12/26/2011

Touching the face of God

Today, we can touch our God. Today God’s own hand is stretched out to us. Remarkably it is the hand of an infant. And just like every infant does, he squeezes the finger of his mother, and ours too. Yet, do not be mistaken, this little hand made and fashioned us. From this little hand the universe tumbled forth and this little hand and steers the stars in their courses. This hand touches us today and we touch our God. Even the angels cannot do this.
A magnificent mystery is before us. The infinite is an infant. He who looks down upon all creation now looks up from a cradle. He who spoke worlds into existence, now sounds forth with the cry of an infant. Another old Latin hymn captures mystery and the warmth of the moment: Alpha et O, matris in gremio (Alpha and omega is sitting in mommy’s lap). And from his mother’s lap he beckons us to approach and touch him. This day, we touch our God, and God touches us.
We desperately need this touch, this contact with our God, this hand is stretched out to heal and save. We had grown old in our sins, and this infant child draws us back to the joy and innocence of our youth. This outstretched hand of our God will heal the sick and the leprous, raise up the paralyzed and the dead. This hand will drive out demons and rebuke the storm tossed waves. This hand will be nailed to a cross to save us.
He still touches us in the Sacraments – This hand it still stretched out to you and me right now in the sacraments to cleanse us in Baptism, anoint us in Confirmation, feed us in Holy Communion, absolve us in Confession, heal us in the Anointing of the Sick, join some of us in Holy Matrimony and some of us in ordained ministry. In some particular way the Lord touches us to bring us healing and blessing.

read all of it here. I am reminded of the poem "Highflight"

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds...and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of...wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew.

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

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