Theology of the Body

It’s a month since I wrote Living in a Body. I’ve been wrestling with a sequel ever since. One was briefly published, and Bryan added some cogent comments, but it was no good, for myriad reasons. Let this post dispose of the matter, the better to move on. As for Not-Doing, whereby, according to Lao-Tzu, “everything will fall into place”, mine shall take the strenuous form of writing here daily. I shall take to heart some advice passed down by Natalie Goldberg, in her book Writing Down the Bones:

I studied Zen formally with Dainin Katagiri . . . About three years ago, he said to me, “Why do you come to sit meditation? Why don’t you make writing your practice? If you go deep enough in writing, it will take you everyplace” (See also my post Tsundoku.)

Further brooding on “Living in a Body” led me to Pope John Paul’s programme of updating Catholic Doctrine, called Theology of the Body. I’ve finished  Christopher West’s potted version of it for dummies, titled Theology of the Body for Beginners. At first I was impressed and almost seduced by the persuasion of its rhetoric, the poetry of its vision, which highlights sacred sex as a gateway to mystic ecstasy—like Tantric Yoga, you might wonder? All I shall say is that it contains much truth, without budging an inch from traditional doctrines of the Roman Church. We all know about them: the Resurrection of the Body (not explained), the Sacrament of Marriage, the sin of unapproved methods of contraception, the duty of Evangelization.

When I say “the poetry of its vision”, I mean that it touches a spot, evokes a recognition, that slides past reason, leaving the door open a crack for the entire paraphernalia of catholic theology to sneak in and attempt takeover of my poor brain. John Paul, via his mouthpiece-for-dummies Christopher West, conducts an astonishing Bible class, explaining the Garden of Eden, the fig-leaves, the Incarnation of Christ, the role of Mary and Mother Church, in ways that leave no breathing-space for the pupil to say “But . . .” It makes me sympathize with the Cathars (see my last), and indeed heresies in general. The whole rigmarole is suffocating. I cannot bring myself to take the easy way out and simply malign the church outright, for any of the plentiful reasons that offer themselves. I find myself baffled, like an American wondering which candidate to vote in as President.

Then comes the way out: to give the Church of Rome a taste of its own, to declare its “orthodoxy” simply another heresy—against the common truth available to all, around us and within us. the Bible belongs to us all including those who are content with it as poetry and myth. It is an absurd simplification to say that we are born in sin and need redemption. Every case is different. Yet I respect the late Pope. If nothing else, he did his best to  excise Manichaean ideas from Christian consciousness (see my last). The Catholic Church, like Islam, is a rugged survivor, burdened with archaic paraphernalia. (Like America with its Constitution & long-drawn-out electoral processes, I’m tempted to say.)

True, there is divinity in man, as in all created or evolved matter. In various ages “Mother Church” has been a refuge; in others a prison. Whichever, it is a part of the cosmic unity, worthier than some. I speak of the cosmic unity invisible to the human ego, which exists only because I must see myself as separate in order to keep myself alive, because evolution has failed to provide me with the full set of instincts.

Wise men have helped show others the truth in its stark simplicity, till disciples of disciples gradually realized that there was good business to be had here, in terms of lands and power over mankind. The truth was subsumed into theology and carried around as a jealously-guarded possession, like a holy relic. It was always understood by some, not seen at all by others. The overarching heresy is to think you know better, and have the answers, neatly sewn up into any formulation that you can label Truth. What then, can one do?

Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent. †

* This morning from our bedroom window I snapped the Sun-Dial Factory, a-blush with the early rays. It remains a building-site but is partly occupied—which is another story. I’ve written about it several times before. One day I’ll complete the categories and tags index. Meanwhile, here are links:
Lucid waking
The Sun-dial Factory
Rebuilding from Within

† Wittgenstein, Tractatus, original translation.

“This is a stark message indeed, for it renders literally unspeakable so much of human life. As Wittgenstein’s friend and colleague Frank Ramsey put it,  ‘What we can’t say we can’t say, and we can’t whistle it either.’” (Garth Kemmerling)