Here’s my longer sermon notes from this morning’s Metro Christian Centre service (dated 20th October 2024), continuing our series flicking through some of the epic scenes of Mark’s gospel.
You can also catch up with this via MCC’s YouTube channel (just give us time to get the video uploaded).
‘Not all those who wander are lost’
—J. R. R. Tolkien[i]
‘Be opened, opened, opened,’ how you sigh | And still we do not hear you. We have missed | Both cry and crisis, we make no reply. | Take us aside, for we are deaf and dumb | Spit on us Lord and touch each tongue-tied tongue.’
–Malcolm Guite, Be Opened
THE WANDERER
Before we dive into the strange story that we’ll read in Mark 7, I feel it’s important we get a sense of Jesus’ movements in Mark’s gospel, because he becomes something of a wanderer.
In the nineties, Joan Osborne sang One of Us, describing God as a wanderer. Osborne asks us to “reimagine” God not as some far-off, distant being, but as someone like you and me, navigating daily life; a God who is approachable, touchable, who could be seated on the bus next to us, heading home, sharing in our human journey, its highs and lows.
I put “reimagine” in quotes, because Osborne’s song is hardly unique. The Bible presents a God who is not only approachable, but approaching; a God who takes the initiative to not only make us, but meet with us; a God who seeks us across all distances; a God who, in the unfolding of history, in the person of Jesus, becomes one of us. God enters our situation.
God, who made humanity, becomes a son of humanity, and does so for a purpose.
As Jesus himself puts it, he has come to be a servant, to give his life away in order to rescue and restore, ransom and redeem; not only his own Jewish people, but all humanity, and to bring about God’s Kingdom.[ii]
This is the story Mark is telling, along with the other gospel writers (Matthew, Luke and John). And in all their accounts, the events of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection are the epic focus point and conclusion to this mission.
It’s crucial to remember that Jesus ‘wasn’t simply called to go around being helpful to everyone’, aimlessly wandering around like an odd-job man. ‘He had specific things to do and a limited time to do them… a towering assignment… that will lead him to the cross.’[iii]
In the passage we are about to read, the impending sense of the cross has prompted Jesus to change his behaviour.
So far, as we’ve jumped through the scenes in Mark, Jesus has spent all his time ministering and teaching around the sea of Galilee.[iv] Halfway through chapter 7, however, Jesus gets up and leaves[v]; deciding to travel around the far north of Israel, to non-Jewish areas, and only occasionally (and briefly) does he pop back down to Galilee. For roughly eight months (until the end of chapter 9), Jesus is on the road, wandering, with no real home.[vi] Then, at the start of chapter 10, Jesus changes direction once more, heading south, toward Jerusalem and the suffering awaiting him there.[vii]
The trigger for all this wandering is the beginning of chapter 7, when some religious authorities from Jerusalem arrive in Galilee to confront Jesus. Jesus has already had run-ins with the local teachers of religious law[viii], but these guys are the heavy weights from the centre of religion. They’re wanting to know what Jesus thinks he is up to and seeing if he’s up to standard.[ix]
Things are getting hotter, Jesus realises that the cross cannot be far away. So all this travelling is intentional. Jesus, between chapters 7 and 10, is creating some space to get some important information across to his disciples before the tempest breaks. This is the long calm before the storm. Throughout these chapters, Jesus is intentionally trying to be incognito; travelling to areas the religious authorities would avoid, hoping to keep his presence on the down low, not wanting any publicity.[x]
The thing is, when people know Jesus is around, crowds gather—in all their hurt and all their hunger. And in the presence of such human need, the compassion of Jesus, the embodied love of God, flows out to whoever, wherever.
Jesus may want to keep a low profile, but he never becomes heartless. He isn’t after publicity, yet continues to pour out his life for others, with no consideration to his self.
The grace and power of God keeps flowing freely.
To quote Po, from Kung Fu Panda, ‘there is no charge for awesomeness.’
