He indeed died for all, so that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised.
Consequently, from now on we regard no one according to the flesh; even if we once knew Christ according to the flesh, yet now we know him so no longer.
We find in the writings of Saint Paul, as in the whole of the New Testament, confusing signals about the flesh. How does the flesh relate to the spirit? Or should we call it the Holy Spirit?
The common language of the Roman Empire was Greek. Greek philosophy imagined the human being as a composite of body and soul. The body was flesh; the soul was the spirit of the human being, which bore some resemblance to the Spirit of God. Saint Paul would remind his disciples that the Spirit of God knows God as a human spirit knows the person.
Greek philosophers described the conflict of flesh and spirit. A proud, warlike people struggled to build cities; and to do that they had to lift the rational mind out of the slime of lust, rage, and vendettas. They knew that the demands of the body sometimes overwhelm the spirit. And sometimes the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Their cult of athleticism taught them that the flesh often prefers idleness and indulgence when it should be disciplined. The body should be trained to expect and overcome hardship. It needs a disciplining soul to drive it toward perfection.
They also knew of sexual energy and its anarchy. Just when you think your house is in order one of your Romeos runs off with Juliet and chaos ensues. (But in their tragedies the lovers were the Greek Troilus and the Trojan Cressida.)
In our Christian tradition, people sometimes wonder about Jesus and Mary Magdalene. What exactly was going on between those two? How free was this freest of all men with that woman? Did he flout the sexual mores of the day like he ignored the Pharisaic disciplines?
On her side, the Magdalene gets very little attention compared to the spotlight on Jesus. If we discount the stories of women that were certainly not about her and the stories that were probably not about her, we’re left only with her appearances among the Easter stories. Saint Luke adds one detail: “Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out….”
Nonetheless, there she is at the tomb, squealing with delight at his appearance and throwing her arms around his risen, glorious body! What is going on? (Or did he ward her off, as the medieval artists preferred, with, “Nolo me tangere.” Do not touch me!) It’s hard to avoid the physical reality of his appearance and her delight in seeing him. If he had been only a ghost he would not have told her to let him go.
But I find a satisfactory answer in this story, one often overlooked by sexualizing fantasists: Jesus told her, “Go and tell the brothers!” even as he described his own immediate duty, “I am going to the Father.”
In effect, “Never mind all that physical affection, we have work to do.”
Mary will love the Lord by announcing the Good News of Jesus’s resurrection. She will find her great satisfaction in belonging to his body the church. She will know his intimacy in the Eucharist, and his love by the fire in her heart. She will always know his immediate presence by his apparent absence. Her desire will be her satisfaction. This love will be soulful, physical, energizing, reassuring, divine, and profoundly human.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.