Text: Mark 7:31–37
Jesus Heals a Deaf and Mute Man
31 Then Jesus left the vicinity of Tyre and went through Sidon, down to the Sea of Galilee and into the region of the Decapolis.[a] 32 There some people brought to him a man who was deaf and could hardly talk, and they begged Jesus to place his hand on him.
33 After he took him aside, away from the crowd, Jesus put his fingers into the man’s ears. Then he spit and touched the man’s tongue. 34 He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh said to him, “Ephphatha!” (which means “Be opened!”). 35 At this, the man’s ears were opened, his tongue was loosened and he began to speak plainly.
36 Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone. But the more he did so, the more they kept talking about it. 37 People were overwhelmed with amazement. “He has done everything well,” they said. “He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”
This is the gospel of the Lord!
We live in a world full of sound. Notifications, headlines, opinions, advertisements, expectations and politics. In Norway the general election was yesterday– and after four years of more or less silence, all the politicians has been appearing publicly and speaking constantly for several weeks. But the noise in this day and age is constant. It surrounds us, fills our minds, and often drowns out the voices we most need to hear—the voice of God, the voice of truth, the voice of one another.
In today’s Gospel reading, we meet a man who is deaf and has difficulty speaking. He lives in silence, but also in isolation. He cannot hear the words of comfort, hope, or love. And he cannot respond. He is cut off from the fullness of human connection, and probably placed on the outskirts of society. And there he is made invisible. Luckily there are someone, maybe his family or some friends, who takes charge and leads him to this man whom they heard may do miracles.
The first thing Jesus does is deeply personal: He takes the man aside, away from the crowd. This is not supposed to be a public spectacle. It is a private moment of grace. Jesus demonstrates that healing doesn’t happen in the noise. It happens in the quiet. In the space where we can be truly be seen and heard. Its not a spectacle to gain followers either. It is personal, it is respectful and its intimate.
This is both a miracle there and then, but also a powerful image for us today. We are often surrounded by crowds—digitally, socially, emotionally. But healing requires someone willing to step out of the noise and say, “I see you. I hear you. You matter.”
When Jesus does this miracle, he do not rush. He does not perform. He connects.
Then comes the word: Effata. It’s Aramaic and it means “Be opened.” – an imperative. Here it’s a command to the ears and tongue. But we can easily see it as a call to the soul of modern man:
Be opened—to grace. Be opened—to healing.
Be opened-to others Be opened—to relationship.
Be opened – to the creation. Be opened—to God.
Because we all have places in our lives that are closed. Closed by fear. Closed by shame. Closed by disappointment. Closed by prejudice. Closed by the sheer volume of the world around us.
Jesus speaks Effata into those places. He invites us to open up again — to risk love, to risk vulnerability, to risk being changed and to risk being the one who changes.
What does it mean to hear today?
It means more than registering sound. It means listening with intention. It means being present. It means hearing the cry of the lonely, the whisper of the anxious, the silence of the grieving.
And at the centre of our mission and of our calling, is listening – to the people who lives in our midst. In particulary those who for centuries has been silenced in order to make them look, sound and think like us. Where we, as churches, too many times has been on the side of the oppressor. Now is the time where we must make shure our ears are opened, so that we may listen to the unjust from past times. And we need to listen carefully and patiently, take our time – so we are certain to understand the sort of oppression and abuse our fellow citizens has been exposed to.
Effata—be opened—also speaks to our relationship with creation. Just as we are called to open our ears to the voices of the marginalized, we must also open our eyes and hearts to the cry of the earth. Climate change, pollution, deforestation, and the exploitation of natural resources are not just environmental problems; they are spiritual ones. Creation groans under the weight of human greed and indifference, and yet we often remain deaf to its suffering. As followers of Christ, we are invited to listen—not only to each other but to the world that God has made. To hear the silence of extinct species, the sigh of melting glaciers, the whisper of forests cut down. Environmental justice is part of our calling because the health of the planet and the dignity of human life are deeply intertwined. A church that truly listens cannot ignore the ecological crisis. Effata,
then, becomes a call to awaken—to be opened to the responsibility we carry, to act with compassion, and to protect this sacred world entrusted to our care.
In order to do so, as a church, as church members and believers, we need to hear God’s voice—not always loud, not always obvious—but persistent. A voice that tells us, “You are loved. You are called. You are mine.” A voice that reaches out to everyone, everywhere, without referring to background, gender, ethnicity, or sexual orientation.
In order to hear that voice, we must learn to listen through the noise. We must create space in our lives for focus, for prayer, for reflection. We must be willing to turn down the volume of the world so we can tune in to the frequency of grace. And at the same time tune in on the frequency of others and the whole creation.
Jesus performs a miracle. He opens ears and loosens a tongue. But the deeper miracle is the way he sees the man. The way he touches him. The way he sighs—a sigh that carries compassion, empathy, divine longing.
And here’s the truth: You and I can BE that miracle.
We can be the one who listens. We can be the one who sees. We can be the one who takes someone aside and says, “You matter.”
Being the miracle doesn’t mean having supernatural powers. It means showing up. It means being present. It means being open – and it means that we listen.
In that way we can gather trust and respect. It means that we are able to say Effata, with conviction, to the world around us—to the people who feel unheard, unseen, unloved.
That’s why we need to ask the question: What kind of church do we want to be?
A church that talks, or a church that listens? A church that performs, or a church that connects? A church that judges, or a church that opens?
We are called to be a community of Effata—a place where people can come and be opened. A place where stories are heard, and therefore healing is possible.
We must be a church that listens to the Spirit, listens to the pain of the world, listens to the quiet voice of God.
Effata is not just a word for the man in the story. It is a word for us.
Effata, Be opened—to the Spirit. Effata, Be opened—to one another. Effata, Be opened—to the possibility that we, ourselves, are the miracle someone else is waiting for.
"Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, who was, is, and will be one true God from eternity to eternity. Amen.