The Muddied Healer

Memorial of Saints Cyril, monk, and Methodius, bishop

February 14, 2020

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Today, in Mercy, our Gospel gives us one my favorite portrayals of Jesus. It’s what I think of as “down in the dirt with us” Jesus. Let me give you some background on the image.

When I was a kid in North Philly, my buddy’s dog was hit by a car. We were playing baseball in a cinder lot about a half block away. We saw it happen and watched the injuring car speed off.

Petey ran screaming toward his dog, the rest of us streaming behind him. I can still see Petey lie down beside that whimpering mutt who had been tossed into a muddy gully along Philip Street. He cradled the bruised head and whispered to the frightened eyes. Then Petey quietly said, “Get my Dad”, as he stroked Lightening’s heaving back.

In that moment in my memory, Petey became an image of the Divine Healer who – muddied and bloodied — has taken a place beside all of us as we suffer.

In today’s Gospel, there is stunning humanness. The suffering man doesn’t just ask for a miracle. He asks for a hand to be laid on him, for a touch, for a connection he can feel. And Jesus hears his deep human need.

Some miracles are accomplished by a fleshless, electric word shot through the air. But not this one.

Be Opened – Thomas Davidson (1872)

With this lonely, isolated man, feel Jesus caress your head, finger the ears that have heard so much criticism and frustration. Feel Jesus touch your tongue, so twisted in its attempts to speak your meaning into the world. Receive the surprising gift of Divine spittle that intends to insure, “I am part of you now. You will never be alone again.”

Hear Christ’s groan as he prays for you in sounds that plead, “Get my Dad. ABBA, Father.”


Hear the definite pronouncement of your liberation from anything that tongue-ties, heart-ties, soul-ties your life:

“Ephphatha!” (that is, “Be opened!”)

Music:  Lord, You Put a Tongue in My Mouth – Divine Hymns

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