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September 8, 2018“They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him.” (Mk 7:32)
It becomes clear when we look at the context of this story that we are dealing not primarily with a physical disability which affects relatively few, but rather with a spiritual affliction which is quite common. Just a few verses later, Jesus will say to his disciples, “Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes and fail to see? Do you have ears and fail to hear? …Do you not yet understand?” (Mk 8:17-18, 21). The disciples’ failure to answer is its own answer: like them, we do not understand, we do not perceive how Jesus’ words and actions speak of deeper things than bread or fish, deafness or blindness. The first glimmer of understanding is the realization that I am deaf to God’s Word, and because of this my speech is impaired.
“He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue.” (Mk 7:33)
The cure of this deaf man is requested by an anonymous “they.” In this sense he is passive: acted upon by his benefactors and by his healer without himself acting, perhaps without understanding or giving consent. Once he has been placed in the hands of Jesus, he is drawn away from the crowd for an up-close-and-personal encounter with the unknown healer. This encounter takes the form of being touched. The whole sequence of events is rather overwhelming, even invasive, when imagined from the perspective of one cut off from verbal communication. The Greek sentences are active, with Jesus as subject, but consider them in the passive, with the deaf man as subject:
apolabomenos – he is taken aside, physically drawn
ebalen tous daktulous…eis ta ota – fingers are thrust into his ears
ptusas hepsato tes glosses – his tongue is touched with spittle
To one who inhabits a silent world, this series of impositions could be baffling and frightening. One thinks of being subject to the benevolent but businesslike ministrations of an emergency room medical staff. No time to ask the patient’s permission – this intervention is needed, now!
“Then he looked up to heaven and groaned.” (Mk 7:34)
And yet a good doctor or nurse knows that the patient is a person, not merely an inert object on which to exercise one’s healing skills. Where possible, there should be eye contact, a reassuring touch, a smile. Jesus’ emergency intervention into this man’s body and life happens quickly, firmly and without protest, but also tenderly. This becomes clear in the intercessory groan. Out of Jesus’ mouth comes the sound of deep sorrow, resonating from the bowels of compassion and radiating out to embrace the afflicted one and cry out to heaven on his behalf. This great sigh contains within it all the pains and sorrows and unfulfilled potential of this man’s life, but also the tragic losses and limitations of all human lives. God groans for us.
“‘ Ephphatha!’— that is, ‘Be opened!’” (Mk 7:34)
This is the word that opens the door, not of the man’s ears and tongue only, but of his heart and ours. I repeat this word to myself, endlessly, in hope that I, too, shall be opened. Let every aspect of my consciousness come to know my Lord and healer through his words and actions in my life. Let everything speak to me of his tenderness and compassion, of his aching, groaning desire for the salvation of all.
Image: "Ephphatha" by David Wojkowicz
