Coffee and Ideology:

The One-Dimensionality of Cultural Capitalism

In chapter four of Herbert Marcuse’s book One-Dimensional Man Marcuse focuses on the ways in which the political, social, and cultural domains of human life develop in a one-dimensional society. This one-dimensional society of course takes the form of our late-capitalist society in the Western world. Marcuse’s concept “one-dimensional” can be thought of in terms of a two dimensional box. This box represents the ideological space that structures society. Here, Marcuse draws on various concepts to support his thesis that the ‘Happy Consciousness’ “sustains a society which has reduced – and in its most advanced areas eliminated – the more primitive irrationality of the preceding stages, which prolongs and improves life more regularly than before.” Here, Marcuse echoes the work of his contemporaries who see the dangers of instrumental rationality. The story of the Frankfurt School has shown the dehumanizing, and deeply degrading, effects of instrumental rationality, whether it is embedded in the propaganda of positivism, actualized in capitalism, or radicalized under fascism. In our late climate of cultural capitalism, it appears that Marcuse’ thesis could not be any more relevant.  

Although it is unclear whether Slavoj Žižek has been influenced by Marcuse, Žižek has given an interesting example that appears to show how the ‘Happy Consciousness’ works:  

“You know, when you enter a Starbucks store, it’s usually always displayed in some posters their message: ‘Yes, our cappuccino is more expensive than others,’ but, then comes the story: ‘We give 1% all our income to some Guatemalan children to keep them healthy, for the water supply for some Saharan farmer, or to save the forest, to enable organic growing for coffee, or whatever or whatever.’”

Although it appears to be all well-and-good to support farmers from the “developing world”, or the environment for that matter, this reflects the problem with ideology. In this instance, the actual relationship between Starbucks and the Guatemalan workers is concealed by a message of good-will, charity, and ecology. And although the act of purchasing a cappuccino at Starbucks might appear to be a harmless morning ritual, it perpetuates the reality of worker relations in Guatemala who are under the corporate control of a company that operates out of self-interest (which is distinguished by the accumulation of capital). It is in this moment that the Happy Consciousness is fulfilled.

Here, the Happy Consciousness is represented by the people who feel happy about drinking a cappuccino (one that has the apparent potential to alleviate social or environment ills). After all, the Happy Consciousness is characterized by rationality, “that the real is rational and that the system delivers the goods”. In this case, the ‘real’ is the cappuccino that paradoxically contributes to a system of domination and exploitation. This system represents the one-dimensional character of a society that leaves little room for authentic creative expression in social, political, or even cultural, spheres of human life. 

Restoration and Rejuvenation: An Investigation of the Ben Ezra Synagogue...

The Ben Ezra Synagogue is a recently restored synagogue located in the heart of Old Cairo. It is a beautiful religious structure with a fascinating history. Named after the Biblical prophet Ezra, the Ben Ezra Synagogue represents a significant development in the history of the Jewish community of Old Cairo. I argue that due to its continued historical preservation, its association with the Cairo Geniza, and finally its recent restoration, the Ben Ezra Synagogue is a profound indication of the immeasurable longevity of Jewish culture and history. Here, I have two objectives: first I intend to explore the history of the Ben Ezra Synagogue, and then I would like to analyze its role in contemporary Egypt, and its modern restoration. I begin by briefly connecting the Ben Ezra Synagogue with the Cairo Geniza in order to establish a historical framework.

            The Ben Ezra Synagogue is famous for its storage room the “Cairo Geniza”. As Goitein remarks, “in medieval Hebrew, geniza, or rather beth geniza, designates a repository of discarded writings”[1]. The Cairo Geniza, containing thousands of documents, including letters, wills, utensils, and manuscripts, is a marvelous piece of history. Its discovery by European and Near Eastern scholars, such as Rabbi Solomon A. Wertheimer, David Kaufmann, Solomon Schector, Charles Taylor, and others, in the nineteenth century, led to a relocation of the majority of the documents to such places as the Bodleian Library in Oxford, the University of Cambridge, and various libraries in the United States and Europe[2]. Indeed, the discovery of the Cairo Geniza played a significant role in the history of medieval Jewish scholarship: scholars were finally able to piece together a history of the medieval world from the point of view of the Jews themselves. It appears that most of what we know about the Jews of Old Cairo and the surrounding areas can be attributed to the documents found in the Cairo Geniza.

