THE THING IS,

Something true that I've been rediscovering and reimagining with friends and writers of many faith traditions:

faith is carnal.

If you look the word carnal up in the dictionary, you get these definitions:

–adjective

1. pertaining to or characterized by the flesh or the

body, its passions and appetites; sensual: carnal pleasures.

2. not spiritual; merely human; temporal; worldly: a

man of secular, rather carnal, leanings.

You get these synonyms:

sexual, sensual, erotic, lustful, lascivious, libidinous,

lecherous, licentious; physical, bodily, corporeal, fleshy.

You get this antonym:

spiritual.

The thing is, I'm not so sure that dictionaries contain complete definitions, and I'm not so sure that carnal is supposed to refer only to lust and lecherousness, and I'm not so sure that carnal is not spiritual.

When we write definitions of words, they get clarified and burdened and hindered by context, cultural connotations, the biased reasoning of the editing team, and, well, imperfect understanding.

Sensual. Not spiritual.

Hm.

The thing is, the central story of my spiritual life is pretty carnal.

God screaming out of a birth canal, God drinking wine at a friend's wedding reception, God hugging lumpy, leprous people, befriending prostitutes, God getting thirsty. God snot-nosed from weeping, God getting dirt under his fingernails, God laughing. God stooped down and bloodied up and stretched out on a cross, dying.

The story is pretty sensual, pretty scandalous.

The dictionary writers got something right then, but just that one thing wrong: the antonym thing.

But then, maybe we don't really want that term—carnal—following faith is.

Maybe we don't really want a carnal faith; because it's a little scary, and a lot scandalous, and maybe we just don't want to feel or risk that much.

The thing is, I'm not so sure we have a choice. It's a carnal faith or none at all. And, the (last) thing is, I'm a sucker for stories. So I'll take the carnal one. You?