HOW’S THIS FOR AN EVERYDAY MIRACLE?  Your hand has around 100,000 nerves. 20 different kinds detect and relay information about what you touch and what touches you. Your fingers sense the subtlest variations in texture, temperature, pressure, movement, discomfort and pain. We recognize patterns in touch faster than our best computers, including the shape of an indented letter. If you want to “see” something without looking at it, touch is the next best option.

Ever give thanks for your hands? Mostly, I’ve taken them for granted. Yet consider! They allow us to literally reach out, explore our outer world, connect with others, mend what’s broken, and create things anew. Today I’m reflecting on the gift of my hands in prayer.

It’s been a challenging few months in my personal world, not to mention the wider cultural scene. A beloved family member’s health decline has asked a lot of me— air travel and a big outpouring of care and prayer. I’ve been overwhelmed at times, emotionally, physically and mentally. My quiet, regular practice of Centering Prayer has been hard to maintain, but essential. It’s even trickier to remember and reconnect to the Spirit in the midst of the daily flurry of activity.

Tangible Reminders

So I’ve often had two rocks in my pockets, one for each hand. A retired hospital chaplain friend of mine from Quaker meeting suggested the rocks could help me stay connected to my body in the moment. Touching cool rocks in my pockets would be a tangible reminder of God’s presence. She said that one rock could represent the vast mystery of the Divine, beyond all understanding, transcending the immediate challenge with a wider perspective than I could muster. The other could represent the intimacy of Holy Presence, here and loving the uniqueness of who I am right now. It’s a paradox, of course.

Praying with Our Body

In formal religion-speak, I’m talking about cataphatic prayer. That’s any kind of spiritual practice engaging our body and senses to connect with the Spirit—smell, touch, sight, hearing, movement, and even taste. So music, labyrinths, incense, icons, prayer doodling, Yoga, and many more forms of prayer are cataphatic. Some us are more receptive to this kind of spiritual experience than others. Some religious traditions are less attuned to this kind of spiritual experience than others. I figure that God is always trying to connect with us however we are available.

For a long time, I ignored my body in prayer. I think I imagined that sitting quietly was the “right” way to have a relationship with great Mystery of God. I’m clear that silence and openness didn’t hurt! But in my forties, an ancient Christian teaching finally clicked with me. I learned to trust the implications of incarnation. Jesus walked the earth, lived, traveled, taught, healed, and died with a body. The Spirit was not a separate free floating energy; the Holy was embodied in him and is embodied in us too. Our physical reality is the medium of God’s relationship with us and can become the medium for our unique expression of God’s loving relationship with others. Our faithfulness is about our whole body.

Then for several years I was drawn to prayer beads with a wondrous fervor. I researched their use in varied faith traditions beyond the Roman Catholic rosary of my youth. I learned to knot string to make my own simple Quaker version. I collected prayers to go along with that circle of knotted “beads.” I discovered that the sensation of moving something between my fingers kept me attentive to the Spirit in ways that open silence did not. God “touched” me in new ways through the practice. I made dozens of prayer strings to give away to family and friends. The rocks in my pockets this summer are reminding me of how I appreciated prayer beads for a long while.

My Rocks

Those who know me, know I love rocks. I can’t walk a beach without noticing and stooping to pick up what catches my eye. I’ve been seen plopping down in glee along shorelines from Oregon to the Adriatic to finger pretty rocks.

So my two special prayer rocks have stories. One of them is a completely smooth, translucent, whitish agate, a friend’s gift from faraway Iceland. It’s been worn by eons and forces I can’t fathom. That’s the Mystery of the Holy to me. The other rock is a lumpy agate I found on a beach near home on Whidbey Island, Washington. That story is more particular. When I was undergoing jaw reconstruction and teeth straightening, it was a five year slog with chronic pain, poor sleep, hearing loss, and deep fatigue. I was pretty discouraged one day as I walked my favorite beach.

A large orange agate on the ground seemed to glow in the sunshine. I love how agates radiate light. I bent down to see that this beauty was shaped like a ….molar. “No way!” I said out loud. Silly maybe, but my heart told me that God gave me a glowing golden TOOTH as promise of healing. I’ve never found one that odd shape again. It was for me, uniquely, in that moment. I don’t know how the Spirit works for everyone, but this is part of my experience of being known and Loved.

Awe

I want to encourage you to be reverent with your hands. Have you ever brushed your finger over a newborn’s cheek? Felt the pressure of an infant’s tiny grasp around your pinky? It’s a wondrous experience. When our heads and hearts are tangled, a literal touch of worship can reorient us in God’s goodness.

• What experiences of touch move you to awe?
• How is or could touch be part of your spiritual practice?

As the world churns with violence and our personal lives roil with suffering, may simple acts of reverent touch remind you of God’s companionship, compassion, and even glory.