Are you ready for miracles?

In the Gospel of Mark, the word “immediately,” euthus in Greek, is associated with miracles. To cite but a few examples: Immediately, the leper was made clean (Mark 1:42). Immediately, the paralyzed man stood up, picked up his mat, and went home (Mark 2:12). Immediately, the woman with the hemorrhage was healed of her disease (Mark 5:29).

It is not seen in the English translation we have for our Gospel today, but the Greek word euthus is used to describe how Simon and Andrew responded to the invitation to be fishers of men: Immediately, they left their nets and followed Jesus. How could two brothers just leave not only their livelihood but their whole lives to follow someone they hardly knew? What could make them trust the promises of someone they just met? The word “immediately” gives us a clue: This, too, must be a miracle!

Mention the word “miracle,” and people jump to the conclusion that you are talking about something that defies explanation, something that cannot be understood. How can leprosy and all its scabs and scars disappear in an instant? How can a paralytic with atrophied muscles just regain his strength without drugs or therapy? How can men say goodbye to all that is familiar and embrace the perils of a life unknown? It goes beyond reason. It must be a miracle.

But there is a better definition for miracles: signs of the presence of God. And there are many signs of the presence of God in our Gospel today.

Our reading this Sunday begins with the arrest of John the Baptist, Jesus’ cousin. It would be understandable for Jesus, who was, one could say, in the same line of work, to hide and make himself scarce at least for a little while. Wasn’t John the Baptist’s fate warning enough for those who would pursue the same “business”? But instead of waiting for the heat to die down, what did Jesus do? He dove straight into danger. He marched into Galilee proclaiming, “The Kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe in the Gospel!” Surely, when someone has the courage to face conflict in order to fulfill his mission, the Spirit of God must be upon him. Surely, the presence of God must be there. Surely, this must be a miracle.

Jesus called Simon, Andrew, James, and John to come and follow him. Wouldn’t more learned people have been better choices than fishermen? Why put your trust in men whom you hardly knew, who handled nets and not books, who smelled of fish rather than incense? But when someone is able to take risks and give people chances — and later on, when Simon, Andrew, James and John fail to understand Jesus, second and third chances — surely, the Spirit of God must be upon him. Surely, the presence of God must be there. Surely, this must be a miracle. And it is a miracle answered by another: Simon, Andrew, James, and John walked with Jesus and ventured out into the deep without their boats.

I will make a prediction: This coming week, you will experience miracles. I am one hundred percent sure this will happen not because I can see the future but because I have faith that the presence of God is always all around us. And if we are able to take courage and risk not only with our particular missions but with people, if we are ready to leave our comfort zones, if we dare to cooperate with the Spirit of God, then surely, miracles have already happened. We only have to open our eyes and see.

Early this week, I was asked to anoint a dying man, and I saw a miracle. No, the man did not spring back to health while we prayed. But the man was at peace. He knew that he was dying, but he was not afraid. He was not sullen or angry at God for his suffering. In fact, he only wanted to pray more. We told him that we were going to miss the way he was always the life of the party. We were going to miss his jokes. We were going to miss him. And he said, “I am a comedian.” I would like to believe that he was saying more than just the fact that he was funny. The classical definition of comedy is not really about humor. A comedy, in contrast with a tragedy, is a story with a happy ending. I would like to believe that in the face of death, that blessed man was telling us about his faith that something happier was waiting for him. Surely, the presence of God must have been with him. Surely, we all witnessed a miracle.

Fr. Francis was ordained in 2009 and served in the PGH until May 2011. He is currently taking further studies in Sacred Scripture. For feedback on this column, email [email protected].