Song of Songs 2: 8-14, John 20: 19-30
August 30, 2015--Lyndale United Church of Christ
Rev. Dr. Rebecca Voelkel
The lone wild bird in lofty flight is still with Thee, nor leaves Thy sight. And I am Thine, I rest in Thee. Great Spirit, come, and rest in me. Amen.
I love talking with people about bodies. I have spent much of my life drawn toward, curious about, questioning, and exploring this notion that we are spiritual beings having a human, embodied experience. I am fascinated by our bodies and what it means to live in the world as flesh and bones.
I just got back from the Woodhull Sexual Freedom Summit that gathered sexuality educators, sex therapists, queer people, sacred intimates and other advocates for a positive understanding of sexuality and bodies. I was there with the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice to lead a three hour session on Sex and the Spirit. The whole thing was a wonderful experience and I had so many fascinating conversations with folks who are hungry to explore these connections between our spirituality and our embodiment. But I have to admit to really struggling with how to preach about Sabbath practice and bodies…. here in a sanctuary….. during church.
[pause]
Thank you for the body that loves us
8The voice of my beloved! Look, they come, leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills. 9My beloved is like a gazelle or a young deer. ..10My beloved speaks and says to me: “Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away; 11for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. 12The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. 13The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. 14O my dove…. let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
When I read these verses which were assigned to today’s lectionary, I was taken aback. I literally have never heard a portion of the Song of Songs read in church. But I love this text…. its lusciousness, its clear sensuality, its embodied delight in love.
These are all things that are central to our Christian faith. Indeed, Christianity is the only religious tradition that has the audacity to profess that God took on human form.
Somehow, God saw fit to hallow humanity by pouring all of divinity into a human body and living the life of a radically inclusive, loving, transforming person. For me, this “Incarnation” as they call it, is really important.
It is Jesus’ life—and the way he lived in his skin, the people with whom he ate and drank and made loving community, the way he wore his gender identity and his sexuality, the way he touched and resisted power, the way his body was executed by the State—it is to this life and this body that I turn to get guidance about how to life my own life, how to live my little “i” incarnation in relationship with the capitol “I” Incarnation.
And, as many of you know, I’ve spent the last year—much of it sitting at the Nokomis Beach Café—writing about these very things. Writing about how bodies—individual bodies, the body of a community, our shared Body of Christ and the planet body are all exquisite blessings from God.
Thank You for the bodies that love us.
But, for me, talking about real bodies, real people living in communities and in this world, requires us to hold the Song of Songs in conversation with the gospel of John. We are beloved in the sight of God. We are created for pleasure and beauty and joy in our physical, embodied selves. Bodies are blessed to be a blessing.
And this gift is given in the midst of the reality of oppression. The Roman Empire executed Jesus after it had infiltrated and surveilled his community in order to arrest him. Jesus’s body was taunted and tortured because he was Jewish and considered a terrorist in the context of Rome’s occupation. This is the context for our reading from John. The disciples are terrified. They’ve been betrayed by Judas who was one of their own. Their beloved Jesus, whose body they touched and were touched by, with whom they ate and reclined and worshiped and worked, is dead.
But suddenly, in our reading for this morning, that beloved body, so brutally broken, is in their midst again.
This is the other central affirmation of our faith—Jesus’ body is resurrected. He is visibly wounded but alive. He has endured oppression and all that the Empire sought to throw at him, but his body, he is alive. And Jesus invites Thomas to understand all of the implications of his resurrection by touching his wounded body.
Thank you for the body that loves us.
There are many other ways that the gift of our bodies is complicated. Our experiences of our bodies happens in a world that makes judgements about our race, our gender identity, our sexual orientation, our ability, our age. Bodies living with disability, Black and brown bodies, queer bodies… those bodies whom the world might denegrate… these are ones whose preciousness, sexiness and beauty must be especially celebrated. These are all ones in whose blessing and resurrection we especially need to rejoice. Black Lives Matter, Trans Bodies Matter—these are theological affirmations from the heart of Christianity.
But, in order to re-member the sacredness of Incarnation and incarnations; in order to re-member resurrection and revolutionary sexiness, we need the practices of Sabbath to return us to our own bodies and to the body of community. It is the intentional re-membering of rest and worship, of pause and healing, of blessing that which the world too often demonizes… these are the Sabbath practices that allow us to embody God in our midst….
[pause]
In describing one of her days last week following the car accident that killed her beloved sister and niece and left her brother-in-law fighting for his life, Lyndale member Sarah Kuhnen posted the following on Facebook:
Hitting a wall and Oak Trees rebounding
Today I hit a wall. Too many sleepless nights or just plain not enough sleep, along with draining days all caught up with me today. Fred my love and rock was flying home. And so my mind and body just had enough. It is kinda like being under water. Every time someone talked all communication went into a drawn out slow motion garble and I just could not respond appropriately.
Yesterday we started at the hospital to see Don start the process of breathing mostly on his own. When we would talk to him, he would take a deep breath. We knew he heard us. Joy and gratitude lifted us so that we could face the rest of the day….
Then we dressed to the nines (Katherine always dressed to the nines) and we headed to the funeral home. Just a private time with Ledell and Katherine’s bodies to give thanks for their beautiful bodies as we sang and danced with their spirits that felt very present among us. We listened to amazing music from Katherine, Ledell and Don as we danced and sang and cried our grieving, wailing tears.
We rebounded at the restaurant before heading to the church for a loving vigil at First Congregational Church on the Green. There were stories, and the gospel choir sang, several solos were sung and candles were lit. There were Park Slope, Brooklyn Church family, Silver Lake Church Family, and First Congregational Church family, among other friends. Plenty of hugs all around and at the end of the service our family lit candles and walked down the aisle lighting other peoples’ candles as we all head out the door to luminary splendor and sang one final song. Ledell had co-led many a protest on those front steps. This is the church of my elementary years. A place my family calls home. To call this service a blessing would be an understatement, but it was also draining in all the right ways.
Finally after a week of running to get everything in some sort of order, knowing that Don, although not out of the woods, is doing better, the reality and weight of it all settled into my bones. And I am beyond numb. Beyond knowing how to move. And so along with Devan and Lucy, we walked to the park near the hospital and laid under the oaks. The big majestic trees that reach into the sky. My hand lay on one of its sturdy roots and I prayed for it to share its strength and fill me up. And I rested. I fell asleep off and on. But more importantly, I lay in total silence. Just me and the tree.
Again, I could re-enter this massive story that is ours now forever…. For another moment. I give thanks for church community that is massive in their love of the Mulvaney-Westphal-Waterman-Kuhnen family, for the countless friends near and far sending their love. And for the grove of oaks sharing their strength.
Thank you for the Body that loves us.
Amen.