How the phenomenology of pain allows us to rethink human incarnation
While the phenomenological tradition has carefully treated both the objective and the lived body, Espen Dahl explores a dimension of the body that does not fall neatly into either category, suggesting that philosophers should take account of the inner density of our organic, material body. By integrating the dimension of “flesh-and-blood” into the phenomenological notion of the body, Dahl argues that it is possible to reach a more adequate notion of human incarnation. The author explores the body in its subjectivity and its resistance, in activity founded on passivity, and in the ambiguous limits of its skin. The phenomenon of pain is given particular attention in this investigation, since pain is, as Dahl argues, what makes the body inescapably manifest in its otherwise hidden dimensions, including its ambiguity and vulnerability. Related to this focus, Dahl also engages with the Christian theological concerns of incarnation, pain, and hope. Phenomenologists have long drawn on this religious inheritance, particularly in what has been dubbed the French “theological turn.” In a similar manner, Incarnation, Pain, A Phenomenology of the Body draws on these theological sources while firmly holding to its philosophical commitments in methodological approach and analytic aims.
In this proposal for a phenomenology of the body, Dahl weaves together phenomenological and theological insights to articulate an understanding of the human body that transcends/grounds the typical phenomenological dualism of lived body and the objective body. This third category is what Dahl terms “flesh and blood,” which denotes the dense and opaque organic materiality that both our lived and objective bodies presuppose but cannot be completely identified with. Our flesh and blood may seem more objective than lived (e.g., I do not have conscious experience of controlling my liver; my liver just does what it does apart from my experience), but the presence of our flesh and blood becomes apparent by means of pain. As such, pain has a “unique capacity to make the body evident as inalienably ours” and “offers us a privileged phenomenological access into our incarnation” (200). In particular, acute bodily pain reveals the subjectivity and objectivity intrinsic to our bodies in that pain is something immediately familiar and foreign. Like the nails that pierced the hands and feet of Jesus, pain is something foreign to ourselves that we desire to escape from while simultaneously and inescapably being ours. The nails are foreign to Jesus, but they are in him; the pain is not part of who He is, but is irreducibly his own. “The body in pain is both something we are and have” (200).
Dahl elucidates this central argument by means of several chapters, ranging from prolegomena matters about the relationship between phenomenology and theology, terminological matters concerning the definition of embodiment and incarnation, and other important issues such as the nature of touch, the communication of pain, and the relationship between promise and hope.
This is self-consciously a work in phenomenology that is explicitly theological; Dahl makes striking connections between his philosophical arguments and biblical texts and figures throughout his work, such as the revelatory quality of pain in passivity seen in Paul’s thorn in his flesh, or the imperative to question in the midst of pain as seen in Job. Dahl’s phenomenology of the cross seen in chapter seven is particularly insightful.
Reading this work more familiar with theology than phenomenology, one can recognize that Dahl is more familiar with the thought of Husserl, Merleau-Ponty, Henry, and other significant figures in phenomenology than he is with more theological and exegetical streams of thought. This is seen sometimes in his quick references to biblical passages and not-so-accurate summaries (e.g., Luke 13:4-5 on 173), or his theological anemic treatment of the resurrected body of Christ (194–196). Theological points are particularly helpful for the latter issue, especially from a Reformed perspective. When faced with the seemingly contradictory nature of Christ’s resurrected body as being physical but nonetheless being able to appear and disappear, walk through closed doors, and other preternatural abilities, Dahl questions the phenomenological value of Christ’s resurrected body. Whereas Dahl and Falque, his main interlocutor for this section, see this as problematic for the physical body of Christ, certain theological perspectives are perfectly capable of affirming Christ’s human body with such preternatural abilities. Rather than supposing that Christ’s body takes on ghostlike/disembodied qualities, the nature of creation around Christ changes according to his will. A perfect illustration of this is when the disciples thought they saw a ghost walking on the water, it was actually Jesus walking on the water-turned-to-pavement according to the omnipotence and will of God. Similarly, Jesus’s body does not become ethereal when he walks through the doors that remain physical; the doors become as a mist to the glorified body of Christ. Space, time, and matter conform to the fully human and physical resurrected body of Christ. This may be a too theological perspective for Dahl’s project, but it nonetheless offers a perspective on an important matter in Dahl’s argument that he overlooks.
Overall, Dahl provides a fascinating study on the body, pain, and incarnation, weaving together phenomenology and theology in helpful and insightful ways. Sometimes his phenomenological elucidations can be dense and difficult, especially when discussing Husserl’s notions of hyle and morphe, but he is typically clear in his argumentation concerning his own position. As mentioned above, his theological treatments can be thin, but most are adequately helpful. Dahl has given a fruitful contribution to the theology and phenomenology of the body and should be consulted for any future work on the subject.