat on a stool, bent over to lace his sandals. He stood, then winced. Ouch. I must get a new pair of sandals. These beastly old things will make me lame.
Andrew called out, “Luke, are you ready? ‘Tis time to depart.”
The day before, Luke posed his plan for a short journey to Gergesa and asked his hosts, Simon Peter and his brother, Andrew, if one of them could join him. Simon Peter begged off, “Ah, Luke, an enticing thought but I have other duties. Andrew perhaps?”
His brother agreed, with a question: “Of what purpose is this journey?”
“My friend, you and your brother have told me of Jesus’s encounter with the demoniac, you know, before Jesus was taken up into heaven. But for this one incident, I would like to hear from the man’s own lips. You know, for my account of Jesus’s life and work? And miracles.”
“Gergesa is just a ways down the eastern shore,” said Andrew. “’All ‘round, to and from, ‘tis but a day’s journey. So, yes, I will accompany you, Luke. But on the condition we do not tarry. I, too, must be about our Lord’s work and must prepare for my journey to Scythia come the day after tomorrow.”
A fresh and bright morning greeted them as they left Capernaum. Andrew thought to give thanks for the Lord’s blessing in prayer. Luke’s thanksgiving took a different form. Not too warm, gentle winds from the west. Ah, Galilee, this time of year … such a lovely place, green, fertile … fields of lavender ricotias and scarlet corn poppies, hillsides of purple lupine and mustard clad in sprays of yellow and gold and lavender, dancing in the onshore breeze. O Lord, what a display you have created! Theophilus, my dear friend, I wish you could see this.
Small groups of fishermen tended their nets on the shore, waved and catcalled as they passed. “What are you two about, Andrew? The pair of you look like a stork and a bustard, wabbling down the road.”
“Woo-ap, woo-ap, woo-ap” sounded too much like a bustard’s call.
Andrew grinned and gave as good as he got. Not the first time he had heard his comparison to that short, squat bird. Luke strived to take no offense. He had long been the target of teasing. Being tall and lanky and inheriting a nose like a Canaanite stiletto would do that.
For Luke, walking was cause for conversation. “Andrew, tell me, if you will, what you remember from the day Jesus drew a tangle of demons from the man.”
“Wel we had just sailed across the lake. Jesus bade us to put in at Gergesa. There is a small harbor bound by a rock jetty, as you will soon see. Our reception among the people was lukewarm, they being Gentiles, we being Jews, you know. There is ever a tension. I was surprised that Jesus did not linger in the city but led us straight to the hillside behind the city to the location of Gergesa’s burial ground. We all balked because the law forbids Jews to occupy such places lest we touch death and are struck as unclean. For Jesus, there was no such problem. Not one of us had an inkling what he was about – that was not unusual – and when we first saw the demoniac, we were even more puzzled for there was yet one more possibility for contamination. John and I were walking side by side and I remember asking him if he knew what Jesus was doing. John’s reply was the shake of his head. He was just as baffled as I.
“The man was a horror to see. He was of an average size but clothes had not graced his body for many years. His hair hung nearly to his waist. He was speckled with dirt and who knows what else. Even from a distance, he had a stink strong enough to repel a hyena. His teeth – what few he had – were jagged and broken. Remnants of chains hung from his wrists which swung about as he flailed his arms. Such display was awful enough, but worse were his shrieks and roars, enough to prickle the skin and chill the heart.
“Jesus, unafraid, walks toward the man. Immediately, the man falls to his knees and grovels. His cries were at once pathetic and treacherous. ‘What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you … plead with you … do not torture me! It is not yet my time!’
“Jesus made but a single comment: ‘Tell me your name.’ The man laughed and shouted, ‘Ho ho, Jesus! We are many! We are legion!’ More laughter came forth, oh, Luke, such a frightful thing to hear. Titters and giggles that smacked of evil, shrieks blended with guffaws, even roaring belches, all as if from a chorus of voices. The moment I heard it, I cringed and stepped away.”
“A moment, Andrew. Was it the demonized man who spoke … or was it the demon?”
“Oh, it was the demon. Luke. I have no doubt of that.”
