Book Review: Faith Embodied: Science, Belief, and Behavior

By David Chase

M

uch of my career is sedentary and cerebral; even if yours is not, you likely spend a fair amount of leisure time on various mental and emotional entertainments. You might scroll on a phone or tablet through social media posts while snacking on a favorite food or sipping a preferred beverage, all blissfully unaware of the complex inner workings of your body that make those activities possible—unless something goes wrong. As I age, I find I cannot hear my students as clearly from across the room as I used to and pulling the all-night grading sessions I did in my twenties and thirties seems laughably implausible. And sometimes the aches and pains of being sedentary make concentration difficult. All of which, author Stephen Ko argues, points to the need to work toward a better understanding of how to preserve and use the body God gave us.

Faith Embodied by physician and pastor Stephen Ko takes readers on a journey of being fearfully and wonderfully made, as the scripture puts it. Rather than just viewing ourselves as spirits or minds that do not need the body to think, feel, or worship, Ko argues that the body is central to our existence.

Does that idea that you are more than just your mind and emotions, more than just your soul, astound you? Have you considered the implications of being a physical body first and foremost in your interactions with the world?

To me, that is the question that will determine what enjoyment or benefit you will get from Ko’s book. It seems obvious, but Ko goes deeper into the science behind our senses and activities.

Ko views our health and our choices about what to do with our body as “incarnational:” if we are made in the image of God, then what we do with our body reflects that image to others. If we care for our body, exercise, eat well, get medical help, and engage in other physical disciplines, we will better reflect our Creator by being able to do what God has called us to do more effectively.

Faith Embodied is part owner’s manual for the body, part discussion guide, and part scientific primer. It is a fusion that mostly works.

But sometimes, the book gets into murky waters. This is particularly the case when discussing difficult issues like chronic illness or obesity. Let’s take the concept of obesity and its connection to overindulgence as an example of this fusion of the spiritual, scientific, and moral dimensions of the book that invite interpretation: “In an age of gluttony and overindulgence, the spiritual discipline of fasting is countercultural and neglected” hints in the direction of restraint of our appetites. And later, Ko expresses that “Overindulgence can twist the goodness of God’s creation into idols that have authority over our lives.” I don’t think too many people I know would argue with those points in a Christian setting. It seems clear that gluttony is wrong and overindulgence can become an idol. Yet, when we focus on specific behaviors or individual people's lives, the idea becomes uncomfortable. Ko devotes one sentence to the “epidemic of obesity” and other health complications that result from overindulgence. Having encountered people who struggle with obesity and some who instead accept it as part of who they are, it seems like Ko should clarify his perspective on the issue, but demurs. 

Does research reveal that overindulgence is primarily a matter of willpower? Inability or lack of time to plan? Lack of access to healthy food? Lack of education about nutrition? Do genetic factors play a role? Can people be healthy (as some claim) at any weight or size? Since Ko calls gluttony and overindulgence "idols" that contribute to an "epidemic of obesity," perhaps it would be meaningful to clarify what exactly Ko is implying about personal responsibility and morality in relation to obesity. Anything less leaves room for harmful assumptions.

Which brings me to a larger point about the book: for a book rooted in the science of our bodies, there are times where Ko could offer up insights but seems to leave the question open. This is a tension I understand as an educator: if I make a declaration about the meaning of an artwork, it closes discussion, but if I raise a question, it invites discussion and reflection. The trick is to achieve a balance of informing people enough, so they arrive at reasoned conclusions rather than remaining frustrated by the lack of clarity or lack of information.

Other parts of the book feel like Ko is bold in his proclamations about the body and its functions. In discussing the purpose of pain and suffering and the ways that the body can both cause benefit and harm with the same system, Ko offers up a defense of the sensation of pain. If we cannot feel pain, for example, then we do not know when to stop actions that are self-destructive. Other bodily abilities come with benefits and drawbacks for the same ability. Vision can provide us with pleasures that we would otherwise not have but can also expose us to horrors and temptations. Touch can be healing or can be abusive; it can be sanctioned in the confines of mutual, sexual love in a marriage or it can be illicit outside of marriage. 

Each chapter contains examples of the phenomenon under discussion. In the poignant descriptions of patients who gradually lose their vision, or people who suffer because they cannot feel pain, Ko does what the title of his book suggests and embeds spirituality in the functions and dysfunction of our bodies.

Implicit in these discussions is a theology of suffering, and the book sometimes feels unsatisfactory: “God sometimes uses our pain and redeems our suffering for his purposes” is a statement Christians agree with. But when Ko outlines a “sudden to intense extreme pain disorder, which results in sudden, intense attacks of pain in various parts of the body” that are “triggered by changes in temperature, emotional distress, and even eating and drinking,” he retreats to the idea that pain can be God’s megaphone to get our attention. He further notes that “suffering produces character, character produces endurance, and endurance produces hope.” I couldn’t help but wonder what people with this disorder would think of this claim. Do they feel that their random spikes of pain at unpredictable stimuli are a process that ends in hope? Or is it meaningless suffering?

A child I spoke with who has a chronic, lifelong illness that requires often painful medical interventions on a weekly basis asked me if “God was punishing” her and why He would not take the illness away. How does pain as God's megaphone address her question? I credit Ko for not shying away from the problem of pain, but perhaps no answer this side of Heaven will be satisfactory.

Ultimately, Ko bases his book on the science behind the body and its senses of touch, taste, hearing, smell, and vision. He adds to these the science behind activities of breathing, loving (mostly not in a sexual context), creating, and resting. Each chapter ends with a set of reflection questions that could be individually or collectively answered. There would certainly be much to discuss if used as a book club or small group read. Perhaps that is how Ko's book shines, as the start of a conversation on the body and faith, not a complete set of answers.

Science and faith sometimes seem to have parted company with radically different views of the world and explanations for it. Ko’s book demonstrates that this need not be the case and that there is room for science to inform our behavior and treatment of our bodies as people of faith.

Photo by William Farlow on Unsplash

---

David Chase is a humanities professor who teaches world art and cultures. Additionally, he is the father of two kids who go on his art-viewing and other adventures. In his spare time, he goes birding, reads lots, and catches movies if he can!