We are those who do not touch and yet are blessed in not so doing

Here's the reflection I shared today in the Eucharist at St Martin-in-the-Fields: 

Christianity is a touchy-feely faith. That is because of the incarnation, in which God became flesh and blood and moved into our neighbourhood. Touch was a key part of Jesus’ work as a carpenter, just as it was, too, of his healing ministry. Jesus was himself touched by the woman who was healed of a flow of blood and touched, as brutally as one can be touched, when he was arrested, tortured and crucified.

Touch is a key part of his life prior to his resurrection and here (Luke 24: 35-48) we read of his saying to his disciples, ‘Touch me and see.’ He did the same for Thomas, who had said unless I touch I will not believe, but, in this same period, he also said to Mary, ‘Touch me not’ and used his encounter with Thomas to bless those who believe without touching or seeing. In the story of the encounter on the Emmaus Road, as soon as he was recognised, and before his disciples could touch him, he disappeared from their presence. In the resurrection stories we read often of his suddenly appearing to and then disappearing from his disciples.

The visible Christ was shortly to become, following his Ascension, the invisible Christ. Those who believe in him, after the disciples, would be those who believe without touching or seeing him. Just as he prepared his disciples for his crucifixion, although they struggled to understand, so, in this period, he was preparing his disciples, who again struggled to understand, for his Ascension and a life in which they could not touch and see him physically.

This mirrors our experience in this time of lockdown. We have gone, almost overnight, from an experience of daily life in which shaking hands, hugging and kissing were all ordinary, everyday, acceptable forms of face-to-face, in-person encounter to a world in which we are isolated one from the other, only able to see each other virtually and where touch is the most dangerous action for one and all. We are like the disciples in suddenly transitioning from communing with the visible Christ to communing with the invisible Christ.

One thing is clear, though, from the Emmaus story and from the wider experience of the disciples: as the visible Christ became the invisible Christ, he was no less present to them. The invisible took shape in the disciples, as it does in us, the death and resurrection of Christ becoming the DNA of the Christian; by this shall everyone know that you are my disciples. It is what is called grace, the God-shaping of us by the invisible divine goodness.

I would suggest, therefore, that our experience of virtual church is similar; in that it is different but no less valid. There is much that we have lost, but also much that we have gained. We are separated one from the other and we are physically isolated, but, in many respects we are more in touch with one another than we were previously and are, for many of us, able to be part of more at St Martin’s than was previously the case. The nature of our experience and gathering has changed but its meaning and value have not. We continue to support and shape one another as we did previously, but have found different ways in which to do so.

That was the experience of the disciples after Christ’s Ascension but it has also been the experience of the Church at other times and in other places. The Stations of the Cross, that we experienced so powerfully in a virtual presentation on Good Friday, are an example; being devised by St Francis of Assisi for all who could not physically walk the Way of the Cross in Jerusalem.

The disciples needed to touch and see Jesus in order to be witnesses to the reality of his resurrection. We do not need to touch and see in order to believe and Jesus, himself, tells us that we are blessed as a result. Our experience of the invisible Jesus, our relationship with him, is different from that of the disciples with the visible Jesus, able to touch and see, but is no less valid, no less deep, no less life-changing for that difference. Our experience as the body of Christ at St Martin-in-the-Fields is different from what it was when we could touch and see each other and our building, but is no less valid, no less deep, no less life-changing for that difference. We are those who do not touch and yet are blessed in not so doing. Amen.

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Deacon Blue - Keeping My Faith Alive.