Luke listened with care. In his tasks as a physician, never had he been called to treat a demonized person. But that did not mean they did not exist. Certainly not now. not after Andrew himself had witnessed this incident. Not after Jesus had made the man whole.
Nonetheless, Luke felt doubt entwine with anxiety, searching for footholds to his heart. Fear was not far away, he knew. What, now, should we expect at Gergesa?
Midday, coming near to Gergesa, Luke saw how it perched high on a bluff overlooking Galilee’s waters. Stonework buildings were, well, stonework buildings that grew throughout the land like fields of kardahl, black mustard. Bobbing as if they were asleep, a score of boats were moored a stone’s throw from shore. A finger pier pointed at Magdala across the lake, busy with harvesting and preparing fish for sale.
The men hiked the hill to the main gate where, at their feet, embedded in a field of tessera, a mosaic inscription pronounced, ΕΙΝΑΙ ΟΛΟΙ ΚΑΛΩΣ ΕΙΝΑΙ ΕΔΩ. All are welcome here.
Looking much like brothers, five elders rested shoulder to shoulder on the upper step. Black robes rustled. Heads canted. Lips pursed. Eyes squinted. A wheezed inquiry greeted Luke and Andrew: “Are you Jews?”
Luke gave a nod toward Andrew. “My companion is a Jew. I am not.”
“I am Deodatus. I am chief of the elders. We have no love for Jews. Not since that upstart from Capernaum came and ruined our commerce. Because of him, more than a thousand swine were lost. You, Jew, you look familiar. If you have come to cause trouble, you must turn away now. You will find no welcome here.”
Andrew constrained his thoughts – So much for ‘all are welcome here’ … those elders, sitting there in their black cloaks and frizzled hair and chin wattles look like a flock of marabou storks. Such grace was a lesson he learned from Jesus.
Luke spoke. “I am a physician and a Greek. I seek only to speak with the man who once lived among the tombs, the one who was delivered from unclean spirits. With your permission, of course.”
“Aye, we know this man. His name is Anastiloti. You may enter into our city. You will find him at work in the agora.”
Another commented, “Perhaps you will think to purchase something before you leave,” which drew a chorus of laughter.
As they entered the marketplace, a medley of fragrances, fruit and spice and wood, wafted in the air. The boisterous dickering over the price of goods, not unlike gaggles of geese squabbling over corn, was comforting, familiar.
Andrew paused to ask a shopkeeper, where might we find this Anastiloti?
“Oh, my, yes! The sandal-maker. Such a kind man, so thoughtful. Everyone in the agora just loves him! You’ll find him the leather-maker’s guild, just over … there.”
The men looked to where she pointed. Where Luke saw scores of bodies and booths, Andrew announced, “Luke! I see him!” He bolstered his enthusiasm with an elbow to Luke’s ribs.
They approached a man busying a slab of leather. A neat pile of cured skins lay near at hand. On a stout wooden bench, awls and mallets and hefty needles nested in hanks of rawhide cording. A stack of finished sandals teetered at the table’s edge. Andrew picked one up, admired it, handed it to Luke. Luke admired the workmanship. Heavy sole, soft leather upper, grass padding in between. Stout laces, he thought … I should like to have such fine sandals.
The man, his beard grizzled with grey, graced the two visitors with a carefree smile. “Greetings, friends. How may I serve you? Sandals today?”
Luke saw little to distinguish this guildsman from any other but was taken by his quite remarkable aura of peace. It seems almost as if he has been gilded with light.
“We come from Capernaum seeking the man whom the teacher, Jesus of Nazareth, delivered from a host of unclean spirits. I am Luke of Hellas. My companion here, Andrew, is a disciple of Jesus.”
With the speed of a gazelle, the man came to his feet and threw his arms around Andrew. “Aye, yes, yes! I recognize you! Good Andrew! You were with him, Jesus, on that day! Yes!”
Andrew flapped his arms to keep from falling. Luke thought again of a bustard, kept his laughter to himself.
“Well and good! I am the one you seek, Anastiloti! Saved by Jesus! Yes!”
Luke said, “Anastiloti, I am eager to hear your story. There is a place, perhaps, where we might adjourn and talk?”