With this in mind, let’s read …
READ: MARK 7:31-37 (NLT)
SPIT WASH
When I grew up, we had running water. Actually, taps and plumbing had been around for quite some time before the 1980’s. But taps have limits. You can’t carry them about, for a start. So, if you find yourself outside with a bit of muck on your face, then having a wash is a difficult thing.
There’s no need to panic, though, because Mum’s for many generations—for as long as there have been mums—came up with an ingenious solution to our problem; the ‘spit wash’.
For my mum, the process involved taking a hanky or a tissue, spitting on it like Spit the Dog (for those old enough to remember Spit), and then rubbing my face aggressively. My mum would rub until not only the dirt was removed, but also a layer of skin with it, leaving a red mark advertising that you had just undergone a ‘spit wash’.
I’d rather have had the dirt of my face. The process grossed me out. I’d squirm and pull my face whenever my Mum gave me a ‘spit wash’, especially in front of my friends. To be fair though, she was gentler than my dad was. Also, my dad would spit on me first and then wipe it off with his hanky!
Suffice it to say, I have an odd relationship with spit—I guess we all do.
On the one hand, it’s pretty essential. The science lover in me understands that without saliva, our ability to chew, swallow and digest food would be very uncomfortable if not impossible. I’ve met a number of people who have conditions affecting their saliva production. It’s not an easy thing to live with.
On the other hand, spit’s disgusting stuff. Universally, and historically, outside of a ‘spit wash’, it is not a compliment to have someone else’s spit on you. In short, we often use this disgusting stuff to express our disgust.
Then again, even historically speaking, it all depends on what you do with spit.
At the time of Jesus, in the Roman world, there did exist this weird cultural idea that spit could be medicinal. Several Roman writers shouted and salivated over the idea of using spit as a remedy to some ailments.
There was a famous guy known as Pliny the Elder (c. 23-79 AD), who wrote a huge book called Natural History. Pliny devotes a whole chapter to spit, championing spit as a relief for eye infections, neck pain and boils. He even claimed spit was good for removing a sense of guilt![xi]
This is the time when I should say don’t try this at home.
At a similar time to Pliny, another Roman, called Aulus Cornelius Celsus (c. 25 BC – c. 50 AD), was writing that spit was good for treating minor skin inflammations.[xii] A century after this, another Roman writer was ranting about the same medical properties of spit as Pliny and Celsus, adding that it also dealt with scorpion stings.[xiii]
I would not want to test any of those theories, especially to one involving a scorpion.
There’s even a story about the Roman Emperor Vespasian (c. 9-79 AD), being asking to spit in the eyes of a blind man to heal him. He refuses to do so, though, worried about his image and what it meant for him if it didn’t work out.[xiv]
It must be said, however, that at the time of Jesus there is no evidence that the Jewish people saw spittle as having healing properties.[xv]
But, Roman culture existed and was influential in Israel at this time (especially in the Ten Towns where Jesus is in this passage). Additionally, the Romans were not unique in employing spit as medicine. Many cultures have throughout history—including modern times. In the 1800’s, English medical authors, like Nicholas Robinson, were writing about the wonderful properties of spittle.[xvi]
Even today, we continue researching saliva, trying to extract its helpful enzymes and antimicrobial properties. It is amazing stuff. If you cut your gums or bite you cheek, the reason you don’t contract an infection is because of your saliva. This fact interests a lot of pharmaceutical companies.
But, having said all this, and to be perfectly clear, saliva as a whole is not a remedy or cure! There’s a reason people go to A & E when they’ve been bitten. Yes, there are good bacteria in our saliva, if it stays in our mouths. But even good bacteria, when it ends up being in places it shouldn’t, can cause things to go very, very wrong.
So, aside from a parent giving a spit wash, don’t be using spit to treat a friend’s neck ache. Don’t be putting your spit on to a stranger’s open wound—you won’t learn that on any Basic First Aid course. And don’t be sticking spit on your fingers and sticking them in someone else’s mouth.
And you can’t use the excuse that Jesus did it, either!
