I Will Thank You Because I Am Marvelously Made: A Meditation

When I was in seminary, we got into a huge "discussion" in a class about the human body. Surprisingly, this was in a Patristics class. "Patristics" is the study of the teachings of the early Church Fathers, those who established "orthodox" Christian belief in first few centuries of the Church's life. It is the orthodox belief of the Christian Church that the human body is "good," and that having a body is an essential part of what it means to be a human being. In other words, we are not just "spirits" or "souls" that are somehow attached to, or in, bodies for this lifetime, for whom the body is superfluous and ultimately unnecessary to our being. The Church has repeatedly affirmed, throughout her 2,000 year history, that to be a human being is to be embodied - even in the Resurrection. There is a lot more I could say about this, but I'll spare you the dissertation. In any case, we were discussing this in seminary, and the conversation soon became, shall we say, "animated." Some in the class had taken this line of thought and gone so far as to suggest that the body is a gift from God. Not just "good" in that abstract theological thinking sort of a way, but actually a gift to be thankful for. Others in the class disagreed strongly, and felt that, Church orthodoxy aside, the body was a problematic thing, and that many souls were often constrained, perhaps even damaged, by the problems, limitations and pains of the body. In other words, these students felt that at least some souls were "trapped" in some bodies.

I, of course, argued that the body is a gift from God. That was easy at the time, when I was 25, strong and cute, when my body pretty much would always do what I wanted, when I wanted. Now I am beginning to wake up with aches and pains, and becoming increasingly aware of the limitations and inevitable deterioration of my body. This week, I have been recovering from surgery. Without going into details, let me just say that the pain has at times been excruciating, and I am ever so aware of the problematic aspects of being embodied. My body is not, and has not for a long time, been doing what I want, when I want. Nonetheless, I stand by the assertion that I made so many years ago in that seminary class argument - the body is a gift from God, a wondrous and amazing thing. As painful as my bodied existence may be, and as much as I may be constrained by the limitations of this flesh, my body is still wondrous. And in this particularly painful time, it is doing something amazing. It's healing.

When I was a little girl, I was fascinated by how wounds healed. When I had a skinned knee or something (which happened often) I would observe with fascination how the wound healed. I was amazed by each day's progress. How the new, pink skin would grow inward from the edges of the wound, and the scab would get smaller and smaller. When the last of the scab fell off, revealing new skin where there had once been a bloody mess, it seemed like nothing less than a miracle to me. Well, I guess it is sort of a miracle. And as I recover from surgery, I am seeing that process on a larger scale. Medical interventions help, but ultimately it is only the body that can heal itself, with God's help. And it is truly amazing.

I have seen the other side of this, too. I know that sometimes bodies don't heal. In my professional life, I have witnessed scores of deaths, some of which have been peaceful, some of which have been horrendous. I have seen bodies fail, deteriorate, and fall apart in terribly painful and difficult ways. I have seen people brought to crushing despair by things going on with their bodies. I do not deny the problematic nature of the body, the limitations of flesh, the real pain that comes from being embodied. However, I have seen the miracles of the body as well. Not just the miracles of healing. But also the miracles of an embrace, a kiss, a smile, a caress, a breast full of milk, a listening ear, a helping hand and a shoulder to cry on. I have seen the miraculous things that loving hands, or that the lips, tongues and vocal chords which speak loving words, can do. It is with our bodies that we love. It is in our bodies, with the reality of our flesh, that we serve God. It is in our bodies that we seek and serve Christ in all people - the Christ who came to us in the form of human flesh, who was resurrected in his body. The human body is an amazing thing, mysterious and strange. It matters whether we see it as a gift or a prison. I think many of the problems of our culture and society stem from a failure to see the body as a good thing, a gift. (But that is yet another dissertation.) What would it be like to see our bodies as a gift - even if it is sometimes hard and troublesome to live in? The next time you or someone you love skins a knee, gets a paper cut, or suffers some other injury, notice the healing that occurs. The next time you experience something wonderful through one of your five physical senses - taste, touch, hearing, smell, sound - think about the organ that makes that possible. The next time you give or receive some act of love, no matter how big or small, think about how the body was involved in that. And try ... just try it to see what it's like ... to praise God for the gift of a body.

The Rev. Amanda K. Gott

Grace & St. Peter's Episcopal Church

#meditation #healing #wounds