Towards a Protestant Theology of Embodiment

Can I start off by saying that I deeply admire Tim Keller? In fact, I love Tim Keller. Here is a man who faithfully pastored for decades, loved his congregation, never had a public scandal,1 and gave us so many enduring gifts in his writing, speaking, and in his approach to faith, evangelism, and culture building.

A few years ago, someone asked me if I would recommend Tim and Kathy Keller’s book on marriage, The Meaning of Marriage. I hadn't read it in a decade, but could remember how helpful it was. Not so much on a practical level, but I remember saying, “If you want to read one ‘theology of marriage’ book, this is a great one.” Fast forward to this year, and I read a note pointing out that although, yes, The Meaning of Marriage is a great book, it is missing something. In the Kellers’ chapter on the marriage union, they fail to mention that one of the purposes of the marriage union is to bear children. At first I was a bit astonished. But then remembered that, yes, this basic fact was lacking.

Maybe it is just too obvious? Of course the by-product of the marriage union may include children. And the eighth chapter in Keller’s book offered a kind of freedom I hadn’t seen in a Christian marriage book up to the point I first read it years ago. In a world of marriage books that remind us what we owe one another physically and make marital sex out to be a kind of burden women must bear with a smile or a necessity to keep a partner from seeking pleasure elsewhere, Keller’s vision of reciprocal giving and receiving was a welcome paradigm. But even this vision of giving ourselves to one another falls short when procreation is not also a part of this vision (hold on to this fact, I’ll circle back to it).2

I point out this example as a kind of microcosm of most Protestant thinking on the theology of the body. Others have done extraordinary work calling attention to the deficiencies in Protestant teaching on this topic,3 and there is far more work to be done. I don’t think I am offering anything new here, but hope to condense my observations down to some concise and helpful thoughts for consideration. And maybe offer a kind of solution (or at least, an additional angle to consider).

In Hope in Times of Fear, another book of Keller’s I can heartily recommend, he describes the marriage union in much the same way.4 He argues that sex, at its core, is about vulnerability and union. The New Testament takes sexual sin so seriously for this very reason. A night with a prostitute isn’t a casual affair, Paul argues. It’s so serious that Paul writes that the result is being made “one with” the other’s body.5 This is a bit mind-bending to our modern ears. But this is so serious because it is all designed to point us to something.

Paul goes on to say that our bodies as believers are “members with Christ himself” and that our bodies house the Holy Spirit.6 We experience this rich union with God in Christ, because he gave himself up for us. Jesus saved us through “sacrifice and resurrection.”7 This pattern of self-giving and vulnerability is mirrored in the marriage relationship and points us to the self-giving of Christ.

That’s lovely and true. But I couldn’t help finishing the chapter with a weird “Sex is the greatest thing in all the world!” vibe. Especially after this quote:

“Christianity says that sex is a way for the individual to connect your life to the self-giving divine love that is at the heart of the universe and the meaning of history.”8

A huge part of the marriage relationship is this mutual giving and receiving. And in it, we catch a glimpse of the reality of how the Godhead operates. But what if you don’t ever experience sexual union with a spouse? Do you miss out on some kind of insider spiritual experience? Are there other ways one comes to participate in this self-giving and receiving in this life, apart from sex? Help!

Never fear, John Paul II is here to help! Years ago in the fever dream that is postpartum, I read through John Paul II’s seminal work on the body, Theology of the Body. Delivered as a series of lectures at the monthly Cardinal luncheon, the work attempts to shed light on what the body is for after a backlash to the Catholic Church’s revised stance on contraceptives in the late 1960’s. As the years have gone on, bits and pieces of this book have come to my mind as I read and think through how this can apply to our Protestant understanding.

A lot of people misunderstand Theology of the Body as a kind of Catholic sex-ed book. It is not that, however. What Theology of the Body gives us is a comprehensive look at what the body is, what it is for, and the spiritual realities it points us to. What stuck out to me the most was not only how John Paul II elevates marriage, but how he also elevates and dignifies singleness. Constructing a theology of the body not only through the lense of the marriage union, but also through one of celibacy, gives us a complete picture of how our bodies are made to point to greater realities. There are two concepts in general I think would greatly assist Protestants in how we think about the body: spousal meaning and generative potential.

First up, spousal meaning. This term is found over 100 times in Theology of the Body. According to John Paul II, the basic job of the body is to express the person, to make us visible in the world. This visibility also makes us vulnerable. But instead of masking this vulnerability, we are called to love and give. Our bodies aren’t meant to exist in isolation, but in relation with other bodies.