When I read this story, I can’t help but be slightly grossed out and left wondering what Jesus is up to.
Jesus spits in this story, that’s true.
It’s not the only place he does so, either. If you’re counting, Jesus grozzes in two other places in the gospels; in the story Steve will explore with us next week (in Mark 8:22-26), and also in John 9, where Jesus mixes his spit with some dirt and rubs it into a blind man’s eyes. In all three instances, a healing takes place.
But why is Jesus spitting in the first place?
I shouldn’t need to point this out, but I will: For someone who could stop the wind and waves with a word, it sure seems odd that Jesus needed to use a spit, or anything else for that matter. Someone who can command a paralysed man to stand up a walk does not need props of any sort.
Whenever Jesus does adopt the use of something, he’s certainly making some sort of statement. But, the statement here is not that saliva heals.
To be clear, Jesus’ use of spit is not an endorsement of any ancient (or modern) idea that saliva has healing properties. In all of the stories where Jesus spits, the gospel writers make it clear that it is not saliva that heals, but Jesus. It’s the power of God.
In the story Steve will look at next week, Jesus will spit once, but he’ll touch a blind man’s eyes twice. It’s a tricky story—that I’m sure Steve will do a wonderful job with. But it’s clear from that story, and this, that the power is not in the spit—if it was, there would be no need for Jesus to do something more.
Spit is nothing more than spit.
So what is going on? Why does the One who could merely speak, not only spit, but get very dramatic, by sticking his fingers in the man’s ears and mouth? He doesn’t need to do any of this.
Well, simply put, just like when Jesus touches the man afflicted with leprosy, in Mark 1:41, Jesus’ actions are communicating his willingness to enter someone’s experience and to meet people where they are.
SIGNING AND WONDER
Few of us have experienced the world that deaf people live in on a daily basis. Because of my own moderate hearing loss, I’ve been wearing hearing aids for nearly two months. Without them, it takes a lot of focus to hear clearly and there is a whole range of sounds I miss. Nevertheless, I cannot imagine a world of total silence.
For many of us, the world is a place where meaning is mostly communicated through speech. We navigate through life via the sounds we hear and the sounds we make. Sure, the world is also visual. But because the majority of our world is able to hear and speak, the audio-centric way of life is dominant. This leaves you at a disadvantage if your hearing or speech is impaired.
The closest we’ve possibly come to this is when we have attempted to communicate with someone who doesn’t speak our own language. At such times, we try, with some degree of success and failure, using gestures (or we just speak louder and slower, for some reason). When gestures fail, we realize how dependent we have become on words to express ourselves, and how alienating it can be to be unable to understand or be understood.
For the man in this story, he can neither hear nor speak. I imagine he’s been born with the inability to hear, and because of that, he has also been unable to sound out words. His world, I guess, could have been isolating.[xvii]
When I read this story, I can’t help but wonder what must have been going through his head?
One minute, he’s going about his day, the next, a crowd of people start dragging him somewhere, and he finds himself stood in front of Jesus—a man he has possibly never seen before, wondering what of earth is going on and what is about to happen.
The man silently, helplessly, and in a confused state, is carried along by a mob, who are begging and pleading with Jesus to lay his hands on this man.
The motives of the crowd could vary:
It could be that they genuinely care for the man. They have seen his plight and, moved by compassion and care, they have brought him to Jesus, to one they believe can help.
This is good.
Alternatively, the man could also be seen as nothing more than a ‘problem’ for their community, an inconvenience to be solved and fixed.
This is not good.
I should add, this is not the first time Jesus has been in this area. The first time Jesus was in the Ten Towns, he dealt with someone else who this community saw as a ‘problem’.[xviii] They used to chain this certain somebody up. So, I expect that this is not the most understanding of communities.
If this is the case, then in a way, this man is just their scapegoat; the person they spit out upon Jesus.
