The Angels keep their ancient places
Turn but a stone and start a wing!
'Tis ye, 'tis ye, your estranged faces
That miss the many-splendored thing.
~ Francis Thompson
Christianity arrives in a Platonic landscape where the body is a husk around a soul, imperfect and soon to be shrugged off. For some pagans, the Christian notion of a resurrected body was distinctly odd, especially as there was no possibility of floating off somewhere more etheric. In the next life you still had a body, just not that one that slowly became dust... The body is not a tomb, it's a pleasure, and it goes where we go because we're completely bound up with it.