But the day after Christmas, I accompanied a friend to the
chapel at the long-term care facility where she lives. She's a remarkable
woman--a member of a well-known and very wealthy English family who as a young
woman immigrated to Canada to work as a nurse,
founded a non-profit organization in support of children living with
HIV/AIDS and their families, and came out as a lesbian in her late fifties
after the collapse of her marriage. Two and a half years ago, a brain bleed
left her incapable of walking or stringing together more than a sentence or
two, on a good day.
At the service, I was the only congregant out of fifteen who
didn't arrive in a wheelchair. It wasn't the Christmas Mass I might have
bargained on. But it was a remarkable lesson in what it really means to believe
that we find God in our flesh. The celebrant kept an eye on people who were
drifting off, gently encouraging them to focus on the service, helping them to
find their place in the hymn book.
In Genesis 28, when Jacob has his vision of God's angels on
a ladder, they ascend and descend, not the other way around. They go from earth
up to heaven before they descend from heaven to earth.
It's the ground-level, utterly physical conditions of our
lives that enable and nurture our spiritual awareness. Angels don't start by
coming down the ladder from heaven to meet us. They begin by ascending the
ladder from earth to heaven. We meet the
Divine in and through our bodies. Our bodies aren't a distraction from the
search for God, or God's search for us. They're the ladder without which angels go nowhere.
We experience the Sacred in the only bodies we have. We
often need a reminder, like the one I received last Friday, that this is true
amidst weakness, infirmity, sickness. But I'm not so sure we don't need to hear
that message amidst strength, vigor, and health, as well. Legs that run, arms
that lift, eyes with clear vision, rib cages that expand and contract with our
breath, hearts that pump reliably: it's easy not to notice them, easy not to
practice mindfulness. It's gratitude that reveals them as ongoing miracles.
If that's true of limbs and lungs and hearts, it's true as
well of the possibilities of pleasure: as men, experiencing our life in and
through male bodies--the only bodies we have--our erotic desire is a powerful bridge
between flesh and spirit, a uniquely intense locus of our embodiment, the place
where we experience that, as Tony Kushner put it in Angels in America, "the body is the garden of the soul."
It's gratitude that turns eros into prayer, a gateway
through which we pass to become the angels of Jacob's vision, ascending the
ladder from earth to heaven, if only we
allow pleasure to open our hearts rather than close them off. This is true when
you're alone, falling into the miracle of the pleasure you're capable of giving
yourself. It's true when you're with a partner or partners, becoming for
another the angel who in your ascent extends a hand to draw him up from below,
becoming the one who takes a hand offered from above , for the healing of yours
souls. And then descending more deeply into the world of all flesh, which longs
for and stands in desperate need of repair.
You say so well what I believe and struggle both to voice and to live. This is more than touching; it is both radical and beautiful.
ReplyDeleteFrank