I wrote this post for my good friend, Kate Giguere Morris, and her blog Thighs and Offerings, where she embraces questions relating to spirituality, the body, eating disorders, and culture.

Sacred the Body

Sacred the body God has created,
temple of Spirit that dwells deep inside.
Cherish each person; nurture creation.
Treat flesh as holy, that love may abide.

Bodies are varied, made in all sizes,
pale, full of color, both fragile and strong.
Holy the difference, gift of the Maker,
so let us honor each story and song.

Love respects person, bodies, and boundries.
Love does not batter, neglect or abuse.
Love touches gently, never coercing.
Love leaves the other with power to choose.

Holy of holies, God ever loving,
make us your temples; indwell all we do.
May we be careful, tender, and caring,
so may our bodies give honor to you.

-Ruth Duck

I love this hymn text, but it also troubles me. Then again, maybe the tension is why I love it.

First, my initial reaction to speaking of one’s body as a temple is the negative way I’ve seen the phrase used. Mostly, in my experience, it’s usually male pastors who use the phrase to coax female teens not to have sex. Somehow, the message doesn’t get communicated to the boys as clearly, and really, the “just say no to sex” message is a huge pigeon-holing of Paul’s letter (and bad sex ed, but that’s another matter).

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 6:19 , “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit,” but the “you” is plural — “you all.” Paul’s point isn’t about one body, but about the whole church in Corinth. Those in the church in Corinth are one body together. Paul’s point is that, to be the temple of the Holy Spirit, they need each other.

Even with this rather sizable exegetical question, the way the stanza continues with the idea that flesh and bodies are holy — indeed, they are created by God — redeems the first stanza for me.

The second stanza is probably my favorite as it notes the import of difference, claiming that in recognizing our difference we honor both God and neighbor. Difference isn’t honored just because, but due to the fact that our bodies are gifts from God (this approaches Paul’s actual argument in 1 Cor.)

The third stanza grates me. It’s beautiful. It’s well-written. But, I sometimes feel like the focus of the hymn completely changes. It moves from a focus on bodies, to focusing on love. Sure, one could construe the stanzas as completely connected, but it does feel like a switch to me, and a sizable one at that. So the question becomes: should we sing about abuse of bodies in a hymn? And, if so, how?

As I read it, the third stanza only mentions abuse of bodies by other people — which, actually I think, is a stellar thing to tackle in corporate worship. It’s interesting, though, that Duck doesn’t mention abuse of bodies by one’s self, rather just by others.

A charitable reading might argue that Duck addresses self-care and self-abuse in the final stanza. It’s indirect, but maybe that’s best. The final sentence calls all, “we,” to use all bodies to give honor to God. We don’t honor God when we abuse our bodies, and most (all?) abuse can be connected by to that “we.” As a society, our approach to women’s and men’s bodies certainly encourages unholy actions and abuse.

I like this hymn (which appears, by the way, in at least two hymnals: The Faith We Sing and Sing the Faith). I like the hymn, perhaps in part, because it challenges me to think about what I’m singing. As I sing the phrases, the stimulating text makes me particularly aware of what I’m singing, which draws me into a dual awareness of those with whom I sing — the sacred body. That body, singing Ruth Duck’s hymn, is made up of different bodies — of all shapes and sizes, some abused by particular people and others abused by society in general — but, bodies which, together, might be a temple of the Holy Spirit.