Here in St. Mark’s Gospel is the only account of the man brought to Jesus who is deaf and who has an impediment in his speech.  Only here is this powerful word, “Ephphatha” heard.  Yet from this one Gospel story, the church’s whole tradition of baptism and the full sweep of Christian initiation are enriched.  “Ephphatha!,” announced the priest in the early church to one being baptized.  The presiding minister at baptism then blew upon the ear and nose and mouth and eyes of the new babe in Christ.  “Be opened!”  Here was the first word heard after coming up from the waters of their salvation:  “Ephphatha!”  “Be opened!”  Even now, our catechumens hear these words before their baptism at the Great Vigil.  A baptismal name is given and these ancient words are heard.  Amazing, the power of these words, for the man presented to Jesus, and for us.

      This story in St. Mark begins with Jesus taking a winding journey from Gentile territory to the Sea of Galilee and then to another Gentile area.  Even in this journey, he seems to be witnessing to the one new humanity he is gathering together in his name.  But while in the Decapolis, a group of people—most probably Jews of that area—bring a man who is deaf and is afflicted with a speech impediment.  This crowd is interesting,…much like, say, many of those in an average parish.  That is, we have here persons of some faith and compassion, coming to Jesus with a situation of real need.  In fact, our Intercessions in this liturgy will express much the same faith and compassion.  We, too, would bring such a needy person before Jesus in prayer.  Week in and week out, our prayers are for others like him.  Those who have grown ill or aged, friends and acquaintances with chronic physical or emotional burdens.  Those whose grief stems from the loss of a loved one.  And in some gatherings for prayer, it seems that most all of our concern is for such as this man who is deaf and afflicted with that speech impediment.  Listen to the prayer concerns in many churches—the list swells of those, like this man in the story, who have need of healing. 

      So this “congregation” brings the man to Jesus.  Clearly they have some faith and certainly they are persons of compassion.  They “begged” Jesus to lay his hand on him.  This group of people knows they cannot help the man themselves, yet they have heard others speak of Jesus—“prophet,” mighty healer,” “maybe even the messiah.”  They are to be commended that they beg for this man’s healing.  They certainly had needs of their own they could have brought to Jesus.  I mean, which one of us doesn’t need healing of some sort or other?  There is, for most of us, at least a short list of ailments that we would sincerely like to be healed of.  Just think of all those prescription bottles in our medicine cabinets that we would no longer need!  And for some of us, there is that struggle with diseases far more dreadful than that of not hearing or speaking clearly.  For some of us, we would come to Jesus first for our own needs, for they are a heavy burden.  Interesting, then, that this assembly of friends and neighbors brings the man who is deaf and stricken with a speech impediment to Jesus.  They do have some faith and they do show compassion.  In this, they are very much like us.

      Now when the man is presented to Jesus by the crowd, the first thing our Lord does is to take him off far enough that their interaction is rather private, you could say confidential.  (There are times we need to be privately with Jesus.)  And in that place of some distance from the crowd, Jesus touches the man two times—he touches his ears and then his tongue.  Jesus also spits and groans.  The former, another act of healing; the latter, the groaning, maybe expressing some anger at the bondage this disease has inflicted upon the man.  Finally, the word is uttered accompanying these actions:  “Ephphatha!”  “Be opened!”  Ears:  “Be opened!”  Tongue: “Be opened!”  Immediately, the man could hear and he spoke with ease.  Just put yourself in that man’s place for a moment.  You have not been able to hear anything for quite some time.  Then, you watch as Jesus touches your ears and tongue,…actions accomplished in complete silence.  Then, the word of Jesus is heard: “Ephphatha!”  It is a word that commands healing and completes healing, too.  Instantly, while this word is still echoing in your ears, the other sounds envelop you:  birds chirping off somewhere, the crowd’s distant murmur, and even the whisper of the wind.  You can hear again.  What wonder!  But there is that other problem, that binding of your tongue; speech has deteriorated to the point that you don’t even try to talk any more.  So should you even risk saying some words or other now?  And if so, what shall they be?  Now I don’t know about you, but I always think of the “perfect” thing to say in an important conversation about a week later.  If it was me, I’d probably blurt out something like, “I can hear again.”  Not very poetic and not deeply theological either.  Whatever the man said, St. Mark did not even pass those words along.  But maybe we might ponder what it is that we would say if we had received that double touch from our Lord and could hear and speak anew.  Maybe this is why the church has psalms of praise like Psalm 146.  Holy Scripture not only witnesses to the healing power of Christ, it gives us words to express the wonder of his power.  In fact, could it be that this man now able to speak turned precisely to this psalm so crammed full of alleluias?  Or, then again, maybe he just blurted out the obvious:  “I can hear again.”  Either way, his speech was without distortion or impediment.  He was healed.

      Now the crowd has remained at some distance, but near enough to see and hear the wonder.  They proclaimed the healing and the Healer to each other with joy.  And although Jesus cautioned them against telling no one, it seemed that all this did was make them want to tell even more.  Their own tongues were loosened to proclaim Jesus.  “Well,” they began.  “He has done all things well.”  And they proclaimed this witness to each other and to everyone they encountered.  “Well.”  “He has done all things well.”  So do you see the second miracle in our story?  It has to do with this assembly.  The assembly that brought the man to Jesus and this assembly hearing the story now.  Coming to Jesus, both assemblies show forth a concern for others and a certain faith in Jesus.  That is true for us and it was also true for the neighbors of the man who was deaf and mute.  But not only was that man healed of what needed to be opened.  The crowd was opened to a new passion to proclaim the gospel!  In fact, they could not be restrained from proclaiming the saving, healing power of Christ.  Their tongues were healed of shyness before the world and their mouths were opened to proclaim the Lord.  (And it’s a good bet that a considerable number of Gentile inhabitants of that region were also going to hear from these newly born evangelists!)  “He has done all things well,” they proclaimed.  Their mouths were open to tell the good news.

      So here we are, right in the middle of this story.  We have come to Mass (or “Eucharist,” “our worship,” etc.) with some faith and compassion.  We know our own needs for healing and those of family and friends.  We even know the great need for the healing of those who suffer throughout the world.  And so, we will bring ourselves and others to Christ as we join in prayers of petition and concern.  Then, we will beg our Lord to “say the Word and we shall be healed.”  And Jesus who healed this man in the Decapolis will also heal us here in (ministry location of the parish).  Heal us with the bread and wine of his living presence.  So “Be opened,” church.  Proclaim the power of Jesus Christ to save and heal.  Then we will share in the second miracle of this story.  “Well,” we can say.  “He has done all things well.”

 

Amen.

 ©Rev. Richard Eslinger