Spirit's gift of freedom comes to us as a conscious rhapsody of being chosen and choosing. We are journeyed through life by mysterious Spirit that will not let us be till we grasp our freedom, with fear and fascination, till we say yes or no. This is the glory of being human: experiencing being chosen to decide, and deciding, again and again, endlessly. This is the conscious rhapsody of our lives.
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.