Yesterday was massage day - ahhhhh! My massage therapist works hard to un-kink the muscles in my neck and upper back so I can turn my head. I'm "stressing", as one of our babysitters used to say. There's the corona virus scare, my daughter's upcoming wedding, the uncertainty of how the next few days will unfold, the nation's and the world's response to threat, the wild financial markets.... So I had some muscle knots that were a challenge. Kellie's hands are muscular and strong. For a petite lady, she packs surprising strength in those hands. As I lay face-down in my "zone", drifting in and out of lucidity, my mind went to the Cursillo song, "Holy Ground". One verse is about hands: Holy hands, He's given us Holy hands. God works through these hands, and so these hands are holy.
People started coming to my mind that bring benefit to my life through their holy hands. There's the competent, friendly young dermatologist who performed a biopsy on my cheek on Tuesday. Her hands are efficient and confident. She can insert a needle with no apparent hesitation or wobble. There's the farrier who put new shoes on my horse last week. His hands are stunningly strong, with short, compact fingers that help shape each shoe on his anvil. I asked him once how often he hits a finger with his hammer, and he held up a purple thumb for inspection. The organist at my church has hands that glide to the right keys as if controlled by an other-worldly force. He's been playing for 50 years, since he was a teenager, and his comfort at a keyboard is remarkable, as if the keys are old friends. There are others - the dental hygienist, the hairdresser, the barista, the pharmacist, the nurse at the allergy clinic, my grandchildren - you get the picture. I'm sure each of you can call to mind a number of holy hands that serve your needs.
Two pairs of hands in my life are particularly precious to me. One of the first things I noticed when I visited the church that is now my home was the priest's hands. She is tiny, barely five feet tall. And she has very delicate, expressive hands. As I've gotten to know her over these ten years, I'm aware that her function of blessing us is one of the highlights of her ministry. She signs the cross with her right hand as she ends the Eucharist service and sends us out with a blessing. Her lovely hands break the bread, pour the wine, baptize the faithful (we baptize babies, her favorites), and commend the dead to God. As she came to understand in adulthood, she was made for blessing others. Holy hands.
The other pair of hands most dear to me is my husband's. He's a cellist, now 5 years retired as a music professor. I was driving along the other day when the Beethoven triple concerto, which features violin, cello, and piano as the soloists, came on the radio. He played that piece with his favorite collaborators years ago with a symphony in southern Arkansas. I got teary reflecting on how much beauty his talent and hard work and creativity have brought to me as his life partner. I have been thoroughly blessed to be in his audience these many years. His fingers are now bent with arthritis. That makes it hard to play in tune, as the location of the notes has shifted. He now limits his playing to church - "Only slow pieces!". It is still an ethereal experience. And he's become a skilled bread baker. No machines. Just flour, yeast, and water. And holy hands. So his hands, exact replicas of his father's, have bathed me in beauty and now literally feed me.
My hands are not special. They become weak in the presence of cold or nerves as the result of an inherited muscle disorder. These past couple of years, they have developed a slight tremor that can make my handwriting look like my grandmother's. My nails are short and unremarkable. But these hands have rubbed the backs of children fighting sleep, they cook up a mean pot of soup or chili, they fold laundry and pull weeds, and they have brushed many a horse into fine shape as an itchy winter coat is shed. Having ridden for most of my life, I can feel the slightest tension from my hands, down the reins, to the bit in my horse's mouth. I'll be gentle, sweet girl. Your tender mouth is safe with me. Holy hands, He's given us holy hands. God works through these hands, and so these hands are holy.
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