“And the man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed.” Gen 2:25
In our journey through the “Theology of the Body,” we have talked about the importance and dignity of every human person, the fact that we are created to find fulfillment in giving ourselves in love, the nature of love as self-donation, and the nature of sacramental marriage as a permanent form of that self-donation. Today, through the example of Adam and Eve, we’re taking a closer look at how that self-donation plays out — or rather, how it played out in Eden, when love was pure, before sin entered the world and distorted our relationships (and pretty much everything else.) It becomes the love that, since our redemption in Christ, we can once again strive to live with the help of his grace.
So, let’s talk about nakedness.
Remember, one of the primary concepts of the “Theology of the Body” is that the body reveals the person. Our bodies are not just these “things” that our souls ride around in. They are us, and it is through them that we reveal ourselves to the world. So, the body is sacred, just as we — as image and likeness of God — are sacred.
So, what does this nakedness of Adam and Eve reveal about their person, about their spiritual state and their love? Well, Adam and Eve lived in a state of complete innocence. They loved each other completely and perfectly. St. John Paul II said that “the gaze between them was a gaze free of manipulation or domination.” They were not just looking at an exterior, at a shell. Their vision was deeper, what the Holy Father called an “interior gaze.” They saw the fullness of the dignity of the person revealed in each other’s bodies. They saw the purity of their souls and their intentions. They beheld each other — all of each other — with awe and reverence.
St. John Paul II called this the concept of “Original Nakedness.”
When you’re naked, you’re exposed. You’ve got nothing and nowhere to hide. You’ve got no pockets. Everything is visible, nothing is withheld. This is true in the literal sense. It is also true in this deeper, spiritual sense. Adam and Eve had nothing to hide from each other. All of their intentions were visible, which was beautiful because all of their intentions were good.
And, perhaps most important, this inner vision, this unity of the dignity of the body with the dignity of the person, meant that there was no possibility of reducing the person to merely a body — a body to be used for one’s own personal pleasure without regard for the dignity of the person as a beloved child of God.
All of this this, then, makes the other person safe in their beloved’s presence. To be naked is to be completely vulnerable. For Adam and Eve, there was no danger in that vulnerability, because their relationship was one of constant affirmation of the inherent goodness of the other.
Let’s take this to an even more personal level. What are the aspects of ourselves that we are inclined to want to hide? The parts we fear that, if they were revealed, would cause others, even our loved ones, to reject us? Our insecurities, our jealousies, our struggles with anger or sadness or despair?
How transparent do we want to be about that? Do we really believe that, if we show our truest selves to our loved ones, they will still love us? Or do we believe we have to wear masks, to hide our struggles and anything that might make us appear weak or flawed?
I ran across a great quote from our great St. JPII the other day. It said, “We love the person complete with all his or her virtues and faults, and up to a point independently of those virtues and in spite of those faults. The strength of such a love emerges most clearly when the beloved person stumbles, when his or her weaknesses or even sins come into the open. One who truly loves does not then withdraw his love, but loves all the more, loves in full consciousness of the other’s shortcomings and faults, and without in the least approving them.”
This is what real love, what real intimacy is. It is the safety of being completely “seen” by another, and of knowing that the gift of self is so complete, so total, that we will be loved and accepted even in our weakest moments.
Isn’t that really one of the deepest desires of the human person? To be seen and loved in our totality?
This came naturally to Adam and Eve before the fall. With the advent of sin, it became a struggle. It makes no sense to make ourselves vulnerable before people who are not safe for us in our vulnerability.
Remember that this is how our God loves us — as we are, with all of our flaws and secrets and “ugliness.”
And, with the graces won for us in the redemption, we can once again learn to love each other this way as well.
Bonacci is a syndicated columnist based in Denver.