Thus, the spousal meaning of the body means that through this giving and welcoming, accepting and finding, our bodies proclaim to us the eternal truth that “happiness is being rooted in Love” (TOB 16:2).9

Because God himself is self-gift, we are made for self-gifting. We are created to give ourselves generously to God and to other people. Angela Franks points out that the main way the body does this is as a sexed body and as a result, is how human generation works:

“The reproductive system is the only bodily system that needs another person to successfully complete it. I don’t need anyone else to digest or breathe in air, but I need another person to generate a new human being.”10

The body is incomplete when it comes to generation and this points us to the truth that God himself is ordered towards relationship and self-gift. Again, Angela Franks reminds us that “we are only made happy when we are ordered to something beyond ourselves.”11 This reflects the very nature of God, that the Trinity is ordered in this same way.

This idea that we are designed to reflect the character of God in our bodies and how we relate to one another leads John Paul II to describe the body as “sacramental,” visible symbols of an invisible reality. Our bodies are for revealing an invisible reality. They speak of a larger story about who we are and who we are made to be: image bearers in relationship with God.

The second idea is that of generative potential. Because God is self-gift and love, the Trinity has eternally enjoyed relationship with one another. This relationship leads God to bring forth life—to create in order to share this love with a universe called to know and respond to him in love. We, as sexed male and female humans, have the potential within our bodies to bring forth others who can participate in this gift of life. But we need one another to do so (back to spousal meaning).

This concept of “generative potential” is hugely important. And because we Protestants don’t speak of it often, we find ourselves in a bind when talking about the body.12 If our bodies are sacramental, if they point to some greater truth or reality, then the way we are made as sexed men and women has a point. Whether we are married or single, our bodies are designed to be generative and we are made to live out this pattern of self-giving and receiving. How so?

In the marriage relationship, the one flesh union may result in children. The legitimacy of marriage itself isn’t dependent on giving birth to children, but it is one potential result. This tells the story that apart from this dependance, vulnerability, and self-giving that we can’t as humans bring life into the world. We image how God loved us in Christ when we as husbands and wives submit to one another in Christ and love and care for one another as our own bodies, just as the Godhead has been eternally loving and preferring one another.

And here is the beautiful thing: single men and women embody these realities as well. As a woman, your body tells the world something about who God is. He made you to image him, to love and care for others, to give yourself for others, to depend on others. And you do this in a unique way as a woman. As a man, your body tells the world something about who God is. He made you to image him, to love and care for others, to give yourself for others, to depend on others. And you do this in a unique way as a man.

A single man or woman may never parent children, but each still has a kind of generative potential to nurture life. John Paul II adds to this that in the same way a husband and wife fulfill the purpose of spousal meaning in a marriage union, in giving themselves to the mission of the church, single Christians can experience both spousal union and generative potential spiritually:

Christ revealed to man and woman, over and above the vocation to marriage, another vocation namely, that of renouncing marriage, in view of the kingdom of heaven. With this vocation, he highlighted the same truth about the human person. If a man or a woman is capable of making a gift of himself for the kingdom of heaven, this proves in its turn (and perhaps even more) that there is the freedom of the gift in the human body. It means that this body possesses a full nuptial meaning.13

Jesus himself reminds us of this in the Great Commission. Jesus, a single, celibate man who never had physical progeny is said to “look to his offspring”14 —a host of spiritual progeny who would come to be made one with God through him. Jesus’ command to “go and make disciples of all nations” mirrors the Genesis 1 command to be “fruitful and multiply.”15 Embodying the Gospel story with our lives and drawing others into this life of spiritual fruitfulness is every believer’s calling, married or single.

So the marriage relationship is about vulnerability and union. It points us to a greater reality, because our bodies are meant to point us to a greater reality. But the additional ideas of the body as a kind of sacrament, spousal giving, and generative potential expand this understanding. If Jesus has risen from the dead, and inaugurated a new reality, and a coming resurrected world, then the way we exist in the world here and now as embodied humans in relationship with one another points to this story.

The mystery of our bodies here and now is that the way we give of ourselves points to the Wedding that is coming. The marriage relationship uniquely points to the relationship of Christ the Bridegroom and the Church. But every believer (as the Bride, a part of the church) lives out the reality that anticipates the return of the Bridegroom. The world is the potential guest list and we are called to beckon others to come to the great Marriage Supper of the Lamb, in a new, restored heaven and earth.

In Summary:

“For in self-giving, if anywhere, we touch the rhythm not only of all creation, but of all being.” - C.S. Lewis, from The Problem of Pain

For more on this topic:

-Man and Woman He Created Them: A Theology of the Body, John Paul II

-the [female] body and the [desecrated] body, Haley Baumeister

-The Genesis of Gender: A Christian Theory, Abigail Favale

-Earthen Vessels: Why Our Bodies Matter to Our Faith, Matthew Lee Anderson