The Japanese know robots. Now they’ve come up with a robot that gives massages.
This robot has steel arms, and cables and wires and it looks like it could do a whole lot of damage, but it actually gives a great therapeutic facial massage. Not that I would know, but that’s what I’ve read.

The WAO-1, which stands for Waseda Asahi Oral Rehabilitation Robot 1, has arms that are fitted with ceramic spheres the size of golf balls, and these balls glide over the skin controlled by an intricate matrix of algorithms designed to imitate massages. The researchers involved in this project say the technology potentially has wide applications, and that someday “this robot will give beauty facials at spas.''
The whole idea of robots giving massages is intriguing to me, but here’s what immediately came to my mind when I read this. Always looking for metaphors for the preaching task, I wondered if a sermon isn’t something like a massage.
Now wait a minute. Don’t scoff. A massage isn’t just a massage. There are many different types of massages. Finger-tip massages/sermons just sort of tickle you and make you feel good. Some massages are tied to specific areas of the body. A foot massage, or face, or back for example. Some sermons need to be foot sermons, i.e. sermons that empower people to walk, to action, to mobility. Others might be back sermons, i.e. sermons that empower us to lift the load, shoulder the weight, and so on.
Some massages are deep muscle treatments. These are sermons that probe areas where the muscles have become tight and painful and useless, i.e. sermons that help healing to take place, that unleash hitherto unrealized potential.
I’ve heard about massage where the masseuse walks on your back, or pounds on you with karate chops and stuff.
I don’t know what kind of a sermon that is.
Thing is, I don’t think you can get a robot to do what we preachers do. I know millions of people watch preachers on TV every week. And I suppose there is some therapeutic power in that.
But the personal, human contact is really important. And that’s why a pastor’s role is so crucial. The pastor provides that dimension as a sort of spiritual chiropractor that’s vital to our spiritual health.
Well, enough rambling. But maybe it’s helpful when we lead worship this Sunday to understand our role in terms of this metaphor. People have come, we could say, for a massage. So what kind of a massage do they need right now? You’re their pastor. You should know.
Don’t let them down.
They knead you.