Issue 119

Touching the poorest of the poor

At nearly any moment during the day, the poorest of the poor in San Francisco's Tenderloin ghetto are seeking out shelter, food—and in some instances, a good backrub.

Mary Ann Finch, founder of the Caring Through Touch Institute, has been training social workers and the pastoral community to offer those on the margins of society the benefits of touch for nearly 15 years. For some of her under-housed clients, that means relief from contracted neck and shoulder muscles. For others, it's a simple matter of tactile connection and gentle encouragement to advocate for themselves.

Why do homeless people need massage? It's a question Finch fields frequently, especially when seeking funding for her institute. "'I don't even get massages,'" is a common reaction of potential donors, she explains.

Providing touch to the homeless is a matter of intention and connection more than muscular therapy, she adds. San Francisco's disenfranchised have lost connection and touch—both literally and figuratively.

"In every human being, there is a spirit to be honored. Touch is the most powerful way to do that," says Finch, adding that offering touch to the disconnected often serves to disarm them in a way that social workers and outreach doctors cannot.

"We approach these people with the intention that, 'I am here to be with you, and not to fix or change you,'" she says.

Students in the interfaith institute's 100-hour basic training learn anatomy, physiology, reflexology and chair-massage techniques, the spirituality and ethics of compassionate touch, social responsibility, and the landscape of the homeless community.

They may continue with a more intensive internship that includes advanced hands-on skills, three to four hours per week of work in the community, exploring the inner theological process, the social conditions that result in homelessness, prayer and meditation, and self-care.

Full-body table massage was eliminated from the program in 1997, the same year that the school moved from Berkeley into the Tenderloin district. Like Finch herself, most students are studying bodywork and touch as an extension of their theological studies.

"I never intended to become a massage therapist. It was a way to learn about myself and my body," says Finch.

In addition to massage, she began studying yoga and movement therapy while working toward her master's degree at the Jesuit School of Theology during the mid 1970s. She established the school at the behest of her fellow theology students who shared her appreciation of touch and spirituality.

The current incarnation of the institute found its roots in India, where Finch traveled in 1990 to volunteer her massage services in a leper colony.

"I didn't do much massage, but I did lots of caring," she said, adding she would "hold" people through rehabilitation and painful medical procedures. She also helped feed and bathe the patients.

This experience helped Finch evolve her massage skills into more appropriate compassionate touch. She returned home after working alongside Mother Theresa in Calcutta, who told her to "go home and care for the poorest through touch."

—Craig Faucher