The Catholicism of my youth was at odds with our bodies. We were usually reminded that our bodies are “temples of the Holy Spirit”, implying that our human desires had no place in that temple. Further, discussions of sin tended to emphasize sexual sins, putting us further odds with our bodies, especially as puberty arrived.

I remember feeling some joy and relief when I first saw the film Chariots of Fire. At one point, Eric Liddel is trying to explain his love of running to his sister. He says: “God made me for a purpose…..But He also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

God in the midst of pleasure? What a revolutionary moment for me!

As time passed, I began to recognize that some profound spiritual experiences did not happen in churches but rather in the midst of sensory experience. The notion “live in the now” became popular and, to some extent, trivialized. But I did see that “living in the now” required me to be in touch with my senses.

Some of my greatest spiritual experiences have been sensual. Seeing Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Hearing Andrea Bocelli in concert singing Nessum Dorma. The coolness and emptiness of a pristine beach near the Skelligs in Ireland as I ran.

But suppose that I can connect with the God of my understanding on a regular basis just by paying attention to my senses? What might that look like?

I first realized that, to experience my God through my senses, I have to pay attention. I remember once I was walking home on my Good Friday walk. I was trying to figure out the whole notion of living in the now. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted several bird cages hanging from a house roof. The birds were singing! I stopped and listened to their concert. God was in that moment and, for a change, I paid attention. All I had to do was to stop, watch, and listen.

To be open to my senses, however, means that I have to accept unpleasant sensations. The pain from a 20-stitch gash in my leg (which, by the way, resulted from not paying attention!) The smell of burning dumps back in my hometown. (My mother, always finding God throughout her day, used to comment that the Sulphur in the air caused beautiful sunsets). The taste of sour milk. The sight of an immigrant detention center. The sound of my loved ones crying. I can’t be open to the good experiences while avoiding the unpleasant ones. It’s a package deal. Light has no meaning without darkness.

And, yes, God is there in the midst of sexual union in a profound way.

In the play The Fantastiks the narrator says “Celebrate sensation!” Indeed we should celebrate sensation. It can become a beautiful form of prayer.

When I look back on the notion of our bodies as temples of the Holy Spirit, I recognize that I did desecrate the temple of my body when I smoked three packages of cigarettes or a six-pack of beer each day with more on weekends. I desecrated this temple when I did not take medication for asthma in a proper way. But through prayer and meditation of the body, I have learned to honor that temple.

Here then are some of the recent entries in my prayerbook of the senses:

The desert and sky on a recent hike in the Franklin Mountains

Hearing my daughter practice her French horn

Tasting my wife’s homemade cookies

Hugs on Becky and Ben’s recent visits home

The fresh smell after the rare rainstorm in El Paso

For me to connect with God through my senses, I must pay attention. Jacob’s words stand as a reminder: “God was in this place and I did not know it!” (Genesis 28:16)

Reflection: How do you experience the God of your understanding through your senses?