            The Ben Ezra Synagogue lies within the Fortress of Babylon in Old Cairo. Old Cairo has a long history, dating as far back as the reign of King Meneptah in 1392 BCE[3]. The city is situated close to where the Nile Valley and the Delta meet. For the ancient Egyptians, this area was known as Kher-Aha. Kher-Aha was purported to have been the site of a mythical confrontation between the ancient Egyptian deities Seth and Horus[4]. Kher-Aha was also one of the locations of the ancient Heliopolitan Nile festivals[5]. As Gadwat points out, most scholars associate Kher-Aha with Old Cairo[6]. Similarly, the Jewish heritage of Old Cairo has an extensive history. According to local Jewish legend, Moses frequented the area of Old Cairo before leaving Egypt for the Exodus[7]. Moreover, the Jewish people have had a long standing relationship with the land of Egypt. From the stories of the early patriarchs, such as Abraham, Joshua, and Moses, to the philosophical contributions of the Jewish philosopher Maimonides, the history of the Jews in Egypt can be characterized as an incredible intersection of politics, history, culture and religion. Here I would like to briefly reflect on the history of the Jewish people of Old Cairo, and the historical development of the Ben Ezra Synagogue.

While under Roman rule, Old Cairo saw the construction of the Fortress of Babylon and the completion of an ancient canal that connected Old Cairo to the Red Sea by way of the Nile river[8]. In the fourth century, under the influence of the Emperor Constantine, the Roman Empire was profoundly Christianized. However, this proved to be disadvantageous for the Jewish community living in Babylon, or Old Cairo. For instance, in the early part of the seventh century, the Byzantine Emperor Heraclius’ efforts to forcefully convert the Jews of Babylon resulted in deep religious tensions between Byzantines, Christians, and Jews in the city of Old Cairo[9]. In the middle of the seventh century, the Byzantine Empire’s control over Egypt was threatened by the emerging power of the Umayyad Caliphate. For Jews and Christians alike, the advancing Arab armies were received with favour[10].

The Arab invasion of Egypt in 641 CE, led by ‘Amr ibn al-‘As, the servant of the Khalif’ Umar,  resulted in the establishment of Islamic capital city of al-Fustat, which today forms part of Old Cairo. The Coptic Christians, who despised their Byzantine rulers, aided the Arabs in their invasion, and helped them to establish their regime in Egypt[11]. Under Islamic rule, many of Egypt’s cities saw the construction of Islamic palaces, mosques, and other Islamic institutions. Under the leadership of the Umayyad Caliphate, the ancient canal was repaired, thus enabling the transportation of goods from al-Fustat to the Arabian Peninsula[12]. Although the time of the Umayyad and Abbasid regimes in Egypt consisted of periods of commercial, economic, and religious growth, the relationship between Jews, Coptic Christians, and their Islamic rulers, was not always the most stable. The uneasiness between the Arabs and Coptic Christians often resulted in an imposition of fines[13]. The coercion of the Coptic Christians led to the development of an interesting local legend surrounding the origins of the Ben Ezra Synagogue.  

It is also important to note that the fifteenth century historian Ibn Duqmaq referred to what has recently been called the Ben Ezra Synagogue as the synagogue of the Palestinians[14]. According to local legend, “Ahmed ibn Tulun, the governor of Egypt, anxious to acquire funds for his military plans, demanded such a high tribute from the Coptic patriarch Michael that the Christian leader was forced to sell the Church of St. Michael to the Jews, who promptly converted it into a synagogue”[15]. However, the current archaeological evidence suggests otherwise. Evidently, this legend does not take into account the fact that there were other synagogues in the area[16]. Furthermore, the archaeological evidence at the site of Ben Ezra reveals evidence of previous synagogues buried below, indicating that the Jews had an earlier presence at the site[17]. Under Islamic rule, the Egyptians of Old Cairo were forced into signing a treaty that restricted them from constructing new places of worship[18]. However, this treaty also allowed them to maintain their older places of worship. This appears to be a part of the reason why the newly restored Ben Ezra Synagogue contains the remains of older synagogues below it.