Sometimes, sadly, we can operate the same way. As one writer describes it, we don’t want Jesus to deal with our own brokenness, as individuals. We don’t really want God sticking his fingers into the problems that plague ‘me’, and so we ‘let the obviously broken people carry all the brokenness for us. It’s quite the convenient system really.’[xix] We focus on the people who are ‘obviously’ dysfunctional to us, like when someone is obviously a drug addict or an alcoholic.
It’s easier to judge ‘them’ and to let ‘them’ be judged, than it is to judge ourselves. We get to hide ourselves behind their apparent shortcomings, and we are thrilled that we don’t need to take stock of our own.
I’ll admit, I’ve done this. When I think about the problems in the world and bring them to the Lord, I often focus on the obvious open sores—Gaza, the Ukraine-Russian war, Global Warming. There’s nothing wrong about praying for these things, to be sure. But, I do have a knack of hiding behind them, of pushing them toward Jesus’ attention, and not bringing my own self under God’s gaze.
It’s a crooked game, but ‘this system we have where we all agree on who the real [problem] is, works really well for us. That is, until Jesus shows up and ruins it.’[xx]
Because, when Jesus shows up, the first thing he does is remove this man away from a community that just wants to ‘use’ him as distraction. When Jesus leads this man away from the crowd, he’s showing that he’s not considering this man as merely being a ‘case’ to be solved; he considers him as a person.
The people want Jesus to ‘lay his hands’ on him. They have this idea of not only who needs fixing but also this idea of how God should go about it.
Have you ever been there? I have, too.
But Jesus doesn’t pay any attention to how they want him to go about this. He has his own plans. God loves humanity en masse, it’s true, but he also loves us as individuals, too, and deals with us as individuals.[xxi]
This is not to say that there’s one rule for me and another for you. Not at all. Rather, God knows how to best deal with each of us.
Now, I want you to imagine this scene, immerse yourself in it, because Jesus’ approach here is both tender and beautifully considerate.
Jesus has a visual conversation with this man caught in a soundless world.
There’s no such thing as British or American sign language at this time, or any developed signing system that I know of. But Jesus is effectively ‘signing’ to this man what He is intending to do as he places his fingers in the man’s ears, and when touches the man’s tongue with his own spit. Again, Jesus is not claiming that spit heals, but, in a culture that held such notions, he is visually stating that he’s here to remedy the situation.
As I’ve said, Jesus doesn’t need to do any of this. If he wanted, he could just speak a word and rush to the conclusion, the grand finale. But Jesus isn’t like that: Jesus chooses, voluntarily, to enter into this man’s experience of the world.
In case you’re not seeing what I’m getting at: There’s no power in these gestures, or this spit, in and of themselves. The power is in Jesus, not in some prescribed set of movements. But these movements do speak powerfully about God’s heart for humanity.
Maybe we would prefer the movements?
As a child, I was a fan of the magician Paul Daniels—I even got his ‘magic set’ as a birthday gift one year. Daniels had all the moves; with a flick of his wand or gesture from his hand, his tricks would play out and amaze.
If we could just click our fingers or mimic some hand gesture, like sticking our fingers in someone’s ears, and people’s sicknesses and inabilities would disappear, I’m sure we would. But, would we do it from a heart of compassion, or from a desire for convenience?
I’m not convinced we would become a more caring and sensitive humanity if we had a set of prescribed gestures to follow. Maybe we’d become less caring, more callous.
Additionally, in a world where I have a tendency to assume who needs fixing and how they need fixing, I’m not sure a set of ‘power filled’ gestures would be wise in human hands.
Jesus is not teaching us ‘power-filled’ gestures, in this scene. Jesus is setting the example of how powerful compassion can be. There’s something about entering into the lives of others, meeting them where they are at and sharing their burdens that speaks of the capacity and greatness of love. God doesn’t click his fingers. The love of God becomes incarnate, alongside us, with us; love puts on flesh. God joins us.
To make this clearer, Jesus then looks up to heaven. Not to affirm that heaven is up. But again, to act out before the man where the source of this help is found.
Jesus then groans or sighs deeply. If Jesus is still touching the man at the time, then maybe this man can feel something of the vibration from this guttural groan.
