Ephphatha: Be Opened

«Բացուի՛ր», կ’ըսէ Յիսուս Քրիստոս՝ մեր Տէրը։ Երկու հազար տարի առաջ եւ այսօր ալ կ’ըսէ՝ «Բացուի՛ր»։

Այս անգամ Մարկոսի Աւետարանի եօթներորդ գլուխին մէջ կը կարդանք, թէ ինչպէս ժողովուրդը հիւանդ մարդ մը բերաւ Յիսուսի առջեւ եւ խնդրեց, որ Յիսուս բուժէ զինք։ Ինչպէս գիտենք, մեր Տէրը բժիշկ է. ինք կը բուժէ մեզ եւ կը բուժէր այն մարդիկը, որոնք հաւատքով եւ սիրով իր առջեւ կու գային՝ խնդրելով բժշկութիւն։

Այլ դէպքերու պարագային հիւանդները իրենք իրենց խօսքով կը խնդրէին բժշկութիւն, բայց այս մարդը խուլ էր եւ համր էր ու չէր կրնար խօսիլ։ Յիսուս բառերով պատասխան չտուաւ. փոխարէնը դպաւ անոր ականջներուն եւ լեզուին եւ ըսաւ՝ «Եփփաթա», որ այն ժամանակուան լեզուով կը նշանակէր՝ «Բացուի՛ր»։

Եկեղեցւոյ հայրերը հասկցած են, որ այս հրաշքը միայն բժշկութեան մասին չէ, այլ աւելի խոր խորհուրդ ունի։ Սուրբ Ամբրոսիոս կ’ըսէ, որ երբ կիրակի օրերը եկեղեցի կու գանք, Յիսուս մեզ կը բանայ, եւ դուռը մեզի համար կը բացուի։ Այս բացումը տեղի կ’ունենայ Պատարագի ընթացքին՝ նոյն այն հրաշքով, որ տեղի ունեցաւ Սուրբ Աւետարանին մէջ։ Այս կոչով ան նաեւ մեզի կ’ըսէ, որ ինչ որ կը լսենք, պէտք է ուրիշներուն քարոզենք իր Աւետարանը։

Ամէն կիրակի այս կոչը կու գայ մեզի։ Երբ հոս կու գանք, մեր սիրտը կը բացուի իրեն հանդէպ։ Յիշենք, որ այս կոչը մեր մէջ կը մնայ։ Յիշենք, որ ինչ որ լսեցինք, մեր մէջ մնայ։ Աստուած մեզի տուաւ այս առիթը, որ Սուրբ Խօսքը լսենք։ Սուրբ Ամբրոսիոս կ’ըսէ, որ ան այսօր բացաւ ձեր ականջները, որպէսզի այս պատգամը լսէք։ Իր կամքն է, որ այսօր լսենք եւ հասկնանք։

I remember, as a young man, like many of the young men you see before you today, there was a time when I had to begin serving on the altar. For my kids, if I tell them there was a time when I wasn’t a priest or didn’t serve on the altar, it is impossible for them to imagine. They think of me as a baby who came out of the womb wearing a shabig or something like that.

The truth is that, for all of us in our life in the Church—and for those of us who serve in the choir, on the altar, or in any capacity—there is naturally a beginning. There is an initial step that has to take place for us to enter into service. That initial step is always very difficult. We often feel unprepared, unworthy, and overwhelmed.

When I first began serving on the holy altar, I was probably about ten or eleven years old. I can’t remember exactly how old I was. My parish priest was constantly asking me to serve on the altar. I never said no to him directly; I would say, “Okay, okay, okay,” and then tell my parents, “Don’t make me do it. I don’t want to do it.”

There were some boys, including the priest’s nephew, who were active in the church and were amazing altar servers. Their voices, their Armenian, and their understanding of the Badarak—even though they were my peers—were so much farther beyond mine. I said, “No, that’s for them to do. That’s not for me.”

A lot of other boys in my church served on the altar because they did not want to be in Sunday school. We have a great Sunday school program here at St. John, but when I was a kid, many children thought, “We don’t want to sit in a classroom, listen to a teacher, and hear lessons. If I serve on the altar, I can get out of Sunday school.” That was their reason for serving. But I loved Sunday school. I loved my teachers and lessons. I loved learning the Bible. I simply did not want to become an altar server. I rejected it again and again.

