Reading from the Global Scripture:
“He [this
personal trainer] was so alien to me, in a way, an inhabitant of another
planet, living the life of the body. People like him didn’t just train others
and train themselves, they ran, biked, golfed, skied, played racquetball and
tennis--living strenuously in their bodies, relating to the world through them.
For me, despite swimming and my regular workouts, a good book meant much more
to me than a great run ever could. I would never choose a vacation spot because
the hiking was good, or I could do helicopter skiing. I wanted to relax, or
bathe in another culture.” - Nick Hoffman, would-be detective, from Hot
Rocks, by Lev Raphael.
Sermon:
Nick Hoffman, the character in several books by Lev Raphael, is a character with whom we all might be able easily relate.
Nick loves books. He loves them so much, in fact, that he has become a teacher. A professor, really, but still teaching is teaching. He was bit as a young man, by the literary bug, and now he spends his life trying to infect others with the joy he has found in his milieu.
Nick, it would
seem, has spent more time reading books than he has working out in the gym.
And yet those
of us who are like Nick cannot escape our cultural saturation of the body. How
many gyms did you pass on the way here today? How many advertisements featuring
glorious youthful people have you seen in the last twenty-four hours?
I was in the
bank the other day, and behind my teller was a large advertisement featuring a
very rugged looking man. He looked kind of weekend-rugged. It was clear from
his clothes that he was meant to portray some wealth, and yet here he was in
this outdoorsy place, wearing specialized cross trainer shoes, and clothes that
clung to his sinewy to muscular body.
As sort of a
hat tip to the aging Baby Boomer and some of us older Gen X population, his
hair was salt and pepper, but still he maintained a youthful appearance.
As my teller
took care of my business, I wondered, what message am I suppose to take from
this image?
As a life-long
feminist, I have been well trained to be suspicious of images of beauty,
particularly those whose origins begin in commerce. Over time I have developed
an easy, probably too easy narrative about people who aspire to be like those
people in that advertisement.
I have become
resistant to them in a knee jerk reaction, as one who no longer touches an
oven, because as a child I burned my finger on it.
I know that I
am not alone in this.
As a minister,
one of my goals is to bring prayer and spiritual practice to my congregation. These
are not always popular phrases, “prayer” and “spiritual practice” in a
Unitarian Universalist congregation. Certainly the word prayer makes some
people uncomfortable. I do try to be gentle with such terms, but if I may quote
a fellow Chicagoan, 19th century newspaper man Finley P. Dunne, I’m
here to “comfort he afflicted and afflict the comfortable.”
However so as
to not be too afflicting, I did what every good Unitarian Universalist does, I
picked up a book about it.
There is a book
called “Everyday Spiritual Practice: Simple Pathways for Enriching Your Life,”
by Rev. Erick Walker Wigstrom. It is, happily, a collection of essays on
spiritual practice.
I read through
the book trying to suss out little tidbits that I could share with you; to
create sort of a Cliff’s Notes version of a path to enlightenment.
I thought you’d
all appreciate my efforts. It seemed as easy assignment.
But then I was
hit by a section called “Engaging the Body: Activity and Nourishment.” It was
like hitting a sand bar in a speed boat.
I want to share
some of what I read there with you. Robert Hughes, a retired minister from
Virginia wrote:
“I grew up with a love of books and
information—so much so that I sometimes thought of myself as a “human knowing”
rather than a human being! In time, though, I began to realize that I was cut
off from my body. I started to search for ways to integrate body, mind,
emotions and spirit. I began taking a class in the martial arts discipline of
tai chi, and since then movement has become an integral part of my spiritual
practice.”[1]
Part of the
awakening that Robert experienced was that Tai Chi was exercise like none he’d
ever done before. Whereas in his youth, in high school gym class, and in the
army, the goal had been “more, farther, faster”; Tai Chi is about moving as
slowly as possible through each pose.
This time that
it takes, that one spends with each pose, can ground you in your body.
Yoga has often
the same effect on a person.
Hughes also
says “Another benefit tai chi gave me was the lesson offered by long-term
practice. Tai chi isn’t “learned’: it is a process. Actually tai chi could be
described as a physical manifestation of the Taoist approach to life: Neither
is ever done perfectly.”[2]
By now I realize
that I’m kind of a lot of trouble. These are Unitarian Universalist people
writing about their experiences of embodiment and exercise. These are not posters in a gym, or billboard
designed to make me feel badly about myself in order to sell me something.
These are my
people, talking about ways to move from being a brain on a stick, to being a
fully integrated, whole being.
No longer can I
just self-righteously mock their lack of thoughtfulness, or their shallow
“image is everything” approach to life.
Earlier we did
a simple meditation that requires the use of only one’s arms. How many of you
felt a little awkward and/or silly doing this together?
I’ll admit to
you right up front, that I have always hated this kind of thing. I worry that
I’m not doing it correctly, or that others are “getting it” faster than I am.
I worry that my
belly sticks out too much when we stand up to sing hymns even.
And as for
dancing in public, I just don't that anymore. I haven’t since my waist got to
be over size 40.
It’s easy to
run further and further from embodiment, because it makes me uncomfortable, and
I can rationalize my way out of almost anything.
But I encourage
you to spend some time really thinking about your body/mind/spirit integration.
