“The Body Never Lies”
A Sermon by Rev. Patrice Ficken
1 Corinthians 12:12-31a
Sanbornton Congregational Church, UCC
January 21, 2007
(Please do not re-print or re-use without permission of the author)
Art Buchwald, humorist, columnist died at the age of 81 on Wednesday night. His death had been anticipated for many months. Last year, when he decided he’d had enough of kidney dialysis treatments, he was admitted to hospice. The doctors explained to him that in choosing to forgo dialysis, his kidneys would fail within 2 or 3 weeks, and then he’d slip into a coma and die. The New York Times reported, “I decided to move into a hospice and go quietly into the night, he wrote three months later. “For reason that even the doctors can’t explain, my kidneys kept working.” He became a hospice celebrity, named as “The man who wouldn’t die” He continued to write his column, reflecting on his mortality while keeping his humor, even as he lost a leg. He returned to his home on
Alice Miller in her book, “The Body Never Lies” helps us to understand that whatever the body has experienced in life – the body remembers. Her work focuses on helping survivors of childhood abuse and trauma understand that the body holds the key to both authentic living and healing.
In light of the recent publicity around the two boys who were kidnapped and then found in Missouri – one after being held for 4 years – Miller’s work sheds understanding on how the body both protects and undermines the conscious mind when it comes to trauma. What those boys experienced is now stored in the very tissue of their bodies, their cell memory. As trauma victims, they will likely be triggered at unlikely moments – by sounds, sights and smells. How they emerge and heal will depend on many factors – one of the most important – to be able to listen to and be gentle with what their bodies know and what may be too painful to express consciously.
Whether we have experienced trauma or not, I believe all of us have “fault lines” or vulnerabilities in our bodies that let us know we’re under duress: lower back pain, headaches, neck pain – whatever it may be – early warning signals crying out for attention, for rest, for support, for love. However our bodies speak to us, it is important that we pay attention.
Paul, the writer of the letter to the Corinthians, as read by Bob a moment ago –suffered chronic pain that he referred to as a “thorn in his flesh.” We don’t know the nature of his ailment but he prayed repeatedly for God to take it away, to give him some relief. So, it is not surprising then that the body became for him a powerful metaphor to help the
In the scripture passage we read today, Paul addressed the tendency of people in this new church community to view themselves as more important than others based upon their spiritual gifts - that those who were gifted in one way were somehow superior to others who were gifted in another way.
Paul says – how can this be when all these gifts are from God? All are beautiful and good in God’s sight. The hierarchy “out there” in the world does not belong in a spiritual community.
Paul comes up with a beautiful metaphor that has resonated with Christians ever since – that we are all part of the Body of Christ. And it is, by being part of this greater Body, that we find our meaning and purpose. We all have an important part to play – no one better or worse – because all are necessary and all are part of the Body.
Yet as much as we love this language, it has done the church little good over the centuries. The church has been splintering and dividing itself over disagreements in theology, practice and belief since its very beginnings. With one part of the body saying: “I have no need of you.” Or another “I want nothing to do with you.”
This only weakens the church universal and weakens it still. Those on the outside looking in view the church as contradictory, hypocrites.
Just the kind of hypocrisy Art Buchwald loved to poke at with his humor – although politicians, not priests were usually the source of his mirth.
Our culture loves to elevate one person over the next. And like the
One way we fall prey – is to feel that we need to fit into a mold or to live up to worldly standards not of our own choosing. When we do, we lose sight of what we came here to do or to be. That’s exactly when the body can help us to remember – through illness, through a mishap – this is what important, this is my purpose.
Even our earth body is sending signals – letting us know of climate change, asking us to pay attention.
We can see then that what we may view as “fault lines” or weaknesses may actually be spiritual gifts – messages of the soul pointing us toward what we came to this earth to fulfill. Our very weakness pointing us toward the very source of our strength.
Art Buchwald learned this lesson early as an orphan and child of foster homes. He discovered that making people laugh brought him all the love he needed and yearned for.
Recently, Buchwald was asked by the NY Times, “How do you want to be remembered?” He answered, “As a person who made people laugh.” Apparently, his body knew exactly when that last laugh would be.
Let us pray,
Gracious God, you have taught us that
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
2 a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
3 a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
7 a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)
Be with us in all the seasons of our days. Help us to be receptive and open to the message of our soul’s longing and purpose, attuned to our body’s wisdom and your divine purpose for our lives.
Amen
