What kind of church do you go to? Is it a huggy, hand holding, affectionate hippy love-in or is it a formal, withdrawn, emotions in check, ‘I will offer you my hand and nothing else’ church?
I don't come from a touchy family. Which is fine, I don’t resent it. But it does make me a little bit hard of hearing when it comes to the body language of physical touch. It’s probably why I feel compelled to absorb the tension around the subject matter with a snickering schoolboy-humour headline.
Don’t get me wrong. My wife can attest that I don’t starve her of affection, but it does feel like interaction with people beyond my immediate family is a dangerous game. It’s difficult to know who to touch, how to touch, when to touch or where to touch. And, of course, it’s so cultural. Just 30 miles away across the English Channel, I might be expected to embrace cheeks upon meeting a stranger for the first time, which is probably more intimate contact than I’ve had with my parents for decades.
Life was much simpler in the school playground. You just folded your arms and barged into your mate—or a girl—and shouted ‘bumper cars!’ It was a legitimate show of friendliness (or flirting). That’s all the touch I ever needed.
But society at large is recoiling from touch altogether. A recent article in The Guardian raised the question of whether or not we’re heading towards a crisis of touch. Terrified of the potential litigation, the Medical Defense Union has advised doctors to refrain from physical contact when comforting patients for fear of misinterpretation. If a patient tries to initiate a hug, they’re advised to consider the context, make a snap judgement and if at all worried offer them a handshake instead.
You have to feel for doctors. Imagine having to deliver a life-changing diagnosis, while fighting back all your primal urges to embrace them, and instead offer an emotionless "there, there" while the patient sits sobbing in your office. This advice comes at a time when we face a loneliness epidemic and half a million older people go at least five days a week without seeing or touching anyone.
Touching is serious stuff. It reduces feelings of social exclusion and according to Tiffany Field, the founder of the Touch Research Institute in Miami, regular physical connection is scientifically proven to “slow down heart rate, blood pressure and the release of cortisol,” which gives people better control over their stress hormones. It increases serotonin levels which is “the body’s natural antidepressant.”
The response to this is an industry of professional touching (or ‘touch therapy’ as they’d probably prefer it to be called). For people who know they need more non-sexual touch in their lives appointments can be made for $80 an hour with “certified cuddlers” or for group sessions there are cuddle workshops. All sniggering aside, this is surely no substitute for the genuine affection from the people who actually care about us. It’s treatment instead of prevention.
All this leads us to ask the obvious question: what about church? Is it enough to say "in the world, not of it" and fling our arms open wide or does the church need to embrace a stricter fencing of cultural contact? The Church has faced a hard and necessary lesson about abusing boundaries, especially with children, but will we sacrifice a vital part of ministry by adopting the same increasingly standoffish approach we see in the society around us?
Touch is powerful and conveys its own special meaning: even just this weekend I opted to give someone a sideways hug (I’ve come a long way) in a show of support which I knew my words could never match. There is something comforting about a hand on the shoulder, a firm handshake, holding hands, even a high five. But the meaning of these gestures changes completely depending on the context and who they are between. We must always follow strict guidelines when relating to children and young people. But it might be that the retired widow sat next to you in church would love to have you clasp her hand—or not. And that's the heart of the problem. How do we read each other's preferences and desires? The key is that when you offer touch as part of the way you are communicating, it should always be done for the benefit of the other person; not because you want to get something out of it.
What helpful principles does your church teach its members and volunteers? How are we to guide people in responsible relations without losing that family-like intimacy that only the church can breed?
Joe is our Marketing Manager. He lives in South London with his wife and two daughters and is a member at River Church Sutton - part of the Newfrontiers network - where he runs a small group and various outreach activities.