SPEAKING WITH HANDS
by Alison Miller
August 22, 2004
(This sermon was simultaneously American Sign Language Interpreted.)
Do your hands speak?
(Wave) Hello
(Gesture) Come here
(Thumbs Up) Former President Clinton's favorite — Thumbs Up
(Peace Sign) — Victory or Peace
(Vulcan Greeting Gesture) — Live Long and Prosper
(Clapping) — Bravo
(Finger wag) — No, No.
(Gesture) — Nah, Nah.(Shrug) I don't know about (point) you, but it's clear to (point) me. There is a language of hands. Rather, I should say languages, because the meanings of hand gestures vary across cultures. Commodities brokers, baseball teams, and orchestra conductors all have a hand language of their own. What seems like the number two in America is actually considered obscene in Britain. Then there are the two sides of my family. The WASPY Manhattan side adds adjectives to emphasize a point, while the Brooklyn Jewish side prefers to use hand gestures to do the same.
You might even say that the hand rivals the tongue in its ability to communicate. We request, applaud, summon, dismiss, pray, bless, make oaths, insult, refuse, flatter, welcome, show surprise, grief, and joy with our fingertips.
Hands are bearers of meaning in our lives. They bear witness to the human urge for connectedness, whether a handshake, the embrace of lovers, or a handwritten speech meant to inspire people to tend to the earth. At the same time, our hands are the mark of our individuality. We can recognize the hands of those we love. In the book of Genesis, Jacob and his mother, Rebekah, successfully trick his father, Isaac, into giving him his brother Esau's blessing by disguising his hands. They cover his hands with the hide of a goat, so that Jacob's hands will appear as hairy as Esau's hands. In fact, Isaac comments that the voice doesn't sound like Esau, but because the hands feel like Esau's, he goes ahead and gives him the blessing. The proof is in the hands. Before there was DNA there were fingerprints and signatures.
Our hands give us away. This was evident as I wandered the current exhibit, "Speaking with Hands" at the Guggenheim museum. This exhibit consists of photographs collected by Henry Buhl that focus on hands. Jennifer Blessing, the project curator, writes, "In many cases, hands appear to perfectly embody people, like a horoscope or a palm reading that seems to reveal events already taken place." I started to play a little game of whether I could guess the person or profession just from looking at their hands. The hand loosely holding prayer beads belonged to the Dalai Lama, a pair of clasped hands etched over and over with the lines of work belonged to Mother Teresa, two fists with "true love" written across the knuckles belonged to a union organizer, and an ostentatious pair of hands dripping with rhinestones and rings belonged to Liberace. I guessed the last one! Our hands say something about who we are and who we are becoming. Harriet Tubman writes after her escape from slavery, "I looked at my hands, to see if I was the same person now that I was free."
I began to perceive the following two-fold religious task embedded in several of Buhl's photographs. First, answering the question "What do our hands say about us?" Or, "Who am I?" Second, "What will be our handiwork?" In other words, "What do I feel called to do in this world?" Hands are our most precious instruments. They help us build or destroy, heal or violate. It is our choice.
Let me share a story that you may have heard before. A clever young man tried to match wits with a wise old man of his village. He found a little bird and held it behind his back. Then he said, "In my hands is a small bird. Tell me, wise man, is the bird alive or is it dead?" If the wise man were to answer, "Dead," the young man had decided he would open his hands and let the bird fly to freedom. If the wise man said "Alive," he planned to snap the bird's neck and show the dead bird. As the wise man pondered the situation, the young man repeated his question, "Is the bird alive or is it dead?" To which the wise man replied, "The answer is in your hands."
We may not want to admit this, but we humans truly do have immense power in our hands. As John F. Kennedy reminded us, "The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty, and all forms of human life." Many of us recognize this statement as true on an intellectual level. However, in our daily lives we may not see how our individual actions could have such a profound impact. If I do or don't recycle bottles in my house, the environmental situation will not change much, right? And if I learn about the legacies of racism, sexism and ablismÉ if I strive to use my privileges to open doors to those who have had them shut in their faces, can I truly change much? Who knows maybe having Bryan Ambrose, our interpreter, here this morning opens the doors to some deaf man or woman thirsting for what our liberal faith has to offer? Or, maybe it just reminds us to check-in once in a while about how we are living those words on our flag outside "All Souls is a congregation of open hearts and open minds."
As I stared at the photograph of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s hands, I could see a glimpse of the answer. His hands were fittingly surround by others shaking and greeting them in solidarity. You see he knew well that Proverb "Many hands make light work." He had faith that if his hands carved a path, others would join and finish his work.
That old song, "He's got the whole world in his hands" is only partly right. The truth is "WE've got the whole world in our hands." Thank goodness none of us has this power alone; none of us as individuals can create or end world suffering. It is difficult to come to terms with, but Hitler did not rise to power alone. Rather, it was the chilling assent of others that put him there. This is often represented with a multitude of hands raised to German temples accompanied by "Heil Hitler."
