The Book of Mark

Word Study

"Legion," Greek legion (λεγιών). A Roman legion numbered some six thousand soldiers. The demons give this name to reveal that a whole army of them, "for we are many," possessed and tormented this one man. It is a terrifying picture of the destructive power of the kingdom of darkness: many, organized, cruel, and beyond all human restraint, "no man could bind him." Yet against this legion stands one word from Jesus, and they must obey. The vast army of hell is no match for the Son of the most high God; where He speaks, even a legion flees.

Explanation

Mark paints the Gerasene demoniac in vivid detail -- a man no chains could hold, cutting himself among the tombs -- and then shows him tamed at Jesus' feet with one command. The demons, named "Legion, for we are many," beg to enter the swine and drown, exposing their destructive nature. The delivered man, "clothed, and in his right mind," begs to follow, but Jesus sends him home to tell "how great things the Lord hath done for thee" -- the first missionary to the Gentile Decapolis. The townsfolk, more troubled by lost pigs than a restored man, ask Jesus to leave; the power that frees one soul frightens a community wedded to its herds.

A reader rightly pauses over the pigs: two thousand swine destroyed, someone's living gone -- was that just? Several things ease the difficulty. The herd was doomed the moment the demons entered it, not by any malice of Jesus but by their own nature; He merely granted their request, and their destructiveness did the rest, showing in the open what these spirits had long been doing to the man. And one human soul outweighs any number of animals -- "how much then is a man better than a sheep?" (Matthew 12:12) -- for God, who owns "the cattle upon a thousand hills" (Psalm 50:10), may dispose of His creatures as He wills to rescue one made in His image. This was Gentile country, too, and swine were unclean under God's law; if the herd was kept in defiance of Him, its loss was as much a judgment as a mercy. The real tragedy is not the pigs but the town's verdict: they counted a herd of hogs dearer than a delivered neighbour, and begged the Saviour to depart. The worth we set on a soul, weighed against property and comfort, is still the test.

Gospel Focus

This is one of the most vivid pictures of what sin and Satan do to a human being, and of what Christ can undo. The man is utterly ruined: living "among the tombs," naked, uncontrollable, "no man could bind him," self-destructive, "cutting himself with stones," a soul in torment day and night. He is what the kingdom of darkness aims to make of a person, isolated, degraded, tormented, and beyond all human help. But "when he saw Jesus afar off, he ran and worshipped him." The demons recognize Jesus at once, "thou Son of the most high God," and know they are helpless before Him. Their theology is correct and their terror is real, for even the devils believe and tremble. At Jesus' word the legion comes out, and the man is transformed. When the townspeople come, they find him "sitting, and clothed, and in his right mind", the three-word portrait of a soul restored by Christ: at rest, no longer naked but covered, and sane. This is what Jesus does with a wrecked life: He does not merely improve it; He restores it. Yet notice the tragic response of the city: instead of rejoicing, "they began to pray him to depart," valuing their swine and their comfort above the salvation of a man. And notice the beautiful response of the healed man: he "prayed him that he might be with him." But Jesus gives him a better calling, to go home and "tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee." The delivered man becomes the first missionary to the Decapolis. Every believer has the same commission: not necessarily to leave home, but to tell how great things the Lord has done. If Christ has set you free, go and tell it. He who broke a legion's grip can break any chains.

Word Study

"virtue," Greek dunamis (δύναμις). The word means power, and gives us "dynamite" and "dynamic." When the woman touched His garment, Jesus knew "that dunamis had gone out of him." Healing power flowed from Christ, not from the cloth. It was not magic in the hem of His robe but power from His person, drawn by living faith. The whole crowd "thronged" Him and touched Him by accident; only one touched Him in faith, and only she was healed. The difference between pressing near Christ in a crowd and touching Him in faith is the difference between the curious and the saved.

Explanation

Mark frames one miracle inside another: on the way to raise Jairus's dying daughter, a woman with a twelve-year hemorrhage touches Jesus' garment and is instantly healed. She meant to slip away unseen, but Jesus insists on drawing her out -- "who touched my clothes?" -- not to shame her but to turn a furtive touch into open faith and to speak the word she needs: "Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole." Her uncleanness would have defiled anyone she touched, yet contact with Christ reverses the flow and makes her clean. Faith that reaches for the hem of His garment does not go unnoticed by the Lord.

