my body is good: Christianity’s problem with dualsim

When I was still at my fundamentalist college, one of my girlfriends wanted me to go the library with her, because she wanted to “show me something.” I agreed to go with her, all the while wondering what in the world she found so fascinating in the library. She pulled me into the art history section, and pulled out a coffee-table-sized tome on Michelangelo. She flipped it open to what was obviously not a particular page and pointed to the picture of David.


I looked. “What?”

Her facial expression was priceless. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyebrows disappeared into her corkscrew-curly hairline. “What do you mean, what?!” She pointed again, more vigorously, to his privates, which had been very carefully marked over with a black sharpie. Someone had drawn boxer-briefs on David.

I shrugged. “They do that to all the art books.”

She flipped a few pages over, to a rendering of the Sistine Chapel– all the men wore boxers, and all the women had been covered over with what looked like knee-length wetsuits. “Why would they do this to art? It’s Michelangelo, for Pete’s sake!”

“I dunno, I guess the administration thinks some guys could look at it like it’s soft porn.”

She almost started sputtering in what I’m sure a writer would call righteous indignation. “This is not porn, Samantha. Whoever looks at this and sees “porn” has got something wrong in the head.”

“Well, let me ask you this: after Adam and Eve sinned, what was the first thing that happened? They hid because they were naked– and God made coats for them. [like every good KJV-only girl, I used the proper “coats” term, and not “aprons” or “garments.” Coats are obviously more modest than aprons, and “garments” is ambiguous, silly translators, trying to cloud meaning everywhere] So, don’t you think that means that we’re not supposed to go around looking at nakedness all the time?”

She looked at me cross-ways, frowning slightly. “I don’t think that’s what that means.”

I think I patted her on the shoulder, quite consoling, at this point. “What else could it?”


There have been an abundance of fantastic articles connecting the dots in fundamentalism’s and Christian Patriarchy’s emphasis on modesty. Writers have talked about how an over-emphasis on feminine modesty can lead to the “she was asking for it” mentality of rape culture, and how this emphasis can be equally damaging to men, as it paints them as base animals. There have even been articles suggesting that an over-emphasis on modesty is, in itself, a form of “soft porn.” One of my close friends once commented that her pastor constantly focusing on “modesty” only made it harder for the boys to not think about sex.

All of that is true, and all of that is a real, and very serious problem.

But there’s also an undercurrent that affected the words that came out of my mouth in that story. It’s one of the reasons why I can’t really get on board the Buddhist, Gnostic, or neo-Platonic bandwagons– they all seem to treat the physical, and therefore our physical bodies, as inherently bad– as something we are to endeavor to escape. This idea is encapsulated in statements like “You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” [which, by the way, is often incorrectly attributed to C. S. Lewis.] All of these views share dualistic traits– they have underpinnings that treat the mind-body-spirit unity as a problem.

Fundamentalists are told from nearly every corner that their body is bad. That their body is shameful. That our flesh is weak, and our emotions are not to be trusted. A phrase I heard very often growing up was “I trust you– but I don’t trust your flesh.” Our flesh–our body–is what drives us to sin. Our body, not our mind or our spirit, is what is vulnerable to temptation. We are trained to “bring the flesh under subjection.”

So, we dissociate. We disconnect. Our bodies are not really us— they are only things, and things we are supposed to think of as our opposition. Our body becomes our enemy, and only the most rigorous self-discipline will keep us from going astray. A Sunday school teacher once encouraged the gathered group of girls that if we ever got home one day, and our feet were dying to get out of our shoes, that we shouldn’t. Instead, we should leave our shoes on and not sit down for another thirty minutes, at least– so we can make our bodies “submit” to us.

While I’ve heard fundamentalists decry the “works-based Salvation” that they associate with things like asceticism and self-flagellation, the teachings I heard all my life were not that different. I was taught that fasting was not to bring us closer to God– fasting was meant to deny ourselves, to crucify ourselves on our cross. Paul’s declaration of “I die daily” was taken as literally as it could possibly be taken.

This mentality can be so damaging. It resulted in eating disorders by many of the women I knew in college. It created a derision and dismissal for anything earthly, anything physical, in our existence. “This world is not my home, I’m just a-passing through,” becomes a mantra that results in never recognizing all the goodness that exists here, in our physical reality. It ignores that God called his creation “Good,” in the fullest, most wonderful sense of the term. Good, as in both morally perfect and absolutely beautiful. This view of physical as our enemy forbids us from truly witnessing the beauty of a moment, or to appreciate our senses. Food becomes utilitarian, instead of the joy it could be. Music, because it cannot help but demand a response from our bodies, becomes a perversion. We lose the ability to be moved and transformed by art, and fundamentalists reduce it to kitsch.

But Jesus came to earth as a man, fully human. He was in all points tempted as we are– he hungered and thirsted. He mourned. He celebrated. His miracles, except for casting out demons, had nothing to do with the spirit and everything to do with our bodies. He made sure his followers were fed– and fed well. He sheltered them and protected them. He healed their bodies.