At times, we overestimate the problems of our world, or our individual lives, as insurmountable. Or, perhaps, we underestimate our abilities to handle them. But no matter what is going on in your life right now, none of us sitting here this morning knows the ending yet. None of us knows exactly what we will be called upon to do with our hands, and there is the possibility we may even surprise ourselves.
I often feel the wonder that Madeleine L'Engle expressed in our opening words about the human body. As she implies, the complexity of our anatomy and physiology does seem to rival that of our universe. Whether or not you believe in God, our lives and our bodies are truly a gift. Michelangelo brilliantly represented the gift of life as emanating from and starting with the hand in the fresco on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel where we see God's finger reaching out to Adam's. And for all you lefties, you might take notice that human life begins with Adam's left hand.
As with many of life's maxims, understanding that every single inch of my body is a gift and not to be taken for granted was a hard won lesson. Growing up in a body conscious city like New York can be difficult. But there was one body part that I had lots of encouragement aboutÉ my hands. From time to time adults would grab my hands and recommend becoming a hand model. I was blessed with "piano hands"É long, slender, graceful fingers that served me well in synchronized swimming, theater and gymnastics.
At the age of sixteen, I was diagnosed with cancer. I had treatments and surgery that amongst other things left my left arm and hand debilitated. I had little control with the arm and my hand was stuck in a fist, much like a newborn. Slowly and painfully, I relearned how to use my arm and hand, but I have never recovered full function. A couple of years ago, I became aware that I was guilty of the very thing that I am talking about this morning. I absolutely underestimated the power of this hand. I often referred to my left arm and hand as the "bad" or "weak" one. When I began my work as a chaplain at Mass General Hospital last summer, I intentionally never used that arm to touch people either to hold their hand or while in meditation and prayer. I felt that I needed to use my strong, good right arm in order to channel love and energy toward my patients.
Then one day I met this woman; she actually had the same kind of cancer that I had when I was younger. (Lest, any of you needlessly worry, I am cured.) Her leg had a terrible infection from treatment and similar to my experience there was the threat of losing her limb. I never told her of our coincidence, but it certainly helped me be especially in tune with what she was going through. She was a strong, feisty character who was for the most part alone. I would come and chat with her a couple of times a week on my rounds and learn her story. She was somewhat alienated from her children, and her husband had passed away. The first time I prayed with this woman I felt it was somehow appropriate to place my left arm on her shoulder, the one that had been healed from a similar ordeal. I strained to open my fingers as far as they could go to grasp her shoulder. As words, silence, and touch mingled, tears began to stream down her face. For just a moment, she knew that she was not alone. She could let go and acknowledge the fear and pain present in her life.
As I walked home that evening, I realized that I had completely missed the gift of my left arm that I had been channeling all these years, in spite of myself. My clumsy, cantankerous hand is the one that teaches me about caring and compassion. In many ways, it is this very hand that is the locus of my healing powers. In a world where so many people live in isolation, there is great healing potential in the touch of our hands. Princess Diana lived a life that exemplified this. She spoke of her work with AIDS patients. "I remember when I used to sit on hospital beds and hold people's hands. People used to be shocked because they'd never seen this before. To me it was quite normal." As anyone who prays, also knows these are gentle but powerful weapons.
Henry Buhl and I are not the only ones fascinated by the human hand. A member of this congregation, Laurel Garcia Colvin, has also had photography exhibits depicting the language of hands. After the events of September 11th 2001, she was drawn to stories communicated by the human hand. The images of hands of people in the streets holding pictures as they search for lost loved ones, or offering comfort to victims and rescuers through a hug or a handshake inspired her to create a 55 panel piece entitled (The Future is) In our Hands. She writes, "When words do not say adequately what we mean, our hands often show it — a silent yet powerful language. The human hand seemed to be a conduit between our understanding of that unfathomable, horrific event and the interconnectedness of all life." Her work helps us understand the particular experience of each of our individual hands or life, as well as the universality of the human experience. We can all hope that our hands will continue to connect us with others to break through their suffering and our own. There is the hope that in understanding the interconnectedness, we have the possibility of working together to create wholeness in this world. The hand becomes a portrait not only of a person, but also of all humanity.
So given the abundance of possibilities, I ask you again, "What are you called to do with your hands?" "What will be your handiwork?"
As you ponder your choice you may find helpful this advice found in midrash, a collection of wisdom from the great rabbis. "When a person enters the world his hands are clenched as though to say, 'The whole world is mine, I shall inherit it'; but when he takes leave of it his hands are spread open as though to say, 'I have inherited nothing from the world.'" (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 5:14) Encapsulated in this saying is the reality that our lasting legacy is not the sum of the possessions we acquire in our lifetime. Rather, our legacy will be what we have chosen to give away. So don't sit on your hands deciding for too longÉ for there is celery to chop for the hungry, mind expanding art to be produced, hands that need to be held, and so much more. Most of all have faith in the gift of your hands. May they be instruments of peace, love, and justice. Amen.
Back To Alison Miller Sermons