tending the body
tending the mind, tending the spirit
When an expert in Torah asked Jesus which commandment is the greatest, the response was a two-parter. First, love the Lord “with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” Part two is “love your neighbor as yourself” (Mt 22:34–40). With all of that loving, there’s a nice little jewel at the very end. Jesus assures and commands we love ourselves. And that is not an unimportant emphasis.
Throughout church history, self-denial has often been replaced with self-abuse. It has affected fashion. Hair shirts are not likely to be featured on catwalks, because those hairs on the skin are big-time scratchy! Self-flagellation is not recommended as exercise, since whipping oneself on the back isn’t exactly good for one’s health.
But that’s a distorted self-denial of the past. Today, we have expertise of our own.
Confusion with certain scriptures can be blamed. In John 12, when Andrew and Philip tell Jesus some Greeks wish to see him, he answers in what might seem a cryptic way. “Those who love their life lose it,” he says, “and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life” (v. 25). Interpreted in a strictly literal way could easily lead to self-harm!
Still, our culture’s addiction to needless stress and struggle doesn’t require any biblical warrant.
In recent decades, an upside-down, inside-out vision of virtue and vice has taken hold. We run ourselves ragged and get burned out. We fill ourselves with processed and genetically modified food to the point of killing ourselves. We develop all sorts of diseases with nifty initials, to which Big Pharma promises cures with all sorts of cool new names. (At least they are required to list side effects, which the makers of Covid vaccines nicely avoided.)
This also takes its toll on our mental health. Just as with physical illness, there is a host of chemicals promised to do wonders in improving our minds.
Interestingly, thousands of years ago, there was wisdom concerning such obsessions.
There is a term which appears in Paul’s letter to the Galatians and in the book of Revelation. It is φαρμακεία (pharmakeia). It is the source of our word “pharmacy.” (Or Big Pharma!) Not surprisingly, its definition is “drugs.” It’s no secret we Americans are an overly drugged people.
In Galatians 5, there is a passage speaking of the works of the flesh. In this context, “flesh” is not simply the body. Rather, it is a power pulling us from what the Holy Spirit desires. The apostle directs, “Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh” (v. 16). There follows a list of such desires. Tucked into verse 20 is pharmakeia.
The word appears twice in Revelation. In chapter 9 there is an image of destruction coming upon the human race. Still, many refused to abandon their idolatry. “And they did not repent of their murders or their [pharmakeia] or their prostitution or their thefts” (v. 21).
In chapter 18, the destruction of the metaphorical Babylon is portrayed. All aspects of ordinary life come to an end, “for your merchants were the magnates of the earth, and all nations were deceived by your [pharmakeia]” (v. 23).
Besides “drugs,” the word also means “sorcery.” It especially refers to drugs used in magical practices. People are put under a spell. It seems quite apt for us today. We have our new priests, wielding potions and poisons — potions and poisons with billion-dollar price tags.
However, there are alternatives. Instead of “food” containing ingredients cooked up in a lab, how about food that appears in nature? And for those whose lifestyles lack sufficient physical activity, how about exercise? It doesn’t have to be daunting or daring. Something enjoyable is best, even going for long walks.
Time in prayer and meditation, even aside from the spiritual benefits, calms the body and mind.
The challenge and the joy is to be Spirit-driven, not guilt-driven. When we answer the call of guilt, we set aside the wonders of being Spirit-driven. Guilt can rule us, to the point of wearing stress like a heavy yoke. That is the gift of repentance, the shedding of what pulls us down.
A helpful perspective is to notice how much of tending the body overlaps with Sabbath. Our infrequent keeping of Sabbath takes a toll in the shalom that is interwoven with its observance. Abraham Heschel makes an insightful comment. “Labor is a craft,” he remarks, “but perfect rest is an art. It is the result of an accord of body, mind, and imagination. To attain a degree of excellence in art, one must accept its discipline, one must adjure slothfulness.” (14) Sabbath epitomizes that perfect rest, the rest which envelops us and our world.
Tending the body, tending the mind, tending the spirit requires discipline — a discipline of choosing life.
