Deconstructing Church

My feet have been up for most of today. I had some minor surgery yesterday, and if I stand for too long, my bruised big toes start to throb.

Did Jesus’ side wound throb when he had walked for too long? When he reached Emmaus was he holding on to the flesh above his hip, ready to put his feet up and rest?

My open surgical wounds are covered with dressings, all wrapped up and sealed from the dangers of the world outside. They are comfortable, safe to weep and heal without disturbance or infection.

Were Jesus’ wounds dry, or did they weep? Did he need to wash them clean regularly – did his mother, Mary, tend to them as she had his grazed knees in childhood? Was his body weakened in general as it tried to make itself whole again, or did it accept the holes and seal itself off?

My chest has been struggling with the pollen for a good fortnight now. On top of the already impaired lung function that comes with Long Covid, at times I have wished I could just stop the physical motion of breathing for a moment or two, so I could have a rest!

Did Jesus breathe differently after his lungs had been crushed on the cross? Did his alveoli bounce back into shape on resurrection, or did they remain warped, misshapen. Was his lung capacity the same as the young man who had blown sawdust off his father’s workshop creations, or did he wheeze as he walked?

My body weighs heavy on me, literally and metaphorically. Three dress sizes and at least 15kg more than two years ago, pre-covid. I am learning to love the fact that I am alive in it, and because of that it is beautiful. I am beautiful. But it isn’t easy.

Did Jesus recognise a familiar body when he arose, or did the transformation weigh on him? Was his gaunt, scarred corpus dei beautiful to him, or did he turn away from looking at it? Was his wish for restoration on ascension, or did he accept his return to heaven would be in a form with stories etched into the skin?

How often do we map our bodies and understand the reality that God had one too? That his scars were physical, that his perfection was of dappled nature. Did he have stretchmarks on his legs from a growth spurt as a teenager? Was his hair starting to thin? Was his eyesight 20/20 or did he strain to see the crowds before him?

Does any of this deny the godhood of a man, or does it embrace it?

I don’t have the answers, but at least I’m not thinking about my toes hurting any more!

Peace be with you.