(Father approaches the lectern, pulls something out and winds it up.)

(Laughter.)

This is an egg timer, and when it beeps it tells me, "Finish up. Finish up."

You've all been very polite about this, but it's a discipline I need. Okay.

When you and I are together about every four or five weeks, we're together at Mass, and sometimes I say, "I wish I could get up and say Christ has just revealed world peace; the Pope has just revealed, for every human being, financial security; a recipe has been handed down by the angels for hair restoration." Something that really would be of immediate global or personal value.

But today we have the Gospel. And I know that you know that we cling to the Gospel. And in the Gospel today our Lord goes, and a woman is sick, and He stretches out His hand, and grasps -- that's the verb in Greek -- He grasps her hand and He helps her. So there are two hands involved: Our Lord's and the sick lady's. So I want to talk about hands. Hands.

The acronym is HAND, "H" for hide, "A" for ask, "N" for negate, and "D" for describe, how the hand could do those things: Hide, ask, negate, describe.

Hide. The hand to hide. I remember as a kid reading  the tabloids in Manhattan, and whenever crooks were rounded up, in the New York Daily News, the hands to hide their faces, so embarrassed. Or watching people we love with a hangover, and the hands shaking, or they're trying to write a check and the hand is shaking, they've got such a bad hangover. They're alcoholics. Try to hide the hands so you can't see how very drunk they are. The hands to hide.

The hand to ask. There's a great painting by Picasso in his Blue Period where there are recognizable human beings in this period, and it's all about hands. There is a man and his wife like this (gesturing). They're hiding their hands. If you've ever seen it, you'll never forget it. It's called "A Tragedy." But to me it's called "The Hands." The husband is like this, hiding his hands. The wife is like this, hiding her hands. And there's a kid, I'd say maybe 11 or 12, young boy, and he's stretching out his hands, asking, "Please. Would you two please do something?" And his hands are so tragic. "Please, you two."

In the cafeteria in the high school where I taught for 30 years, the lady who was in charge of the cafeteria, she was always using her hands. I think she was the most beloved person in the entire school. Cathy. And the kids, you know teenagers, they want hurry up and go sit with the people they like. She'd see you, "Will you please? I only got two hands!" I can hear her to this day. "I only got two hands!"  They loved her. She never really was mad. They'd say, "Okay. Okay." I only got two hands. How many of you have said that out loud or quietly? I've only got two hands. Asking.

Negate, "N". We're already up to "N". Negate. There has been in the Catholic Church for 2000 years periodically a heresy that negates Christ had real hands, Christ had real flesh. They are so spiritual, they're holier than God. And it's a very appealing heresy, and it comes along every so often in the Catholic Church. It goes by the general name gnosticism. Gnosis is from a Greek word meaning know. And it means, We know better than you do. Christ was not truly human. He's what we would called a hologram. It was not a real body, because flesh, hands, the body, head, feet, it's ugly, the flesh is bad. And some people find that very appealing. 'Well, yes, the flesh is ugly.'

We have the heresy with us to this day. And they still think that Christ, when He was on the cross, He wasn't really suffering, He didn't really take human flesh, because human flesh is basically disgusting. I'm putting it very bluntly. And it's traveled through 2000 years with very fancy names. Manichaeism. Jansenism. But it denies the incarnation. And it appeals to certain snooty people. Christ didn't really have a human hand or a human body. They're not always that blunt, but He was just kind of as a robot. And when He was on  the cross, He wasn't really suffering, He was giving us a good example. I'm putting it bluntly, but I'm not telling you anything that's not true.

The hand. All of Jesus was pretend, it wasn't really flesh, because flesh is bad. It's interesting. P.S. Many of these heresies wind up with the most obscene deviations you can imagine, because having negated the beauty of flesh, that God became a human being, they go to the other extreme: Well, the flesh doesn't matter, we can do anything we want. Look it up. Gnosticism.

And then, of course, there's a kind of negation of the hand. I remember I used to very much enjoy William Buckley's articles. He had a first-rate mind, whether you liked his politics or not. But when the handshake of peace came into the Liturgy, Buckley said, "Ugh! Forced friendship in church. Compulsive cordiality?" And, you know, since I have come here in 1999, I shake hands with altar servers, but I never go down among the people. (Laughter.) I don't know why. Maybe there's some Buckley-ism in me. But today I'm going to, so don't back away. ( Laughter.) To negate. To use your hand to negate.

And, finally, to use the hand to describe. Great paintings, great art, great sculpture. And when you come to Holy Communion, when you extend your hand -- some people prefer to receive in the tongue. That's fine. That's fine.  That's how they were brought up. But when you extend your hand you're describing "Feed me." It's very humble. It's like somebody in the Tenderloin in San Francisco coming out of a cardboard box in a way. Feed me. Help me. It's a beautiful description about using the hand when you receive Holy Communion.

Or on certain days you feel at Mass that you're blank, you're bored, or you have what I call the buzzards flapping around saying how awful you are, and life is awful, and I feel like Job. Remember that old thing about let your fingers do the walking? Well, let your hands do the talking. "I can't talk, Lord. The sermon went on forever despite the egg timer. I'm tired. I'm worried. I'm bored. Let my hands just say my prayer." When you receive Holy Communion, you go back to the pew, it's very eloquent. It's an eloquent describing, "Help. I'm tired. Just help."

Okay. So we haven't solved world peace, financial security or getting hair back, but at a point in the Mass maybe some of you were scared this time of year of germs. I don't blame you. I could get some kind of terrible microbe if I cross hands with that one! Well, then just waggle or wave them. As the lady said in the cafeteria, "I only got two hands." But at least use one of them. It's a beautiful sign of the use of the human hand, which Jesus Christ Himself had. Only got two hands, but at least use one of them. Amen. 

Didn't beep. I haven't used 10 minutes! (Laughter and applause.)


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