Friday, January 25, 2019

A Body of Devotion

I wasn’t raised in a religious household, and I didn’t grow up befriending particularly religious people. As I grew older, the people I socialized with and my own attitudes fostered a disdain for religion. My friends and I had a game we called an “allergy to religion.” Whenever we saw any reference to it, we’d make a mock sneeze as if its presence caused a negative reaction within our bodies. Worse still, I privately thought worse of people who were openly religious. Over time and through education I became more open minded. Now I have a great appreciation for Christianity, and my past attitudes and actions seem a bit embarrassing. But, to understand why I felt such a visceral dislike for faith I do plunge back into the (recent) mind of my early high school self. I’ve come to the conclusion that a large part of my attitude stemmed from my idea of rational thought in relation to my stunted understating of Christianity. I believed that practicing Christians were forced to hold contradictory ideas in their heads and will away the incongruities through their faith. How could people believe in miracles, demons, and an old man looking just like us in the sky when our senses don’t support it? The image of God was a particular sticking point for me. I believed that only people outside of the Christian bubble could question how a heavenly figure could be made in the shape of Man.

It turns out that Christians have been struggling with this problem for a very long time. I’d like to focus on two examples of medieval Christians struggling with the images of Man and God. The first, Bernard of Clairvaux, focuses on the importance of recognizing the the human body as an example of proper devotion through the Song of Songs. The other, Hugh of Saint Victor, is concerned with the question of why humans need bodies at all. Central to their arguments is the appearance of God. So, how can the appearance of Man tell us about what God looks like?

Bernard of Clairvaux is a passionate and introspective thinker who wants to ensure that he and others are worthy of appearing before God. His context for examining the body of God is the Song of Songs—what he claims to be a holy marriage song. An initiate could read it, but only those with a developed mind can gain value from it. The opening line of the song frames the rest of his argument: “Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth”. Bernard interprets this as the ultimate joy a man can experience—an intimate and spiritual exchange with God. This is the value of the Song of Songs. It is the validation of ones faith and the tool to stop devotion from wavering, but can only be earned after sufficient merit has been achieved. Bernard is ecstatic about this reward, but confused as to why God has a mouth.

However, Bernard wonders how one would obtain the kiss of his mouth. After all, Bernard recognizes that “God is spirit, his simple substance cannot be considered to have bodily members”. He does so by understanding how the kiss of the mouth would differ from any other kind of kiss. Bernard identifies two other kisses: those to the foot and those to the hand. By adding body parts, Bernard is completing a metaphor. When one bows down to give a kiss on another’s feet, he is prostrating and humbling oneself, just as when one kisses another on a hand he is accepting and authority and the notice of the kissed. Before the penitent can stand face to face with God, he must first exercise these two types of kisses. This is the process, what Bernard calls the “Song of Steps”. Bernard’s vision of God’s body is not an image but a practice of devotion.

Hugh of Saint Victor takes an empirical and rational approach to the examining the appearance of Man. He has much less trouble dealing with how God looks then Bernard did. He concludes that Man is inherently soul and that God is a reflection of the soul and not the body. However, this poses a more troubling question: why create the body at all? If the should is immaterial and incorruptible, why would one need to enter the material world to begin with? Hugh believes that the answer to this question lies in free will. He splits the way that the material Man can act into the mind, movement, and passion. The mind here is the only part of the Man that can act freely—the body responds to the commands of the mind, and the passion is ruled by immediate desire. What does this mean for free will? Hugh answers that question when talking about the twofold relation of the soul. The soul is intended to love and admire God, so that the only free will exercised is in devotion to God. The body of Man is present to show Man the physical pieces of God’s work—a proof of the magnificence of the divine being. Hugh sees the body of Man as built for the purpose of being debased so that the eventual rise of the rational soul to God is all the more beautiful.

Why does this even matter? The Bernard and Hugh identify a powerful reason to be Christian. The body of God being a devotional instrument offers spiritual rewards in the mortal world. Life on earth is not just suffering to reach the heavenly reward. Instead, good can also emerge in the physical world as a result of strict devotional practice. The reward is the material world is as sublime, even though it is not as lasting. For Bernard, it is the attention and intimacy of the divine being that validates existence and justifies all. For Hugh, it is the beauty of a soul attaining a more perfect state. Both rewards are similar: spiritual fulfillment can be achieved in the mortal world. True and divine pleasure is not exclusive to the invisible world, but can be brought into the mortal one through the bodies of God and Man.

It should appear obvious that one of these preachers resonated with me more than the other. Bernard’s focus on introspection and the understanding of the body of God as a part of an individual spiritual journey struck a powerful note with me. The work is honest, sometimes painfully so. Bernard’s open and obvious need to receive a kiss from God’s mouth is tangible, but the structure he builds to reach a state of worthiness is beautiful. With this, the purpose of man on earth is revealed: devotion to the body of God for the sweetest mortal reward.

Peter Hillary

3 comments:

  1. A powerful reflection on the differences between Bernard's and Hugh's struggle with how to think about—and experience—God! Yes, Christians have been struggling with this question for a good two thousand years. Do you have any thoughts on why so many people alive now seem not to know this? RLFB

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  2. Thank you for the question! My best guess has to do with past criticism of Christianity. In Inquisition documents detailing the testimonies of early reformation Englishmen, the prisoners revealed they connected Catholic image worship with idolatry. In short, the idea that Catholics worshipped Saints, often through religious art, was preached to these Englishmen as the worship of mortal images over divine ones. This idea transferred to the idea of God, and so these prisoners reveal that they were told that the God Catholics worshipped was physical and not spiritual. This was also associated negatively with the papacy. I imagine that this criticism was particularly effective, and lasted until it was recycled by Enlightenment and Modern critics of organized religion, and generally diffused to the point where Christians heard this criticism but no response to it. As a result, the idea of a physical God who appears like a human permeated into the modern Christian mode of thinking. Thank you for the question, it really took me a while to think through.

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  3. The question is: Did God make “man” in His image or did man create a God in Man’s image?

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