“Aye! My home! We shall go to my home! It is not far. My wife, Narit, she will pour wine for us. Please, come. Come with me.”
Anastiloti led the way and as he entered the courtyard, he called out, “Narit, my beloved! Come meet our guests, join us! Bring the wine!”
The courtyard was an inviting place, swept clean and shaded by two robust olive trees. With a gesture toward a table and a spread of cushions, Anastiloti said, “Narit, my dear one, meet Luke and Andrew who have come from Capernaum. Andrew was with Jesus when he cast the spirits from me!”
Narit’s dark hair shone in the sunlight but not as brightly as the smile she gave her husband. Luke noted the tenderness in their embrace and for a moment, yearned to feel the press of his own wife’s arms about his neck. Alas, his Panoria awaited him in their Jerusalem lodgings, It would be many days before he could see her again. Still –
With a bow, Narit said, “I am so pleased to meet you, Luke, Andrew. You are most welcome in our home. Please, let us sit.”
“Luke,” said Anastiloti, “has come to speak to me about that day Jesus set me free from my torment.”
“Oh. Oh, my. Beloved, take care. Are you sure?
Luke could not help but grin; certain Aramaic words brought a smile to his heart: ‘my love’ was one such. But something had changed: where Anastiloti’s countenance was one of joy, it fell to despair in a single moment.
Anastiloti closed his eyes. He buried his face in his hands, revealing the scars of a formidable burn across his left hand. As would an ox burdened with great age, he shook his head, to and fro, to and fro. A moan as mournful as the grief of the ages, keened from his lips.
At length, Anastiloti opened his eyes and there, awash in his tears did Luke see a depth of anguish. Only once had he seen such wretched agony, that, on the faces of men and women nailed to Roman gibbets along the roadway to Emmaus. At the sight of such vile and vicious torment, the Roman injustice assaulted his innards and he spewed his breakfast upon his feet. Once again, Luke felt his gorge rise and stifled it.
Anastiloti’s voice grated, like rock grinding rock. “Forgive my frailty, Narit. Luke, Andrew. I … the spirits who defiled me have left me … but their scars remain.
Luke said, “No apology is called for, friend. Clearly, their affliction has left you with much pain.”
“Please, allow me to tell my tale.” A swallow of wine freshened his voice.
“I recall when the first wicked spirit came. I was in the agora, making sandals just as you found me today. Something within me felt … odd, off. Different. I began to forget things, everyday things. Within days, reason left me, I could not discern beauty from dross. Truth lost its meaning, honor dwindled and vanished, as did integrity. Within days, my thoughts submerged into a whirling pool of darkness. Day and night, a strange voice whispered in my soul, telling me to guard against the lurking harm, death skulks at every corner, beware, beware. Before long, every person I saw, men, women I had known all my life, were a threat to me. Fear opened its great maw and I was swallowed whole. Just to stay alive meant constant vigil. By month’s end, I could neither eat nor sleep.
“Then came another voice, this, more menacing than the first. Another unclean spirit had come to dwell, inflicting me with even more torment. Then came another spirit, and another, and another and as they took up residence, even more came. How many, I could not count. How could one man’s soul entertain so many … entities? I did not know. My mind was charged with voices, arguing, bickering, shouting, hollering. Accusing me. Condemning me.
“Fear became a plague to my soul. Truth, lies were as one. Thoughts and feelings tumbled together like chaff in a windstorm.”
Luke thought of a conversation he had had with John Mark, another of Jesus’s followers who said, “Jesus spoke of how an unclean spirit will search for a person whose soul is clean and enter in, then go and seek more spirits in whom wickedness knows no limits. As one, they inhabit that person.”
Luke shuddered. His mouth was as dry as desert air.
Anastiloti drank again from his cup, set it down. “There were times the dread spirits rose up in me, to drive me forth in fear and wrath. Madness took my mind, rampage took my soul. Should anything stand in my way, I attacked it. Destruction was my goal, my only goal. Furniture, entire rooms, dishes, mugs, and, and, and idols. People. I harmed people … children. No thing, no one was safe in my presence.
