The Swine Merchant's Complaint

The Swine Merchant's Complaint

“So the devils besought him, saying if thou cast us out, suffer us to go away into the herd of swine.” Matthew 8:28-37 KJV

The carpenter’s son cast the demons into two thousand of my hogs outside Gadarenes. What sort of sandal-footed fool takes requests from demons? Why not send their madness into Herod’s astrologers and houri dancers? Or into Pilate’s Roman legions? My drove was feeding on the windfall figs beneath trees on a cliff overlooking the sea, cooing to celebrate the honey-sweet flavor of the first fruit, the ripening promise for our town’s harvest. My largest sow farrowed piglets that Philistine chefs purchased with bushels overflowing with shekels and denarii. My pork was coveted in kitchens as distant as Carthage on the coast of Homer’s wine-dark waters. “More succulent than Aphrodite’s milk,” the ecstatics crowed at their banquets. I could have bartered my pigs for immortality to any of the four thousand-and-one worthy gods. Any day an agent from Sparta will arrive to negotiate the sale of my pork for a festival to honor Apollo. The Alexandrian will inquire about the season’s market before spring. What bargain can I offer when my livestock lies at the bottom of the Sea of Galilee? For my bill of redress to the gods, the treasurer for this prophet’s band tossed me a widow’s mite.  

Author: Michael Brockley

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Photo Credit: Jon Butterworth on Unsplash