Pentecost 15, September 5, 2021

Our Gospel today opens with Jesus doing something that seem entirely uncharacteristic of him.  We know Jesus to be very open to others – very willing to help and show compassion – very available to all who needed him.  The Gospels depict Jesus as welcoming to sinners and not afraid to talk to or even touch those others avoided.  But today’s Gospel begins with Jesus behind closed doors. 

Here’s how our Gospel reading begins:  “Jesus entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there.”

Doesn’t that seem strange?  Now maybe Jesus was tired, that’s understandable.  Maybe he needed some time to regroup and pray.  We know how important that can be.  Maybe he did not want to give the growing crowds the wrong idea about him.  Or maybe he had his own reasons for keeping to himself for a while.

But whatever the reason, I don’t really like to see Jesus locked in a house – dodging the crowds like some celebrity that has been hurried into a dressing room by worried assistants trying to protect some privacy.  This just doesn’t seem like Jesus. In fact, I wonder if the disciples weren’t to blame for this.  At other times they have tried to keep people away from Jesus.  They tried to keep sinners and lepers at bay . . . they tried to shoo the kids away.  I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if THEY weren’t the ones who hurried Jesus into that house.  “Sorry folks.  Jesus will not be seeing anyone today.  Come back some other time.”  That does sound like something they would do, doesn’t it?

In fact, it sounds a bit like something you or I would do.  Protecting our privacy.  Guarding our time.  Keeping unwanted people and demands at bay.  Digging our heals in. Not letting anyone in. Closing things off.  We may have our own very good reasons for doing all these things. 

But is it possible that our hunkering down has more to do with relational detachment from our neighbor and our refusal to be open to those around us?  Maybe even closing out God?  Perhaps we need to open up . . . listen up . . . speak up. . .

Even though our Gospel begins with Jesus inside the house trying to stay under the radar, He did not stay hidden and closed up.  We are told that he could not escape notice. 

He did not escape the notice of those who needed healing  . . . who insisted that he be for them who they trusted him to be.  So Jesus the Healer emerged.  He was not deaf to the cries of pain around him.  He was not silent in the face of the suffering he saw.  He was open to all – to a woman whose race and gender and religion according to the religious rules and community standard of the day should have kept him in the house.  And he was open to a man who begged him – even though he was not one of God’s chosen people – to have mercy on him and lay his hand on him.

Jesus was open – his ears were open – his words flowed free. He could not be confined to the house . . . he was not bound to selfish ways of thinking and doing.  He gave life and healing to all. And to that deaf man with a stuttering tongue, he brought healing and wholeness with one word, “EPHPHATHA” – be opened.  And our Gospel says “immediately the man’s ears were opened, his tongue was loosened, and he spoke plainly.”

Now this man had a physiological problem that Jesus corrected.  But I wonder if his condition mirrors our spiritual situation.  We have ears that are closed; deaf to those around us – deaf to God’s love and his promises.  We have lips that don’t work right; speaking only the gibberish of our opinions and fears and disapprovals and judgments.

And these spiritual disabilities hinder us more so than even a physical one might do.  Because they keep us from loving God with all our heart and loving our neighbors as ourselves. But Jesus the healer is here.  He knows how desperately we need him to help us . . . He knows there is no one else who can correct these maladies in us.  And so today he is not locked away somewhere out of reach, enjoying a Labor Day weekend.  He emerges among us as one who can touch us – who will place his hand on us and open us up to God and to each other. 

He opens our ears . . . .

• To each other – what a precious gift that is:  to be truly heard and understood.  There is no greater thing we can do for each other.  Our opened and receptive ears can do this!
• To his promises – because even though we have heard him speak to us before — even though we may be familiar with the biblical accounts and stories — his powerful word continues to speak to us in our situation today.  He trains our ears to hear his love and the message of the Gospel for us and for all.

He opens our lips . . .

• To speak words of love and affirmation to our neighbor.  Our words can be life-giving and healing.  When Jesus opens us up, then our tongues are loosened to deliver to these gifts to each other. 
• To him so that we might speak of his love and sing his praise.  In the psalms, David prays, “O Lord, open my lips that my mouth may declare your praise.”  Tongues healed by Jesus speak of his love not just in worship but in our daily conversations.  Can you imagine how that might shape us and change us – to have tongues that witnessed to God’s love?

In the Gospel Jesus healed the man by placing his fingers in his ears and touching his tongue with his own saliva.  Sounds gross, perhaps, but it was very personal and intimate.  There was an exchange between Jesus and the man.  Jesus — who had heard his cries – who spoke a healing word – opened up the man’s closed ears and lips by personally connecting with him.

And that is what he does here today  . . . personally connecting with us.  From the very beginning of our life in Christ we are being opened up . . . and not just our ears and lips, but our hands and feet and hearts and minds as well.  So that we might loosen up and love more freely. To support the weak. To strengthen the faint-hearted. To honor all people.  To be who Jesus is for us.