They've discovered that such work has a lot to do with spirituality. It helps deepen contemplation and prayer. It can heal psychic wounds and promote integration of mind, body, and spirit. They've noticed that providing nurturing, non-threatening touch, as well as accepting and respecting the body, may encourage a loving relationship with one's self. As feelings of separation and fragmentation transform into a sense of wholeness, there also emerges the possibility of feeling more connected to others, to one's God, and to the universe.
The journey to share the gift of touch and to serve as a conduit for healing wasn't necessarily easy for these religious figures. But once they experienced the power of touch themselves, they decided to make it an integral part of their life and ministry. Sister Rosalind Gefre, a member of the Order of St. Joseph of Carondelet, recalls, "The first time I had a massage, I knew in my heart that's where God had called me to." She pursued it even when there were no sisters "doing such things." Her decision was tolerated but never encouraged. Even worse, when she passed out her massage fliers at a Twin Cities street fair in 1983, some people actually threw them back and laughed at her. "They looked at me like 'you dirty woman, don't you dare touch me.'" Within five years, people were standing in line to be massaged. Sister Rosalind went on to establish a series of massage centers for personal sessions, as well as instruction, in the St. Paul-Minneapolis area.
|Easing tension and relaxing retreatants physically quiets them down at every level and puts them in a really good place for prayer.|
A Protestant interim pastor in Maryland found that ministers would laugh awkwardly when he told them that he also worked as a massage therapist. He thought several things were probably running through their minds: "What kind of a kook is this? What's a preacher doing massaging? Maybe he's a pinko." Sometimes they asked him whether he worked on women, too. They figured that if he did, he massaged through clothing. When he told them he worked on them naked, they were horrified. For such conservative Christians, he says, "The body and the spirit are always at war with one another. They are afraid of their bodies and touch of any kind because they have never come to terms with their own sexuality." He sees massage as a way for people to break down that barrier, redeem the body, and praise God for it.
Other male clergy have reported that it was enlightening to learn that they could touch and be touched by people of the opposite gender without sexual implications. One of them is Zach Thomas, a Presbyterian minister who, while serving as a hospital chaplain, became a massage therapist and now, along with his wife, is a volunteer for the Godchild Project in Guatemala. For most of his life, he had associated spiritual growth only with retreats, Bible study, and churchgoing. Then, in 1983, while attending a conference in Switzerland, a Belgian therapist offered him a massage. He misunderstood and responded that it wasn't appropriate because he was married. She made it clear that she wasn't proposing sex. The way she touched him opened him to an entirely new experience of his body. "I felt subtle energies that were sensual, but they were integrated with the other energies," Thomas recalls. "I realized that my body had many more messages than just sexual ones."
Because a pastoral counselor who'd been sexually abused felt split off from part of herself, her psychotherapist recommended body therapy. After receiving massages from a graduate of the Baptist Theological Seminary in her city, she realized that the more she got to know herself through the sessions, the more she was able to embrace all of who she is.