Abstract
Be Opened
In the gospels, things that are shut get opened. In the stories of salvation history, God seems to prefer open to shut, thruway to impasse, loosened to fastened, released to sealed.
Ways that are blocked get cleared. Doors long presumed shut get swung wide open and no amount of pushing, prodding, or slamming will close them again. It’s as if, in God’s great project to bring hope, good news, and freedom to all, God is a locksmith, who brings all the right tools to get into the locked house. God is a safe cracker, pressing an ear to the door while turning the dial and listening intently for the click that tells the tumblers have dropped and the contents can soon be revealed. God is a savvy detective who notices that this bookcase looks slightly different and—aha—one push and it swings open to reveal a secret passageway. God’s power is not put off by things that are shut, stuck, stopped up. When God says, “be opened,” stand back and make way.
Doors aren’t the only things that can need jimmying, prying, unlocking to open. Conversations can get stuck as well. There are lots of ways to stop a conversation. The New York Times held a competition in February 2011 asking readers to contribute comments they thought would bring any conversation to a halt. Remarks include, “I had the strangest dream last night;” “don’t worry, the doctor says I’m not contagious;” and “you’re only thirty? I thought you looked older than that.” 4 If you can’t think of a comment, you can leave, pretend not to hear, change the subject. Or, you can ask a question that really isn’t one.
The disciples tried this tactic in the chapter before today’s gospel reading in Mark. Crowds of hungry people have been listening to Jesus all day and have had nothing to eat. The disciples tell Jesus to send the people away so they can buy themselves some dinner. “You give them something to eat” says Jesus. They can’t fathom this idea, so they ask Jesus a question that is not really a question: “Shall we go and buy two hundred denarii worth of bread and give it to them to eat?” In other words, “Impossible! You’ve got to be joking! Us feed all of them!” Conversation over.
Most likely, they are not expecting Jesus’ response, a question that really is a question: “How much bread do you have?”
They look down at their hands and rummage through their bags, do a quick tally, and come up with an amount: five loaves and two fish. While the amount may sound small—is small, even for a group of twelve men, let alone a multitude—it is surprisingly large for this group that just recently returned from a mission on which they were to take nothing “except a staff—no bread, no bag, no money in your belts” (Mark 6:8).
So, even though they are supposed to be traveling light, they have some provisions. Jesus takes what they have, gives thanks for it, breaks the loaves, and gives them to the disciples to feed more than five thousand people. There are even twelve baskets of broken pieces left over. The disciples thought they could stop a conversation. Jesus wasn’t finished yet. “Be opened.” Be opened to the possibility of abundance. Be opened to the possibility that you have everything you need to feed hungry people.
In today’s gospel, Jesus encounters a Gentile woman whose daughter needs healing. Here between the two of them stands the ancient barrier between “us” and “them.” She comes to Jesus and begs that he heal her daughter. This time it sounds as if Jesus’ words would stop the conversation: “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” His words mean, “I was sent to the Jews. It’s the Jews who have been longing for the messiah, awaiting the one who would come with the power of God to heal and transform. I came for them. A Jewish Messiah was sent to the Jews. Go to the back of the line.” Only he’s not nearly so polite about it. Jesus’ words are harsh. There’s a boundary here, he says, a closed door. What can I do?
But this woman is no respecter of boundaries. Closed door? Open it. “Even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs,” she says. She takes words about a way that is closed and opens them. She transforms them into a profound statement about the universal mission of Jesus Christ. “Yes, Lord, feed the children by all means. But remember, even the dogs, even the Gentiles, eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.” And now her words knit together her situation with what Jesus had done in that so-called deserted place when he told the disciples to open their hearts and eyes and pockets and see abundance instead of scarcity. Remember how five loaves of bread were enough for all? Remember those twelve baskets of broken pieces—crumbs—left over? Remember how your disciples couldn’t see the abundance? I can see it and you can give it.
The dead-bolt slides back, the security chain comes off, the door opens wide.
Jesus says, “For saying this, go, your daughter is healed.”
“Be opened,” the woman had said to Jesus, in effect. And divine power flowed freely.
Next Jesus encounters a man who was deaf and who had a speech impediment. This man could not converse, could neither receive nor give in the exchange of communication. The locksmith settles in to his work. Jesus touches the man’s ears and tongue.
“Be opened,” Jesus says to the man. The key turns, the latch opens. Immediately the man can hear and speak. Words flow freely in and out. He can freely communicate what he knows to be the truth. Even though Jesus tells them to be quiet about it, the formerly deaf and mute man and all who saw Jesus unstop his ears and free his tongue will not shut up about it.
Maybe it reminded them of a scene they knew, an image held before them from the words of Scripture, an image proclaimed by Isaiah, of a highway made in the desert—a way where there is no way—upon which all the redeemed will walk. And this band of the redeemed will be an amazing group of pilgrims: blind people who can now see the papyrus growing where jackals once lay; lame people who can now leap like deer as they join the parade; deaf people who can now hear the sounds of the bubbling springs where once was parched ground; mute people whose songs of praise fill the air (Isaiah 35). There are even Gentiles in this parade whom the Lord will bring to God’s holy mountain and God’s house called a house of prayer for all nations (Isaiah 56:7).
Be opened.
Before us, within us, around us, there may be so many things that God wants to open: doors, gates, conversations, hearts, minds.
As Christians, our way of life begins at the baptismal font. For hundreds of years, and beginning very early on in the church, the word Jesus spoke to the deaf man, “Ephphatha!” Be opened! was used in baptism. As part of the baptismal rite, the bishop put saliva on his fingers and then touched the baptismal candidate on the ears, the eyes, and the mouth and said, “Be opened!” 5 The gesture meant that in receiving baptism the person is opened to God’s love, opened to experience it will all their senses, opened to hear and see and breathe and taste and tell the mystery and the awesome love of God around them as they live their lives in the world.
We have given up this particular practice in our baptismal liturgy. But we have not given up the belief that baptism opens us to experience the love of God in all areas of our lives and invites us to join in God’s project of opening, releasing, setting free, making a way where there is no way.
Be opened.
