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The Theology of the Body in Genesis

Today’s First Reading at Mass was taken from Genesis. It features what Pope John Paul II would call the key to understanding what came to be known as the “Theology of the Body”, John Paul’s legendary catechesis on human sexuality and embodiment.

This key is the phrase, “The man and his wife were both naked, and felt no shame”. Why is this so crucial? To understand, we must revisit an earlier work of Karol Wojtyla/John Paul II, “Love and Responsibility”. The key thought in this book is that to love is the very opposite of what it means to use someone. Love is a total gift of oneself. This is exactly what Adam and Eve experienced before the Fall. The very pattern if their bodies demanded that they seek to be a self-gift to the beloved.

But after sin entered the world, lust entered the world. Adam and Eve instinctively cover themselves (prior to this, they had not even realized they were naked) with fig leaves (the original “Fruit of the Loom” underwear). Why? Christopher West, a well-known commentator on the TOB, puts it this way. Lust is sexual desire, devoid of the love of God. It is sexual desire (which is good and God-given in itself) misdirected. It is a desire which no longer seeks to give oneself completely to the beloved, but to take, to use the other as a mere object.

The cross of Christ is the very opposite of this. It is by contemplating the crucifix, and the supreme self-offering of the New Adam, Jesus, to his bride, the Church, that we understand what love truly is. And it is from the power of the cross that we derive, through the sacraments, the strength to imitate that love.

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Understanding the Creation Accounts in Genesis

Creation in GenesisPope John XXIII, before he was elected Pontiff, served as a diplomat. One evening, he was introduced at a function to a rather scantily clad woman.  “Here”, the future Pope said to her, “Why not take a bite from this apple?” The lady looked at him quizzically. He responded, “If you eat it, perhaps, like Eve, your eyes will be opened and you will realize you are naked!”

The Old Testament readings at Mass these days have been selected from Genesis. They deal with the origins of man and woman, nakedness and fig leaves, good and evil.  There are several things we as Catholics need to understand about this book, and one of them is this:

The first three chapters of Genesis deals with the creation of the world from a poetic perspective.

Now, before anyone asks, I want to get one thing straight: the Bible contains real history. The Gospels, for example – biographies of the life of Jesus, who truly lived and died and rose again on planet earth. The Acts of the Apostles – the history of the early Church. There are, of course, many historical books of the Old Testament as well.

A key to biblical interpretation is this: understand the genre that you are reading. You don’t read poetry (Like the Song of Solomon) as you would a historical narrative.  The problem with Genesis is that it is a hybrid of history and poetry (the first three chapters on Creation).

Catholics don’t run into the same sort of problems that some non-Catholic Christians do in dealing with creation from a scientific perspective (i.e. the young-earth theory, creation in six literal days, etc.). We see no conflict between faith and science. Some of the greatest scientists in the world were Catholics. A great number of craters on the moon, for example, are named for Jesuit scientist-priests who discovered them.

Science only describes how things work in God’s creation. But it can’t tell you the whys – the reason for our existence, and that of everything else. Genesis 1-3 does exactly that, using poetry. Genesis 1-3 is not a scientific document, or a documentary on how God created the universe and humanity. We know that it isn’t, for one simple reason (and there are more): the writer or writers of Genesis weren’t there, “in the beginning” to take notes!

But poetry can also communicate God’s truth, just as history can.

Christopher West, who has written so extensively on Pope John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, has a great way of explaining this: He says that there’s a big difference between what an optometrist (a scientist) tells you when looking in your eyes, and what your lover tells you when doing the same thing – unless, of course, you’re in love with your optometrist! But what both are seeing is true – just from different perspectives.

The writer of Genesis was a lover who sees the deep truths of why God made the world – and us. It was so that we could be in relationship with him.

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