“Touched by the Hand of God” The Rev. Jim Trimble; St. James’ Episcopal Church, Pewee Valley KY Proper 8, Year B: June 28, 2015 Let me share one of my very first memories. I always thought it was, maybe, a certain episode of Leave it to Beaver, or The Brady Bunch. Or maybe eating Ritz crackers with my mom at the J-Town 4 Theaters watching 'Song of the South.' But deep down, I remembered seeing the hand of God. For some reason, I woke up in the middle of the night, around the age of 4, pulled my cowboy curtain aside, and looked out the window, up in the moon-brightened sky to see God reaching his hand down to me from the clouds. Maybe to give me a high five. Maybe to comfort someone in my neighborhood who needed his strength and love. Maybe just to wave at me and say Hi, it's nice to meet you. The hand of God has always been a part of me, and a pat of this world we live in. Among all the plants, and seas, and creatures of this earth, and all the humans who've journeyed before us, with us, and after us. The hand of God was holding the nine victims in Charleston, as they slipped their earthly bonds to travel home. The hand of God was also reaching out to the terrorist responsible for that act. The hand of God was amidst the members of the Supreme Court this week as they voted on landmark cases in this country involving healthcare and human equality. The hand of God is also holding dearly those who feel disenfranchised with these legal decisions. The hand of God was present with the gathered bishops of The Episcopal Church yesterday as they voted The Rt. Rev. Michael Curry as our next Presiding Bishop, who I believe is THE Presiding Bishop this Church needs in this season of life and ministry. There has never been a time when the hand of God was not reaching out to all children, offering comfort, love, grace, strength, and touch. My first year at summer camp, 1981, was the beginning of a new era for me as a Christian, and as a young man. I was in the time between 7th and 8th grades and my father had signed me up for camp without my knowledge or consent. I was hesitant to meet new people after having been with the same school kids since 1st grade. As the week progressed my biggest hesitancy became the passing of the Peace at the celebration of Eucharist. In my Catholic upbringing, at the invitation of the priest, you turned to those folks in your immediate vicinity and shook their hands, greeting them in the name of the Lord. At camp, this time of greeting turned into a free-for-all. Everybody greeted everybody, which took a lot of time. And there was no hand-shaking. Everybody gave full-on hugs. Which absolutely freaked me out. This was crazy. During the Confession, I remember coming up with a plan….OK, shake hands with the guys and hug the girls. Surely that would suffice. But, that plan was shot down when one camper from the next cabin came up to me and gave me the biggest bear hug I’d ever had. This physical contact made me nervous, made me uncomfortable, made me ill at ease. This type of human contact was not a part of my life. I’d get hugs and kisses from my mom, and from the girls at school, but never from my dad, or from any male, for that matter. But, this contact with other human beings. This touching from another child of God. Was all quite different. It was filled with the Spirit and it was filled with the love of Christ. In our Gospel lesson today, Mark gives us a story within a story. Jairus, a member of the Temple staff, came to Jesus when his daughter was dying. He wished her to be healed. As the crowd headed to his house, a woman who had been suffering for 12 years and endured all sorts of physicians’ practices with no relief, approached Jesus. She had faith that if he but touched his cloak she would be made well. This was an ancient Jewish healing practice. The physical touch from one human being on another was an important, even necessary, reminder of our connection with one another in the great circles of Creation. This woman, in the Jewish culture, was considered unclean. People who are unclean are cast out and must live on the outskirts of the towns and villages. And, according to their customs, the moment she touched Jesus, he became unclean. But, Jesus was calling her out of that existence, as he felt his power drain from him just by the touch of her hand on his clothes. The story continues with the young daughter of Jairus, as he comes home to find mourners surrounding the house. Jesus, knowing that by touching the girl’s body will be made unclean, embraces the gift of physical touch as he takes her by the hand saying, Talitha cum, ‘Little girl, get up.’ In other healing stories, all Jesus has to do is say the words and the faithful are made whole. But, this is different. Here, the people touch. The woman touches Jesus’ garment. The girl is touched by Jesus’ hand. The laying on of hands becomes an important gesture of faith and wholeness. The laying on of hands serves as a reminder that physical contact between one another draws us ever closer to each other and to God who is present in all of us. When we are babies, the physical contact, the power of skin touching skin, is important and vital to our formation as human beings. This connection between baby and parent binds us even closer than if we never received it at all. In the movie, “Ordinary People,” Mary Tyler Moore’s character had never given her son that physical contact he so desperately needed as a child. Not even a hug. It becomes a huge task for her just to embrace her son, but that’s the moment when both of them break free from their personal prisons. In hospitals, more and more health care providers are acknowledging the power of human contact. In hospital visits, I observe many doctors and nurses holding peoples’ hands, wiping peoples’ foreheads, clasping peoples’ shoulders. It’s quite a witness to the Spirit of God present in our lives to touch another human being. At my ordination as a priest in God’s Church, the gathered priests laid their hands upon my head, following Christ’s model to love one another and to be conduits of the Holy Spirit. The Bishop, along with the words of ordination, lays his hands upon my head, as well, and the circuit was complete. After the service, Bishop Reed approached me, got down on his knees in front of me, and asked for my blessing. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I blessed him by laying my hands upon his head. Last Saturday evening, I attended a Roman Catholic Eucharist at Holy Spirit Church where Dan was filling in as organist. When we got to the Peace, people shook hands with those in the immediate vicinity, and the service continued. Just like when I was a kid. Here at St. James, it’s just like it was at camp, and that’s cool. For me and for others, some of the most important ministry we do is at the Peace, welcoming and greeting before and after the services. I feel the hand of God in my hand at the altar rail when I share the consecrated bread, as you receive the Body of Christ from my fingers. The presence of God that is in each one of us is very palpable. I feel that energy when we shake hands or when we hug. When we high five, or when we bump knuckles. And I thank each and every one of you for this amazing 6-year opportunity to receive and to give that energy, that love of Christ. That touch from the hand of God. On the first Sunday of each month here at St. James’, people are invited to receive prayers for healing, as well as laying on of hands and anointing with oil. This powerful witness of Christ’s grace to heal and mend a broken world is quite a gift we give to each other as people of the Church. Because the priest isn’t the only one touching. Many people feel called to lay their hands, too, to continue Christ’s work in the world. This human touch filled with the healing presence of Christ latches on to our prayers for wholeness and does some amazing things. Many of our brothers and sisters out in the world are hurting, are broken, are in need of healing, and in need of touch. A handshake, a high five, a pat on the back, a loving embrace, a kiss. A touch from the hand of God. Amen. .