And then Jesus speaks, ‘Ephphatha!’
Instantly, we are told, the man could hear and his tongue is ‘loosened’. Which is absolutely amazing!
But, before we rush on…
Like the use of spit, the use of the word Ephphatha is also strange. It’s Jesus’ native tongue. Mark explains to his readers that it means ‘be opened!’ But, when Mark writes his gospel, he chooses to keep the original Aramaic word in the midst of all his Greek. It’s not the only time Mark does this, either.[xxii]
There is nothing magic or powerful about this word, just like there’s nothing magic or powerful with the spit or gestures.[xxiii]
As we have sometimes in English-language movies, when non-English characters speak to one another using their native language, Mark creates a dramatic effect with Ephphatha. By keeping the Aramaic, it’s as if Mark is saying, ‘I can tell you what this means, but I cannot convey the emotion and empathy with which the word is conveyed.’
More than this, the word creates a sense of distance, I suppose. What I mean is, as we read this foreign word, we feel out of the loop—we, as readers, for a brief moment, encounter a world we don’t understand.
The other day, I went and got my haircut. The place I go to is run by some wonderful Iranian lads, and at one point, while one of them is chopping my locks off, the three of them start speaking Iranian. These moments are good for me—they’re good for us, because for a moment, we experience what it means to ‘other’.
I’m saying this, as there is more than the healing of one man going on here.
Throughout this scene, not only has Jesus entered into this man’s world, sharing in his experience, but Jesus makes the same crowd that brought this man enter his world as well. The crowds are out of earshot. They are at such a distance, they can’t hear what is going on, they can only observe. They are plunged into ‘experiencing ‘otherness’ [as they witness] Jesus’ spitting, touching, groaning and [using] alien terminology.’[xxiv]
For a brief time, they get to experience life as an ‘outsider’; life like how this man has probably felt for a long time. With Mark keeping the Aramaic word in his writing, we experience this, too.
Jesus is giving us a lesson. Jesus enters our experience, and he calls us to enter into the experiences of others, also.
As one New Testament writer would put it, ‘share each other’s burdens.’[xxv]
You see, I don’t think ‘Be opened!’ is only about this man’s physical healing, but the community also need to hear these words.
In our world, there’s probably as many broken communities and relationships than there are diseases and ailments. I’ll go out on a limb and actually say there are more broken communities that diseases. Sickness harms. So does our ability to alienate, scapegoat, and tear each other to shreds. Sin has a horrible way of rotting our relationships with each other. Our world needs healing, and ‘Be opened’ is a wonderful way to describe healing, I think.
As I said at the start, the whole mission of God is to seek us and rescue us from our bondage to self and to sin. God wants to heal our humanity. Not just our physicality, but also our apathy toward one another, and our apathy toward God. God longs for humanity, as a whole, to be open, and has died to enable us to be receptive to all God is, all God is doing, all God intends for our lives and our world.
Jesus came to open us up to God. Over our world, over you and me, Jesus sighs and cries, ‘Be opened!’
The weird thing about this phrase, however, is that it is not a command as such, it’s more of an urgent request.
QOUD ERAT DEMOSTRANDUM
A number of years ago, I was reading some work by an American physicist called Richard Feynman. If you ever want to study quantum electrodynamics, Feynman is where it is at. But, Feynman wasn’t just a creative science lecturer. Feynman also used his scientific skill set to crack safes.
When the atomic bomb project was happening, Richard Feynman would break into the safes containing all the project’s details.
Jesus is powerful—it’s a power he has demonstrated over and over again in Mark’s gospel. But not once does Jesus uses his power to crack people open and to force his way in.
The evidence of this is in this passage: Jesus tells the people not to say a thing about this miracle, and they do the very opposite. And the more he tells them not to, the more they shout about it.
This stands out to me every time I read this story.
Jesus is not trying some reverse psychology tactic, by the way. And neither is Jesus merely using this man’s condition as a publicity stunt. I’ve already mentioned why Jesus is wanting to keep this quiet.
