They say you don’t forget the day your world falls off a cliff.
I used to sit at my cliff, feet dangling over the edge, feeling the peace of a sunrise, the coolness of a sunset. I would drink in the breeze. Monitor the cloud shapes. Watch the fishermen below. Shield myself from the horrors hidden in the tombs nearby.
Yesterday, I should have seen the signs. The wind. Still. Heavy. The fingers of dawn crawling over the Golan ridges. Poking at the grunting herd as they grazed. Two thousand. Strong. Fat. Healthy. My life’s investment. My inheritance. My legacy. My pride.
I’ve replayed the scene a million times. Were they restless? Twitchy? Tails rigid? This was their safe place, protected on three sides from prey. Their contented grunts, a balm for my soul. What had I missed?
Did the sows huddle closer to their piglets, eyes wide, glaring toward the cliff edge? Had they felt the enormity of the moment and the one who would determine their destiny? Animals are so much more sensitive to the unseen world.
The fear raced up my spine, as tangible as a line of army ants nipping at my flesh. The bonerattler, the chain-breaker, the beast from the netherworld. Had I really ever known him?
Years ago, we sat side by side in this spot, embracing the promise of dawn. The cliff provided our moment to release our cares and to share our dreams of hope. We’d toss rocks to signify the release of each insignificant worry. “Pigs,” he announced. “Pigs are the future.” That rock he kept. I treasured it in my pocket.
Was it really yesterday the boat nudged the shore near the tombs, filled with Galileans? I had almost stepped off the cliff trying to warn them in time. I had heard the rattle of chains from the cavern in the cliff face. Chaos and darkness in the flesh emerged and honed in on his target.
My fists clenched. There was no retreat for the newcomers.
The tooth-gnasher roared to a stop before the beach walkers, falling to his knees, clawing at the ground, howling. “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” My death-grip on the staff left my arthritic fingers pulsating with pain, even now.
Whispered thunder wrapped itself around the terror. “What is your name?”
The uttered growl in response to a question. “Legion.” No name. A number. A dark denizen.
Have you ever frozen to the ground? Feet nailed in place. Mind numbed. Desperate to breathe. Heart paralyzed between beats. Jesus never flinched. Light consumed darkness and spit it out as an empty shell. And the pigs screeched and squealed with a diabolic cacophony I hope never to hear again. The wails of a thousand phantoms filled the air. Stampeding swine. Eyed crazed over, foam lathering from their jowls, and hoofs scrambling to escape. Right over the cliff.
Nothing I could do. Standing here the day after, the devastation is clear. Torn tundra. Deathly silence. My men, fishing for swine.
What kind of gentle power whispers life to death, light to darkness, hope to hopelessness? And transforms? What kind of humble dynamo faces the evil, emptiness, and the most fiercesome guilt and shame, shattering it with a terror so great that it would unleash pandemonium on pigs?
A long-lost footstep crunches on the hardened clay behind me. I turn. It’s him. Smiling. Clothed. Wound free. At peace.
“So, you told mom?” I asked. “Is dad still mad about the pigs?” He nodded. “After what I went through with those demons, dad and mom don’t seem so scary anymore.”
“What about him?” “You mean the chain-breaker? The peace-giver, the only one who could set me free?” He picked up a stone and threw it over the edge of the cliff. “I guess he wants me sticking around to prove this is real. I’ve got a few other relationships to make right.”
“What was it like?” He lowered himself, scooting to the edge of the cliff, and dangled his feet over. “Darkness. Deadness. Emptyness. Desperation. Trapped. Alone. Pain. Guilt. Shame. Fear. Anger… It also felt powerful, exhilarating, and confusing. It was so freeing and peaceful when it was over.”
There may be days to come when I ponder the waves and wonder if the exchange was worth it. This cliff has made all the difference for me. I lost everything I thought I valued that day and gained what I truly valued. My brother.