When I was a young boy in Sandy Hook, CT - probably in the second grade - I used to love sitting in the sun on the hill behind our house, listening to my older friend, Lee, tell me stories of the saints. He was in catechism class and took it quite seriously - and I ate it all up. These tales were ecstatic. Bold. Inspiring in both compassion and courage. And best of all, they were embodied: his stories of women and men who both felt the presence of God in their flesh and shared their experiences with others in their ordinary lives were unlike anything I had heard of in my hyper-intellectual Congregational background. Honestly, there was no way I could get enough - and probably still can't.
It seems that I have always been drawn to a "smells and bells" spirituality. For the better part of my adult life, however, I thought I was a freak. Or at the very least a wanna-be Catholic outsider within my Reformed Protestant tradition. I cherish Eucharist. I chant the Psalms. I use incense and candles in my own personal prayers at home. I find sacramental theology far more useful and real than the tortured, abstract constructs of most systematic theologies. And, I have experienced kneeling, using prayer beads, and physically making the sign of the Cross essential. Clearly I have been drawn to the incarnational practices of greater Christianity without ever understanding why. It felt right, so I did it, but never knew why.
This intellectual confusion didn't stop me, of course, as I have continued to practice embodied prayer personally and professionally. Still, this uncertainty raised questions I could not answer - until now. One of the gifts I have received in taking the Center for Action and Contemplation's "Wisdom School with Cynthia Bourgeault" - and studying her The Wisdom Way of Knowing as a companion resource - is her explanation of the centrality of the body's wisdom in pursuit of spiritual integrity. The body knows, practices and expresses wisdom through gestures – embodied actions - that teach us how to be centered. "When we connect with our body, we are reconnecting with the wellsprings of faith."
The most subtle lessons of the spiritual path are conveyed in gesture, not in words... in fact there is an actual "alphabet" of gestures through which sacred knowledge has traditionally been handed down. (Movement and physicality is how we learn and "know") humility, self-emptying, adoration... Most of us learn some of that sacred alphabet simply in the process of growing up... from learning how to ride a bicycle when I was seven I came to know something about interior balance, getting the hang of something from the inside out. From learning to float (in water) I discovered that trust means relaxing and letting something else hold you up. From ecstatic lovemaking, I learned not to fear dissolving into oneness. The language of spiritual transformation is already written deeply within our bodies; when we get the hang of the gesture, we discover the spiritual truth it illuminates. (pp. 30-31 in The Wisdom Way of Knowing)
No wonder I was attracted to yoga. Or Islam's physical prayers. Or sitting Zen meditation. Or Centering Prayer in community. Or genuflecting before the presence of Christ on the altar. Or sharing and receiving Eucharist. Or weeping in sorrow or joy. Or clapping my hands with the gospel choir. Or embracing my children and grandchildren. Or making music. Or even dancing with the Grateful Dead as a part of the tribe. It turns out, I wasn't such a (complete) freak after all: rather, I was responding to the call of one of the centers of sacred wisdom that God created within me (and all of us) before there was time. Small wonder I wound up becoming a bass player, too! I need to feel my flesh connecting with the pulsing rhythms of creation.
Such are some of the consoling gifts offered in embodied wisdom. There is also a more anguished wisdom in the body. During a time of intense therapy, I experienced excruciating pain in my forearms. There was no rhyme or reason for this affliction except to say it was an encounter with traumatic muscle memory. The deeper I went into the sources of this sorrow, the more it tortured me. Wise massage therapists helped, but the pain didn't quit until I made peace with the injuries of my past. I can still feel this distress whenever I enter unsafe places or get lost in the emotions of anxiety and fear. As I have noted in other posts, thanks be to God for Fr. Ed Hays who wrote about the "wisdom of our wounds." Body wisdom is always holy, but not always obvious: learning to translate their messages is crucial. Our wounds do not justify exploding into anger, getting swept away by lust, etc. Rather, as is often true in the way of Jesus, the wisdom of our wounds is upside down and invites us to do the opposite of what we feel. Want to run away? It would probably be better to stay put. Feel like a rant? Best to be still. Want to tell someone off? Why not try listening for a change?
The spirituality of L'Arche takes the body very seriously: making words like
affection, tenderness, humor, forgiveness and compassion flesh is foundational. Henri Nouwen, who lived his later years in community at L'Arche Toronto, once wrote that,“L’Arche is built upon the body, not the word. Words are secondary. It is a spirituality of love through small things, everyday actions like holding the hand of someone as they cry," Jean Vanier put it like this:
There, for me, is another profound truth: understanding, as well as truth, comes not only from the intellect, but also from the body. When we begin to listen to our bodies, we begin to listen to reality through our own experiences; we begin to trust our intuition, our hearts. The truth is also in the “earth” of our own bodies. So it is a question of moving from theories we have learned to listening to the reality that is in and around us. Truth flows from the earth. This is not to deny the truth that flows from teachers, from books, from tradition, from our ancestors, and from religious faith. But the two must come together. Truth from the sky must be confirmed and strengthened by truth from the earth. We must learn to listen and then to communicate.
