Almost all acting curriculum includes physical training. Because acting is the art of embodying characters, actors are expected to learn even the kinds of human expression that are non-verbal, like how people use their bodies.
How do people walk? How do people stand? What does this say about a person?
I’ve walked and stood and had my physicality micro-analyzed in many an acting class. I’ve learned that I slouch, that I swing my left arm more than my right, and that I tend to look up into the sky when I’m walking. Some of these little details are just funny quirks—like the fact that my left arm swings a lot. And some of these little details are unexpectedly revealing: I slouch because I usually feel self-conscious, and I look up a lot because I get lost in wonder.
Our bodies say a lot about us, so it’s no wonder actors undergo a variety of physical trainings, from Viewpoints to Suzuki to Chekhov and beyond.
But I realized recently that, of course, physical methods don’t come from nowhere. They’re birthed from philosophies. For example, Viewpoints prioritizes ensemble awareness over individual psychoanalyzing. And that’s a particular kind of thinking.
I was curious to know what a Biblical perspective on physicality was, to see if it would enrich or change my perspective. So I started studying Theology of the Body by Pope John Paul II. Specifically, I’ve been mulling over these thoughts:
In Genesis, the fundamental division is not between body and soul, but between dust and breath (life)—between unformed matter and living beings.
Here’s how Genesis 2:7 expresses it: “The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being [or ‘living soul’].” To create Adam, God did not insert a soul into a body. Instead, Adam entered the world as a unified being, a ‘living soul’ brought to life by the breath of God.
First, Adam was dust. Then, God breathed life into him, and he was a person. He was never a vacant body awaiting a soul; he was dust, and then he was a unified life—a body and soul together. This is a challenging idea, because we typically think about the body and soul as divided. But Pope John Paul II goes even further to say that our bodies are sacraments: visible signs of the invisible. Our bodies express our spirits.
So then, our bodies really are expressions of our person, just as acting training would have us believe! But it’s not just that they’re connected; they’re intimately connected. We’re holistic beings with bodies and souls that affect each other. And while this is a beautiful truth, it’s also a challenging truth—especially when I reflected on how I and other actors are expected to treat our bodies.
When I condemn physical traits I don’t like, I’m not condemning an isolated item, but me. I’m condemning me. And when I, like many actors, think “I should just play whatever part I’m offered” or “I should just do what I’m asked to do”, I recognize now that I’ve reduced myself to just a body. I’m ignoring my soul, and believing I’m just an object that can be used as others see fit—all in the name of chasing my dreams and advancing my career.
With truth comes responsibility: I need to enjoy my body, not condemn it. I need to recognize its value and dignity, not reduce it to a tool of achievement. If I’m not comfortable with something, I have to say no. If I want to care for my emotional and mental wellbeing, I can’t simultaneously starve my body to fit an ideal type. How I treat my body is a direct detriment or benefit to my soul.
But while this has been personally and artistically challenging, it’s also been oddly empowering. It’s my responsibility, as someone who has been holistically redeemed by Christ, to work with the Spirit in restoring honor and value to myself.
And I hope this challenges and empowers you too. What are some ways you’ve divided your body and soul?
