The Gift of Touch

In our society, the verb “to touch” has a variety of meanings. Of course, there is the obvious and usual use of the word of bodily contact, but its definition has become much broader. If you have the knack for something, we say you have the right touch. If you want just a small amount of something, you might ask for just a touch of it. The telephone company picked up on the concept of keeping in touch as communication with their “reach out and touch someone” campaign. Is it any wonder why English is so hard to master as a second language?

In the Bible, touching is understood to be a means of healing. Jesus touched the man with a withered hand or the eyes of a blind beggar or an “untouchable” leper and they were healed. Even when an outcast woman reaches out and touches the hem of Jesus’ garment she experiences the power of his healing presence. The Bible teaches us of the healing power of touch and I believe that power is still available to us today.

Robert Raines in his classic book Creative Brooding writes of a friend who had lived alone for a long time. His friend told him he suffered from “skin hunger.” As Raines explains, “The hunger to be held, cradled, hugged, caressed, touched is human and divine.” God still uses human touch to heal His children today.

I had lunch with a friend of mine who works with chemically dependent people. He told me that people susceptible to addiction often come from families where touching is not a part of the family dynamic. That is why my friend ends each of his group sessions with the participants hugging the person to their left and right. It is a part of the healing process. It heals skin hunger.

When my son Aaron was little, he liked me to scratch his back. He would put his head in my lap and I would run my fingers over his shirt. He would stop me and say, “No, Daddy, scratch my real back.” He was instructing me to put my hand underneath his shirt so my fingertips could touch his skin. He had a “touch” of skin hunger he needed healed. God’s creative presence was with us through each of those moments.

When I went to Europe during my college years, we spent a week in Italy. Our tour guide was a short dynamo of an Italian woman named Ada. She had had a lifelong love affair with Michelangelo and she shared that passion with us. She showed us how the master had the unique ability to contrast life with lifelessness in stone and with paint. I remember standing next to her in St. Peter’s Cathedral as we looked at Michelangelo’s Pieta. Jesus’ lifeless body draped over the lap of his mother, Mary, whose body was alive with grief and pain. In the Sistine Chapel, looking up at his portrayal of creation at the moment when God’s hand, energized with the power of life, reaches to touch the lifeless hand of Adam. In both of these works of art, I found myself with a deep anticipation of life; the new life of resurrection that would touch both Jesus and Mary and the gift of life that was about to enliven Adam from the powerful hand of God. Touch brings life.

Touch still has healing power. Certainly, touch has been used by human beings to destroy rather than to bring life, but when we remember its healing power, our touch can bring a hope long forgotten. Share God’s healing touch with those around you and watch them come to life right before your eyes.