Under the Islamic leadership of the Fatimite Khalif, al-Hakim in the tenth century, the Jews of al-Fustat experienced a great deal of persecution. Under al-Hakim, Jews were expected to wear yellow clothing, and were restricted from riding either horses or mules[19]. Jews were also expected to wear bells in public places such as baths[20]. Moreover, according to Goitein, during this time, al-Hakim “ordered the destruction of the Christian and Jewish houses of worship, including the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem, and as we know positively, the synagogue of the Palestinians of Fustat was demolished and its bricks and timber were sold”[21]. It’s a wonder how the synagogue of the Palestinians could have survived such a tumultuous history. However, in the eleventh century, Christians and Jews were permitted to repair their places of worship. As Quesne indicates, “in 1039-41 the synagogue was rebuilt by the wealthy Jews of medieval al-Fustat”[22]. According to Quesne, the building material used to repair the synagogue was mainly brick[23]. The furnishings were made with different kinds of wood, including “sycamore, acacia, and palm”[24]. The marble columns were reused and had been taken from elsewhere[25]. It also seems that it was at that time that the Geniza chamber was added onto the synagogue[26]. Therefore, the synagogue of the Palestinians emerged out of a deeply Islamic context. The synagogue of the Palestinians retained much of its character for the next 800 years until its renovation in 1893[27]. It has only been in the last few centuries that the synagogue has bared the name of Ben Ezra.

Interestingly, the Ben Ezra Synagogue was thought to be a Coptic church[28]. Indeed, because of its similarity with the surrounding Coptic churches of Old Cairo, the Ben Ezra Synagogue has frequently been misidentified as a Coptic church. The similarity of the Ben Ezra Synagogue with the surrounding Coptic churches appears to be the result of an influence of Coptic designs and craftsmanship, as well as the “desire to avoid attracting undue attention from the authorities”[29]. Of course, given the nature of the status of the Jews in Islamic Egypt during the medieval period, and the history of the Jews under such tyrannical rulers as al-Hakim, it would appear that their tendency to avoid the authorities would have only been natural. Thus, the synagogue would have retained an element of subtlety, blending in with its environment. Some of the other stylistic influences on the synagogue include an Islamic influence, especially on the floors, carpets, ornaments, and fixtures[30]. Quesne states that the Ben Ezra Synagogue “incorporates some unusual features that perhaps hint at a local tradition of medieval Jewish architecture”[31]. Moreover, most of the architecture was typical of Jewish architecture from around the Diaspora[32]. All of this shows that the synagogue architects of Old Cairo were often influenced by the artistic stylings of the surrounding culture. Moreover, the architects were generally not expected to follow many religious regulations while designing a synagogue. The architects were only required to abide by these rules: “the house of worship should ‘provide an ample interior space suited to the size of the congregation, well-lit so that the Torah could be read and the precentor seen, and providing places for rest during the lengthy services”[33].  Hence, there was potential for stylistic creativity in the creation of medieval synagogues.

The Ben Ezra Synagogue’s role in the Jewish community of Old Cairo is fascinating. As Quesne states, “it was the oldest surviving synagogue in Egypt and provided a focus for the community’s beliefs and identity”[34]. At the Ben Ezra Synagogue, Jews would gather to celebrate the minor lunar holiday of Rosh Hodesh, and the feast days of Passover and Sukkot[35]. During Solomon Schector’s work at the Cairo Geniza, Schector was often quite distracted by the “the constant intervention and demand for tips”[36] from those attending the festivals at the Ben Ezra Synagogue. Furthermore, as Quesne states, “the few surviving descriptions of the manner in which these festivals were celebrated conjure up chaotic scenes of public rejoicing”[37]. The legends of Ben Ezra Synagogue evoke a similar sense of religious identity, especially in terms of the synagogue’s religious centrality. Although the historical evidence has often been overlooked in the formation of local legends and stories, they remain vital to the cultural expressions of the Jewish community in Old Cairo. For instance, the Ben Ezra Synagogue’s association with the Hebrew prophets Moses, Ezra and Elijah, are not always historically clear, but it represents the Jewish community’s interest in the synagogue as a continuation of the Jewish narrative in Egypt from the days of the Biblical stories of Genesis. The Ben Ezra Synagogue Facebook page suggests that the synagogue “is located on the site where the baby Moses was found”[38]. Similarly, an inscription in one of the mastabas indicates that “a legend of the people of this city tells that Moses, our Master, has prayed in this place and it is so written in the Torah”[39]. It appears that for the Jewish community of Old Cairo, the significance of the Ben Ezra Synagogue lies partly in its association with local folklore and legends.  

