As the man moved alongside his wife, her hand slid up under his elbow, almost as though it had a mind of its own, to lightly and comfortably rest on his forearm. Seeing the contact, I recognized it as yet another visible expression of the emotional bond that linked them. Even after many years together, those in the grip of love have an inexplicable need to affirm over and over again — sometimes through words, but even more often through touch — “I am yours. You are mine. We are one!” Such touches are a simple expression of love, but somehow they always warm our hearts and comfort our spirits.
Later, as we stood and sang another hymn, the mother leaned toward the daughter, who appeared to be about 6 or 7 years of age, and with her finger traced the location of the words to assist the daughter’s fledgling efforts. When we sat back down, the father’s arm came comfortably to rest lightly on the mother’s back –– not in showy ostentation, but in a seeming expression of the deep-seated human need to feel directly connected to those we love.
Like a screensaver on a computer etching out an image, little by little as they worshipped, the signs were blossoming into a clear picture of the relationship of this couple and their children. By the time the Eucharist was celebrated near end of the service, I was not the least surprised — and inwardly applauded — when the father demurred at the usher’s assurance that the baby would be all right if it were left sleeping where it lay while the parents took communion with the older children. Instead, with one strong hand, the dad lifted the carrier and held it by his side as the family moved forward to receive the elements. The infant was still fast asleep when they returned to their seats.
The sermon this week addressed the holy moments — healing moments — afforded to us when we devote the Sabbath to worshipping God. Included in the homily was a discussion of the story in Luke’s Gospel of Christ’s encounter on the Sabbath with a woman who had been infirmed for 18 years and was so bent over that she could not straighten. Seeing her, Christ’s heart was moved. He had compassion on her, and, with a healing touch, released her from the oppression of her infirmity.
To my mind, the morning’s message harmonized perfectly with the picture of the grieving family seated in front of us who had come that day to worship despite their loss. Seeing the love they shared revealed through touch helped illustrate why the Scriptures speak of God as a loving father, of Christ as one who desires a relationship as intimate as marriage with His bride, the Church, and of our own incompleteness without contact with Him.
What mysteries we glimpse wrapped up in the tell-tale touch.