Groanings

This week’s readings have tracked the creation story in Genesis and Jesus’ ministry of healing in Mark. The story of creation and The Fall of course presage the oncoming of Lent in ten days or so, by reminding us why we need those forty days of reconciliation in preparation for entering into the Paschal Mystery during the Easter season. Lent is a time of preparation just as Advent is, yet this year somehow I feel the need to “prepare for the preparation” as it were, and to prepare to make the most of Lent.

Looking back on this week’s readings, though, I am struck by two stories in particular from Mark’s gospel. On Thursday we heard the story of the Greek woman whose daughter was possessed by a demon. When she begged the Lord to drive out the demon, He told her "Let the children be fed first. For it is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs." Jesus’ mission was to the Jews, not the Gentiles (which would be Paul’s job). Yet she persisted, "Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children's scraps." Moved by her faith, Christ drove out her daughter’s demon.

One lesson that can be drawn from this story revolves around the power of faith, and the need for persistence in prayer. I don’t presume to understand the Lord’s initial reticence to heal her daughter. On the surface it seems counter to our understanding of God’s love for each of us. And yet because of her faith and persistence, the Lord relented.

I have to confess that prayer is still a mysterious process to me, and never more so than when I am petitioning the Lord for something specific. Sometimes I can pray myself in circles: “Lord please grant me X, but if that’s not Your will, then don’t.” Maybe I’m trying to mimic Jesus’ prayer at Gethsemane: "Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done." And yet even then, when we are open to accepting God’s will, there is a place for persistence in our petitions. Sometimes it’s the persistence that purifies our motives as it tests our resolve. It reminds me of one of the threads in Randy Pausch’s now-famous Last Lecture, when he talks about obstacles to our goals ("brick walls"), and how they let us prove how badly we want something.

Another possibility is that God’s will is not a static thing. We often think of GOD’S WILL as if it is some monolithic, unchanging thing. And yet there are many stories in the Bible of God’s will changing. One that comes to mind is Abraham’s almost-comical conversation with the LORD in Genesis 18 about the fate of the city of Sodom -- "Please, let not my Lord grow angry if I speak up this last time…”. The point is, maybe God’s love for us is so great that His will can actually change if our faith in His love is great enough.

The other story is from Friday (February 13) in which Jesus cures the deaf man who also has a speech impediment. Sometimes it’s easy to gloss over stories like this one, because there are so many stories of Jesus curing people, driving out demons, or raising people from the dead. Often there is a lesson or insight from small details in the story that made it particularly notable for the Gospel writer and worthy of recording.

One such detail is this verse: “He put his finger into the man's ears and, spitting, touched his tongue; then he looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, " Ephphatha!" (that is, "Be opened!") When I read this, I thought, “What was the groan about?” Is this the same groaning Paul mentions in Romans 8: “In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings”?

It seems pretty safe to say that Jesus was full of empathy for the crowds that followed him and the sick who came to be healed. As he puts His fingers into the man’s ears and touched his tongue, by His great empathy He entered into the experience of living as a deaf man, of total understanding of what it was like to try to speak and not be understood. And even for Jesus the experience was so powerful that he prayed to the Father with “inexpressible groaning”. And from that knowledge came the power to heal.

So why is it so hard for us to believe that He understands our own deafness and inability to communicate? He knows our every iniquity, weakness and deficiency of character, and understands what it’s like to carry the rock of our guilt around every single day. And He loves us anyway.