Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)
A few years ago, I read about a social experiment that a man and a woman were involved in. One day, the two of them went to a busy street corner and began to engage people in conversation. People interacted with both the man and the woman during these conversations.
The next day, the man and the woman went to a different street corner. This time, however, the woman sat in a wheelchair. When they engaged people in conversation, most simply ignored the woman altogether and spoke only with the man.
Most people cannot imagine what it is like to be unable to hear, or speak, or see, or walk. On the one hand, we tend to feel sorry for such people and all that they must be missing. On the other hand, their disabilities seem to mark them off as a different species on our minds. We don’t know how to relate to them. We may even fear them. If someone has an obvious psychological disability, our reactions become even more intense. We may write them off, even unconsciously, as being less than human.
Some people have disabilities that are not obvious to the casual observer. One person may have a heart condition or back injury that severely limits their physical activities. Someone else may have a psychological disability which is not visible much of the time because that person has learned, through years of struggle, how to relate to the “normal” world. People with such hidden disabilities are often not believed or taken seriously. They tend to be dismissed as “lazy” – or worse.
Very often, the aging process brings with it a feeling of growing disability. People, as they age, find that their energy diminishes. They become more susceptible to various illnesses and injuries, and the recovery process is much slower. Eyesight, hearing, balance, and memory are only a few of our abilities that age affects in some way. Perhaps one of the reasons why our culture is so youth-obsessed is that we fear the disabling that the aging process brings. We fear that gradual (or not so gradual) diminishment of energy and abilities. We fear becoming less “cool”, less acceptable, less human, closer to death.
There is another reason for our fear. We not only fear becoming disabled. We fear, secretly, that each one of us might be already disabled in some way; that each one of us carries within some seemingly incurable wound, some embarrassing weakness, or some other unacceptable thing. We do our utmost to “fix” it, cure it, overcome it, and (especially) hide it. The presence of more obviously disabled people serves only to remind each of us of this fear that we, too, are more like them that we dare to admit. Since we can’t face our own disability, we can’t deal with others who are disabled.
We may make one more observation here. Our bodies may function well, but we do not seem to know how to use them. Our hearing may be fine, but we do not know how to listen. Our eyesight may be fine, but we do not take the time to see what is happening. Our mouths may be perfectly capable of speech, but we do not know what to say to one another.
In this Sunday’s Gospel reading, Jesus is traveling through predominantly pagan territory to the north and east of Galilee. One day, some people bring to Jesus a man who is deaf and has a speech impediment, and they beg Jesus to heal this man.
Having followed Mark’s Gospel thus far, we have seen Jesus heal many people from many afflictions. We have even seen Jesus bring someone who had died back to life. We expect, then, that Jesus will heal this man. What is noteworthy here is how Jesus goes about it. He could have simply spoken a word and healed the man. He could have simply touched him – on the arm, the shoulder, the head – and healed him.
What does Jesus do? First of all, Jesus takes them man apart from the crowd. This man, being disabled, would have been seen as being not fully a member of the community. Some would have seen his disabilities as signs that he was guilty of some serious sin. Jesus, then, takes him from the crowd and gives the man his undivided attention. Jesus then touches the parts of the man’s body that are affected by the disabilities – the ears, the tongue. Jesus does not fear or reject the man or his limitations. All this physical contact shows that Jesus desires to welcome this man into his own people, as a member of the Body of Christ. (The priest or deacon will touch the ears and mouth of someone being baptized as part of the ritual of welcoming this new Christian.) Jesus then sighs, exclaims “Ephphatha!” (“Be opened!”), and the man is healed. He can now hear well and speak plainly. The crowd is overwhelmed by what has happened.
What can we see here? First of all, Mark wants us to notice how Jesus is fulfilling the prophecy of Isaiah, which we have in our first reading this Sunday: “Here is your God, he comes with vindication; with divine recompense, he comes to save you… Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared; then will the lame leap like a stag, then the tongue of the mute will sing”. Secondly, the reaction of the crowd – “He has done all things well”- is (in the original Greek) a reference to this line in Genesis: “God looked at everything he had made, and found it very good” (Gen 1:31). In other words, through Jesus, God is bringing about a new creation. God is gathering his people anew. God is breaking down every barrier that used to separate people from one another, and bringing about something new – the Kingdom of God. All of this, and more, is happening in and through Jesus. The physical healing of this man is a sign of what Jesus has come to do for all his people and for all of creation.
How is this Gospel story good news for us today?
Sometimes, the Lord does physically heal people – even today. The shrines in places like Lourdes and St. Anne de Beaupre bear witness to this. So, too, do the stories that some of our own relatives tell us. The Lord will physically heal some people as a sign of what he will give to all who believe in him in the end. We should not dismiss this possibility too quickly.
Nevertheless, not all are physically healed. Even many with faith remain disabled in one way or another. How is this Gospel story good news in these circumstances? What is the healing that Jesus would give – and to whom?
Notice how Jesus takes the time to touch the affected areas of this man – his ears and tongue. Sometimes, the healing we experience is in how we see a disability or a weakness. On the Cross, Jesus took upon himself what appeared to be utter weakness, utter helplessness and utter disability and made it the means of our salvation by his faithful act of utter self-giving love. In the same way, the Lord often invites people with a disability to see it as a means through which they become more closely joined to him in love and trust. Their acceptance of their disabilities and weaknesses, in this way, opens them to the love of the Lord in a more profound manner. Not only do they themselves grow in compassion and patience, but the Lord can speak and act through them and touch others. Very often, people with a disability who speak of the Lord have a more powerful impact on others than people who seem to be perfectly healthy.
Sometimes, the healing that takes place is not in the disabled person only, but in the community. The disabled person – precisely by being disabled – plays a prophetic role for others. Just as the visions of mystics serve to remind us of what God wants to do – and is doing – for all of us, so, too, the disabilities of some people remind us that, before God, we are all disabled in some way. We are all limited. We are all weak. We are all, at times, deaf to one another and to the Lord. We all, at times, do not know how to speak to others, especially about God. We are all, at times, blind to some truth that we need to see. We all need some kind of healing. Our ability to welcome the disabled person as a full member of the Christian community includes our ability to admit to our own disabilities and seek the Lord’s help. It is precisely the witness of the disabled faithful among us that helps us all to see how we can do this in our own lives. Some remain ‘disabled’ so that we all might be healed. As the Lord told Paul, “my power is made perfect in weakness”. In fact, the Lord seems to prefer working in and through what we call ‘weakness’ or ‘disability’ than in using what we see as our ‘strengths’!
So, then. If you discover a weakness or disability within yourself, thank God. See it as a personal invitation to you from the Lord to draw closer to him in faith, hope and love – even if it means to stand by the Cross. If the weakness or disability is in someone close to you, pray that the Lord will being about through it whatever healing he wills – in the afflicted person, in you, in the family, or in the community as a whole. If we love someone, we want to be where they are. If we love the Lord, that will mean, at times, being at the foot of the Cross. But the Lord has made the Cross the greatest expression of love, and the greatest promise of ultimate victory for all who will stand by the Cross in whatever way. In our weakness the Lord’s own power is made perfect in us. May this strengthen our faith and help us persevere in hope and love.