Ephphatha: Be Opened

«Բացուի՛ր», ըսաւ Յիսուս Քրիստոս՝ մեր Տէրը, այդ մարդուն, որ չէր կրնար խօսիլ։ Մարդը խուլ եւ համր էր. այսինքն՝ չէր կրնար լսել եւ չէր կրնար խօսիլ։ Ան եկաւ Քրիստոսի, եւ Քրիստոս ըսաւ. «Բացուի՛ր»։ Եւ անոր բերանը բացուեցաւ։ Եւ անոր բերանը բացուեցաւ։ Այսինքն՝ հրաշք էր՝ Յիսուսի բժշկութեան հրաշքներէն մէկը։ Բայց շատ իւրայատուկ է, որովհետեւ նուէր մը տուաւ այս մարդուն։ Եւ ի՞նչ է այդ նուէրը։ Ոչ միայն որ ինքը բուժուի, այլ որ ինքը կարելիութիւնը ունենայ արտայայտուելու։

Աստուածաշունչը կ’ըսէ, որ ամբողջ ստեղծագործութիւնը կ’արտայայտէ Աստուծոյ փառքը՝ ես, դուն, հիւլէները, ծաղիկները, երկինքը, ովկիանոսը, այս մոլորակը, տիեզերքը՝ ամենափոքրէն մինչեւ ամենամեծը։ Այս ստեղծագործութիւնը, այս տիեզերքը, կ’արտայայտէ Աստուծոյ փառքը, որովհետեւ ամէն բանի մէջ մենք կրնանք գտնել Աստուծոյ սէրը։ Եւ ինքը՝ Յիսուս Քրիստոս, տուաւ կարելիութիւնը այս մարդուն, այս հիւանդին, արտայայտելու այդ նոյն սէրը։

Ատոր համար Յիսուս հրամայեց. «Բացուի՛ր»։ Հրամայեց, որ ինքը բացուի։ Այսինքն՝ բառին բուն իմաստով, այն, ինչ որ ինքը ունի իր մէջը, բացուի եւ դուրս գայ։ Ասիկա առաջարկ չէր, ասիկա օրհնութիւն չէր, ասիկա աղօթք չէր. ասիկա հրաման մըն էր։ Եւ հրամայեց այդպէս, որ իրականանայ։ Եւ այդպէս իրականացաւ։

Այսօր, երբ մենք տաճարին մէջ կը գտնուինք, Յիսուս մեզ կը հրաւիրէ այդ նոյն հրաշքին մասնակից դառնալու, որ մենք ալ բացուինք, որ ինչ որ կայ մեր մէջ՝ դուրս գայ ժամանակի ընթացքին։ Եւ իսկապէս կը պատահի, որովհետեւ երբ կը խոստովանինք, երբ քով-քովի կու գանք, երբ կը հաղորդուինք եւ երբ միասնական կեանքի մէջ կ’ապրինք, կամաց-կամաց, ուզենք չուզենք, կը բացուինք։ Այն, ինչ որ մեր մէջ կայ, դուրս կու գայ իրարու վկայութեան մէջ, ինչպէս նաեւ Յիսուսի սիրող ձեռքին տակ։

When I was a young man, I went to a small school, a little larger than our Armenian school, KZV. It was a parochial school, a Catholic school, which I attended until eighth grade. My class size was relatively small—not as small as my classes at KZV, but maybe there were 20 other kids, and there was usually one other class in our grade. So maybe there were two-ish hundred kids in the school. But certainly, I had the same 20 to 30 kids in my classroom from the time I was six until I was in eighth grade, when I was around 12 or 13 years old.

By the time I was in eighth grade, there were still kids in that classroom who didn’t know me. Eight years after I started my career in that school, there were kids in that group of 20 or 30 who were learning my name, if you can believe it. But I was a very quiet child. I wasn’t unhappy. I wasn’t withdrawn, but I was not a vocal person. I had a few very good, close friends who are still good, close friends of mine today. I helped one of them move into a new apartment in San Mateo a couple of weeks ago. So I’m happy to say that I had good friendships and received a good education, but I was not a very open and outgoing child growing up.

Maybe some of you were like that as well. It doesn’t make a difference. We are all the way that we are, as long as we’re made to feel comfortable and supported in that way. But the fact of the matter is that, if I had the opportunity to speak openly and outwardly even to a few people whom I had known for the better part of my life at that point, I would avoid it. I didn’t want to do it. If I had to stand up and talk in front of my class, it was torture for me. I hated it. I would never take that opportunity, and I would do whatever I could to get around it. If somebody asked me to stand up and say my name, I was absolutely sure I was going to mess it up. How am I going to mess up my name? It’s Matthew. But I’d figure it out, okay? And I’d be dying of anxiety the entire time.

