The social touch of Jesus
Matthew 9.9-13, 18-26
In the 1950s the science-fiction writer, Isaac Asimov, invented a world where humans had become used to being waited upon by robots. A consequence of this was that humans no longer touched each other, they developed a loathing for any kind of physical contact. They lived separate lives, in separate rooms, maintaining contact by a kind of holographic imaging. Instead of visiting others they simply viewed them on screens. I’ll tell you how they reproduced on another occasion. (The novel was: The Naked Sun)
It doesn’t sound so far-fetched these days, does it? With our smart-phones, zoom-calls, online shopping, and a new generation confining themselves to their bedrooms with electronic games and social media, we seem to be well on our way to Asimov’s hell. (Having said that, I am not trying to belittle the important role that online communications play today, not least of all in keeping us in touch with the housebound. It’s great to have you with us! Phew!)
But human touch is so important. The mother in the premature baby unit longs for the medical interventions to stop so that she can cuddle her child. She knows instinctively that it will bring the reassurance, comfort and love that is so needed. The bereaved widow or widower living alone may tell you how much they miss the touch of another human being. To just hold someone’s hand can mean so much.
Touch is a significant part of today’s gospel reading. The synagogue leader asks Jesus to come and lay hands on his daughter, so that she may live again. The sick woman reasons ‘If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.’ Jesus is aware of her touch and turns round to her, and at the bedside, he takes the dead child’s hand and raises her up.
Jesus has no problem in touching people, even sick and dead ones. He breaks the taboos of his culture. As Princess Diana shocked many by touching people with AIDS, so Jesus shocks his people by tampering with the boundaries between clean and unclean, between life, sickness and death. And his touch does not end there. Think of cynical old Matthew the tax collector, sitting at his tax booth, quietly oppressing his neighbours, when in walks Jesus. There is no physical touch as far as we know, but a taboo is still broken. There is a social touch here which breaks down a significant barrier.
In the eyes of the religious elite, the Pharisee Police, Matthew is spiritually unclean and contagious – he is a collaborator with the Roman Army of Occupation, he’s a swindler and a thief, an out and out sinner. For Jesus who claims to talk for God, to associate with such a person is to defile himself. It’s quiet shocking.
Jesus doesn't see Matthew like that at all. Yes, he sees a sinner, but one for whom he has come and may well die for. He calls Matthew to be his friend and to become his close disciple, sharing in preaching the word of God. To Pharisees this is tantamount to dragging the name of God through the mud. And the scandal cuts deeper still – for Jesus now sits down and eats with Matthew and all his tax collector and sinner friends – which is the ultimate sign of acceptance and inclusion in the ancient world. To this the Pharisees object most strongly. But Jesus reply is to say that he didn’t come to call the righteous to repentance, but to call sinners. God’s desire is that we show mercy to others, love for our neighbour before being too concerned about our own religious scruples.
The trouble is we humans delight in constructing social boundaries. These enable us to determine who is one of us and who isn’t, who is in and who is out. It can be anything from social class, education, ethnic grouping, political affiliation, to the choice of football team. If the gospels teach us anything at all it’s that Jesus breaks down all such barriers. Any line you care draw separating people; you are going find Jesus crossing it. He comes for all people.
Isaac Asimov predicted a world where people live in separate rooms, loathing any contact with others. It’s a mighty grim prospect. The Church that Jesus builds will most certainly be fundamentally opposed to that vision. So, when we share the Peace together, when we celebrate Communion together, or when we stay behind afterwards for coffee together, we are giving expression to our belief that we are the body of Christ in this place, joined together and called to be salt and light in this world.
When we do these things and when we involve ourselves in the wider life of this church and community, we are practicing the 'social touch' of Jesus. We are saying to each other: 'You belong here, we are brothers and sisters together in Christ.' We should take this calling very seriously indeed.
Years ago, a former Bishop of Manchester, Nigel MacCulloch, wanted to foster greater togetherness in his congregations, so he encouraged them all to adopt a 3-minute rule. He said that at the end of every service let’s spend the first three minutes not going directly to those you know well but first speak to someone new or whom you know only very slightly. Now that may sound somewhat daunting, even very radical, but it would get us across some invisible barriers, to get to know each other better, and it will be to practising the social touch that is so characteristic of Jesus.
Shall we try it, really try it?
You never know you may make new friends (in which case you’ll have to avoid them for 3 minutes in the future), and we will be playing our part in ensuring that Isaac Asimov's hell does not become a reality.
