We weren't in this region long, of course, before they started to come. A deaf man, who like most so afflicted could barely make himself understood, was brought to him. His words were indistinct and nasal. Those with him begged Jesus to touch the man and heal him. I suppose they were his relatives or friends. Jesus took him aside, away from the crowd, and we watched an amazing thing. He put his fingers into the man's ears. Then he spit and touched the man's tongue. He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh spoke a single word, "Ephphatha!" (Aramaic for, "be opened").

Instantly the man cupped his hands over his ears as if to stop the noise. Then slowly he removed them and looked at Jesus with eyes of wonder and worship. He opened his mouth and spoke in a plain, distinct baritone, "You are he that should come. You are Messiah!" The words were deep and resonant, clear and beautiful.

"Do not tell anyone about this," Jesus told the man. I don't know why Jesus said such things. The more he told this to those he healed, the more they talked about it. He wanted to keep a low profile, yet he could not but do good wherever it was needed.

Onlookers were stunned. "Is there anything he can't do?" they said. Yet the remarkable thing to me was how he merely spoke the word and healing followed. Sometimes he healed without so much as being present, but with this man and a few others he employed machinations like these.

Thus did I think of the process of miracle working. How to explain this? Did his power to heal change with the severity of the illness? Did it reflect the possibility that his power to heal was affected by how tired he may be at the moment? By his mood? How came this man who calms the sea and the wind with one word to go through an apparently meaningless ritual to bring about healing? It did not seem to depend on the faith of the one being healed, yet he often said that their faith had a part. Perhaps he meant that the faith necessary to come to him precipitated the healing in itself. Yet others obviously had no faith at all--either before or after the healing. Why did Jesus use his fingers and saliva? I confess, I do not know. Perhaps it doesn't matter. Why did he take this man aside from the crowd? I don't know that it is written anywhere that he is required to do it the same way every time. He can do it any way he wants.

We continued along the shores of the Sea of Galilee for awhile, and then Jesus ascended a grassy slope and sat down. Once again, incessantly, relentlessly, they began to come, a great multitude bringing the lame, the blind, the speechless, the maimed--people who by some terrible accident or torture had lost limbs and appendages and a host of others. He healed them all. He turned not even one away. The crowds, understandably, were captivated by what they witnessed. One might come to accept the healing of a blind person or the hearing of another. But to see new limbs form where there were none was more than reason could bear. To hear a man speak distinct, articulate words with a tongue that had before been cut out! There it was! It could not be denied. It happened before the eyes of all. And all present, without a single exception, glorified God. We, too, could do nothing else!