The Rev. Sarah
Lammert works for the Unitarian Universalist Association as the Director of
Ministries and Faith Development. Rev. Sarah is a mild-mannered, very gentle
soul. I mean, she’s no-nonsense, but always with a gentle, soft way about her.
When I read her
essay, I was stunned. She begins:
There are small
lava rocks in the grass from an earlier windstorm, in which these rocks were
strewn from the roof tops all over the campus walkways and greens. My bare feet
do not appreciate them, and as we proceed through our warm-up kicks and sets I
occasionally yelp and throw a rock out of the way. Still, by the time we have
run through some more complex movements, I am no longer aware of the rocks. I
am inside my body, the muscles, tendons, and bones. I am inside my soul.
I have been practicing martial arts
for about six years…Little did I know how much I would come to love this art
form.
Some people enjoy prayer,
meditation, yoga, tai chi—the quiet and calming ways to get centered and touch
the holy within and without. While I do enjoy a small dose of such practices,
what I have discovered is that I much prefer kicking, screaming, and punching
as a spiritual path![3]
Sarah Lammert
discovered martial arts while living in Brooklyn. She was doing her year of
Intern ministry and she discovered martial arts through a book. She then joined a women’s collective
interested in learning martial arts. Now, six years into her practice, she
writes:
What remains a
spiritual struggle for me in practicing the art is the fact that it is a
fighting method. During my most recent class I learned movements intended to
blind, choke, break knees, break ribs and generally incapacitate my opponent.
Some of the movements are intended to flat out kill the opponent. So where does
this leave one spiritually? At peace? In the arms of the Loving One, embracing
the web of life, experiencing the wonder and oneness of all being?
Paradoxically, while at times I do feel unsettled by the inherent violence of
such techniques, most often I am left with a greater sense of harmony and
peace.”[4]
In just six
years, this mild-mannered, and somewhat fearful minister living in Brooklyn has
learned so much about herself through a physical pursuit.
When I remove
my street clothes and don my black gi, removing my shoes and tying on my belt,
I enter a different time and space. I am literally walking barefoot on holy
ground, as I set aside a special time to reconnect with body, mind, and
spirit…There, the connection and energy I feel seem to run from the sky and
from the earth, literally infusing me with vibrancy and life. As I bow out at
the end of the class, I re-enter the world, calmer, more grounded and at peace.[5]
The last person
whose words I wanted to share with you today is Scott Alexander. Perhaps his is
the easiest practice for us to begin.
Every day, almost without exception, I
take an hour to tend my relationship with my oldest and most intimate friend—my
body.[6]
Now Scott goes
for an hour’s run everyday. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know that I
could ever manage such a task.
But I could
manage an hour’s walk. Or an hour’s yoga, or tai chi.
I brought this
topic to you because many of us struggle with our bodies. There are billion
dollar industries depending on our own dissatisfaction with our bodies.
Recently I
myself have joined a gym.
When I first
started going to the gym, I felt a little bit like Jane Godall. Not that the other inhabitors in the gym were
gorillas, in the mist or not, but because the terrain was so foreign to me. How
would I learn the socially acceptable behaviors? Would they accept me? I didn’t
look like them, and I certainly didn’t feel the way that I imagined them to
feel about their bodies.
I had a deep
curiosity about my fellow gym members, but I didn’t know how to connect with
them. So I hired a translator: my personal trainer, Amy.
After I got
passed the fact that I was sort of embarrassed that I didn’t know the first
thing about working out, and the books I read were too intimidating, I found
Amy to be very helpful.
In the gym with
Amy, I am the student. I am not required to be the expert. Amy is my shield in
dealing with other members of the gym. Because they know I’m paying by the
minute, they don’t really chat with me, and this gives me a chance to watch and
observe in relative safety.
But also, Amy
is my teacher. She tells me which machine to sit on, and how to use it. She
tells me which muscles I should be using, and she counts how many times I do
this movement, or that movement.
All of this
allows me to close my eyes, and really reach deep into my body, to find that
muscle I’m supposed to be using, to make sure that I am visualizing that muscle
and to use it.
And with all
that focus, I am no longer concerned, at least for the moment, about gym
etiquette, and I am no longer concerned about the errands I have to run after
the gym.
I am concerned
only about this muscle group, this body.
My body.
And when I
leave the gym, I feel more connected to the wholeness of my self.
It’s a pretty
safe bet that I may never become a personal trainer. That I, like Nick Hoffman,
will never understand the mindset of very physical people. I will probably
never chose a vacation spot because it offers the opportunity to walk for miles
up and down the backsides of mountains, an activity called “hiking.”
But as I enter
middle-age, I have begun to appreciate my body, my whole integrated self, in
new ways. I have begun to understand how to honor not just my mind, but to see
how living as a more embodied person actually offers me a real chance to
experience life more deeply.
That I
shouldn’t be ashamed that I didn’t start running when I was 15, or tai chi when
I was 25. I shouldn’t be ashamed that I’m starting so far behind all of those
who started before me.
I have learned
that a daily spiritual, physical practice, has allowed me to let go of some of
the shame I have carried around with me my entire life.
That a simple,
physical prayer like the one I taught you today, can be a gentle, first step to
a life freer of shame. A life with more time spent in love than in fear.
A
life with more time spent in love than in fear.
Isn’t
that a goal worth pursing?
May
peace like this come to us all.
Amen.