I just didn’t enjoy being in front of people. I didn’t enjoy being heard or being seen. Case in point. That was never my goal or objective in life. I never said to myself, “I wish that I were somebody who was bolder or felt more comfortable speaking in front of people or being seen.” It wasn’t something that I felt was a deficiency. And for anybody who doesn’t feel comfortable being that way, God bless them. That’s okay. We don’t need to be that way to be appreciated and valued. But that was who I was and, in many ways, is who I am.

At some point in my life, when I was a teenager, my priest said, “Come up here and start talking to people.” Then my favorite guy in the world called me up, and he said, “You need to say some stuff to these people about some things.” What are you talking about? This is the worst thing that I could possibly do. I hated every minute of it. I got up and thought, “This is the worst.” I told my mom the first time he made me do it, “I don’t want to go back to church. This guy is going to make me stand up and talk in front of people again, and I would hate to have to do that.”

Well, my mom was not very interested in hearing that, so we continued to go to church. From time to time, the priest would ask me to do the same thing: “Come up. You need to speak to the people about this or about that.” I guess he had some trust and faith in me—that I had something worthwhile to say and that people should hear it.

Eventually, over time, the fear and anxiety began to go away, and I began to feel more comfortable in those sorts of circumstances. I can say that there are certainly times today when I feel anxiety when it is necessary for me to speak in certain situations. But for the most part, it’s about as natural as it is for me to wake up and have a glass of water in the morning. That’s because, at some point, it was necessary in my life to change—to become more open and more willing to share myself with others. It wasn’t because I needed it, but because it was needed of me.

Christ, in the Bible today, tells us that this is something He invites His people to do. In the encounter retold in our Gospel reading, He says to a man who was mute and deaf and had never had the opportunity to hear and speak in his life—He commands him with the phrase, “Ephphatha. Ephphatha.” I always get that messed up. That’s a bit of a tongue-twister right there.

But it’s important, by the way, that this is one of the few words from the Gospels that remains untranslated: Ephphatha. Am I saying it right? Yeah, that’s the way you say it. It’s a word that never sounds right because it’s Aramaic. But it’s one of the few words from the Gospels that was not translated from the source text. Of course, we’re not reading the Gospels in the source text, but some of the words remained the same words that they had always been in that text, and that’s one. It was important to the writers of the Gospel that this particular word remain unchanged from the way it would have been uttered by Jesus Christ at that time.

What that word means is “Open. Open up.” He doesn’t say it as a suggestion. He doesn’t say it as a blessing or a prayer. He doesn’t say it as an incantation or something like that. He says it as a command to this man before Him. Because Christ has dominion over everything that is seen and unseen, created and uncreated, the man opens up. He begins to speak, and we know that he is healed. It is a miracle beheld, appreciated and valued by all who saw it, and until today, we know and celebrate it.

But this moment in time, this unique vignette from Christ’s miracles, is an opportunity for us to remember that Christ is often inviting us all to do the same thing: to open up. To open up, to take what is inside and to let that be outside. That’s important because it is for the benefit of everyone. It is for our benefit and for the benefit of others in our community.

When my priest invited me—nay, commanded me—to open up, and I opened up, it was for the enrichment of everybody’s experience. It was not just for my own benefit or just for the benefit of others, but because we all belong to the body of Christ, and all of those members deserve to be in full communion with one another. How can we be in communion if we are not opened up?

Opening up is so valuable and so important. It takes us fully outside of our comfort zone and sometimes, as in this case, even outside our natural abilities. But to be opened up is to be a full member of the body of Christ. At times, we have to put our faith and trust in the conviction that, if we take that step and are bold in ways that we are often not comfortable being bold, we ourselves receive a blessing and come into our own fullness in this life.

I wouldn’t say that I would be less of a person, but I wouldn’t be the fullness of myself if I hadn’t had that experience as a young man. An important part of who I am would be missing. And there are elements of who we are that are yet to come to fruition, which Christ is inviting us to open up to and with.

Therefore, today, let Christ’s command to the deaf and mute man be the same command that we receive in our own lives. Let us be opened up. Let us be opened up and share what we have within ourselves with those around us and in the life of the Church, for the richness and fullness of the body of Christ. Amen.