Most
communication around God and the life of the spirit is visual or auditory.
Cathedrals were built and artwork painted and sculpted to visually inspire awe
and reverence. Biblical writers, preachers, theologians, teachers, and
contemplatives have used words as bread crumbs leading to spiritual paths and
insights.
But
there is another way I believe God and spirit may be experienced:
kinesthetically. It is primal and prerational, our first encounter with
something beyond ourselves. It begins in our mother’s womb, immersed in
embryonic fluids, nourished and protected by our mother’s flesh. We feel the
pulsing of her heart. On a men’s retreat, I heard the Franciscan Richard Rohr
speculate that men’s love of drumming may come from that early memory of our
mother’s heartbeat.
I
hope it’s not just me that takes pleasure in idiosyncratic kinesthetic
experiences. It will date me, but as a child I took pleasure sitting in the
car, enjoying its gentle rocking motion as a service station attendant wiped
the windows clean. Before I could do it for myself, it made me feel good to
have someone tie my shoes. And I loved going to the barber, with his gentle
touching and trimming.
A
source of humor for my partners and friends, as a child and as an adult, I enjoy the vibration of someone vacuuming. I used to follow whoever
performed this task from room to room for the kinesthetic pleasure of it. It’s
not the same when I do it myself, so it must have something to do with the
feeling of being taken care of.
And
being held, in a mother’s lap or a loved one’s arms, is best of all.
What
prompts this reverie? For weeks now,
painters have been pressure-washing and painting our complex, and today is our
turn. We have a friendly relationship, though my Spanish is as wanting as their
English. Despite my reliance on verbal communication as a writer and speaker,
reader and listener, just their presence is enough for me to feel cared for.
And
that’s true also of my experience of God. Though I read and pray, the good
feelings come when I sit in silence, in contemplation, enjoying an intuitional feeling
of being surrounded by God’s presence. I wonder now if that’s what Henri
Bergson, the earliest process theologian I read in college, meant when he wrote
that intuition is as necessary as reason. Intuition may also be primal and pre-rational.
No doubt science can explain it, possibly through genes or neural patterns or
evolutionary biology. But there’s also no doubt we can enjoy it.
Many
search for a sensational and supernatural God, an overwhelming, intervening,
and transforming God of drama and
spectacle. Jesus noted that desire when he resisted those looking for signs and
wonders, instead welcoming and healing souls most often with his gentle touch.
I
enjoy a God of gentle sensations: a breeze on the hairs of my neck, the warmth
of a loved one, the caress of the water as I swim, the sensuality of my sweat
as I run. I believe that God’s gentle touch is built into our natural world.
+++
Chris will be co-leading
a retreat for gay and bisexual Christian men at Kirkridge Retreat and Study
Center, Thursday dinner Oct. 4 through lunch on Sunday Oct. 7, 2012, in
Pennsylvania, open to the public. We will consider the “good things” of our
religious traditions that help us thrive.
Check out my latest Huffington Post article: "That's What I Want in a Church!"
Check out my latest Huffington Post article: "That's What I Want in a Church!"
Excellent post, Chris...and of course the senses of taste and smell as well. Very scriptural: "Taste and see how good God is..." "Our prayers are as sweet incense before the Throne..."
ReplyDeleteThis brings very much to mind the documentary film "I AM" by Tom Shadyac.