This week’s reading tells again of an incident I’d prefer to move beyond. Worse yet, it relates a glimpse into Jesus’ life for the second time. If it’s bad enough to be told once, why does it have to be rehearsed again? But both the writers of Mark and Matthew want it told and don’t leave out the graphic details some would prefer to excuse, that is, whitewash (deliberate word there) over. Even so, for the sake of what comes later, I invite you to read it here in blog form, A Dogged Faith. It is also found in a greater context in The Trouble with Jesus: Considerations Before You Walk Away, Chapter 2, pages 33-37, or available wherever you love to buy books.
Agreed. Whereas Jesus does the right thing in that part of his story, he doesn’t appear all lightning white when it’s over. Like the rest of us, learning what justice entails was a stretch for him, too. Either that, or maybe he shows how the struggle is real for all of us. Son of Man, how far are you going to take this?
Stories of people bringing the sick to Jesus are not out of the ordinary. Even now, heaven probably shakes constantly with petitions for people to be healed. Give them some credit here. While prayers may come with sobs for God to reverse what could be the worst possible outcome, the proverbial faith of a mustard seed is the foundation of their cries. The heart knows or at least wants to believe that God can heal. The fear is, will God make this miracle or not? Still, we ask.
The Syrophenician woman begged and argued with Jesus out of that faith. Yet, in her context she knew she could be refused. Likewise, who are we to be so bold to ask for healing, anybody’s healing, in our own limited understanding of where we sit, what God sees beyond what we know. Even with modern day interventions and treatment, still sometimes prayer is the only recourse. So, we ask.
After this encounter, Jesus gets out of Dodge the best he can. Still, it’s a long way back from where he came. You know how news travels on the wind? People find him and the ask is the same. Heal this person.
Whereas the woman’s daughter was not present when her mother begged for help, this time a man’s friends brought him to Jesus. Again, they were not of his race, religion, or ethnicity. Didn’t matter. The man was deaf and mostly mute. He couldn’t know the difference, what could separate him from potential healing. For that matter though, his friends didn’t care either. Begging like desperate people, they asked Jesus to lay his hands on the man.
Big ask again. Touching sick people for the Jews would make one unclean and require extensive rituals to be restored. Guess that’s why Jesus led him to a private place away from the crowd. If this story was to be told, no need to bring up what one didn’t need to do the job. Interestingly though, there was no hesitation or argument on Jesus’ part this time.
Jesus had healed the woman’s daughter by remote, you could say. All it took were his words, “I have healed your daughter.” The girl was restored to physical, mental, spiritual health, just like that. Right in her own home. Nice and clean. Not so here.
After putting his fingers into the deaf man’s ears, Jesus spit into his own fingers and then touched the mute man’s tongue with it. With a deep sigh, he commanded, “Be opened!” and the man had perfect hearing and speech. More than messy, for certain. Miracles can be that way. God reaches inside to make needed changes.
The first healing gets repeated, maybe so we can’t escape it, have to reckon with it. The second one is told just once, in six short verses. Interestingly, the people who learned of this tell it on their own, activating that viral wind again. One passage gets skipped over in Sunday preaching; the one following it is lifted up proclaiming, “just have faith people!” If Jesus sighed over one miracle, he must have been drained by both.
Both the man and the little girl lived in settings which bring out racial and ethnic tensions in their contexts. The nice thing to say is that Jesus learned from one and wasn’t afraid to meet another’s desperation despite it. Use that if you have to. Yeah, keep it distant, out there, on him, not close.
Or…look into that central question. The prayer goes, “God, you can, but will you?” Beggars know there are resources to more than meet their needs, but will they be shared? These healings reveal how desperation makes beggars of us all, regardless of who we are, and of a healer willing to get messy with whatever faith we bring.
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