The passage from Isaiah and the passage from Mark, put together as they are today, mean to tell us something.

The passage from Isaiah is about the restoration of Zion, a miraculous restoration, what with the eyes of the blind being opened, the ears of the deaf being cleared, the lame leaping, and the mute singing.[1] It is about the healing of Israel; it is about what God will do.

But then we come to Mark, to the story about Jesus healing a deaf man. The Greek gives you a sense that he’s really deaf, that can’t hear a thing; that is why his speech is affected.[2] Which makes it all the more wonderful when Mark says that Jesus “immediately” opened the man’s ears and removed his speech impediment.

Now the broad point is that Mark is telling us that the kingdom Jesus inaugurates is indeed the fulfilment of Isaiah 35, that what Jesus is doing is what Isaiah was talking about. This is what Mark is saying, but with a twist that’s very important, even scandalous for some, and demanding faith.

The first twist is about Jesus. You see, it’s Jesus here again doing a Godlike thing. When Moses begged God not to use him because of his stammer, God said, “Who has made man’s mouth?…Is it not I, the Lord?”[3] Here it is Jesus doing that, healing a man’s ears and his speech, acting like God; but how is that? Maybe because he’s God from God, light from light, true God from true God. That’s the first twist.

The second twist is that Jesus is healing a non-Jew. That’s what the detail about being in the Decapolis is all about. Jesus is healing a Gentile. In a little bit he’ll feed the multitudes in the wilderness. It’ll be the second time he does it, but this time it will be Gentiles eating more bread than they know what to do with.[4] You see the twist? Jesus is opening Isaiah 35 to the Gentiles; the kingdom of God is for all, that is, anyone who has faith in him.

But there’s another thing about this passage from Mark that has always struck me; this story is unique to Mark’s Gospel. The thing that gets me, what I find beautiful is this: Jesus takes the man away from the crowd to be alone with him. I don’t know, I just find that a beautiful detail reminding me how God really does love me personally. Yes, he is the Lord of all, but he’s also my Lord, the lover of my soul. It’s an intimate image which I just find comforting in a world that sometimes feels lonely, the notion that I can be alone with God, that God will sometimes call me to be alone with him.

But there’s something a bit scary about this part of the story too. And that’s because Jesus removing me from the crowd might be painful to bear; I mean, what if the “crowd” he’s pulling me away from are my idols, my addictions, friends who are bad for me, a job that’s killing me, a boyfriend or a girlfriend that’s just no good for you? Do you want Jesus pulling you away from that? Make me pure but not yet, St. Augustine prayed once.[5] Man, sometimes I just don’t know. Sometimes I want what’s making me unhappy, what’s making me blind and deaf.

And what happens if or when Jesus does get to work on you? For the deaf man, Jesus got in his face, grabbed him by the head, shoved fingers in his ears, touched his tongue, made strange noises—imagine how frightening that must’ve been.[6] Would you want someone to do that to you? What would be your first reaction, your reflex? I get it why some people hate religion so much sometimes, hate the sometimes urgent moral and spiritual imperatives to change.

But what if the healing Jesus means for you begins like that? So forcefully, so in-your-face? Sometimes I think we want Jesus in our lives, we want him to heal us, but we don’t want that. We don’t want him to be that forceful. We don’t want him that close. We don’t want to change. An hour on a Sunday will do.

Which is the question, today’s invitation. This kingdom, this healing kingdom, is indeed open to me and you, to non-Jews like us. But are we willing to let Jesus do what he needs to do? Are we willing to let him pull us away from what we need to escape, our addictions, our bad relationships? Are we willing to let him get in our face, touch us, get really close? Some people stand their whole lives at a distance and wonder why nothing’s changed. This story makes you think about why that is, this story about the God calling you to confession and to real Catholicism. This God who is very close, whispering to you, wanting to heal you. Amen.

[1] Isaiah 35:5-6

[2] Mark 7:32

[3] Exodus 4:11

[4] Mark 8:1-10

[5] Augustine, Confessions 8.7,17

[6] Mark 7:33-34

© 2024 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield