As a graduate student in the Netherlands, I played baseball as a diversion from constant studying. The sports editor of a large newspaper in Holland asked to do a brief interview with me. I thought his interest in interviewing me about playing baseball was strange, but I agreed. The editor came and interviewed me, then a photographer took my picture. I expected the article would be buried somewhere in the back pages of the sports section. However, a few days later I saw a huge picture of myself on the front page of the sports section, along with a two-inch headline that said in Dutch, “American Minister Baseball Player.” The editor’s interview with me was the lead article for that day’s sports page.
As I read the article, it suddenly dawned on me that the article had nothing to do with my prowess as a baseball player. What made me newsworthy was the fact that I, a minister, was sliding around in the dirt playing baseball in public. This was absolutely unthinkable in the Dutch culture, where everything to do with the church was highly formal.
At that time in the Dutch worship service, there was no processional. Rather, there was an opening hymn, and when it was time for the minister to start the service, he entered the sanctuary from a side door. Upon his appearance, the congregation stood, and when the minister sat down, the congregation sat. The minister preached in a tuxedo. After the benediction, everybody stood in the minister’s honor, and he left, again, by the side door. We did not see him afterward.
This atmosphere of formality was a culture shock for me because our custom on Sunday in the American church was for the minister to personally greet the members of the congregation after services by shaking hands and having a short, cordial conversation. In the Dutch church, there was no contact with the pastor. That was considered an unnecessary social triviality.
In my estimation, the Protestant churches in Holland have suffered from that particular practice. Why do I say that? Some interesting studies have been made by doctors, psychiatrists, and psychologists about the importance of the human touch. It has been found that babies, if they are left in a hospital nursery and receive no human touch, can actually die. Human beings need to be touched; the human touch is extremely important, so important we long for it. This is an important aspect in the church, where the minister, as Martin Luther put it, represents Christ to his congregation. People longing to be touched by Christ need contact with their minister.
The sense of touch
Ordination In the New Testament, the ordination of individuals for particular offices or tasks was accompanied by the laying on of hands. The church at Antioch laid hands on Paul and Barnabas before sending them off as the first missionaries (Acts 13:3). Likewise, Timothy apparently was ordained as a pastor through the laying on of hands (1 Tim. 4:14). It was a symbol for the transfer of power from God to a human being.
Today, most churches that ordain people to church offices, to the clergy, or to the eldership do likewise. In Presbyterian churches, the members of the presbytery come forward, gather around the ordinand, and lay hands upon his head as a symbol of the laying on of the hands of Christ, of the anointing of God. In Episcopalian churches, it is done by the bishop, but the purpose is the same. I will never forget my own ordination to the ministry, and I wish every Christian could experience the laying on of hands as I did on that occasion. The human touch on that occasion was precious to me.
Benediction In the New Testament church, the bishop or presiding officer of the congregation made a pronouncement of blessing called a benediction. The prefix bene is derived from the Latin word that means “well,” while diction is from the Latin word meaning “to speak,” and so, a benediction is a “good saying.” These early Christian services took place in house churches, and the congregations were small. The pastor blessed the congregants on an individual basis, and while he blessed them, he touched them. He laid his hands on them.
Over time, as the churches grew bigger, the practice of individual blessing had to be abandoned. The pastors blessed their people all at one time while facing the congregation with upraised hands, and that is how it is done in most evangelical churches today. The benediction that we pronounce today with hands uplifted is a symbolic expression of the minister touching his people.
Years ago, I spoke at a service at a large church in California. After I finished preaching, the associate pastor invited everyone who would like to have prayer to come forward to the long kneeling bench across the front of the sanctuary, and 75 or 80 people responded. The minister then gave a closing prayer, but as he prayed he walked along the bench and touched each person on the head very gently. I thought, This is remarkable. This is a recovery, in a sense, of the ancient tradition of having a physical touch that is a part of the worship service.
In touch with Christ
Jesus understood the importance of touching those to whom he ministered. Very often, when he healed people, he touched them. We see a beautiful example of this in Matthew 8, where a man with leprosy approached Jesus to ask for healing. Leprosy was extremely contagious and was incurable, so those who contracted it became social outcasts, forced to live apart from the rest of the community. But Jesus not only healed the leper, he also touched the man. Jesus ministered to his physical need and to his need for human contact.
People today need that touch. That is why an important moment in church on Sunday morning is when the pastor interacts with the worshippers as they depart. I tell my students in the seminary that there is an art to greeting people at the door after the church service. It is vitally important for the pastor to extend his hand and at least offer to shake hands with every person who comes by. Some will walk right by, but the vast majority of people want to stop and shake the pastor’s hand. If that person is an elderly man or woman, and especially if it is an elderly widow, the pastor should never, ever shake with one hand. He must take that woman’s hand in both of his hands. Why? It is because she needs that special touch, because she experiences loneliness. In giving that tender, loving touch, the pastor is being Christ to the people, giving the Master’s touch in his name to people who are afraid, lonely, or hurting. People want to be touched, not in an evil sense, but in a tender and merciful sense, in a human sense.
Every Christian would love to kneel in Christ’s presence, feel the touch of his hand, and hear him say, “Your sins are forgiven,” or “Be healed and go in peace.” He does not do that now, but in his wisdom God has made provision for people to be ministered to through touch as we worship together.
Copyright 2013 R.C. Sproul. How Then Shall We Worship? published by David C Cook. Publisher permission required to reproduce. All rights reserved.