Gospel Focus

Between the two halves of Jairus' story, Mark tucks the account of a nameless, desperate woman, and her faith becomes a lesson for us all. For twelve years she had suffered an "issue of blood", a condition that left her not only sick but ceremonially unclean, cut off from worship and normal life, isolated like a leper. She had "suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse." She is a picture of every sinner who has exhausted every human remedy and found no cure. But when she hears of Jesus, faith is born: "If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole." She presses through the crowd and touches His garment, and "straightway" she is healed. Jesus, knowing power had gone out of Him, turns and asks, "Who touched my clothes?" not because He did not know, but because He would not let her slip away with a healing and no relationship. She comes "fearing and trembling" and tells Him "all the truth," and He speaks the tenderest word: "Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace." He calls this outcast "Daughter," and sends her away not only healed but at peace and openly restored. Two truths shine here. First, faith touches Christ. The crowd thronged Him; only faith drew power from Him. Many are near Jesus in outward things, in church, in religion, who never truly touch Him; the one who reaches out in real faith, however weak and trembling, is made whole. Second, Christ receives the unclean and the unworthy. He was not defiled by her touch; His purity overcame her uncleanness, as His grace overcomes our sin. If you have spent all and grown worse, if you feel unclean and cut off, reach out to Jesus in faith, even trembling faith, and hear Him call you "Daughter," and say, "go in peace."

Word Study

"Talitha cumi" (ταλιθὰ κοῦμι). Mark preserves the very Aramaic words Jesus spoke, the everyday language of the home, and translates them, "Damsel, I say unto thee, arise." The tenderness is striking: it is the gentle phrase a parent might use to wake a sleeping child in the morning. To Jesus, this girl's death was no more final than sleep, "the damsel is not dead, but sleepeth," for He had the power to wake her. That He raises the dead with a single, gentle word, as easily as calling a child from sleep, reveals that He is the Lord of life and death, God in flesh.

Explanation

Word comes that Jairus's daughter is dead, and Jesus answers the crushing news with "Be not afraid, only believe." Where the mourners wail, He says the child "sleepeth" -- for to Him death is a sleep from which He will wake her -- and they laugh Him to scorn. Taking her hand, He speaks the tender Aramaic words Mark preserves, "Talitha cumi" ("Damsel, arise"), and she rises and walks. The One who touched a leper and a bleeding woman now takes a corpse by the hand, and again cleanness and life flow the wrong way -- from Him into death itself. The Lord of life holds death by the hand and bids it let go.

Gospel Focus

Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue, had come in humble desperation, falling at Jesus' feet for his dying "little daughter." But while Jesus lingered to heal the woman, the worst news arrives: "Thy daughter is dead: why troublest thou the Master any further?" To human eyes, it was over; death had won. But Jesus speaks the word that steadies every trembling believer: "Be not afraid, only believe." Faith is not called to deny the reality of death but to trust the One who is stronger than death. At the house, amid the "tumult" of professional mourners, Jesus says, "the damsel is not dead, but sleepeth", not that she had not truly died, but that to Him her death was as reversible as sleep. They "laughed him to scorn," the scorn of unbelief for the promises of God. But Jesus puts them out, takes the parents and His three closest disciples, and does what only God can do. He "took the damsel by the hand", touching the dead, which would defile a mere man, but life flows from Him instead, and says, "Talitha cumi... Damsel, I say unto thee, arise." And "straightway the damsel arose, and walked." Here is the crown of the chapter and a foretaste of the gospel's final hope. Jesus is Lord over death itself. He raises the girl with a tender word, then, ever practical and compassionate, commands "that something should be given her to eat." The same Jesus who conquered Legion and healed the incurable woman now conquers death. For the believer, this transforms the grave. To those who are His, death is but sleep, and the voice that woke this little girl will one day call all His people from their graves. "Be not afraid, only believe": the Lord who says "Talitha cumi" holds the keys of death, and He is your Saviour.