Mark 7.24-37

15^th Sunday after Pentecost Proper 18 | Mark 7.24-37 | Richard O. Johnson |

Jesus set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice, but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” But she answered him, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” Then he said to her, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.” So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha,” that is, “Be opened.” And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. They were astounded beyond measure, saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.” [Mark7.24-37 NRSV]

In Mark’s gospel, we often feel like we’re right there in the middle of the story. Of all the gospel writers, he is the one with the best eye for detail. The sights, the sounds, the smells—all are vividly and brightly painted by the skilled artist who wrote this treasure of a book. We sense that in this morning’s story, where Jesus’ every move with this deaf and mute man is chronicled.  His gestures, his words, his expressions—all plainly shown.

I’d like you this morning to focus on some of these details. We know that Jesus was always reaching out to people in need.  We know that, as his followers, we are supposed to do the same; and yet we often have trouble figuring out just how to do that. This gospel lesson can help us with that. It shows us how Jesus touched and healed one very particular person, but it also shows us how we can learn from Jesus to be compassionate toward all manner of people.

Looking up to heaven

And so I want to focus on three of these details that Mark gives. We will consider Jesus’ looking up to heaven, his sigh, and his touch. We’ll start with the look. What does it mean that Jesus looks up to heaven? Perhaps the most obvious answer is that this is a gesture of prayer. It is especially poignant for this deaf man, because Jesus is taking the trouble to act out what he is doing. The man would not hear a prayer spoken verbally. But the glance up to heaven communicates to the man very clearly what Jesus is doing.

In Minnesota, there is a Lutheran congregation made up primarily of deaf people. Much of the liturgy is done in American sign language. When a new pastor was called some years ago, the first thing she noticed was that the seating was quite traditional—straight rows of seats—maybe pews, I don’t know. But she immediately reconfigured the seating so that it was in the round. The effect was dramatic. When the congregation recited the Apostles’ Creed, most of them using sign language, they suddenly for the first time could see one another confessing their faith! What had always been a very private, individual affirmation suddenly became what a creed is supposed to be—a unified declaration of what we all believe.

It’s like that in this story. Jesus looks up into heaven, and thereby brings this deaf man with him into the act of prayer. For this man whose relationship with God has likely always been one shrouded in lonely silence, it is a powerful act.

But there’s still more to it. By looking into heaven, Jesus helps the man understand that his deliverance is about to come from God. There were many in Palestine who thought Jesus was nothing more than a miracle worker, a clever man with some kind of divine or demonic power to do great things. But Jesus always pointed away from himself and toward his heavenly Father. And that is what he is doing here. He wants the man to be sure that the miracle he is about to receive comes from God, and not from any human wonderworker.

For us, for our serving, this means something very important. It suggests that if we are to serve in the name of Christ, we must always begin with and in him. One of the problems we have is that we are good and generous and compassionate people. I say that’s a problem because it sometimes means that we operate out of our own good will rather than out of God’s love. But true serving always begins in communion with God. If the serving we do arises only out of our own human heart, we will very likely have problems. Maybe our serving will become twisted and self-serving. Perhaps it will wear us out. Genuine serving, Christian serving, begins with Christ, in prayer. Do you remember that old Lutheran hymn? “With the Lord begin your task; Jesus will direct it. For his aid and counsel ask; Jesus will perfect it.” Whether your task, your service, is teaching Sunday School, singing in the choir, working at a local food ministry, visiting a shut-in, for it to be Christian service means that it begins with Christ. In that way Christ can direct and guide your serving in the way he would want.

Jesus sighed

Then notice Mark’s comment that Jesus sighed. This word is a little difficult. The word itself actually carries a negative meaning, more like groan. Probably what it indicates is Jesus’ compassion for this man. Let’s think about that word for a moment. To have compassion means to suffer with another person. Jesus groans because in this moment, he actually experiences the pain and the loneliness and the frustration this man knows. To be deaf and mute is to be a world apart, a world into which no one else can come. It often means, particularly in less educated societies than ours, to be ostracized, ridiculed.

But that can happen even among us, can’t it?  The late Jerry Schmalenberger, for some years the president of Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary, recalled that when he was a boy, growing up in Ohio, there was a local deaf mute whom the junior high students called “Dummy Parker.”  The favorite Saturday activity was to ridicule him, to taunt him. “I will regret the unfeeling, insensitive, cruel way I treated that man until I die,” said Dr. Schmalenberger. You see, even among us, people who are different sometimes feel the brunt of our discomfort.

But of course, those feelings of isolation and loneliness are felt by many people, and for many different reasons.  I once knew a woman whose son been accused of a terrible crime. When word got out about this, her neighbors stopped speaking to her—literally began to shun her. It became so unbearable that she finally moved to a new city. You see, thoughtless cruelty is not restricted to junior high school. Where does it come from? I guess it comes from being unable to understand another person. And that’s why Jesus’ groan here is so important. By groaning, Jesus was expressing his complete identification with the pain this man was feeling. He felt, in the depths of his heart, what it was like to be in that situation. Now one lesson from that surely is that wonderful word of grace that says Jesus understands us in that way, too. But as we approach this story today, let’s instead see it as an example for us. To truly serve in his name, we must feel the situation of those we serve.

Now compassion is something different from pity. Pity is an emotion that implies that one person is above another. I volunteered for several years at a food distribution ministry in my community. Most of the volunteers obviously felt pity for those whom they serve. But Jesus calls us to go beyond pity and feel compassion. It is a way of looking at someone and not focusing on how different their circumstances are from mine, but on how much we share as fellow human beings. It is a way of trying to sense what that person feels. The gospel story this morning is teaching us that compassion is a vital component of Christian service.

Fingers in the ears and mouth

Then a third detail to notice: Jesus does this strange thing of spitting and touching the man’s tongue and putting his fingers in the man’s ears. On the surface, we could understand this as simply another kind of sign-language, intended to communicate to the man about what Jesus was about to do. But I think there is something more here. Is there not a certain power in the human touch? Especially this intimate kind of touch—not just laying a hand on a shoulder, but touching the man’s ears and tongue?

Perhaps it is teaching us how important it is to make physical contact with people in need. Some years ago, I saw a film that was reflecting on the particular problems of the elderly.  They interviewed a woman who was widowed and lived alone.  “What is the most difficult thing for you,” they asked, and she replied, without a moment’s hesitation, “It is that no one ever touches me.” Many people in convalescent hospitals have that terrible experience. Often forgotten by family and friends, the only time they are touched is rather invasively, by nurses or doctors doing procedures on them. Can you imagine what it would be like to go for weeks and months without being touched by another human being? Or perhaps you don’t have to imagine; perhaps you have been there.

When we serve others in Christ’s name, we must not be afraid to touch! It is the way that we establish contact with others, the way that we communicate that we share a common humanity. There are times, of course, when physical touch may be inappropriate, though I think those times are fewer than we sometimes pretend. And there are many ways to “touch” someone—a smile, deliberate and loving eye contact, a tone of voice, an encouraging word. In Christ, God touches us so personally and so intimately. He wants us, if we would serve in his name, to touch others.

In the rite of confirmation in our church, one of the most profound moments comes when the pastor lays his or her hands on the head of the confirmand and prays God to stir up the gifts of the Holy Spirit in this young person. Part of that prayer asks God to “empower her in her serving.” Serving is really a pretty big part of following Christ, isn’t it? May this story of Jesus empower us in our serving, by teaching us always to begin with Christ, to learn compassion, and to touch tenderly those who whom we serve in Christ’s name.

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Pastor Richard O. Johnson

Webster, NY

roj@nccn.net