For I hold you by your right hand—I, the Lord your God. And I say to you, “Don’t be afraid. I am here to help you.” [Isaiah 41:13 (NLT)]
The stress from a flurry of blood tests and doctor’s appointments finally got to me in the OR while a doctor took several tissue samples from one of my organs! Despite the “happy juice” coursing through my veins meant to relax me, tears appeared. When a nurse silently took my hand in hers, I immediately calmed. Touch is the language of compassion and scientists found that even a simple hug or the holding of hands can lower one’s blood pressure and heart rate in stressful situations. I suppose that’s why our dentist’s assistant always gently touches a patient’s arm when the doctor is giving an injection. Gentle touch causes a decrease in the stress “fight or flight” hormone cortisol and an increase in the love “tend and befriend” hormone oxytocin.
We were at a funeral on another stress-filled day when the priest asked the congregation to join hands for every prayer. While holding hands during prayer wouldn’t be unusual in a small group or in many evangelical Protestant churches, apparently, it is in Roman Catholic ones (especially when done during every prayer). Being a rather touchy-feely Protestant, I enjoyed the hand holding and the feeling of solidarity in prayer that came with it. The priest, however, asked us to do more than simply one hold another’s hands. He asked us to become ”fully aware of the soul you are touching,” before joining in prayer.
After my husband took my hand in his, I took the hand of the woman beside me without even looking at her. I didn’t know her and wouldn’t see her again. But, recalling the priest’s direction to be “fully aware of the soul “ I was touching, I took a good look at her. From her rosary, I knew we don’t attend the same church, but I knew we worshipped the same God and were there for the same reason—to celebrate the life of the man whose body lay in a casket near the altar. As I became more aware of the soul I was touching, my thoughts turned from my own personal sorrow to the sorrow shared by all who were present in the sanctuary. We were one community, united in our thanksgiving for the man we mourned, in our intercessions for his family, in our love for God, and in our belief in the resurrected Christ and the life everlasting.
Holding hands during prayer seemed to benefit us physically, psychologically, and spiritually that day. Nevertheless, I appreciate that some people are uncomfortable with such intimacy during prayer and find doing it during worship an unwelcome innovation. Whether or not we touch one another during prayer is not as important as being fully aware of one another—not just the people with whom we pray, but all with whom we interact—our fellow travelers through this troubled world. Like us, they struggle to navigate the challenges, sorrow, and pain in their paths. Are we fully aware of the souls we encounter? Do we really see and hear them or are they just a blur of humanity? Could there be some way we can make their journey easier? Sometimes, we find that answer in a smile, a kind word, or, like that nurse, a simple touch. We don’t need to be spiritually gifted with healing for our touch to be a source of healing for a troubled soul, especially when accompanied by a prayer (even a silent one).
Lord, teach us to be fully aware of the souls we encounter each day. Let our words be kind, our actions helpful, and our touch gentle and supportive.
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. [Henri Nouwen]
