"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God … And the Word became flesh and lived among us …”
John 1
"Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you …” Paul to the Corinthian believers
“Matter is real. Flesh is good,” the wise pastor tells us, “without a firm rooting in creation, religion is always drifting off …The Word did not become a good idea, or a numinous feeling, or a moral aspiration; the Word became flesh.”1 This is such an important point that both the beginning of the Old Testament (Genesis) and the New Testament (the Gospels) begin by telling us plainly God has blessed and honored the created world. We cannot practice our faith by bypassing our bodies and moving into our heads or our souls. We must begin where God begins: with the matter of creation, with our very bodies.
There is something incredible about our bodies … no doubt about that. The intricacy of nerves and synapse, the unbelievable complexity of all that our bodies do every minute to sustain and produce life, the coordination between eyes and hands: all bespeak of God’s amazing design. But, just as our bodies speak of life, when we truly consider them, they also teach us something else.
Our bodies teach us the sacredness of vulnerability, the holiness of finitude. We live as temples of flesh and blood, flesh that ages, blood that can spill. You realize that when you hold a baby, when you care for a dying parent. Stephanie Paulsell who wrote the article “Honoring the Body” for the book Practicing Our Faith emphasizes this sacredness in our vulnerability, a fact we frequently do recognize while holding babies. But, the sacredness of our condition doesn’t just end with swaddling blankets. Our bodies are at all times in need of care, of nutrition, of protection. Our bodies are at all times marching towards the cessation of life. From dust we came, to dust we shall return our ancestors remind us.
Many people, though, prefer to ignore that reminder and run from their vulnerability and finitude. Christianity itself has not been immune from such tendencies. In fact, in the 2nd Century a type of theological mid-life crisis occurred. Certain believers began to question the sacredness of flesh and blood. They tried to mask God-realities of blessed creation by dividing life into matter (bad) and spirit/wisdom (good). Gnosticism was its name, and while Gnosticism was declared heresy on several occasions that hasn’t stopped the same thought from creeping up again and again. It’s not all that uncommon to hear a devout soul exclaim the word “flesh” in a vile and repugnant tone. And we can’t forget that even the great apostle Paul opened the door to such division when he declared that terrible conflict between “spirit” and “flesh” (Romans 7).
But, despite all that, here we are. We are human beings. We have eyes and ears, limbs and organs. While we may prefer to have other materials to work with, there are none. As the poet Jane Kenyon tells us our life is a “long struggle to be at home in the body, this difficult friendship.”
Many of us don’t do very well with this friendship. We compare our bodies to the images we see on television or those printed in magazines. We wonder why God has given us too much of this or not enough of that. We curse our bodies for failing us, for straining against us even when we seek to do them well by exercising.
Learning to Honor the Body in Community
Perhaps this is why honoring the body is a practice that is best learned in community. In community we discover this paradox: often we learn to care and honor our body when we cease to focus on our bodies and focus instead on the needs of others. This is where the sacredness of vulnerability becomes essential again.
Seeing Christ in Others … and In Us
When we take time to consider those around us, to see them as real, matter-of-fact people with real needs, real beauty and real blemishes, we begin to see the godliness in those persons. That even includes the sacredness of the wounded. In fact, the more we allow ourselves to see wounded or handicapped persons as human beings, the more apt we are to see the world with godly compassion. Paulsell explains: “The practice of honoring the body keeps these wounded bodies visible not as objects but as persons made in God’s image. The practice of honoring the body leads us to prophetic action by forming us as persons who love every human body and the ravaged body of earth itself.” It is this same prophetic seeing that Jesus invited when he encouraged the disciples to go out and feed and clothe those in need (Matthew 25).
Jesus’ words are especially important. They demonstrate that any gospel that seeks to divorce itself from the body (from real people with real needs) is empty. And just as important: Jesus’ very life proved God’s recognition of both the sacredness of the material and the necessity to redeem us fully—including our bodies. Christ came bodily and Christ was resurrected bodily. Christianity is, as Paulsell declares, an “embodied” faith.
The Body in Worship
The Christian Church has also sought to marry both soul and body in distinct worship practices. In fact, Christian worship is itself intended to honor the body. Worship is corporeal: “in the meal of communion, we eat and drink, gathered together by Christ’s own wounded body; in baptism, it is our bodies that are bathed in cleansing water; in the passing of the peace, we touch one another in love and hope” (Paulsell, 16). But it is not just the Lord’s Supper, baptism and the passing of the peace that makes worship corporeal. All of worship demands our faculties. It is impossible to worship God without first recognizing the role our bodies play.
So as you prepare to worship this Sunday, take a moment to consider those who will gather with you, the body of Christ. While you don’t have to stare, do notice them. Then, locate the baptismal font and the communion table. And invite the Holy Spirit to give you an awareness of God’s presence, to help you understand more fully the psalmist's expression: “taste and see the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8). 2
1 Peterson, Eugene. The Contemplative Pastor. Pg. 68.
2 This article is heavily influenced by Paulsell’s article and the quote from Jane Kenyon also comes from her work in the book Practicing Our Faith.
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