In Bodily Form: The Role of the Body in the Ministry of Jesus

In Colossians 2:9, as part of an exhortation to the Colossian church not to be led astray by non-Christian systems of thought, Paul makes a passing but profoundly significant reference to the physical body of Christ. “In Christ,” he claims, “all the fullness of the deity dwells in bodily form” (NIV). Though “in bodily form” is an accurate rendering of the Greek here, the emphasis of this verse is not on the “form of the incarnation”—as though the human body of Jesus was simply an incidental “form” that God’s coming to us took, one form among many that it might have taken. Rather the emphasis is on the essential fact of the physical body—that the fullness of deity (το πληρωμα της θεοτητος) dwells “bodily” (σωματικῶς, as a physical body) in the person of Jesus Christ. The present active form of the verb κατοικέω (to dwell) underscores this: it is not that Christ “assumed a human body” for the purposes of salvation, only to discard it when God’s saving work was complete; rather through the incarnation, God took onto God’s self the full reality of a physical body in a permanent way, one that continues even now through the resurrection and exaltation of Christ. In this way, rather than saying, “in Christ God ‘took on’ a body,” or “Jesus ‘had’ a body,” it is perhaps theologically more accurate to say “in Christ, God ‘became’ a body,” and “Jesus ‘has’ a body.” Of course, the nature of the body he now has is only hinted at in the closing chapters of each Gospel, where we catch glimpses of the resurrection body of our Lord, nevertheless, as far as Paul is concerned, the Lord’s “bodily form” is still an ongoing reality, and its implications still obtain for us today.

This is important to keep in mind as we examine Christ’s “embodiment” as it is presented in the Gospels, because it assures us that the physical reality of Christ’s body was not merely tangential to his ministry, rather it was inextricably bound up with who he was and what he came to do. Inasmuch as Christ’s own body was the necessary matrix of his spiritual experience, our bodies, too, provide the necessary matrix through which we “receive and express the life of God in the world.” In particular we might note three ways that Jesus’ embodiment impacted his spirituality which are especially instructive for us. These are: the reality of physical limits, the importance of sensory experience, and the power of human touch.

One of the most vivid images in Mark’s gospel is the description of Jesus sleeping on a cushion in the stern of the disciple’s boat while the storm rages and the waves threaten to capsize them (Mk. 4:38). As it relates to a theology of embodiment, what stands out here is the obvious fact that Jesus needed sleep, and, if he were tired enough that he could sleep during a raging storm, one might assume he was exhausted. Sleep, fatigue, and exhaustion, of course, are all signs of our physical limits as embodied beings, reminders that our energy is not limitless and must be restored through sleep. We see similar examples of the physical limitations of his body in Christs experience of hunger and thirst. He hungered during his temptation in the desert (Matt. 4:2), for instance, and again on the Mount of Olives during Holy Week (Matt. 21:18). Like sleep, of course, hunger is another sign of our physical limitations: our energy must also be restored through basic nutrition. As a final example of the limitations of Christ’s physical body, we note the account of his healing ministry in Luke 4:42-43. Jesus has spent all night healing the sick, and when he sets out to leave the next morning, the crowds urge him to stay with them and continue as a healer in their midst. His reply offers a subtle but profound comment on the spatial limitations that are a necessary part of our embodied nature: “I must proclaim the good news … to the other towns also, because that is why I was sent” (Lk. 4:43). The obvious but often overlooked implication here is that, as an embodied person, Jesus can only be in one place at one time. To preach and heal in one town means he cannot preach and heal in another, a reality that requires difficult decisions daily about where and when and how he will spend his finite energy.

Besides giving him physical limitations, another way that Jesus’ body impacted his spirituality is in his sensory experience, the way his five senses mediated and heightened his experience of the world. We must read between the lines here, because none of the Gospels directly depict Christ as savoring smells or drinking in sights, but there is enough evidence to suggest that Jesus was intently aware of and deeply alive to his sensory experience of the creation. One of my favorite passages in John’s Gospel, for instance, is the account of Christ’s anointing at Bethany, where Mary pours a pint of pure nard over his feet and the house, we are told, “was filled with the fragrance of the perfume” (John 12:3). The fact that John’s Gospel so vividly recalls the fragrance in the air, and that in Mark’s account of the event Jesus says that Mary has done “a beautiful thing” for him (Mk. 14:6), suggests that it is not just the symbolism of the gesture, but also the rich sensuousness of it, that ministered to the Lord’s heart. We can read between the lines in a similar way in John’s account of the wedding of Cana, a story redolent with sensory data, if we stop to imagine it. Amidst the din of a (presumably drunken) wedding party, we find Jesus unapologetically turning bright, clear water into the richest, reddest wine imaginable, a wine so rich and red that it is met with laughter and wonder by the steward, who declares that it surpasses in strength and bouquet anything yet served. Stories like these suggest that, though it may be contrary to traditional Christian opinion, delighting in one’s sensory experience of the Creator’s world—the sound, scents, sights and tastes of creation—can be a holy experience.

One of the poignant details that echoes throughout the New Testament is the role that physical touch played in Christ’s ministry. Indeed, the Apostle John emphasizes this as one of the fundamental proofs of the Christian message—not simply that they heard Jesus or saw him, but that they physically touched him (“That . . . which . . . our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of Life” (1 John 1:1)). Physical touch plays an especially important role in Christ’s healing ministry. We see him repeatedly healing others through the laying on of hands (MK. 6:5, Mk. 8:25, Lk. 4:40, Lk. 13:13, etc.). We see him taking little children “into his arms” and “laying his hands on them” to bless them (Mk 10:15, 19.15, etc.). In addition to this kind of healing touch, the witness of the Gospels also suggest that it was normal for Jesus to express affection for his friends through physical touch. The most compelling example is the way the Beloved Disciple “leaned back against Jesus” at the last supper (lit. lay back into his chest, John 13:25) in a way that suggests this kind of physical contact was not uncommon between them. Similarly, though the outcome of the kiss was a tragic betrayal, still, the fact that Judas greeted Jesus with a kiss in the Garden of Gethsemane suggests that this was not an uncommon form of physical contact for the Lord. While much of this was no doubt conditioned by his culture (cf. Paul’s reference to the holy kiss, e.g. 1 Thess. 5:26), still these examples suggest that Jesus was physically demonstrative in his affection for others. He embraced his friends, touched the hurting, held comrades close to his heart, and welcomed even his enemies with a kiss.

The significance of Jesus’ body has powerful implications for our understanding of our own bodies and the role they play in our spiritual experience. It suggests, for instance, that rather than seeing the limitations of the physical body as a curse or an obstacle to overcome, we should embrace them as gifts from God, one of the ways God teaches us dependence on him. Likewise, it suggests that a healthy spirituality will savor the sensuousness of the created world, delighting in the sights, sounds and scents of life as another gift from the Creator. Finally, it suggests that Christians should acknowledge the healing power of touch, and, in contexts where it is appropriate to do so, should not shy away from letting physical touch express the healing embrace of God in ways that Christ himself did.