Hands

A Reflection on the Psalm for July 4th, 2021:
Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Psalm 123

R. Our eyes look to the Lord, until he has mercy upon us.

To you I lift up my eyes — O you who are enthroned in the heavens — as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master. 

R. Our eyes look to the Lord, until he has mercy upon us.

As the eyes of a maid to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, until he has mercy upon us. 

R. Our eyes look to the Lord, until he has mercy upon us.

Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy, for we have had more than enough of contempt. Our soul has had more than its fill of the scorn of those who are at ease, of the contempt of the proud. 

R. Our eyes look to the Lord, until he has mercy upon us.

Pause. Pray.

And then read more...

I can still see them. My grandmother’s hands. I remember the shape of them, the humour in them as they moved when she told a story. The capable deft gentleness with which they approached pie dough. The quiet kindness they granted when they rested on mine. The eventual complete stillness of them was the one thing that made me understand she wasn’t there anymore as I saw them folded together, resting on her lilac dress covering what remained at her funeral.  Hands reveal our true character, the one part of us we get to take with us, as much as does our face.
Maybe more.


When I hear the communal refrain we share, “Our eyes look to the Lord,” a familiar desire surges in me to lift my eyes to His face. The very idea of His face melts me. I yearn for those times when I gaze at Him and He gazes at me. This sight has saved me, carried me, called me, changed me. I become both undone and put back together at the same time. A death of one kind and life of another. “My heart says of You, ‘Seek His face.’ Your face, Lord, I will seek.” (Psalm 27:8)  Aside from this, I don’t even know who I am.


But between our gathered voices, the cantor calls. This time in response I raise my gaze, and rest it on His hands. They are as beautiful as His face. The only thing in heaven made by humanity — the marks they bear. If seeing His face let me know who I am, then seeing His hands lets me see what to do. In seeing His face, He is my Father, my Abba, and love pours into me beyond measure. In seeing His hands, He is my King, my Master, and as I follow His hands, love can pour out of me beyond my measure, carrying His love to others that His gaze is on.


O my Abba, O my Master.
O my Father, O my King.
We have had enough. We need Your mercy, so we look to Your hands.
Mercy. Your steadfast love.
Your steadfast love on us.
Your steadfast love in us.
Your steadfast love through us.
Help us to be as a handmaid, as the Handmaid.
Let Your love come through our Yes.


In Jesus’ name, Amen.




Noreen Smith

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