I’ve learned to cling to the wholeness of my self. That I am a mind, a spirit, and a body, and that these things are meant to work in conjunction with each other, not against. My body is not my enemy– and I can revel and delight. I can be sensuous. I can enjoy the feeling of my husband’s hands, I can sigh in wonder at a sunset, I can enjoy every single last bite of the chocolate cake that’s going to be in the oven soon. I take showers until I’ve used up every single drop of scalding hot water. I pull my blankets tighter on a lazy Saturday morning and refuse to get out of bed.

La dolce vita or carpe diem don’t have to be ‘heresies’ regulated to the decadent, the worldly– they can be a mantra I claim for myself.

Photo by Jay
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  • in my childhood fundamentalist school (named Grace Christian) the fifth grade teacher Mrs Cade went into the children’s encyclopedia under the First Thanksgiving illustration and felt-markered blouses on all the bare-breasted indian women.

    this sick mindset made a girl there feel ashamed of her blossoming.

  • “sixth” grade, i meant to say… that was well over thirty years ago…

  • So when I was in Florence, I saw boxer shorts with a picture of David’s penis right on the front, Lol.

  • I was not exposed to this kind of censorship and I am wondering if it was what was standard in QF/P families. Perhap I need to write a blog post about how my family was practically a one family nudist colony. Modesty was an external thing for us. In public, in church. In the home there was none and so while I grew up being ashamed of myself and my body, it was not specifically of my naked body or anyone else’s naked body. I also never understood why people would think nudity was automatically sexual. To me it wasn’t.

    • I remember being in the mindset that nakedness=porn, and I don’t understand that, now. The difference seems so obvious. I just chalk it up to brainwashing– you don’t need a rational explanation for that to work.

      Your experience is interesting to me– I’m drawing on my experiences, which are far from universal, but what I’m familiar with is that modesty is a big thing, even in private. In families I knew that had brothers and sisters, they followed all the same rules around the house… which is creepy, in retrospect.

      • Ok, then I definitely need to do a post about it. Yeah, we definitely had no such thing. In fact, although I still like quarter length sleeves and long swishy skirts, in college I was equally comfortable in cropped tank tops. The shame people report from being seen naked is honestly something I’ve never experienced.

  • Anodos

    Yes, this sense of modesty and teaching of the flesh was common in my church and home growing up.
    I remember seeing little clues in scripture and wondering if maybe the adults were missing something. “No,” I’d say to myself, “they are the adults and trained theologians. I’m just a kid. What do I know?”
    I think very often children are able to see the truth more clearly than theologians.
    The biggest clue was as you say.. God creating the physical and calling it “good”. God even got his hands dirty to create us. He could have spoken us into existence like everything else, but he chose physical labor.
    Jesus had a physical body even after being raised from the dead. It was “glorified”, but it was physical. He ate with this body after his resurrection, he walked and talked with people, and it still bears the scars of his death. People touched him and he was solid. He ascended to heaven in a physical body and is now seated _in heaven_ with his physical body. He will be in this physical body with us forever.
    He has redeemed the physical, and one day that will be consummated with the “new earth”. A real physical earth that we will live on. Jesus will make his new home the new earth with us. Heaven will transplant itself to this physical and spiritual place. The perfect redemption and union of the spiritual and physical.
    We are spiritual and physical. We always will be. Eternity will not remove the physical, it will strengthen it.
    Look around at God’s creation. You see diversity, vibrancy, life, colors, movements, action. This should tell us something about his nature. When Jesus redeems, it causes more diversity, more vibrancy. When our enemy provides a false “redemption”, it creates conformity and dullness. Everyone starts to look the same, talk the same, wear the same, listen to the same. Diverse personalities are squelched and everyone is slowly turned into “zombies”.
    The whole modesty movement does this very thing. Girls are encouraged to wear modest clothes, and suddenly diversity is lost. Girls are encouraged to have a meek and quiet spirit, and their vibrant personalities are replaced with soft voices that all sound the same. When asked, “why?” their answers all sound the same. I could go on, but you get the idea.
    Something is being robbed and destroyed, and so many are blind to it.

  • sometimes after I read some of these blogs I almost get happy that my mother got saved in the charismatic movement! I think we should take into account the same mindset as the whole riches thing. It is not money that is the problem but the love or idolization of money that is the problem. What I am hearing here is really the same old thing. Whatever you prize MORE than Christ becomes a problem. Modesty or immodesty. By the way, why did God bother to make us physical beings and declare that it was good? and if we are truly transformed and sanctified through salvation, grace and the walking out of our faith would that not include our bodies? By the way, good point about the emotions. My feeling is that we do need to be careful when trusting our emotions to an extent. I see them as more of a barometer of what is going on around me but not necessarily the whole answer. So I take into account what is going on and I try not to base all of my decisions wholly on how i feel.

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  • Jen A

    That teacher telling you to ‘make your bodies submit by wearing painful shoes and standing up for a half hour longer’ ranks as one of The stupidest things I’ve ever heard. I’ve always thought that the whole flesh-is-weak thing was just wrong. If flesh is so weak why is it so hard to break addiction? Why is it not just super easy to avoid temptation? It’s the mind that is weak and it becomes weaker if you starve it of knowledge.