Some books are not meant to be read like sitting down to a
meal when you are starved. Usually when
we are very hungry, we pay no attention to the food. We shove the food into our mouths so rapidly,
our sense of taste has no chance to perform its delicate operation. The same thing may be true when reading
books. Some books I read, I read very
quickly. All I need to get out of the
book is a sense of what it is addressing and maybe one or two points. That does not mean the book has no
merit. It may be that is all I want out
of it.
Other books are meant to be read slowly, like a good meal or
fine wine is meant to be consumed. I
love to use the word, savor. It takes
time to savor a meal, a glass of wine or a good book. I think this is what the Benedictine monastic
tradition means by the term, lectio
divina---divine reading. All
Benedictine monks practice this every day.
They take the Bible or some significant piece of spiritual literature
and read a small part of it slowly. Then
they meditate on a particular work or phrase.
They want to savor spiritually the meaning in what they read.
I am reading a book now that needs to be read in the same
fashion. Barbara Brown Taylor penned her
recent book and gave it the intriguing title, An Altar in the World.
Basically, Taylor’s appeal is for all of us to find those places of the
sacred in the world around us. She does
not deny that we can go to the church, mosque or synagogue and probably have
the means to experience the Spirit. But
surely, the Spirit is not limited to such places. The Spirit is ubiquitous---that is,
everywhere. I agree.
I have been reading her chapter entitled, “The Practice of
Wearing Skin.” I like writers who can
come up with ideas like this and articulate it so compellingly. Of course, we all “wear skin.” No living human being makes it except by our
bodily existence. We haul our flesh
around like a coat we never remove.
However, Taylor is worried that too often our churches and our churches’
religion ignores or tries to remove all implications of our embodiment---our
being in the flesh at all times. Too
often religion spiritualizes the entire process.
Taylor sets us up for what she is going to do when she acknowledges,
“What many of us miss, in our physical dis-ease, is that our bodies remain
God’s best way of getting to us.” She
continues to make her case for the fact that “wearing skin” can teach us more
about spirituality that almost anything.
She comes up with an example that spoke directly to me. She says, “To hold a sleeping child in your
arms can teach you more about the meaning in life than any ten books on the
subject.”
As one who has already essentially finished the process of
rearing my own children, I now recognize I get a second shot at it with
grandchildren. It has been too long
since my own children were little, I can hardly recall it. Now with little grandchildren, I am
vulnerable to the Spirit all over again.
To have one in my arms is close enough to heaven right now. To have the love of a three-year old is about
as good as a mystical experience. And
that experience passes at some point. My
three-year old will only get a year older and still love me.
As I read on in Taylor, I realized she has set me up for one
of my dearest theological doctrines, namely, the incarnation. The incarnation affirms that God became human
and dwelt among us. In Taylor’s
language, God took on skin! Of course,
that sounds like an odd way to put it.
But it may well be an odd way to put it because we have spiritualized
it. Once we make it a doctrine, it tends
to lose its real life application.
I like how Taylor puts it:
“the daily practice of incarnation---of being in the body with full
confidence that God speaks the language of flesh---is to discover a pedagogy
that is as old as the gospels.” Taylor
is helping me see that the incarnation is not simply the story of Jesus. It is also the story of each one of us. That is not to claim that we have the same
stature of Jesus. For many of us, Jesus
is uniquely the Son of God. But we are
also children of that same God.
And we all can “enflesh” the same Spirit of God that begins
the process of making us special. I
think this is where Taylor is going.
When we are aware, we know that we daily practice this incarnation that
is ours. It teaches us the ways of the
Spirit---that is what pedagogy means.
According to the old hymn, “we walk like an angel, talk like an angel…”
Learning and living the ways of the Spirit will make us
lovers of the world. We will become
peacemakers. In our own little way we
can be miracle workers. But like Jesus,
we will be found on the side of the poor, oppressed, lonely and needy. I realize I am a slow learner. I want to wear my skin in a gospel manner this
day.
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