The restoration and preservation of the Ben Ezra Synagogue was a relatively recent affair. Interest in the restoration of the site was sparked by the 1979 Camp David Accords, whereby the Egyptian President Anwar Sadat and the Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin signed a peace treaty in an effort to promote Egyptian and Israeli relations. As Lambert states, “the Ben Ezra Synagogue project grew from the Camp David agreement”[40]. One of the priorities of the Camp David Accords was to promote the preservation and restoration of ancient structures. In order to begin work on the Ben Ezra Synagogue Restoration Project, the Egyptian Government hired Phyllis Lambert and Jacques Dabilard to organize an interdisciplinary team of architects, archaeologists and historians to prepare for the work. The project began in 1989 and was completed in 1991. The project was quite complex and consisted of a detailed plan. While the plan was primarily focused on making repairs to the interior and exterior of the building, the plan’s emphasis was to maintain as much of the historical foundations as possible without compromising its historical integrity[41]. At the outset, the project focused on immediate repairs, especially on areas damaged by water, and the roof, which was waterproofed and replaced with new mortar[42]. Other areas of work included the restoration of the columns, ceilings, and other structures[43]. The finished result is superb. The recent images of the restored synagogue reveal a wonderfully renovated religious structure. The colours and décor are particularly beautiful. In 1998, due to an increased interest in tourism, the Egyptian government continued to preserve historical areas and monuments, including the area within the Fortress of Babylon in Old Cairo[44]. However, sadly only eleven Jews remain in Old Cairo[45], and it appears that the Ben Ezra Synagogue functions primarily as a museum, and as a place of pilgrimage.  

From its origins from within the context of the medieval Islamic city of al-Fustat in Old Cairo, to its recent refurbishment in the wake of the Camp David Accords, the Ben Ezra Synagogue holds a significant place in the history of Old Cairo. The Ben Ezra Synagogue is also a very important site for the history of the Jewish community in Old Cairo, especially in regards to its relationship with the Cairo Ganiza, and its association with the stories and legends of Biblical prophets. Indeed, the history of the Ben Ezra Synagogue is a profound testament to the vibrant and long-lived culture of the Jewish people. It continues to be a place of special importance. However, its function as a religious institution has declined in recent years, and it appears to be used mainly as tourist attraction. Perhaps one day the Ben Ezra Synagogue will see the light of a new moon, and will be reinvigorated by a renewed religiosity among the young Jews of Egypt.

Bibliography

“Ben Ezra Synagogue.” facebook.com. Last accessed March 25 2016.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Ben-Ezra-Synagogue/132554776783262.

The Ben Ezra Synagogue does not appear to have an official website; therefore, Facebook appears to the primary location for commercial information about the Ben Ezra Synagogue.

Cohen, Mark R. Under Crescent And Cross: The Jews In The Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton

University Press, 2008. http://quod.lib.umich.edu.ezproxy.library.uvic.ca/cgi/t/text/text-

idx?c=acls;idno=heb00003.0001.001

Mark R. Cohen’s book is an important work that aims at arriving at a better understanding of Jewish-Arab relations in the medieval period. It works with some important themes such as the treatment of Jews under Islamic rule, Jewish and Christian relations, and the political, economic, and social functions of the Jews in the context of medieval Islam. I use this book to in order to elucidate the context of Jews living in al-Fustat in the medieval period. Indeed, this book is a useful contemporary resource for anyone engaged with medieval Islamic law, and Jewish relations in the medieval period.

Dalibard, Jacques. “ben ezra synagogue cairo.” http://ip51.icomos.org/. September, 1981.

