This post is Part II of some reflections on the body, the prophetic voice and lament in our society. Part I is here.

I want to speak about Matty Healy with compassion, despite the barbed words and bizarre actions of his in the last year and a half. His case interests me because his music is often so very embodied, whether speaking of partaking in drugs, touching another person, or even vomiting into a toilet. These lyrics are unpolished and visceral, and consequently listening to The 1975’s music—particularly when seeing the spectacle of their live shows—is quite the transcendental experience.

Addiction and Compassionate Inquiry

Unfortunately in our society, addiction is a rather dirty word, and we do very little to actually help with the restoration and healing of those who struggle around us with varying addictions.

One of my favorite thinkers these days is Gabor Maté, a Hungarian-born physician, a descendent of Jews who were killed in Auschwitz, based in Vancouver, BC. Maté spent over a decade working with drug-addicted patients in downtown Vancouver in a residency and resource center called the Portland Hotel.

In many an interview he always poses the question, “We shouldn’t ask why the addiction, but instead why the pain?” He is a champion of what he calls compassionate inquiry, and during his years serving those most ill in Vancouver, learned to move past the culturally-ingrained disgust and revulsion for these addicted people, and see them for the inherently valuable, and yet broken people that they are. None of us is immune, either from pain, or from our feeble, temporary attempts to self-medicate it.

When I gave a guest lecture at Northwest University in early 2023, I chose to use Matty Healy as an example of a modern-day lamenter, for his bodily imagery in one of their 2016 songs. It is not in spite of his struggles with addiction, but because of it that I argue he is an excellent example of genuine cathartic lament, which I feel is severely lacking in our society and in our churches.

So, in typical prophetic fashion, just like Jeremiah, we will move from prophecy now to lamentation.

A Theology of the Body

I always will argue that our bodies are relatively neglected in our practice of faith, of spiritual disciplines, and often in our daily lives. We must live as integral beings, and this means to honor and express the inevitable outrage and deep sadness that we will feel in our lives. Good, proper lament can help us do three things: it will help us cultivate a “holy attentiveness” to our bodies; will inform our sense of justice, and help us center our focus on bringing the Kingdom of Heaven down to earth.

One of my favorite theological thinkers on the topic of the body is Baylor University’s Matthew Lee Anderson, who says, “This is the paradox of the body: The body is a temple, but the temple is in ruins. The incarnation of Jesus affirms the body’s original goodness. The death of Jesus reminds us of its need for redemption. And the resurrection of Jesus gives us hope for its restoration.” (Earthen Vessels: Why Our Bodies Matter to Our Faith, 2009, p. 35.)

Anderson argues that society’s view of the body tends to focus on a number of things such as sexual liberation; an “obsessive” focus on physical health or appearance; and a sort of “If it feels good (and doesn’t hurt anyone else) then do it” approach. What we need is a renewed Christian body ethic which is totally counter-cultural, both against wider secular society, and against broader American evangelical Christian culture.

Instead of splitting the soul from the body, and concentrating on only what is “spiritual” (and this is essentially Gnosticism, not Christianity), we should remember that we are integral beings; body, mind, and spirit are all one, there is no division or disconnect anywhere. Remember, both a spirit without a body and a body without a spirit equals death.

Why Lament?

In the 2001 film “The Fellowship of the Ring,” Frodo tells Gandalf, “I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.” This expresses what we so often feel—we long for a whole and pure world, one with no sin, oppression, sickness, and unwholeness. Gandalf, in response to Frodo’s deep sadness, says, “So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” We live in a fallen world, and that fact alone we should lament.

One well-known lament is in Psalm 22, and it utilizes intense physical imagery to convey the depth of the psalmist’s lament:

14 I am poured out like water,
and all my bones are out of joint;
my heart is like wax;
it is melted within my breast;
15 my mouth is dried up like a potsherd,
and my tongue sticks to my jaws;
you lay me in the dust of death.
16 For dogs are all around me;
a company of evildoers encircles me;
they bound my hands and feet.
17 I can count all my bones.
They stare and gloat over me;
18 they divide my clothes among themselves,
and for my clothing they cast lots.

Interestingly enough, a very similar poem called Ludlul bel nemeqi, or The Poem of the Righteous Sufferer was written at least 300 years before that Psalm was penned, in the Bronze Age society of Ugarit. It was written in cuneiform, a pre-alphabetic script, and also utilizes very similar or even identical imagery.