“One night as I slept, many men came and overcame me, bound me with ropes and dragged me to the tombs. There, they placed chains on my arms and legs, fastened them to a great stone. Foolish men. Their efforts were to no avail for the spirits gave me strength I never knew. A whirlwind of might came upon me. Amid screams of rage that echoed across the Galilee, I flailed about and snapped the chains as if they were straw. Ha! My captors scurried off like piglets fleeing the flesher.
“For many days, men armed with swords and lances stood guard at a distance. They kept me from returning to the city for I was not fit to live among people. That much I knew. A small cave in the hillside of tombs became my home.
“During the week, someone from Gergesa would pity me, bring scraps of food. I thanked them with curses and stones. I tore at my clothes until nothing remained. Naked and hungry, burning with thirst, my days were naught but blind torment, my nights, whimpers and groans.
“Again and again, I tried to fight against the spirits. Hah! They were too many. Too many. Yet in that wilderness of evil, somehow, I kept a small part of myself, a kernel. A mustard seed.”
Anastiloti’s eyes gazed at nothing. His trembling jaw loosed saliva from his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. “Such was my life. Until Jesus came. That day, he and his faithful ones walked up the hill to where I stood. Andrew, you were there. You remember this?”
Andrew nodded. He grimaced as if he had eaten bitter gall.
Anastiloti continued. “I felt the stronger spirit twist within me when it screeched, ‘Jesus! Son of the Most High God! What do you want with me?’
“Jesus came near and commanded, ‘Unclean spirit! Tell me your name!’
“The spirit’s words brimmed with laughter. ‘Legion! We are many! We implore you, Jesus, do not torture us! We beg you: do not banish us to the abyss! It is not our time!’
“Hah! As if they had more work to do! Nonetheless, swineherds of Gergesa tended pigs which were foraging down the slope from where we stood., a large herd, grunting, squealing, milling about. The spirits in me pleaded with Jesus. I heard desperation in their shrieks, “Send us into that herd of pigs!”
“Calmly, did Jesus raised his hand and uttered but a single command: ‘Go!’
Like a great swarm of locusts, the spirits left me and poured into the herd. Pig’s squeals became wails of terror and I knew not if that terrible sound came from the pigs or the demons. All was in frenzy, pigs running about in all directions suddenly stopped and gathered and as one, then galloped down the hill. I watched them leap from the cliff and plunge into the water. Their struggles were brief and for naught. In moments, they overwhelmed by the waters. Hundreds of them floating, bobbing about. Dead. All dead.
“Jesus, he embraced me. Attended to me. With his hand upon my shoulder, he held my eyes with his and said the most wonderful words I have ever heard. “Anastiloti, you are free.”
We sat. He asked a follower, Judas, I think, to take off his cloak. He covered my nakedness. All his men gathered and sat around us, save one: the other Judas, I believe, you know, Andrew, the one who always stood apart. Well, we shared bread, olives, cheese. One shared his wineskin. They shared with me, welcomed me, treated me as if I was one of them. All the while, Jesus sat close at my side. I felt a comfort and peace come to me like nothing I had ever experienced before. I am not ashamed to say I wept at great length, tears of gratitude.
“Well, when the swineherds witnessed the death of their swine, they could not return to the city fast enough. Gabble, gabble, gabble, they told everyone who would listen what had happened, what Jesus had done. Soon enough, men and women came to us on the hillside. The elders – the same ones you met at the city gate – came to Jesus with careful steps and folded hands. They did not quite know what to make of this man who had delivered me from evil, much less how the swine had come to drown.
Deodatus, the chief elder, bowed his head and said, ‘Forgive us, sir, but we, uh, we do not understand what has happened here. Our Anastiloti, he seems to be at peace. Perhaps he no longer entertains unclean spirits? Ah, yes, but, but, well, we are distressed by what has happened with the swine. So many, you know, well, they are, they are dead. This is a great loss to the swineherds, and to Gergesa. Ah, well, uh, we want you to, uh, leave. Yes, I am sorry, but we must ask you to leave.’
“I have to say this, Luke, Andrew, it took all I had to keep from laughing. These men, these townspeople who had cast me aside like trash now come begging to the man who had restored me to life, please, sir, you frighten us and we want you to go away.”
