Faith and long-suffering are symbols of Christian steadfastness in trials. When the Lord helps us, when all suffering ends, we often begin telling everyone about what has happened. And at that very moment we often drown out the voice of Christ addressed to us. Christ says to almost everyone He heals, "do not tell anyone." He calls us to silence, to finding peace, to the struggle against the noise produced by the surrounding world.

In fasting we ask that the spirit of humility, patience, and love be sent down to us. To receive these gifts, we need silence. Silence as time for conversation with Christ. And in our prayer, whether we pray according to rules or in our own words, few words are necessary. They are necessary precisely because Christ's work is accomplished in silence and secrecy. In the silence of morning and the slight chill of dawn, His friends and disciples learn that He is not in the tomb. That He is risen.

Jesus forbids the healed man and those who accompanied him to spread the report of the miracle that had taken place, of which they had become witnesses. And this is not the first time He has proclaimed such a prohibition. It looks very much as though Jesus wanted the event of healing, the event of divine intervention in a person's fate, to remain a mystery, a secret between Jesus and the one who had been healed. And all for the simple reason that a miracle can happen only on the personal level; and only on that level, in that inward and hidden dimension, does God reveal Himself to a person. For any miracle, in the end, whether healing, rescue in the midst of mortal danger, or something else, if it is, of course, perceived as a miracle and not as a random coincidence, is a flash of divine light in our life. And such a flash is our personal, intimate glimpse into the depths of life, into the depths of God, the appearance or sharpening of the ability to hear the "harmony of Heaven."

As for outside observers, for them everything "miraculous" is most often perceived as some kind of divine trick, or as the deeds of a good magician providing for the material well-being of his charges. It was precisely from this perception that Jesus wanted to protect everyone who might hear the story of the miracle or see someone they knew healed. After all, in the final analysis, the purpose of every word and action of Jesus, and therefore of God acting through Him, is to open a person's eyes to his real disastrous condition and, what is still more important, to show the path of liberation: liberation from being fixated on one's own problems, from attempts to get rid of them by one's own strength and to be happy at the expense of others and only for oneself... Incidentally, this may be why the witnesses of the healing of the deaf-mute also turn from amazed outside observers into active participants in the miracle. For they meet God in the act of their compassion and active care for their maimed fellow tribesman, whom they "brought to Jesus."

As the Gospel testifies, crowds of people in need of help followed Jesus, because they valued His ability to heal above all else. The last lines of today's passage point to this: "He has done all things well: He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak." The evangelist records words about the Lord Himself, who is grieved that the crowds follow Him only because of miracles and do not see something more essential.

Having healed the deaf man with a speech impediment, the Savior asks him not to tell anyone about it. Perhaps this is precisely because the miracle, though it played an enormous role in the healed man's life, was not the most important thing. Far more important was what Christ had done in his soul, the way the Good News had touched this man broken by illness. Yet speaking about how the heart has changed is much harder than telling how you stopped being deaf and mute. But it is precisely this kind of witness that the Lord expects from us.