The Weight of Touch

A Reflection on the First Reading for May 10th, 2020:
​Fifth Sunday of Easter

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Acts 6.1-7

Now during those days, when the disciples were increasing in number, the Hellenists complained against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food. And the twelve called together the whole community of the disciples and said, “It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables. Therefore, brothers, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, while we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.”

What they said pleased the whole community, and they chose Stephen, a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit, together with Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolaus, a convert of Antioch. They had these men stand before the Apostles, who prayed and laid their hands on them.

The word of God continued to spread; the number of the disciples increased greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith.
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Pause. Pray.

And then read more...

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Given our current context, it's probably not surprising that it's the laying on of hands in this reading that jumped out at me. The followers of Jesus got together and appointed seven people for a particular task. They prayed for this group and laid their hands on them.  


With physical touch suddenly all but illegal, this action was really all I could think about while I was reading. Over the last couple of months, with social distancing measures in place, I've been thinking a lot about the significance of physical touch in its absence. When words fall flat it's a way to communicate empathy, friendship, and love. It can also send a powerful message of solidarity. We are not alone. We are connected and we are a part of something bigger than ourselves.


I'm not someone who has always put a lot of stock in physical touch. I'm not naturally a hugger. But I started to view touch differently after I had an injury that knocked me out of commission for a bit. The timeline for recovery was not clear and I was scared. In one of the most beautiful experiences of Christian community of my life, I received the anointing of the sick. The priest and two friends prayed for me. I remember very little of what they said — though I know it was faithful, encouraging, and kind — but I remember the comforting weight of their hands on my head and my shoulders as they prayed. It was this sort of physical anchoring, this solid reminder that though everything might be different than it was before, maybe forever, I'm still here. I'm still sitting in a room with these three other people who love God and love me and I love them and God is with us and I'm still here.  


One day in the not too distant future the restrictions will lift. And those first handshakes, hugs, and high fives are going to be great. Until then, we wave at a distance and we hold each other in our hearts and in our prayers. And we are invited to turn to the God who loves us. The God who holds each one of us and binds us all together.  ​




Morgan M.

Photo by Branimir Balogović on Unsplash

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