Tablet I:

105 The day was sighing, the night lamentation,
Every month endless silence, the year misery.
Like a dove I would moan all my days,
Like a singer I would wail my lamentation.
With perpetual weeping my eyes [. . . ],

110 My cheeks burned with tears for a fifth time.
The apprehension of my heart darkened my countenance,
Terror and panic turned my flesh pale.
My guts trembled in perpetual fear,
They were hardened as with the burning of fire.

Tablet II:

Through constant turning my sinews were loosened,
105 My limbs were splayed, just hanging apart.
I would spend the night in my own filth like an ox,
I would wallow in my own excrement like a sheep.

Before we turn back to Mr. Healy, what do we observe in these two different laments? We see a concretization of an emotion, the expression of an inward phenomenon through the physical, bodily manifestation of emotion.

Modern Lament:

One of the most moving songs Healy has penned lyrics for is called “If I Believe You.” (Link here if you’d like to watch and experience a taste of the live show.)

Verse 1:
I’ve got a God-shaped hole
That’s infected
And I’m petrified of being alone, now
It’s pathetic, I know
And I toss and I turn in my bed
It’s just like I lost my head (Lost my head)
And if I believe you
Will that make it stop?
If I told you I need you
Is that what you want?
And I’m broken and bleeding
And begging for help
And I’m asking you, Jesus, show yourself

Verse 2:
I thought I’d met You once or twice
But that was just because the dabs were nice and opening up my mind
Showing me consciousness is primary in the universe
And I had a revelation
I’ll be Your child if You insist
I mean if it was You that made my body
You probably shouldn’t have made me atheist
But, oh, I’m a lesbian kiss
I’m an evangelist
And if you don’t want to go to hell then Miss, you better start selling this
If I’m lost, then how can I find myself?

From these lyrics you can see why he is also a bit of a provocateur, but I have highlighted the bodily imagery he used in this song, some of which is identical to the very ancient Ugaritic “Poem of the Righteous Sufferer,” as well as to Psalm 22—tossing and turning in bed. A word to the wise—when he says “the dabs were nice” he is speaking of some kid of drug experience.

To me this song is so beautiful, in all its rawness and unfiltered brokenness. And whenever I have seen this song live, the crowd seems to become worshipful, desperate for satisfaction, for answers, for just a sign, for an encounter with Jesus. We would do well to write more songs of lament, and to sing them regularly in our churches.

Suppression of Emotions and Illness

Returning again to the quote from Anderson above, this is indeed the paradox of the body, and the struggle to find some kind of meaning in our suffering. Lament enables us not only to express these emotions, but to voice an outcry against injustice, moving us to confront God in prayer!

Maté speaks of how important it is not to suppress our emotions, particularly anger (emphasis mine):

“How does emotional repression predispose to illness? Since there is only one system, not four separate ones, whatever happens in any one part of it will affect the other parts. The repression of anger leads to the chronic secretion of stress hormones, such as cortisol, that suppress the immune system. The body’s defenses are disarmed against infection from the outside or malignant changes from within.’

When anger turns against the self, as it does in people unable to express it in a healthy way, hormonal imbalances can induce the immune system to mutiny against the body. Inflammatory autoimmune diseases of the joints, blood vessels and internal organs may follow, and even conditions like diabetes and Alzheimer’s. It would be rare to find an individual with any of these diagnoses whose lifelong emotional coping patterns are not stamped by difficulty with anger.”

In an ironic way, the repression of any emotion, but particularly painful ones like anger, sadness, injustice, etc., can actually harm us deeply in the long-term. Thank God we have the ability and freedom to express our lament! It is healthy and necessary both physically and spiritually, not to mention key to our mental health. Remember, all of these systems are intricately linked to one another.

Conclusion: Self-Compassion is Compassion

So how can we apply these principles to our own lives? It may feel overwhelming or even impossible. But just as I quoted from Maté above, we should start from a place of compassionate inquiry, of self-compassion and honesty with ourselves and with God. Only when we are able to be compassionate and understanding with ourselves can we be truly compassionate to our neighbor. We each have our own limitations and bodily weaknesses, and rather than fighting against them, we should honor them–for only God is limitless and free of weakness. Truly, the expression of honest and raw lament, the acknowledgment and honoring of our emotions ultimately sharpens our ears and softens our hearts to how God wants to use us in this world.