My Uncle T.J. thought the American singer-songwriter Jewel was beautiful. My cousins and I would giggle when we watched him soaking up her song “Hands" during the Macey’s Thanksgiving Day parade so many years ago. But something else also struck me in those moments as I watched my tough uncle enjoying this moving song. It was released in 1998, 23 years before he’d pass away after struggling most of his life with an addiction to alcohol.
Over the years of his life, I’ve contemplated his hands many times. His hands were big and strong. He was a truck driver and a mover, and he took his work seriously. His hands were also gnarled, scarred, scabbed and functionally mangled from the rough work he’d done throughout his life—and maybe a few fist fights here and there! No one messed with T.J.
There is something beautiful and redemptive about my uncle’s attraction to Jewel’s song. The lyrics of the song were inspired by a difficult time in her life—she was homeless and using her hands to steal. As she stuffed a sundress down her baggy pants in a dressing room, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and in an instant knew this version of herself was not her true self. Suffering from anxiety and panic attacks, she had a hard time connecting with her thoughts. She shared in an April 15, 2022 interview, “So I decided to watch my hands, because the hands are in the service of your thoughts.” She kept a journal for a month, tracking everything her hands did. It was the beginning of her recovery from homelessness and hopelessness.
It isn’t hard for me to remember all the things I saw my uncle do with his hands. There are the difficult memories: even as a child, I can’t remember a time when he didn’t hold or have a beer close by. But the sweetest memories were seeing those same hands perform acts of service: helping my grandma clean up from Thanksgiving dinner, raking her leaves or picking something up for her at the store. He had a heart for anyone on the margins.
Some time in 2020, my uncle learned he had terminal cancer. One day, six months before his death, I sat next to him. He was holding a small glass, with a tiny bit of beer and some ice cubes. He was so reflective, considering his whole life with all its ups and downs. He’d told me more than once how he’d once been an altar server. He served our country in the Marines. He had worked so hard to support his children, and loved them deeply. And there he was, still holding a beer. In that moment I didn’t experience it as a source of sorrow or defeat. It was a sign that—just like all of us—my uncle struggled his whole life. There he was, literally holding the tension of his addiction in tandem with a deep consideration of the purpose of his well-lived life.
Our hands are a gift from God. We use them for innumerable practical purposes. Often they manifest the thoughts of our hearts and express both our need for redemption and our communion with the God who loves us.
In the book of the prophet Isaiah we read, “O LORD, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand” (Is 64:8). This is particularly striking when we consider the gift of our hands and how we use them during the Mass.
Our hands are a gift from God. We use them for innumerable practical purposes. Often they manifest the thoughts of our hearts and express both our need for redemption and our communion with the God who loves us.
In the book of the prophet Isaiah we read, “O LORD, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand” (Is 64:8). This is particularly striking when we consider the gift of our hands and how we use them during the Mass.
From the moment we walk into the Church, our hands are active as we dip our fingers into the holy water font before making the Sign of the Cross. When we kneel in the pew, we fold our hands in prayer. We hold the hymnal during the entrance procession. Altar servers carry candles and the processional cross with their hands. The priest places his hands upon the altar as he bends down to reverence it.
In the Liturgy of the Eucharist, people are chosen from the assembly as representatives, bringing forward the bread and wine to the sanctuary, where they are met by the priest and servers who receive these gifts. The celebrant, while holding the paten with the bread that is soon to be consecrated and then the chalice slightly above the altar, blesses and praises God for these gifts, asking the Lord to make them worthy offerings. Then the priest washes his hands, praying that God makes him worthy to celebrate the sacred mysteries.
During the Consecration, the priest, acting in the person of Christ, in a mysterious way enters into the events of the Paschal Mystery, particularly the Last Supper and the institution of the Eucharist. While saying the words that Jesus spoke the night before he died, he elevates, first the sacred Host, then the Chalice. The bread and wine are transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ.
As we enter into the Communion Rite, the priest extends his arms and holds his hands open in the “orans” position as he leads us in the Our Father. Some of the faithful may hold their hands open as they pray at this or other times of the Mass. This pious practice can be a way to express our praise or our openness to communion with God, and through him with one another as the Body of Christ.
Just before we receive Holy Communion, we exchange the Sign of Peace. First the priest offers peace to the assembly, saying “Peace be with you” as he gestures with his hands toward those gathered. We then share that peace—in a sober and respectful way—with those around us by a simple phrase, such as “Peace be with you,” and a gesture of the hand. This gesture is particularly significant. By offering peace to one another before we approach the altar for Holy Communion, we follow Jesus’ own command (see Mt 5:23-25).
As we join the Communion procession, we fold our hands prayerfully. Approaching the minister of Holy Communion, some of us extend our hands, right hand open and resting upon the left hand to receive the Eucharist. I have heard this gesture explained as making a little throne for Jesus before we consume the Eucharist. After we receive Our Lord, we make the Sign of the Cross with our hands. Praying after Communion, some may fold their hands or cross them over their chest. Others may rest their head in their hands as they bow in prayer or hold their hands open as they make their act of thanksgiving.
As you’ve read these reflections on how we use our hands at Mass, I hope that they have helped you recognize the great dignity of your own hands. Our hands can express so many things: gratitude, anger, delight, frustration, love, and prayer, just to name a few.
I think Jewel’s reflection on how our hands are at the service of our thoughts is really profound. The final lines of her song are We are God’s hands.
I remember the hands of my beloved uncle T.J., mostly for his acts of love and service, and with compassion for his struggle with alcoholism. And the reason that I have this hope is because Jesus has promised, “I make all things new” (Rev 21:5), and at Mass we experience this promise in the most radical way possible on this side of Heaven.
Download Looking for Jesus, a Companion Children's Guide, and coloring page created by Katie Bogner.
Sr. Alicia Torres is a member of the Franciscans of the Eucharist of Chicago. In addition to participating in the apostolic works of her religious community, she has been serving the National Eucharistic Revival since 2021.
Katherine Bogner is a Catholic school teacher from Central Illinois who is passionate about equipping parents, catechists, and teachers to share the beauty and truth of Christ and his Church with children. You can access her educational resources at her website.
