In the Gospels, we see Jesus perform a number of miracles that have to do with the healing of eyes, ears, legs, speech impediments, and the kind of internal bleeding that prevents a woman from ever giving birth to new life. When we take those stories literally, it’s not so much that we get them wrong (they are in fact real miracles), rather it’s that we miss the deeper part of their meaning—and how it applies to each of us.
These miracles were indeed physical healings, but they have a deeper intent: Jesus opens the eyes of the blind so that now they can see things more deeply; he opens the ears of the deaf so that now they can hear the word of God and words of love more clearly; he heals those who can’t walk so that now they can walk more freely in the light of God; and he cures those with speech impediments so that now they can speak words of praise and blessing. Notice, he never cures anyone of appendicitis or tonsillitis.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus heals a man who had a speech impediment. The physical healing, while real, is not the deeper healing. The deeper miracle is that this man can now speak words of praise and blessing more so than words of bitterness, envy, and cynicism. That’s the speech impediment from which all of us suffer and from which we need to be healed.
Like the man in today’s Gospel, we need Jesus to touch our tongues so that our mouths might speak more loving words.
