Be Opened

What I notice in the Gospel story is that when Jesus heals the person with deafness, his words to the man are, “Be opened.” He doesn’t say, “Be healed” or “Be made well,” and he doesn’t cast out a demon or anything like that. He commands openness, which tells me that the problem isn’t an illness that can be cured but a closedness that can opened. “Be opened,” he says, and the man can hear. “Be opened,” and the man, who could speak before, can now be understood. That makes me wonder about the other people in this story. They’re the ones who can’t understand him, and they’re the ones who bring him to Jesus and ask Jesus to lay his hands on him. Jesus does so, but not in front of them; he brings the man “off by himself away from the crowd.” Maybe that crowd of people are also closed, and when they witness Jesus’s interaction with the man, they too are opened — to the power of God and to this man as well.

There seems to be a connection between being open and hearing and speaking clearly. There’s also a connection between being open and understanding someone else, and then seeing that as a miracle, a sign of God’s presence.

With whom do you identify in this story — the guy who’s deaf and unable to to be understood, or the people who can’t understand him? Or Jesus? Or all of the above?

I can relate to a bit of all of it. I’ve been in groups or on committees where I’ve felt that people weren’t open to me, where I’ve been misunderstood, dismissed, or sidelined. I think that’s a fairly common experience for younger members of communities, religious ones and other kinds of communities too. I don’t think it’s done on purpose, but generational gaps are wide. There can also be a language gap for members whose first language isn’t the dominant one and a cultural gap for those who are culturally different from the majority of other members. Luckily, good models of communal discernment are not always a majority-rules kind of system. Otherwise, some voices would never be heard.

Sometimes the problem isn’t so much a gap of culture or language, but rather a difference between the loudest person in the room and the quietest, those who dominate the conversation and those who quietly process and listen. I recently encountered a quote from Adam Grant, an organizational psychologist at the Wharton School, and he says, “We pay too much attention to the most confident voices — and too little attention to the most thoughtful ones. Certainty is not a sign of credibility. Speaking assertively is not a substitute for thinking deeply. It’s better to learn from complex thinkers than smooth talkers.” Isn’t that the truth? Don’t we tend to heed the words of the most confident speakers rather than listen for the wisdom of the thoughtful ones? And even though I’ve had the experience of being the one who isn’t heard because I’m not the most confident voice, I’m also guilty of leading committees and hearing only the loudest, most confident speaker at the table. You think I’d learn, but alas, I’m just as guilty of that as anyone else.

And it’s not just about confidence versus depth, is it? It’s also power structures that determine whose voice is heard — or not. There are many contexts where minority voices are not heard, or they are but they’re dismissed. People are regularly silenced in the workplace, corporate contexts, politics, neighborhoods, and even families. Sometimes people on the margins might not even bother to keep trying, or they’re so intimidated that they don’t speak often. The problem isn’t that they’re not speaking clearly; the problem is that those around them are not listening.

When I was new in ministry, I was zealous and a little short sighted too, and I remember a time when a mentor challenged my ideas about this dynamic, about what it means to have a voice or not. Ironically, she didn’t even say anything, but I heard her loud and clear. I had said something about how my call as a Christian is to give a voice to the voiceless, and that’s when she gave me that look that stopped me in my tracks. I left that conversation thinking a lot about the voiced versus the voiceless. Who doesn’t have a voice? I guess there are some who can’t express themselves or don’t have the capacity to reason things through, but most people do have a voice, metaphorically if not literally. It’s just that some voices are drowned out or ignored or dismissed. It’s pretty arrogant to assume that just because people aren’t being heard, they don’t have their own distinct voices. It’s arrogant to think that just because I don’t hear them, other people don’t know how to use their voices themselves. They do. It’s just that others aren’t hearing them. Because we’re not listening.

In this Gospel story, Jesus doesn’t give a voice to the deaf man; the man already has a voice. Instead, he opens him, and he opens the crowd too. Then the man can hear, and the others can understand him. The people react with astonishment, saying, “He has done all things well. He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak,” but they forget that the man wasn’t mute. The miracle in this story is not necessarily a healing. The miracle is an opening.

So, what’s our call in this story? The call I hear is to be open to other people. If I’m not hearing someone else, it could be me, not them. Also, I hear an invitation to keep speaking, even if I’m not the most confident voice in the room, even if I’m misunderstood or dismissed. My voice still needs to be spoken. Lastly, I take to heart Jesus’s response to this situation. He doesn’t give the man a voice, and he doesn’t speak for him. He opens the way for this person’s own voice to be heard and understood. There are voices all around us who aren’t being heard, and I wonder if I can use some of my own privilege to amplify others’ voices. I don’t need to speak for other people, but maybe I could make a little room at the mic for others who are silenced.

“Ephphatha, be opened.” This is an invitation from Jesus to the deaf person, to the people in the crowd, and to us. God, open our ears and mouths and especially our hearts. May we be open to each other and to your call for us.

For reflection:

• What call do you hear in this story?

• Have you ever had the experience of being silenced? Or misunderstand? Or dismissed? What was that like? How did you respond? What did you learn?

• Who around you is silenced? Who in our larger society is not being heard? How is God calling you to respond?

• Maybe you could just take a little time and talk all this over with God, listening deeply to see what God’s voice has to speak to you.

By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP

Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She enjoys music, meaningful conversations, and dancing.