Last accessed March 22, 2016.

http://ip51.icomos.org/~fleblanc/projects/19791983_ICOMOS/p_icomos_ben_ezra_reco

mmendation.pdf

Jacques Dalibard’s document contains important information on the restoration Ben Ezra Synagogue, as well as some other textual material and imagery regarding the restoration plans for the Ben Ezra Synagogue. I use some of the information to get a sense of the effort and work that went into the actual preservation and restoration of the synagogue. Dalibard’s document, while lengthy and laborious, is a valuable historical record for a scholarly investigation of the restoration of the Ben Ezra Synagogue. Dalibard was also a key figure, along with Phyllis Lambert and Francois Lablanc, in the Ben Ezra Synagogue project.

Gabra, Gawdat et al. The history and religious heritage of Old Cairo: Its fortress, churches,

synagogue, and mosque. Cairo; New York: American University in Cairo Press, 2013.

Gawdat Gabra’s book is a beautifully illustrated compendium of the history of Old Cairo and its people. It examines the history of area from the ancient Egyptian and Roman periods up until the establishment of al-Fustat by the Muslims. The history discussed here is based around the documents found in the Cairo Genizah. This book is useful for exploring the documents of the Cairo Genizah in a comprehensive way (more so than Worman’s article which pertains more towards the specialist than the general reader).

Goitein, S. D. A Mediterranean Society: The Jewish Communities Of The Arab World As

Portrayed In The Documents Of The Cairo Geniza. Berkeley: University of California

Press, 1967-1993,

http://quod.lib.umich.edu.ezproxy.library.uvic.ca/cgi/t/text/textidx?c=acls;idno=heb00888.0001.001

S. D. Goitein’s classic text, A Mediterranean Society, is a foundational study of Jewish communities throughout the Mediterranean. Goitein’s text is comprised of six volumes. Goitein draws on the documents and artifacts found at the Cairo Geniza to create a fascinating historical account of the Jews living in the Mediterranean during the medieval period. Goitein’s historical account consists of an analysis of the various Jewish communities and individuals of the Mediterranean as they are described in the documents found in the Cairo Geniza. These documents include letters, legal claims, and sacred texts. Goitein’s text is an invaluable resource for any discussion or research on medieval Jews in the Mediterranean, especially the Ben Ezra Synagogue in particular. 

Jazeera, Al. “Egypt’s Community Buries Deputy Leader.” aljazeera.com. Last accessed March

25 2016. http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2014/03/egypt-jewish-community-

buries-deputy-leader-201431295947206212.html.

A fascinating little article highlighting the present state of the Jewish community in Old Cairo.

Lambert, Phyllis. Fortifications and The Synagogue: The Fortress of Babylon and the Ben Ezra

Synagogue, Cairo. Montreal: Canadian Centre for Architecture, 2001.

Phyllis Lambert’s Fortifications and The Synagogue is a wonderful book that illustrates the history of the Ben Ezra Synagogue from the 11^th century up until the present day. This book discusses the details surrounding the recent restoration of the Ben Ezra Synagogue after the Camp David Accords of 1979, where the Egyptian government made a movement to conserve and preserve historical monuments. Phyllis Lambert played a key role in Canada’s involvement in the restoration process of the Ben Ezra Synagogue. The book consists of many pictures, architectural designs, and other illustrations. It also contains a detailed commentary on the role of the Ben Ezra Synagogue for Jewish community in Cairo, and in the context of international relations. It is a work that represents a true commitment to archaeology and the preservation of ancient heritage sites.

Leblanc, Francois. “Restoration of the Ben Ezra Synagogue, Cairo.” http://ip51.icomos.org/.

Last accessed March 22, 2016.          

http://ip51.icomos.org/~fleblanc/publications/pub_1986_icomoscanada_esc_nl_vol07_no01_ben-ezra.pdf

This is a very specific and small, but nonetheless important, piece that highlights the history of the Ben Ezra Synagogue, and its role in relation to the Camp David Accords. It provides a brief description of Phyllis Lambert and others’ involvement with the restoration of the Ben Ezra Synagogue, and also offers some images of the Ben Ezra Synagogue, and its architectural layout, as well as a map of Old Cairo. It also acts a nice supplementary text to Fortifications and the Synagogue. Overall, it is a useful scholarly addition to this discourse concerning the history, preservation, and restoration of the Ben Ezra Synagogue. 

