I've been feeling quite carnal recently.
Don't worry. This blogpost is not rated NC-17.
For nearly eleven months now I've been running, and I've found that engaging in something deeply physical – that pursuing an activity that tests my flesh as well as my will – is profoundly transforming. Indeed, exercising the body has fed me emotionally and spiritually. It has nourished my whole being.
Of course, we are whole beings. Our emotions are connected with our bodies, our bodies with our souls, our souls with our minds, our minds with our passions, our passions with our bodies. We are whole beings, not a sum of distinct parts assembled like a LEGO creation or a Mr. Potatohead toy. This is why these words from C.S. Lewis are so rediculous:
You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body. (source unknown)
If we rearrange the syntax a little bit, this quote sounds like something that Yoda would say:
Have a soul you do not. Soul you are. Body you have.
And while Yoda might be a great Jedi Knight (but not a great warrior, for we all know that "wars make not one great"), I'm not taking my cues on theological anthropology from a muppet.
For Christians, the ultimate reality of God comes to us in Jesus Christ, the Word of God made flesh, God incarnate who comes to us as a real human being. The early Christians rejected docetism, the heresy that taught that Jesus only seemed to be human, but in reality he was not human at all, but only divine. But in fact, the church teaches that Jesus came as one of us to save all of us, taking on our nature to redeem it.
Moreover, if the pinnacle of our existence is supposedly spiritual – trumping the flesh and blood for things cerebral and ethereal – then what are we to do with all those references to carnality in the Bible? What about that rich feast of fatty foods and wine that is promised in the time to come? What about the sensual celebration of love we find in Song of Songs? The prodigal son comes home and is welcomed with a grand feast. Jesus is raised from the dead and eats fish. Paul writes of the promise of the flesh and blood resurrection for all. We eat real bread and drink real wine, not to have a spiritual communion, but a true communion with Christ and with all who share in this sacred meal.
In addition to the blessed carnal reality of human existence, a prioritization of the spiritual over the tangible places nature beneath the spiritual whims of human beings and denies creation's inherent goodness. All of nature gives praise to God, yet an overemphasis on the spiritual journey of humans denies the God-blessed nature of nature. In fact, some Christians who adhere to an overly spiritualized understanding of the Chrisitan life (and afterlife) have little concern for care of nature, since the ultimate reality is spiritual and the ultimate goal is heaven, anyway, and not earth.
(I recently updated an old a post concerning the return of Christ and the resurrection of the dead, something that directly relates to the flesh-and-blood nature of our faith.)
Back to running.
Or playing guitar and singing. I was talking with a friend who was very thankful for the spiritual rejuvenation that has taken place as he has picked up his guitar and begun to write music for the first time in many years. For him, strumming the guitar strings, feeling the frets under his fingers, and singing – a deeply physical, sensual experience – has heightened his faith and drawn him closer to God. It was not through ignoring the physical, but rather through embracing it as a means of spirituality, that my friend has grown in faith.
Enough said. The pinnacle of human nature is not found in celebrating the fleshly nature, but neither is it in denying it for some supposedly disembodied spiritual realm. The physical and the spiritual are utterly connected and cannot be divorced. Thanks be to God.
The Lutheran Zephyr 