Tonight I give thanks that I can take time with these insights and slowly walk around with them in the late summer sun of Montréal. This is soul food and I give thanks to God for the wisdom made flesh.
It seems that I have always been drawn to a "smells and bells" spirituality. For the better part of my adult life, however, I thought I was a freak. Or at the very least a wanna-be Catholic outsider within my Reformed Protestant tradition. I cherish Eucharist. I chant the Psalms. I use incense and candles in my own personal prayers at home. I find sacramental theology far more useful and real than the tortured, abstract constructs of most systematic theologies. And, I have experienced kneeling, using prayer beads, and physically making the sign of the Cross essential. Clearly I have been drawn to the incarnational practices of greater Christianity without ever understanding why. It felt right, so I did it, but never knew why.
This intellectual confusion didn't stop me, of course, as I have continued to practice embodied prayer personally and professionally. Still, this uncertainty raised questions I could not answer - until now. One of the gifts I have received in taking the Center for Action and Contemplation's "Wisdom School with Cynthia Bourgeault" - and studying her The Wisdom Way of Knowing as a companion resource - is her explanation of the centrality of the body's wisdom in pursuit of spiritual integrity. The body knows, practices and expresses wisdom through gestures – embodied actions - that teach us how to be centered. "When we connect with our body, we are reconnecting with the wellsprings of faith."
The most subtle lessons of the spiritual path are conveyed in gesture, not in words... in fact there is an actual "alphabet" of gestures through which sacred knowledge has traditionally been handed down. (Movement and physicality is how we learn and "know") humility, self-emptying, adoration... Most of us learn some of that sacred alphabet simply in the process of growing up... from learning how to ride a bicycle when I was seven I came to know something about interior balance, getting the hang of something from the inside out. From learning to float (in water) I discovered that trust means relaxing and letting something else hold you up. From ecstatic lovemaking, I learned not to fear dissolving into oneness. The language of spiritual transformation is already written deeply within our bodies; when we get the hang of the gesture, we discover the spiritual truth it illuminates. (pp. 30-31 in The Wisdom Way of Knowing)
Such are some of the consoling gifts offered in embodied wisdom. There is also a more anguished wisdom in the body. During a time of intense therapy, I experienced excruciating pain in my forearms. There was no rhyme or reason for this affliction except to say it was an encounter with traumatic muscle memory. The deeper I went into the sources of this sorrow, the more it tortured me. Wise massage therapists helped, but the pain didn't quit until I made peace with the injuries of my past. I can still feel this distress whenever I enter unsafe places or get lost in the emotions of anxiety and fear. As I have noted in other posts, thanks be to God for Fr. Ed Hays who wrote about the "wisdom of our wounds." Body wisdom is always holy, but not always obvious: learning to translate their messages is crucial. Our wounds do not justify exploding into anger, getting swept away by lust, etc. Rather, as is often true in the way of Jesus, the wisdom of our wounds is upside down and invites us to do the opposite of what we feel. Want to run away? It would probably be better to stay put. Feel like a rant? Best to be still. Want to tell someone off? Why not try listening for a change?
affection, tenderness, humor, forgiveness and compassion flesh is foundational. Henri Nouwen, who lived his later years in community at L'Arche Toronto, once wrote that,“L’Arche is built upon the body, not the word. Words are secondary. It is a spirituality of love through small things, everyday actions like holding the hand of someone as they cry," Jean Vanier put it like this:
There, for me, is another profound truth: understanding, as well as truth, comes not only from the intellect, but also from the body. When we begin to listen to our bodies, we begin to listen to reality through our own experiences; we begin to trust our intuition, our hearts. The truth is also in the “earth” of our own bodies. So it is a question of moving from theories we have learned to listening to the reality that is in and around us. Truth flows from the earth. This is not to deny the truth that flows from teachers, from books, from tradition, from our ancestors, and from religious faith. But the two must come together. Truth from the sky must be confirmed and strengthened by truth from the earth. We must learn to listen and then to communicate.
Tonight I give thanks that I can take time with these insights and slowly walk around with them in the late summer sun of Montréal. This is soul food and I give thanks to God for the wisdom made flesh.
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