Flesh

The Hebrew basar denotes flesh as living tissue, expanding by extension to signify the entire body, an individual person, or a kinsman; across the Hebrew Bible, "all flesh" encompasses every living creature. Older lexicons derived the noun from the root bsr, "to bring good news"⁠—attributing to it a primary sense of freshness⁠—though modern lexicographers approach this etymological link with caution. In the New Testament, the Greek sarx carries equivalent physical meanings, while Paul additionally employs it to denote carnality or fallen human nature.

A superficial reading takes Paul at his most compressed: "flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; neither doth corruption inherit incorruption" (1 Corinthians 15:50). Read in isolation, the verse appears to abandon physical embodiment at death. Restoration theology, however, understands the phrase as a critique of mortal flesh⁠—a biological state sustained by blood and bound to decay⁠—and maintains that the physical body itself will be raised, quickened by spirit into an incorruptible order of life.

One Flesh

In the creation narrative, when the woman is brought to the man, he says, "This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh," and the narrator concludes, "Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh" (Genesis 2:23-24). It has long been recognized that the passage implies matrimonial bonds. Less often noticed is that "bone and flesh" is ordinary Hebrew for a blood relative, the phrase Laban uses when he welcomes his nephew Jacob. To become one flesh is to form a new family, as close as kin by birth. Latter-day Saints carry that bond beyond death in the sealing of husband and wife, so that the kinship Genesis names in the flesh is meant to last as long as the flesh does, which Restoration doctrine holds to be forever.

Flesh That Rises

Ezekiel's valley of dry bones retells the creation of the first man. The Lord promises the bones, "I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live" (Ezekiel 37:6), as in Genesis the man is formed from the ground and then receives breath. Job's hope rests on the same flesh: "though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God" (Job 19:26). The Book of Mormon gives the most concrete account, in which spirit and body are "reunited again in its perfect form; both limb and joint shall be restored to its proper frame" (Alma 11:43). Joseph Smith resolved the apparent conflict with Paul by distinguishing kinds of body. He taught that flesh and blood cannot go where God dwells, and that flesh and bones quickened by the Spirit of God can.

A Heart of Flesh

In Ezekiel, flesh stands for a heart capable of feeling, responsiveness, and moral agency⁠—an image that supplies a vital measure for technologies that act directly on the physical body.

The Lord promises Israel that, "I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh" (Ezekiel 36:26). Far from denigrating physical embodiment, the prophetic metaphor contrasts rigid, unyielding insensibility with a receptive, living organ. Flesh in this sense is not an impediment to spiritual life, but its very instrument⁠—the physical substrate through which empathy, grace, and divine law are experienced and expressed.

When technology intervenes in human biology⁠—whether through neurological interfaces, genetic modification, or mechanical prosthetics⁠—Ezekiel’s standard poses a crucial question: do these interventions harden human nature into something mechanical, detached, and insensate, or do they restore and expand our capacity to feel, love, and connect? Enhancements that deaden human sympathy or optimize for ruthless efficiency risk replacing the heart of flesh with a new kind of stone, whereas technologies that heal cognitive frailty, relieve sensory deprivation, or extend emotional depth serve the prophetic vision of vitalizing human embodiment.

Dynamic Embodiment

Paul complicates and enriches this materialist framework in his discussion of bodily transformation. He observes that "all flesh is not the same flesh: but there is one kind of flesh of men, another flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds" (1 Corinthians 15:39). Writing to a Corinthian audience steeped in Greek philosophical skepticism regarding physical resurrection, Paul insists that embodiment is not a single, uniform state, going on to describe heavenly and earthly bodies of differing glory (doxa).

Read through a Restoration lens⁠—where all spirit is matter⁠—Paul’s taxonomy reveals that the physical form is intrinsically dynamic. Mortality represents merely one configuration of flesh among many. The goal of human existence is not the dematerialization of the self into abstract spirit, but the transition from a corruptible, animal physical state to a celestial, glorified one. Technologies that alter, repair, or elevate our current physical nature do not violate the sanctity of the body; rather, when guided by prudence and compassion, they align with the ongoing work of preparing mortal flesh to inherit higher orders of life, capacity, and feeling.

See also: Body, Carnal, Immortality, Resurrection, Soul, Superhuman, Theosis, Transhuman, Uploading