Then one Sunday—who knows how many times he had asked me before—my priest came to me, knelt in front of me, touched me on the shoulder, and said, “I’m inviting you to come and serve with me. Whenever you don’t come, I feel sad, but I hope you will respond to my invitation one day. I would really like to serve the Lord with you.”

In that moment, something opened up in me. Before then, I had been unwilling to listen to the invitation. I was more focused on what I wanted and what I believed my limitations or capabilities were. But in that serious moment, when he touched me on the shoulder, something deep within me opened up, and I said, “Okay.”

I remember that he first told me, “You have to memorize this: ‘Yev yevs khaghaghutyan…’” That is step one for any altar server in the Armenian Church. I said, “Okay, I can memorize one sentence. I can do this.” A little time went by, and I memorized my “Yev yevs.” Then he said, “Now you have to memorize this,” and it was “Kohutyun.” I looked at it, and it seemed ten paragraphs long, as though it never ended. I thought, “I’m supposed to memorize this whole thing?” But he challenged me, and eventually I did it.

In the end, something opened up in me: both my willingness and desire to serve the Lord through liturgical service, and many abilities that were awakened through that invitation—the ability to preach and to serve God in the way that eventually became the priesthood. This was a story of my being opened up.

It is God’s will that we all be open to his will and his design for us. That is difficult to realize in our respective lives, because our natural state is to want to be safe, secure, cozy, and closed up, where we can protect ourselves and avoid the instability, exposure, uncertainty, or criticism that may come if we open ourselves.

The Gospel reading that comes to us today from the Gospel of Mark is the story of a man who had been closed up, and God challenged him to be opened. The man was brought before Jesus Christ. He was deaf and mute, and the expectation was that Christ would heal him.

What is curious about this example of healing—and we have spoken so much about Christ the Healer during this past year at St. John, since it is our primary theme—is that Christ does not begin with a lesson, message, preamble, or exposition. He begins the act of healing by touching the man.

Just as my priest made an intimate connection with me when he touched me on the shoulder—as though to say, “This is you and me, and we are having a conversation right now; please pay attention”—Christ touches the man’s ears and tongue. He then makes a proclamation that is very simple and very profound. He says, “Ephphatha,” a word in the spoken language of that time meaning, “Be opened.” From that moment, the man was opened: his ears could hear, and his mouth could speak.

Our Church Fathers tell us that this was more than a miracle of healing. It contained a mystery that is accessible to you and me today. In fact, we have experienced it in the liturgy of which we have been a part this Sunday morning. St. Ambrose tells us that during every Eucharistic service, every Badarak, Christ opens to us the doorway to salvation. At the same time, he challenges us, just as that man was challenged, to be opened: to hear his commandments, hear his message, and receive this mystery, while also opening our mouths so that we may proclaim his glory through song and prayer and preach the message of salvation we have received and heard.

The Badarak itself is an experience of being opened up in all these facets of our lives. We may perceive it to be safer to remain closed up in this world, but in the end we are closing God off from ourselves and closing off our potential to be realized according to God’s will. During the Divine Liturgy, he blesses us to be opened in the same way that the deaf and mute man was opened by his touch.

That sign of compassion—the touch—is very profound. I remember the story of a pastor in San Francisco during the AIDS crisis. His ministry was to visit hospitals, find patients suffering from AIDS, and simply touch them. They were the lepers of their time: rejected and isolated, treated with fear, and devalued as human beings. This pastor wanted them to know that they mattered, that they had value, and that they were loved in the eyes of the Lord. With their permission, he would gently touch them on the shoulder or the feet to let them know, “You are a person, and you are loved.” This was transformative for them.

Christ touches us in the Divine Liturgy, too. Because he was incarnate, he touches our hearts through his physical touch and reminds us, “You are mine. I love you. You are not alone.”

During the Divine Liturgy, we experience every aspect of the miracle of the healing of the deaf and mute man. As we leave the Divine Liturgy today, let us take those blessings with us. Let us understand deeply that our ears have been opened to his divine commandments so that we may live by them. Our mouths, too, have been opened so that we can share the glory of the Lord, not only here in the sanctuary but throughout all the days of our lives. Amen.