Note: this page uses the SP Ionic font. If you do not have this font installed, or have an older browser, you will see odd characters instead of the Greek alphabet in the quotations.

Religion and Bodily Images:
What is this all about?

My particular research interest is inquiring into the use of bodily images in religious thought, seeking an understanding of how the images and language used affect our perception of humans as embodied creatures, and what the effects of this usage are. When a lack of spiritual awareness is equated with a disabling condition, a stigma is attached to disabilities. As an example, the Gospel of John (chapter 9, NRSV) records the disciples asking "who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Despite the answer of Jesus that neither of these sinned, but that the man was blind in order to show the power of God, the problem continues: many places of worship are not accessible at all, and very few are built with the least indication that a person with a disability might ever be in a position of leading worship. In practical terms: is there a ramp to your chancel or similar area, and does it have a Braille copy of the scriptural text so that the blind man may show the power of God?

My formal interest in this project within the field of religion and disability studies arose from a comparison of images for spiritual unawareness used by classical Greek writers and John Newton. From that beginning, it has grown to include other writers. The field of inquiry has also grown to consider a wide range of disabilities. Most scholars in disability studies now include not only the medical aspects of a condition, but also the social effect. Disabilities are largely defined socially: hardly anyone considers poor eyesight to be a disability, and one of the Protestant Reformers specifically argued that point.

In De E Apus Delphos 21, Plutarch refers to those who are spiritually unaware as having kalli/stw| tw=n e)nupn/wn (beautiful, fanciful dreams, i.e., being asleep). Similarly, in De Abrahamo 15, Philo writes of Abraham's spiritual awakening as dioi/caj to\ th=j yuxh=j o!mma (awakening the soul as if from sleep). It seemed to me that this was radically different from John Newton's use of an image drawn from a physically disabling condition in "Amazing Grace":

I once was lost, but now am found
was blind, but now I see.

Madeleine Marshall refers to Newton's metaphors as "primal terms accessible to every human soul" (Common Hymnsense, Chicago: GIA, 1995, p. 82). But are they really so? The experience of blindness is not a part of the life of many people, and occasional bouts of walking in the dark are hardly a true experience of blindness. Metaphor is far more meaningful when it draws on a truly primal, universal experience, such as sleep. One somtimes hears that "we are all blind spiritually," but never a suggestion that the words be changed to "I once was blond, but now I'm bald."

At the surface, Plutarch and Philo demonstrate that not being spiritually alert does not need to be symbolized in terms of physical disability, nor need one correlate physical disability with a state of sinfulness. On another level, Plutarch and Philo exhibit a very different conception of spiritual awareness and symbolism than does Newton. It seems to me that the ancient Greeks, and early and medieval Christians used bodily images that fit more with the shared, natural cycle of everyday life. The Quest of the Holy Grail (P. M. Matarasso, translator, New York: Penguin Books, 1969) has several references along these lines, such as "but just as you may see a man wander at times from his path when he falls asleep, and retrace his steps at once on waking, so also it is with the sinner who falls asleep in mortal sin . . . ." (p. 88). Waking and sleeping are just one of many examples; Caroline Walker Bynum traces the use of natural images in her books. She also traces the fears that accompany these images, which may be why Newton would rather refer to blindness than sleep.

One way of addressing differences in images drawn from the body and its functions is through analysis of their use in religious discourse, especially as it has changed since the medieval age. The Protestant Reformation was more than a theological shift toward a more active recovery of the doctrine of justification by faith. It was also a religious expression of Renaissance discoveries about the world. One of the effects of this change was a shift from a view of the body as having a divinely-ordained natural cycle to being an object of exploitation. The aim of this exploitation, particularly after the middle of the nineteenth century, was to bring about conformity to a standard of perceived perfection. One finds this idea of a standard not only in treatment of the body, but such diverse events as the adoption of standard time, regimentation of industrial life, holiness movements in Methodism, and the rise of a consumerist society with new standards of morality and class status.

This is a diverse area. My early pursuit of this area dealt with theological attitudes and the role of inclusive community. This was followed by an examination of various religious traditions and Christian theologians, dealing with attitudes toward the body. I developed this further into a focus on Christian hymnody of the late nineteenth century. My thesis covered the same topics with the American preacher Horace Bushnell, a Congregational minister who lived in the mid-nineteenth century. More recently, I have been examining the treatment of disability and other theological matters in the Harry Potter series.

There is a practical dimension to this study. We live in bodies, so we cannot avoid embodiment and bodily images. But what kind of images are suitable? As Marjorie Procter-Smith says, patriarchy is such an overarching part of the world that we view nearly everything in patriarchal terms (Marjorie Procter-Smith, In Her Own Rite: Constructing Feminist Liturgical Tradition, Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1990, pp. 14-15). Therefore we must move beyond even explicit balances to "emancipatory language" that challenges assumptions (Procter-Smith, 64-66). As the quote from Marshall shows, the same condition exists with bodily images. What is the possibility of creating truly emancipatory bodily images? An initial exploration is this area can be found in Brian Wren's hymn "How Can We Name a Love" (United Methodist Hymnal, 111), especially in comparison to "This is My Father's World" (UMH, 144).

Another practical result has been a greater appreciation of the apophatic theologians: any attempt on the part of humans to define or describe God is doomed to failure. And, as historical study turns up example after example of assurances that disabilities and similar conditions (such as writing with the left hand) were once considered sinful, I have developed a growing sense of divine inclusiveness that ought to be reflected in human communities.

I contribute to the web site of the
United Methodist Association of Ministers with Disabilities.
Bibliographies and links can be found there.