So my question is not ‘why does Jesus tell them not to speak about this’, but more a case of, ‘why do Jesus’ words not work?’
His words have power: they have opened blind eyes; they have healed a deformed arm; they have driven out legions of demons. At the sound of his voice, storms and high waves have ceased moving. A word from his lips has caused a paralysed man to stand up and walk.
To agree with the crowd, ‘everything He does is wonderful!’
But notice this; Jesus never uses his words to overpower human choice, human freedom.
God, as we see in Jesus, is not like Sauron in The Lord of Rings, seeking to bind and enslave our wills. God doesn’t bind anyone against their will. God loosens people, God liberates—like he loosens the tongue of this man.[xxvi]
As one ancient writer put it, ‘In his great love, God was unwilling to restrict our freedom, even though he had the power to do so. He has left us to come to him by the love of our heart alone.’[xxvii]
In his baptism, like I described a number of weeks ago, God shows that he is willing to tear through anything and everything in order to bring us to himself. But he will never tear through the human heart and force us open to Him.
In his temptation in the wilderness, Jesus refuses all the techniques that would enthral, entertain, enslave and draw people to his self like mindless zombies. God has come in Christ desiring worshipful relationship not to turn humanity into puppets.
So, God, in all his almighty power, demonstrates a power-less approach and asks us to be open.
Abuse is any relationship that removes our freedom of choice, whether it’s through threats of ‘you have to let me in or else’ at one extreme, or having love forced on us without consent at the other. Real embrace is mutual. God will not remove our freedom or our responsibility to choose. God will not force himself on us, because God is not an abuser. God is love.
In his ever-pervading love, God speaks over us, you and me, ’be opened!’
Or, as Jesus says it in Revelation, ‘I stand at the door and knock. If you hear me calling and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal as friends.’[xxviii]
In his great love and grace, God has come alongside us. No matter what roads we find ourselves wandering down, the approaching God is present. And if we have ears to hear, we’ll hear God say to us, ‘Ephphatha.’
Can I encourage you to hear the loving and urgent appeal of God.
‘Open up, ancient gates! Open up, ancient doors, and let the King of glory enter.’
—Psalm 24:7 (NLT)
‘That’s the most beautiful part of God, eh? Being almighty, and yet not forcing himself on anyone.’
—Mother Teresa[xxix]
[i] J. R. R Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (Grafton, HarperCollinsPublishers, London, 1991), p. 230
[ii] Mark 10:45
[iii] Tom Wright, Mark for Everyone (SPCK, London, 2012), p. 96
[iv] Mark 1:14—7:23 are set around the Sea of Galilee
[v] Mark 7:24
[vi] William Barclay, The New Daily Study Bible, The Gospel of Mark (Saint Andrew Press, Edinburgh, 2006), p. 208; William Hendriksen, New Testament Commentary, Mark (The Banner of Truth Trust, Edinburgh, 1975), pp. 293-295.
[vii] Mark 8:31; 9:30-32; 10:32-34
[viii] Mark 2:23—3:6. There’s a good chance that these authorities from Jerusalem have turned up because one of the leaders mentioned in 3:6, has travelled south to Jerusalem to inform them about Jesus.
[ix] They turn up again in Mark 7:11, when they hear Jesus is back in the western region of Galilee (in Dalmanutha, Mark 8:10). Their visit once again prompts Jesus to leave that area (Mark 8:13), and cross to the other side of the lake to non-Jewish territory, Bethsaida (8:22).
[x] Mark 7:24; 9:30-31
[xi] Pliny the Elder, Natural History, 28.6.30-31; 28.7.35-38
[xii] Aulus Cornelius Celsus, De Medicina, 5.28.18
[xiii] In his book, On the Natural Faculties, 3.7.163, Claudius Galen (c. 130- c.210 AD), claimed it was a cure for boils and skin diseases, along with destroying scorpions. I’m taking his reference to ‘destroying scorpions’ as being a treatment for its sting. Surely, Galen didn’t conceive that spitting on a scorpion would cause it to wither up. Although, in such a superstitious age, maybe he did hold to such notions. It should be added, that Galen, Pliny and Celsus, were talking about ‘fasting spit’ (i.e., saliva taken before the eating of any food). But, as I’m about to mention, that still doesn’t mean we should try any of this at home.
