Nathan Mitchell, in Meeting Mystery: Liturgy, Worship, Sacraments, explains that the body is the locus of the liturgy, the place where it happens, the means by which it is possible. There can be no ritual. There can be no physical non-verbal language without the body. There can be no metaphor. The soul and the body are oscillations of one dynamic in space-time. They are one in relation to the world and one in relation to each other. Each oscillation of the human entity makes us truly divine and truly human.
In Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio’s “Doubting Thomas,” the Risen Christ is corporeal and expressed in the early modern language of the color, composition, and sensibility of Naples around 1600.
Interestingly, the apostles are old men, Christ is in his 20’s. This is the language and metaphor of glorification. The bodies — glorified and non-glorified — move in the ritual of question, confusion, epiphany, and awe of Christ and for Christ.
In contrast, John Granville Gregory’s 20th Century English conception of “Still Doubting” employs a more post-modern body in its language.
The lighting is from above and is more photographic. The bodies themselves emanate no light but reflect it, shade it, shape it, ripple it. Although the gesture, the “ritual,” is the same as Caravaggio’s, the language is distinct. The young disciples bring more the boldness of youthful investigative analysis and curiosity. Caravaggio’s disciples bring the befuddlement of age and astonished wonder. Gregory’s Christ is more exuberant, almost playful. Caravaggio’s ritual metaphor is more amazed contemplation and rapture. Gregory’s is energetic discovery and youthful surprise. It almost looks like it could be an album cover from the late 20th century. The metaphor is one of scientific discovery conveyed by the casual irreverence of seekers.
The take away is “no body, no liturgy”. This should really be at the forefront of our consciousness as ministers. How does my entity oscillate in its physical and non-physical manifestations? When we convene as the Body of Christ, how do we convey in our body-language the mystery of the hypostatic union of being truly human and truly divine? Do we dance with the music? Do we sway? Do we move to the beat of what stirs our heart? More importantly, do we physically feel our ministry to the oscillating bodies of those which we convene and by whom we are convened? Are we sexy?