| ||
 |
||
|
|
|
|
The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost Mark 7:24-37 |
||
"They brought to him a deaf man...." It seems that people were always coming or being brought to Jesus. Regardless of who they thought he was—the Christ, a miracle worker, a magic man—they came to Jesus. And he responded. The healing of the deaf man with the speech impediment, like the healing of the Syrophoenician woman's daughter, both take place in the Gentile territory that encompasses the regions of Decapolis and Tyre. It is interesting to find Jesus here. For not only does the area represent a "displacement"—a geographical break from the normal boundaries of the Palestinian Jew—it also represents a philosophical and social break. It's also interesting to note that this "displacement" into Gentile territory occurs following a lengthy dispute between Jesus and the Jewish legal experts of the Law. (You'll remember last week's gospel and Jesus' argument with the Pharisees and scribes over his disciples' eating with defiled hands.) So Jesus and his disciples have journeyed south, and they have come to the area, not with the intent of more missionary work, but rather to get away from the crowds (and the harassment) and to have some time for rest and relaxation. Like the Butch and Sundance Boys, they had hit the Hole in the Wall, and had planned to lay low until the dust had settled and the heat died down. But, as had been the case, in Tyre, and with the Syrophoenician woman, Jesus' reflection time gets "displaced" when an unidentified "they" bring to Jesus a man unable to hear or speak. The theme of "displacement" occurs throughout this narrative, and, in fact, throughout all of the Gospels. For almost from the first step of his ministry, Jesus knows his final destination. He knows that, ultimately, his destiny lies with the cross at Calvary. And he knows that in his death, there is life and salvation for the world. Jesus is on his way to one place and to do one thing. And all the rest of the Gospel seems a "displacement"—an intrusion on Jesus' journey. With each step, some person or some event suddenly intrudes, and, just as suddenly, Jesus responds. Often, these "displacements" take Jesus and the disciples to unusual and unfamiliar places—like to this Gentile territory, for instance, to minister to hurting Gentiles, who were looked upon and referred to by many Jews as "dogs,” (thus, perhaps, Jesus’ unusual and uncomfortably harsh reply to the Syrophonecian woman). How radical such displacement looks alongside our domesticated faith communities! Our "stay-on-the-reservation," "keep-it-all-at-home," "play-it-safe," "no risk" mentality almost always overrides our desire to be "displaced" by the Spirit. But, as is clear in the pattern of Jesus, a ready willingness to be displaced and guided by the Spirit is critical to discipleship. The call to community as we hear it from our Lord is the call to move away from the ordinary and "proper" places: "Leave your father and your mother". . . "Let the dead bury the dead". . . "Keep your hand on the plow and do not look back". . . "Sell what you own, give to the poor". . ."Feed the hungry, clothe the naked". . . "Take up your cross and follow me." The Gospel confronts us with this persistent voice, inviting us to move from where it's comfortable, from where we want to stay, from where we feel at home—to a place that is unfamiliar, to a place of displacement and intrusion, to a place where we are neither deaf nor mute nor blind to the needs of those who cry out for a healing touch and a word spoken in the name of Christ. At the time of Jesus' ministry and for centuries before, the Hebrews believed that various bodily discharges produced ritual uncleanliness in a person and in anyone or anything that the person or the discharge touched. Among the list of unclean discharges as they are recorded in Leviticus was spittle. But to the Jews, Gentiles were also a source of uncleanliness. If, in fact, the deaf mute that had been brought to Jesus for healing was Gentile (and likely he was), then he would have defiled Jesus the Jew merely from physical contact. We can assume here, then, that the point of Mark's detailed description of the event, as well as the point of Jesus' added ingredient of spittle to this act of healing, is one of profound inclusion. That which the prevailing culture regarded as profane—spittle—becomes with Jesus, a means of grace. That which the devout regarded as a contaminant—a Gentile—Jesus sees as a suffering child of God, and with the tenderest care, he releases him from his affliction. Had Jesus not have allowed himself to be "displaced," to be intruded upon, to be interrupted—had he not set aside unwarranted tradition and exclusionary precedent, the healing could not have occurred. The question for us this morning is this: Are we willing to allow ourselves to be displaced—to be intruded upon by a world that is full of hurt and suffering and pain? The "new creation" in Christ means a change in vision. It means, among other things, the realization of what Teilhard de Chardin once said, "By virtue of creation and still more by the incarnation, nothing here below is profane for those who know how to see." In that sense, each and every one of us needs to hear the Lord say, "Ephpha-tha’," so that we too, like our brother the deaf mute, may know what it is to "be opened." In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. |
|
|