Human joy sometimes expresses itself in strange ways. A person who has suffered for many years from an incurable disease comes to a Prophet unknown to him, whom he most likely sees for the first time. This Prophet heals him and says: keep silent, do not chatter about Me on every corner; go and do what the Torah prescribes for cleansing. But the healed man, instead of doing what he was told to do, joyfully shouts on every corner about what happened to him, plainly blurting out what he had been asked to keep silent about.

What is this: talkativeness? Neglect and disrespect toward the One who healed him? It is hardly either one. Rather, not everything, sadly, is serious for us that really is serious. Or better: for us, only what is serious to us is serious in earnest. For the healed man, throughout the whole time of his sickness, the sickness itself was at the center. It blocked out the whole world for him, and he can hardly be blamed for that.

But now his life changes: Someone enters it who is able and ready to deliver him from sickness, to heal and cleanse him. What then: should all attention be given to Him? Surely it should. If He delivered him from sickness, if He is from God, then he should listen to Him and do everything exactly as He commands.

Why then does the healed man act otherwise? Perhaps precisely because he has not yet truly been healed. His body is already healthy, but his attention is still entirely focused on the sickness that is no longer there, but whose memory is alive. And the healed man shouts on every corner: not about God and not about the One who healed him, but about the sickness that is no more. He shouts so much that he even forgets what the mysterious Savior asked of him.

There is, of course, nothing surprising in the fact that the sick and the possessed long for healing and deliverance. Something else is interesting: exactly how the evangelist describes such events. He tells some of them in detail, for example the healing of Peter's mother-in-law; others he mentions briefly, as he mentioned the many healings Jesus performed in Capernaum. Of course, this difference could be explained in purely literary terms: by speaking of an event in detail, the evangelist thereby sets it apart, while in general terms he speaks of events that turn out to be a kind of background for the separate episodes. But in the Gospel there are no unimportant or insignificant parts; even the background matters here. And what first catches the eye in descriptions of such background events is the mass, the crowd, the multitude.

It is quite possible that all these healings did not happen at one single moment, that the brief mention of many healings is brief only in the evangelist's description, while in reality the healings described took more than one day. But even if that is so, the difference in how the events are described is still obvious: on the one hand, a single event; on the other, something mass-scale, where the individual person cannot be distinguished.

But perhaps the issue here is not literary composition alone. Perhaps it is the very nature of the Kingdom: the Kingdom in which there is no place for illness or possession, and therefore everyone it touches is delivered from both one and the other, if only he has even a drop of trust in the One who brought this Kingdom into the world. But deliverance from illness is only the first step. After that life begins, that new life in the Kingdom in which nothing simply happens by itself anymore, where one must serve so that this life becomes for the person who has shared in it not only an external fact, but also the inner content and meaning of his own existence.

And this is already a strictly individual and deeply personal process. Here it is not enough simply to come into contact with the Kingdom; what is needed is a spiritual process that cannot take place without the person's own conscious and purposeful participation. And while there are always many who want to be healed and freed from the power of dark forces, there are generally far fewer who make the effort to move forward on the spiritual path.

This is why, perhaps, there are not so many Christians among those healed by Jesus. Healing, after all, is only the beginning. It is a beginning that requires continuation. Otherwise the life of the Kingdom will never become reality for the one who has been healed.

In describing the events of the Savior's earthly ministry, Mark is very restrained and sparing with details. The preaching in Capernaum, the healing of a possessed man, and the healing of Peter's mother-in-law follow one after another; the scenes change as in a kaleidoscope. This flickering of events is a feature of the author's perception. It happens, and if not everyone, then many people know this experience. As a rule something similar occurs when a person inwardly distances himself from what is happening.

For example, he goes through some event that is very important for him, and its result is a special inner state that takes in the whole person and creates around him a kind of shell through which he interacts with the surrounding world. The shell may be absolutely transparent, but it almost always becomes a kind of lens that changes the person's perception of what is happening outside. Such a shell is in itself a psychological structure, but its origin can be very different, from purely physiological to spiritual. Any contact with spiritual reality changes a person's perception, at least for the duration of the contact, and sometimes for a much longer time.

Most often the change has to do with the scale and speed of events in the outer world: they seem to move farther away, the flow of time that contains them speeds up, and that very kaleidoscope effect appears. At the same time, if the psychological shell that produces this effect has a spiritual origin, if it is connected with spiritual processes in which the person is caught up, it also functions as a kind of filter, singling out in the swiftly running stream the events that are related to the spiritual process that produced the shell.

In this way, from the stream of events those are singled out that are connected with a person's spiritual state; he begins to see more clearly what corresponds to his state. A person who has experienced a revelation of the Kingdom can in this way see the stream of events both in the present and in the past, insofar as the past has been preserved in his memory. This is how the evangelist sees events: for him, after all, the meeting with Christ became a revelation of the Kingdom, and he experiences the Kingdom as the reality that changes his perception of present events and of past ones, as far as he remembers them.