[xiv] Tacitus, Histories, Book IV, Chapter 81; Suetonius, The Lives of the Caesars, The Life of Vespasian, 7
[xv] It is only in later writings, such as the Talmud, that indirectly refer to instances of using spittle to heal (for example, Bava Batra 126b:11).
[xvi] According to Frank Gonzalez-Crussi, The Body Fantastic
[xvii] Or possibly not. I’m reminded of the inspirational community of Martha’s Vineyard in America. Here’s some interesting facts about it: https://www.dhhsc.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/MarthasVineyardDeafHistory.pdf
[xviii] Mark 5:1-20. Tellingly, the first time Jesus was here, these people begged Jesus to clear off and leave them alone after healing the demoniac (Mark 5:17). This time round, they are now begging Jesus to sort out this other man. Of course, Mark 6:53, also shows Jesus being in this area, in Gennesaret, and healing many. So, again, the motive of the crowds could be innocent and driven by compassion.
[xix] Nadia Bolz-Weber, Sometimes It Hurts; A Sermon on Healing (https://sojo.net/articles/sometimes-it-hurts-sermon-healing)
[xx] Ibid
[xxi] William Hendriksen, New Testament Commentary, Mark (The Banner of Truth Trust, Edinburgh, 1975), p. 303
[xxii] To name a few others: In Mark 5:41, Jesus uses Aramaic when he raises a girl from the dead, saying, ‘Talitha kum’ (which means, “Little girl, arise”). When Jesus argues with the practices and advice of some of the Pharisees, he uses the word corban (7:11). On the cross, Jesus cried out in Aramaic, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?’, meaning, ‘My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?’ (Mark 15:34. Matthew, for his own purposes, ‘Hebrews’ this phrase, stating, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabacthani’).
There is a debate over whether the Aramaic is original, or whether these Aramaic words are derived from Hebrew words. In a nutshell, the debate revolves around whether Jesus spoke Hebrew or Aramaic (or some form of Koine Greek). Maybe he spoke all three, in some fashion. Regardless, Mark, writing to a non-Jewish Christian community (possibly in Rome), chooses to go with the Aramaic.
[xxiii] As Adela Yarbro Collins points out, Mark: A Commentary (Hermeneia, Fortress Press, Minneapolis, 2007)
[xxiv] Louise J. Lawrence, Sense and Stigma in the Gospels: Depictions of Sensory-Disabled Characters, Sounding Out a ‘Deaf-Mute’ (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2014), pp. 73-74
[xxv] Galatians 6:2
[xxvi] As an aside, the word loosened, in Mark 7:35, is the Greek word λύω/lyō. The same word is used in 2 Peter 3:10, where it says, ‘But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare.’[italic mine] When it says that the elements (the world) will be destroyed by fire, it doesn’t mean the world will be annihilated so that there is nothing but ashes left. The word for destroyed is the word, λύω. In other words, the world will be loosened—just like this man’s tongue; loosened from all that has enthralled it. In the culmination of God’s masterplan, the physical word, God’s very own creation, will be set free. In Romans 8:21, Paul describes it this way: ‘The creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.’ This is God’s plan for humanity and creation. In God’s Kingdom, all things are loosen, not bound against their will. God will make all things new.
[xxvii] Isaac of Nineveh, also known as Isaac the Syrian, Ascetic Treatises, 81 (Spanos, Athens 1895), p. 307
[xxviii] Revelation 3:20
[xxix] Mother Teresa, as quoted in Come Be My Light: The Revealing Private Writings, edited and with commentary by Brian Kolodiejchuk, MC (Rider, An Imprint of Ebury Publishing, New York, 2007), p. 260
TRISTAN SHERWIN 
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