The Garment of the Old, Torn Away with Violence

There is a sound in this word — the sound of fabric ripping, of a seam giving way under strain, of something once joined being forcibly separated. The Greek verb perirrhḗgnymi appears only once in all the New Testament, a single, startling occurrence that carries the weight of a prophetic act. It means to tear all around, to rend completely away, as one might tear a garment from a body in righteous fury or desperate grief. The Strong’s definition speaks of tearing completely away, and the KJV translators rendered it simply as “rend off.” But one usage is enough when that usage is a sign. One occurrence is sufficient when the One who performs the action is the Son of God Himself.

The First and Only: A Man Possessed and a Garment Torn

The sole New Testament appearance of perirrhḗgnymi occurs in the Gospel of Mark, chapter 5, verse 4. There, the evangelist describes the Gerasene demoniac — a man tormented by a legion of unclean spirits, dwelling among the tombs, crying out night and day. Mark writes: “Because he had often been bound with fetters and chains, and the chains had been torn apart by him, and the fetters broken in pieces, and no one had the strength to subdue him.” The verb used for “torn apart” is perirrhḗgnymi. The man, driven by powers beyond his own, had rent the chains from his body as though they were mere threads. Jewish tradition holds that when a garment is torn completely around, it cannot be mended — it is destroyed beyond repair. So too were the bonds of this man shattered, not by deliberate release, but by violent, uncontrolled force. The chains did not fall away; they were perirrhḗgnymi — torn all around, completely off.

From Classical Greek to the Koine: A Verb Transformed by Context

In classical Greek, perirrhḗgnymi carried the sense of bursting or breaking through, often used of rivers overflowing their banks or of garments being rent in ritual mourning. The compound structure reveals its force: peri, meaning “around,” and rhḗgnymi, meaning “to break or tear.” Together they suggest a tearing that encircles its object, leaving nothing intact. But in the Koine of the New Testament, the verb takes on a darker, more personal weight. It is no longer about rivers or abstract garments — it is about a human body in torment, about chains meant for restraint being shattered by a power that cannot be contained. The Septuagint uses rhḗgnymi to translate the Hebrew word para (פָּרַע), meaning to let loose, to uncover, or to break forth, as in Exodus 32:25, where the people were “let loose” in their idolatry. The early church fathers, including Ignatius of Antioch, understood such tearing as a picture of the old nature being ripped away, not gently removed, but violently cast off in the process of deliverance.

Yeshua and the Tearing of the Unclean

The context of Mark 5 places perirrhḗgnymi directly in the path of the Messiah. The demoniac, having torn every human restraint, could not be tamed by any man. But when Yeshua stepped from the boat onto that Gentile shore, the unclean spirits recognized their Master. The man who had torn chains now fell at the feet of the One who tears down strongholds. Here is the Messianic inversion: the power that once destroyed now prostrates itself before the Author of all power. Yeshua does not tear chains — He speaks a word, and the legion departs. The garment of the old man, the garment of possession and torment, is not merely torn off; it is replaced with a robe of sanity and peace. The apostolic tradition teaches that every tearing of the old creation finds its purpose in the healing touch of the Messiah. The chains were torn, yes, but only so that they might be left behind forever.

The LXX Bridge: What Hebrew Word Does This Greek Verb Translate?

In the Septuagint, perirrhḗgnymi appears in the translation of Job 1:20, where Job tears his robe after receiving the news of his children’s death. The Hebrew word behind this action is qara (קָרַע), meaning to tear, to rend, especially in grief or mourning. But the Greek translator chose perirrhḗgnymi rather than the simpler rhḗgnymi, emphasizing the completeness of the tearing — not a single rent, but a garment torn all around, utterly ruined. This is the same word used in the binding of Isaac, where Abraham’s heart was torn yet he did not tear his garment. The LXX bridge reveals a profound truth: the tearing of garments in the Hebrew Scriptures was an outward sign of an inward rupture. When Job tore his robe, he was confessing that his world had been torn away. When the Gerasene demoniac tore his chains, he was enacting the inner tearing of his own soul. And when Yeshua would later have His own garments torn by Roman soldiers, He would enter into the full grief of a creation torn apart by sin. The early church saw in this verb a shadow of the cross — where the veil of the temple would be torn from top to bottom, not by human hands, but by the hand of God.

The Grammar of Deliverance: Aorist Active Indicative

The form of perirrhḗgnymi in Mark 5:4 is aorist active indicative, third person singular: perirrhḗxai — “he had torn.” The aorist tense in Greek does not describe a process; it captures a completed action, a single event with enduring results. The verb is active, meaning the demoniac himself performed the tearing — not the chains breaking of their own accord, but the man, driven by the legion within, actively tore them away. Yet the passive voice lingers in the context: the chains were “torn apart by him.” This grammatical tension mirrors the spiritual reality. The man was both agent and victim — he tore, yet he was torn. He broke the chains, yet he was himself broken. The sages of old observed that a man possessed by an unclean spirit is never truly free, even when he breaks every bond. His strength is not his own; his tearing is not liberation but further enslavement. Only when Yeshua commands the legion to depart does the tearing cease. The aorist active becomes aorist passive: the man is no longer the one who tears, but the one who is torn free — delivered by a power greater than his own.

The Garment of the Old Man: A Call to Be Torn Away

Now the word turns to you. This single verb, appearing only once in all of Scripture, is not merely a historical observation about a man long ago. It is a mirror held before your own soul. What chains have you torn in your own strength, only to find yourself still bound? What garments of the old self have you rent, yet continued to wear? The perirrhḗgnymi of the demoniac was a tearing without redemption — a violent breaking that led only to more torment. But when you come to Yeshua, the tearing becomes something else entirely. It is the rending of your heart, not your garments, as the prophet Joel called out. It is the stripping away of the old nature, not by your own frantic hands, but by the gentle yet unyielding hand of the Messiah. Let Him tear away what you cannot remove. Let Him rend the chains you have only broken but never escaped. For the One who tore the veil, who rent the heavens at His baptism, who will one day tear the sky itself when He returns — this same Yeshua stands before you now, not to destroy, but to deliver. And what He tears away, He replaces with a robe of righteousness that will never be torn. Amen.