Jesus cures a mute deaf man in this Sunday’s reading
and receives astonishment from the crowds (Gospel).
We tend to think that healing people was a main goal in
Jesus’ life, and I suppose it was, in a way. But
after this Sunday there are only four more healings by
Jesus in Mark’s Gospel, and we are only in the
seventh chapter out of sixteen. Earlier in this Gospel
(from the first chapter up to here) he worked so many
cures that people were mobbing him.
And that was the trouble. Jesus was in danger of becoming
famous as a wonder-worker. The people were besieging him
at every stop, thinking that their lives would be saved—if
only they got their health back, if only they got relief
from poverty and death, or if only—well, you name it.
He was in danger of becoming no more than the famous
“fifteen minutes of fame.” But does fame
really reveal God’s love for the world and its
peoples? Jesus thought not. In Mark he stopped the
miracles and began a new phase of his mission.
He turned his face toward Jerusalem.
And the cross.
This change of direction will come next week. Suddenly and
without warning Jesus will say to the disciples,
“The Son of Man is to be handed over to men and they
will kill him, and three days after his death the Son of
Man will rise.” (Mk 9:31). What more shocking statement could the supposedly
invincible leader and healer make to them?
About death? How can death go together with love?
Here is one example. A man and wife told me of the death
of their tiny son, and how they had prayed so hard for his
healing. Their prayers were not answered … yet somehow
they found that God was present throughout the dying
anyway, that God had been immersed in their son’s
life and death, and that this intimate presence was
enough, more than enough. Their sorrow was cradled, and
their son was safe in God’s arms.
A human person is made to be loved by God, not merely to
have good health, riches or reputation. Real life consists
of exchanging love with God and with others, not just in
seeming to be a leader or a success. There is a greater
good than these, a relationship with God, a seeking of the
one who is already close. This intimate relationship sends
us out to help heal the world and give God’s love to
it. Miracle cures help for a while, but pretty soon the
suffering world has to be faced in its full suffering
self.
So Jesus moves toward the events that will show
God’s solidarity with us in our suffering, our
rejections, and in that famous event which each and every
one of us will face sooner or later: dying. Beyond cures,
which are wonderful yet partial, God gives us
companionship within each instant of our life.
This Sunday at Mass, let us ask ourselves whether the
intimate presence of God is part of what we desire in our
own lives. Do we know that Christ is deeply involved with
us? Do we let his love flow into us and through us to
others, or must it fight its way around us?
Let’s pray to hear, as the deaf man finally could.
John Foley, SJ
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