"The blind shall see, the deaf hear, the mute sing, the dead rise!" Wednesday of Trinity 12 2025

10. September 2025

Wednesday of Trinity 12

Matthew 9:27-35

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Two blind men trail behind Jesus, crying out: “Have mercy on us, Son of David!” What a paradox! They cannot see with their eyes, yet they see with faith. They name Him rightly: “Son of David”—the Messiah promised in the Scriptures, the offspring God swore to David, whose throne would be established forever (2 Samuel 7:12-16). Blind eyes, but seeing hearts.

This is the irony of faith. Those who appear weak, foolish, or helpless are given sight that the world cannot give. The Pharisees, with all their learning, fail to see. The crowds, with all their marveling, fail to believe. But the blind, who have nothing to offer, cry for mercy—and are heard. For it is not the healthy who need a physician, but the sick; not the righteous, but sinners (Matthew 9:12-13).

Notice what Jesus does. He draws them into confession. “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” He does not heal them without a word. He demands faith. Faith not in miracles, but in Him. Faith that confesses, “Yes, Lord.” Faith that clings not to what is seen, but to what is promised. And so, according to their faith, their eyes are opened.

Jesus touches them. He lays His hands upon their eyes. He does not always heal this way—sometimes with a word, sometimes at a distance—but here He touches. Why? Because His work is not abstract. It is always concrete, physical, and embodied—just as water is poured on your head in Baptism. Just as the sign of the cross is traced upon your forehead and heart. Just as bread touches your tongue and wine your lips in the Supper. He touches the place of affliction, and sight is restored.

As these men depart, another is brought—mute, oppressed by a demon. He cannot speak, for Satan has bound his tongue. But when Jesus casts out the demon, the mute man speaks. Matthew does not record what He says. Perhaps He spoke the simple words of faith: “Jesus is Lord” (Romans 10:9). Or perhaps he sang like the psalmist: “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise” (Psalm 51:15).

The crowds marvel, “Never was anything like this seen in Israel.” Marveling, however, is not yet faith. Many marvel at Jesus, but not all believe. The Pharisees, hardened in unbelief, blaspheme: “He casts out demons by the prince of demons.” Thus, good is called evil, and the Savior is accused of serving Satan. As Isaiah warned: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness” (Isaiah 5:20).

Here, the line is drawn. Christ’s miracles expose hearts. Some believe and rejoice. Some marvel but remain undecided. Others, in hardness, accuse Him of working with the devil. The same division remains today wherever Christ is preached. Some rejoice, some scoff, some blaspheme. Christ is never received neutrally.

But note this: these healings are not random acts of kindness. They are signs. They point beyond themselves. They proclaim who Jesus is and what He has come to do. As Matthew summarizes: “Jesus went throughout all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction” (Matthew 9:35).

Teaching, preaching, healing—these are not separate works, but one mission. His teaching and preaching announce the kingdom. His healings and exorcisms demonstrate it. The blind see, the mute speak, the demon is cast out—these are previews of the new creation. As Isaiah prophesied: “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then shall the lame man leap like a deer, and the tongue of the mute sing for joy” (Isaiah 35:5–6).

But remember: those men still died. Their sight, restored, was lost again in death. The tongue that once spoke was silenced in the grave. These miracles were temporary, provisional. They were not the goal but the signpost. They point to the greater miracle: Christ crucified for sinners.

At the cross, Jesus bore all blindness, muteness, affliction, and death. By His wounds, we are healed (Isaiah 53:5). By His blood, Satan is defeated (Revelation 12:11). By His resurrection, death is undone. The miracles of sight and speech foreshadow the greater miracle of salvation—where all creation is healed, all sin forgiven, all death destroyed.

But what do these stories reveal about us? We are the blind men by nature—unable to see rightly, stumbling in darkness. Our eyes are clouded by sin. We call good evil and evil good. We do not see Christ rightly until He opens our eyes by His Word. Without His touch, we remain in darkness.

We are the mute man—tongue-bound, unable to confess rightly. Left to ourselves, our mouths are full of cursing and bitterness (Romans 3:14). We speak lies, slander, gossip, and blasphemy. We cannot open our lips to praise God until He casts out the demon and loosens our tongues.

We are also the Pharisees—quick to judge, slow to believe, twisting God’s works into evil. In our unbelief, we attribute to chance, science, or Satan what belongs to God alone. We resist His kingdom and accuse His Word of falsehood.

The miracles expose us. They strip us of excuses. They reveal that by nature we are blind, mute, and unbelieving. Left to ourselves, we are lost.

But Christ comes to heal. He comes to touch the blind eyes and open them. He comes to cast out the demons and loosen tongues. He comes not merely to heal for a time, but to save forever.

And He still comes today. He comes in Baptism, where water and Word open blind eyes to see the kingdom. He comes in the preached Word, where the Spirit drives out unbelief and gives saving faith. He comes in the Supper, where bread and wine carry His body and blood to our lips, forgiving sins and strengthening faith.

What the miracles of Galilee foreshadow, the Sacraments deliver. They are not lesser gifts but greater. The blind men saw for a time, but you will see forever. The mute man spoke for a season, but you will confess Christ into eternity. In Word and Sacrament, Christ’s healing kingdom is present now, though hidden under weakness.

And this is your hope: what He begins here, He will complete on the Last Day. The blind shall see, the deaf hear, the mute sing, the dead rise. For the same Jesus who opened eyes and loosed tongues has conquered death itself. “Behold, I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5).

Therefore, we join the blind men in their prayer: “Have mercy on us, Son of David!” This is the Church’s daily cry. In sickness, in sorrow, in sin—we cry for mercy. And Christ answers. Not always with a miracle of healing, but always with forgiveness, always with His presence, always with the promise of resurrection.

Every Kyrie in the liturgy is the blind men’s cry. Every confession of sin is the mute man’s plea. And every Absolution is Christ’s answer: “According to your faith, be it done to you.”

Beloved in Christ, you are not left blind or mute. Christ has touched you. He has marked you with the cross in Baptism. He opens your lips to declare His praise. He feeds you with His body and blood. And He will raise you on the Last Day with eyes clear, tongues loosed, bodies whole, and death destroyed forever.

So with the blind men we pray: “Have mercy on us, Son of David.” And with the Church we confess: “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.” And with the saints we shall sing forever: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain.”

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin