The attitude about the human body within Christianity has
long been shaped by a Greek dualism that separates the body and the soul. In this image, the body is a troublesome cage
that traps the soul until finally the soul is freed in death. Not only is the soul imprisoned in the body
but it also has deal with the limitations, urges and general nastiness that
flesh is heir to. The soul is not
hungry; never uses the bathroom; never gets tired or sick; never gets sexually
aroused in inappropriate places and does not weaken with age. If only we did not have to deal with the
body, then we could be pure and spiritual people.
Because
of this view, much of Christian practice and teaching has revolved around
getting the body under control. At the
extremes this could include severe fasting and self-flagellation. It is theorized that some of the great
medieval mystics had shorter lives because they made themselves sick by denying
themselves food, sleep and adequate clothing.
At the time this was seen as faithful living, punishing the body in
order to avoid the sins of the body.
The
image of a distinct split between body and soul also gave people a concrete
sense of the afterlife. The body dies
and the soul escapes, either to eternal reward or eternal punishment. It is important to understand the most of the
biblical tradition does not hold this view of what it means to be human. In the Garden of Eden story of Genesis 2, the
first person, Adam, is made when God sculpts a body out of the ground and then
breathes into it. To be human, in this
image, is to be body and breath/spirit.
Without the breath, the body is just dirt. Without the body, the breath remains with
God. In the six-day creation story of
Genesis 1, human beings (with bodies) are made in the image of God. It is not the soul or spirit that holds the
image of God but the whole package.
This united
image complicates the “What happens when we die?” question. But if we carefully read the scriptural
story, we find that the common image is not disembodied spirits after death,
but resurrection from the dead. Jesus
makes a point of showing that he has risen in body, inviting Thomas to touch
him, sharing a meal with his disciples.
In Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians, he deals with the question
of Christians who had died before Christ’s return saying, “For the Lord
himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of
God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise
first.” To clarify, I am not trying to
explain what happens when we die, an event that is still shrouded in mystery
while we live. What I am trying to
demonstrate is that the disdain for the body that has shaped much of Christian history
was something that developed, and was not part of the original teaching. We are taught to learn self-control, reigning
in urges and obsessions, but we are not taught to reject the body. Read Song of Songs and try to deny that
physical pleasure is a gift of God.
The way
we treat our bodies is a reflection of our sense of stewardship. I suggest that the body is not testing ground
for the soul, a means for God to see if we give in to temptation, but is rather
part of God’s gift of being alive. It is
true that bodies do embarrassing things like passing gas at inopportune times
and it also true that bodies, especially older bodies, ache and tire more
easily. Yet our bodies in their many and
various forms are the means through which we experience reality. Take a moment as you read this and pay
attention to everything you are experiencing right now: the feel of the fabric
of the chair on which you are sitting, the low rumble of traffic or voices of
songbirds. Go outside and pay attention
to the feel of a soft breeze. Make a cup
of coffee or tea and notice the comfort of a warm mug, the smell and feel of
the steam, the taste of a satisfying drink.
Take a deep breath and feel the joy of letting things slow down. All of these experiences are brought to you
by the gift that is your body.
As a gift
of God you have the opportunity to care for your body, to pay attention to what
goes into it, to pay attention how it feels.
And as I write this, I am realizing how easy it is to fall into the
dualistic language that somehow separates the body from you, as though the body
was a pet you have to keep under control.
Your body is essential to you.
Your body doesn’t need adequate sleep.
You do. Your body doesn’t feel
better when you eat better food. You
do. Doing the things that you know keep your
body in better shape: movement, rest and consuming healthy fuel, is about
keeping you in the best place to experience God’s gift of life in the present,
sustaining you to be God’s creative force in the world, bringing love, hope,
beauty and peace into being.
I
should also mention the obvious, the mortality of the body. No matter how well we take care of ourselves,
walking ten thousand steps, stretching, doing reasonable resistance training, eating
healthy food, our bodies will age. As a
man in my later forties, I am not as fast as I was when I was eighteen. The need to look over my glasses to read a
thermostat clearly reminds me that I am edging toward bifocals. This is also part of being human. The process of living is also the process of
dying.
Yet it
is God who began the cycle of birth and death; it is God who sustains it; in
our tradition, it is God who interrupts it in Jesus. We do not know exactly what it means. Paul speaks of the mystery in the first
letter to the Corinthians when he writes, “For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and
this mortal body must put on immortality.”
One day our true selves will stand before God, enfleshed in immortality.
In the
meantime, enjoy the gift that is your body.
Care for it. Move it. Revel in it.
Eat well. Sleep well. Breathe deeply
and love the Lord.
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