Andrew spoke. “I, too, held my laughter. Surely, the swineherds were left to retrieve the pigs, butcher them, skin them for their hides. But in all, they had lost their livelihood. Don’t you find it ironic how unclean spirits were made one with the unclean animals? Swept away as if they never were?”
Luke asked, “And Jesus agreed to leave?”
“Aye. I pleaded to go with him, wanting only to be close to this man who had delivered me from my years of torment. Jesus said, ‘Anastiloti, you are at peace. Gergesa is your home. The peace of the Lord is with you. Know in your heart that God has done this thing. Tell the people of Gergesa all that the Lord has done for you. One day, not too long from now, when you are able, go to all of the Decapolis. Tell them the good news that the Kingdom of God has come near.’
“And he left. I heard later that Pilate had arrested him, ordered his execution. I dearly wished to go to Jerusalem, to witness this travesty against this man of God. Alas, by the time word reached me it was too late.”
Narit took to Anastiloti’s lap and melted into his arms. Tears dotted her cheeks. Luke was unsure if they were tears of sorrow or joy.
“Beloved,” she said, “I did not wish for you to recount your years of suffering. I know too well what it does to you.”
“My beloved, I felt I must do this. ‘Tis my way of honoring Jesus, what he has done. You know as well as I that he not only delivered me from spirits of darkness, but has done so for the entire land!”
Their kiss was as tender as spring doves. Luke decided the tears were joyful ones.
Narit bade the stay for an early meal. Over plates of manakeesh, kabsa and meddamas, the couple poured questions on Andrew, what of Jesus’s miracles, what was it like to walk with him, did you, too, perform miracles? Did you cast out unclean spirits?
When Narit asked Andrew to speak of the day Pilate acceded to Caiaphas’ bent words that sent Jesus to his execution, he wished he were somewhere else.
He answered Anistiloti’s questions. “My dear friends, all I can say is that, yes, Jesus died on that cross. He was buried in a tomb. But I can say also that he rose to life again. Yes! Yes! It is true! I, myself, have seen this! All my brothers, we who walked with him saw this as well. If you need more evidence, Luke, here, has spoken to many, hundreds perhaps, who have also witnessed seen Jesus risen from the dead. Dear ones, there is no doubt: Jesus has conquered death!
Luke said, “Although I came to know of Jesus after he ascended to the Throne of God, in my own heart I know he has fulfilled the prophecies of Isaiah. This I know to be true: Jesus is the Son of God. He is the Messiah.”
Andrew stood. “Luke, we must be on our way lest we stumble our way home in the dark of night. Anastiloti, Narit – know this: Jesus lives, for he has sent his very own spirit to abide in the hearts of all who believe in him.”
Narit’s joy shone in her smile. “We know this, dear Andrew. Anastiloti and I, we know this to be true, for Jesus lives in our hearts as well.”
“But before you go,” cried Anastiloti, let us return to the agora. I would like to make you both a gift of new sandals.”
Luke said, “Oh, my, Anastiloti, I cannot say how grateful I am. My old sandals are so badly worn. Walking causes me no little discomfort, pain, even. It would be such a relief to wear good sandals.”
Leaving Gergesa behind, Andrew and Luke descended the slope to the time-worn roadway that would return them to Capernaum. Andrew said, “Luke, these new sandals of ours remind me of the time Philip and I went to Aenon to see the baptizer, John. What was it, nine, ten years ago? His words remain in my heart.”
“Pray, tell.”
“John’s arrival at the Jordan raised the curiosity of so many. This odd Nazirite with unshorn hair, garbed in camel-hair, had come to the Jordan. Many were the men and women who, won by his words, repented and were baptized that their sins might be forgiven! Many of us stood in line for hours, days, even to wait our turn. To this day, I remember how John stood in the water, how his words still echo in my heart: I baptize you for repentance, he said, but after me comes one mightier than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. As for myself, I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
They walked a while in silence. The sun waned. Late afternoon breeze from the great sea cooled the air. Bats flittered in search of insect suppers.
“It all comes down to that, Andrew. Whose sandals will you walk in. Whose footsteps will you follow.”
Copyright © 2023 Peter K. Schipper