It was a Monday, and the shopping center was half empty. Seated next to a large fountain in the middle of the mall, I drank in the sounds around me—clicking heels, the hum of voices, the steady rush of the spraying fountain. I watched as an elderly janitor wearing faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt mechanically swept up dirt that wasn't there. Shoppers without expressions strolled in and out of stores. Two men, one Black, one White, sat at opposite ends of a bench, watching the high lights of a football game on a mall monitor. Everyone kept a respectable distance. No one let anyone else come close.
Why do we regard touching others so negatively? If we accidentally brush against a stranger, most of us apologize—as if we've insulted or stolen some thing from him.
Dr. Sidney Jourard sat in coffee shops all over the world and counted the times he saw one person touch another. His results were startling. In Puerto Rico he counted 180 touches an hour; in France, 110; and in the United States, only two. England did even worse—there he saw none.
How long has it been since some of our church members have been touched, re ally touched, with hands of gentleness? When was the last time you or I touched a fellow church member? I am afraid to answer that question.
But do our fellow church members re ally want to be touched? Or do they consider it an intrusion? Some may argue with me, but I believe many church members are hungry for our gentle touch of concern and comfort.
In reporting on Prince Charles and Princess Diana's visit to America, Newsweek said, "Diana ... is an instinctive toucher, and people love her for it. Whether she's visiting old-age pensioners in a nursing home, children at a school, or even severely disabled spastics in a hospital ward, she will give everyone a pat, a caress, or a handshake—sometimes even a hug."
Recently I read about some intriguing studies on touching. One revealed that waitresses who touch their patrons receive larger tips than those who don't. That study also showed that libraries receive more positive evaluations if pa trons are touched when they check out their books. Do our church members differ from these restaurant or library pa trons ? I think not.
Do you enjoy being touched? Most of us must admit that we do. We feel good when someone we admire gives us a kiss, a hug, or a pat on the back.
I remember one morning when I came face-to-face with the power of touch. That Sabbath we had a visiting speaker in our church, and my husband, LeBron, sat next to me in the pew. A hectic week had left me physically and emotionally exhausted, and I felt about as significant as a discarded cigarette butt. Though I blinked hard and tried to concentrate on the speaker, tears of discouragement burned my nostrils and threatened to overflow. Then, out of the blue, LeBron reached across the back of the pew, placed his arm around my shoulder, and squeezed me to him. His touch trans formed my attitude. Instead of feeling like a discarded cigarette butt, I felt more like a 20-carat diamond.
Fifteen-year-old Carol taught me to watch for this same need in others. When she began attending our church, she came alone. A slow learner, she obviously came from a poverty-stricken home. Black roots stared brazenly from oily bleached hair; her clothes smelled of week-old body odors. One could easily miss the penetrating blue eyes in the flesh of her overly padded face.
Carol told me that she had been repeatedly abused sexually by her uncle. Understandably, she had little self-esteem. She was forever wanting to touch me or to be touched. If I was engaged in a conversation, she would come up beside me and clasp her arms around me. There she would remain until I finally shimmied out of her grasp.
Realizing Carol's need, I made an effort to touch her on the arm in a casual manner when we talked. She drew emotional strength from touching and being touched. Because of her poor self-image, she desperately needed to feel touchable.
Professionals in the fields of medicine and psychiatry know the healing value of touching. At New York University therapeutic touch is part of the master's curriculum in nursing. And one study reveals that 93 percent of doctors believe that touch helps relieve a patient's fear of treatment.
Touch communicates
Touch can also enhance our rapport with our fellow church members or even visitors to our church. For instance, imagine yourself talking with a church member. The church is crowded and busy, and instead of focusing her eyes on you, the church member's vision darts around the room to everyone and every thing else. Communication wanes, and you might as well stop talking to the per son. But if you casually touch the arm of that member as you talk, you will almost always draw her full attention and in crease the level of communication.
At times, touching may also possess practical power for reconciliation with a church member or even your spouse. For instance, there are times when I feel distant from my husband, either because of an argument or because our lives have become too busy. Whenever this hap pens, all I need to do is reach out and embrace LeBron or just gently take his hand in mine. Suddenly the wall that was between us is shattered. I've found that it's almost impossible to feel distant from or at odds with someone you are touching. Not surprisingly, professional marriage counselors have found that the happiest couples touch each other often.
Sometimes touching expresses more than words can. After the horrendous Mexican earthquake that killed 4,200 people, some continued their rescue at tempts when officially all hope had ended. I watched as the news showed two dust-caked men who had refused to give up stepping out of the rubble that had once been a hospital maternity ward. In their arms were three screaming infants. These macho men, beaming their delight, giggled like little boys. After giving the babies to the doctors, the two heroes clasped hands, grinned and then em braced. And their embrace was not re strained, but vigorous and robust. The touch of these two men throbbed with so much emotion that tears sprang to my eyes. Never could words have conveyed their feelings as well as that embrace.
Touch is such a potent force in our modern world that we shouldn't be surprised to find that it was an important part of Christ's ministry as well.
The Scriptures reveal a sort of touch magnetism going on between Christ and the people. In fact, our Lord seems to have relished touching and being touched. In the vast majority of His healings, Christ either touched the sick or was touched by them. Matthew 14:35, 36 says, "People brought all their sick to him and begged him to let the sick just touch the edge of his cloak, and all who touched him were healed" (NIV).
Sometimes we're afraid to reach out to our fellow church members. Perhaps we fear rejection. But Christ loved the world too much to worry about getting burned. He chose instead to be completely open and vulnerable to others.
Sometimes we tend to recoil from unattractive people, but Christ was so accepting and loving that He willingly touched the unattractive—even those covered with leprosy. Considering the intensity of His love, it's no wonder that "all who touched him were healed."
Doesn't it make you wonder what Christ's touch would have felt like? Was it warm? soft? firm? fierce? gentle? It must have been quite an experience to have been touched by the hand of God. I'm reminded of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel masterpiece, which portrays God as giving life to Adam through the touch of His finger.
Is touch always a pleasure for our fellow church members? Should we ever avoid touching them? All of us will admit that there are certain times when touch is unwelcome, possibly even irritating. I once attended a church where each week the same three women would greet me at the door with hugs. The ladies were certainly well-meaning, and many people relished their sincere desire to make the congregation feel welcome; but I knew the ladies only casually and was less than comfortable with their routine embraces. It seemed somewhat superficial, and I would have preferred a handshake at least some of the time.
Often when church members or visitors do not wish to be touched, they give off visual clues. They may stand stiffly or back away slightly. Generally I prefer for touching to occur spontaneously, when I am engaged in a significant conversation with someone. In this atmosphere I have never withdrawn or felt the other individual withdraw from a touch.
As important as touching our fellow church members is, we slight ourselves if we limit our tactile experiences to fulfilling their needs. For touch can soothe our overworked nerves and draw us closer to our Creator God. Imagine for a moment the feel of a cold slushy snowball as it's pressed against your lips and nose. Next, caress your face with the lush velvet dress of a red rose. Last, walk through freshly mown grass and let the cool blades tickle your naked feet. Feel relaxing? Now think of the Creator who filled that rose, or blade of grass, or snowball, with such intricate wonder. Touch is indeed a special way to appreciate God's creation and to realize His love for us.
In touch—whether it involves nature or a church member—our Creator offers refreshment. Pope John XXIII once said, "Never hesitate to hold out your hand. . . . Never hesitate to accept the outstretched hand of another." By appropriating this advice, we can ensure that touch will not remain our forgotten sense.
