Mark 7:31-37
Then [Jesus] returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hands on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and he put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha,” that is “Be opened.” And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.
Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. They were astounded beyond measure, saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.”
I spent some time, a week ago Friday, wandering around the art museum at Newfield’s, here in Indianapolis.
Among so many other things, there is an exhibit there called “The Message is The Medium.” It was closed, for some reason, but there was at least one piece of that exhibit outside of its confines and closed doors.
This piece of contemporary art is called “Who’s Your Tree?,” and it was created by a Korean artist named Nan June Paik. It consists of 34 old TVs, that flash seemingly random images of things that are quintessentially Indiana … images of the Indiana State House, the Indy 500, other pieces from Hoosier artists and, of course basketballs.
I can’t say I was all that moved or impressed by that one, so I kept looking and found some other artwork that seemed to fit the “Message is the Medium” bill. Like this one, called “Outside the Coal Mine” by a Black artist from Alabama, named Thornton Dial.
It’s a mess of artificial flowers, cloth, metal, wire, canvas scraps, found wood, paint can lids, industrial sealing compound, and enamel … on canvas. A quotation by the artist, about the piece, said, “I only want materials that have been used by people, the works of the United States, that have did people some good.”
It’s not pretty. It looks like a mess, on purpose. “Outside the Coal Mine.” The message is the medium.
But my favorite was a photograph of a work in progress … a piece of performance art, actually … called “Borrando la Frontera,” by a Mexican artist named Ana Teresa Fernandez.
In 2011, Fernandez set up shop along the border wall that separates Tijuana from San Diego, and she started painting the border wall with a pale blue color matching the sky behind it, which had the effect of making the wall seem to actually disappear. The artist means to encourage people to ask better questions about the geographic and political boundaries that separate us.
“The Message is the Medium.”
All if this made me wonder about today’s Gospel … and what in the world might Jesus be up to, if we pay close attention to, or focus particularly on, the “media” he chose that day: the laying on of hands, I mean; the fingers and the ears; the spit and the tongue, even; the sigh of deep breathing, and the sound of his words.
All of it’s incarnational, right? It is something much more than performance art, for sure. And it’s bodily. Physical. Tactile. And a little messy and gross and unsettling and beautiful. And I’ll come back to this in a minute, if you don’t mind.
Because there’s something else going on in this morning’s Gospel. And that’s the curiosity about why Jesus tells people, as he does often in the Gospels, not to tell others about what they’ve seen him do or what they’ve heard him say. It’s a long-disputed, curious quandary theologians have mused about for ages, called the “Messianic Secret.” Why does Jesus, over and over again, order his followers – like he does this morning – not to tell others about the miracles they’ve witnessed?
Some think Jesus didn’t want the attention, “because his hour had not yet come;” that the timing wasn’t right. Some suggest “his hour hadn’t come,” because he wasn’t ready to face the cross and his own crucifixion, just yet. And who could blame a guy for that?
I decided a couple of years ago that Jesus didn’t want people crowing about his miraculous healings, at every turn, because he knew not everyone gets the miraculous healing they long for, and bragging about your own can come off as prideful, selfish, and insensitive, in the wrong circles.
And this week I wondered about yet another reason Jesus may have told the people who watched this healing happen to keep their mouths shut, to keep his “Messianic Secret,” to themselves. I wonder if the reason for that … if the message, today … is in the medium. I wonder if that message is in the hands, the fingers, the ears, the spit, the tongue, the breath of his deep sigh of what he’s up to.
What if Jesus told his followers not to tell anyone about what they’d just seen, because he wanted them to go and do something about it, instead?
And maybe he meant spit and tongues and fingers and ears. I don’t know. (I kind of hope not, to be honest.)
But maybe the message in his medium was, somehow: “Get your hands dirty, people.” Maybe he meant get close, come near, be open, and not so afraid ... or so shy … or so timid. Maybe he meant don’t leave this all – or only – up to Jesus. Maybe he was calling for more than “thoughts and prayers” and more than all of our best intentions, too. Maybe he was calling for some of our blood, some of our sweat, some of our tears, some of our sacrifice, more often than we’re inclined to offer them up for the good of the cause … for the sake of the Gospel … on behalf of our neighbor.
Maybe the message we send about the faith we claim is in the medium of our lives – in what we’re willing to give up and give away, perhaps. (Is it generous and sacrificial, like Jesus asks us to be?)
Maybe the message we send about the faith we claim is in the medium of our lives – in if or how we’re willing to love and serve our neighbor. (Does our definition of “neighbor” include the least, the last, the lost – and not just those who live next door? And how do they know that we love them?)
Maybe the message we send about the faith we claim is in the medium of our lives – in how and why we cast our votes. (Do we do that with our own interests in mind or do we consider the needs and interests of others, too?)
All of this seems to be what James calls us to, just the same, when he suggests that a faith without works is dead. It’s something St. Augustine was after when he proposed we “Preach the Gospel at all times.” And that we “use words if necessary.”
The message of our faith is, indeed, in the medium of our lives. It’s in the physical, tangible, tactile, visible, measurable ways we love, serve, give, comfort, care for, and elevate the lives of those who need it most.
It’s in the money we share. It’s in the sacrifices we make. It’s in the time we offer. It’s in the love we prioritize and proclaim – not merely with thoughts and prayers or even in worship on Sunday morning. It’s in the loving actions those thoughts, prayers, and this worship bring to life … to others… and for the sake of the world, in Jesus’ name.
Amen