Williams, Caroline. “Transforming the Old: Cairo’s New Medieval City.” Middle East Journal

56, no. 3 (2002): 457-475.

Caroline Williams’ article is an investigation of the recent push in contemporary Egyptian politics to restore ancient monuments. This article addresses questions of the “who”, “what”, “why”, and “what purpose”, in order to arrive a cohesive explanation of the renewed interest in historical monuments in contemporary Egypt. This article’s examination forms part of a contextual understanding of the restoration of the Ben Ezra synagogue. Here I think it will be useful to explore Williams’ article in order to arrive at a better understanding of why it was important to restore ancient monuments such as the Ben Ezra Synagogue.   

Worman, Ernest James. “Notes on the Jews in Fustat from Cambridge Genizah Documents.”

Jewish quarterly review, 1888-1891, 18, no. xxxix (1905): [ix]-xxxix.

Ernest James Worman’s article is a remarkable work of erudition. It briefly traces the history of the Jews living in Fustat, and then proceeds into a commentary on various linguistic topics in the documents found in the Cairo Geniza. I am particularly interested in Worman’s account of the founding of Fustat, and the historical regulations imposed on Jews living under Islamic rule. The majority of Worman’s article appears to be written for specialists learned in Arabic, Aramaic and Hebrew. I am in no particular position to engage with this section of the article, and therefore I will focus on Worman’s illustrative historical portions of his article.

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[1] S. D. Goitein, A Mediterranean Society: The Jewish Communities Of The Arab World As Portrayed In The Documents Of The Cairo Geniza, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967-1993), 1.

http://quod.lib.umich.edu.ezproxy.library.uvic.ca/cgi/t/text/textidx?c=acls;idno=heb00888.0001.001.

[2] Ibid., 2.

[3] Francois Leblanc, “Restoration of the Ben Ezra Synagogue, Cairo,” http://ip51.icomos.org/, last accessed March 22, 2016,

http://ip51.icomos.org/~fleblanc/publications/pub_1986_icomos-canada_esc_nl_vol07_no01_ben-ezra.pdf.

[4] Gawdat Gabra et al, The history and religious heritage of Old Cairo: Its fortress, churches, synagogue, and mosque, (Cairo; New York: American University in Cairo Press, 2013), 18.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Leblanc.

[8] Gawdat et al, 22.

[9] Ibid., 37.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Ernest James Worman, “Notes on the Jews in Fustat from Cambridge Genizah Documents,” Jewish quarterly review, 1888-1891, 18, no. xxxix (1905): [ix]-xxxix, 2.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Ibid., 3.

[14] Phyllis Lambert, Fortifications and The Synagogue: The Fortress of Babylon and the Ben Ezra Synagogue, Cairo, (Montreal: Canadian Centre for Architecture, 2001), 80.

[15] Gawdat et al, 37.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Mark R Cohen, Under Crescent And Cross: The Jews In The Middle Ages, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008), 58.

http://quod.lib.umich.edu.ezproxy.library.uvic.ca/cgi/t/text/textidx?c=acls;idno=heb00003.0001.001

[19] Worman, 4.

[20] Ibid.

[21] Goitein, 18.

[22] Lambert, 84.

[23] Ibid.

[24] Ibid., 85.

[25] Ibid.

[26] Goitein, 18.

[27] Lambert, 85.

[28] Ibid., 80.

[29] Ibid.

[30] Ibid., 81.

[31] Ibid., 80.

[32] Ibid.

[33] Ibid.

[34] Ibid., 197.

[35] Ibid., 199.

[36] Ibid.

[37] Ibid.

[38] “Ben Ezra Synagogue,” facebook.com, last accessed March 25 2016,

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Ben-Ezra-Synagogue/132554776783262.

[39] Lambert, 198.

[40] Ibid., 19.

[41] Ibid., 136.

[42] Jacques Dalibard, “ben ezra synagogue cairo,” http://ip51.icomos.org/, September, 1981,

last accessed March 22, 2016, 21.

http://ip51.icomos.org/~fleblanc/projects/19791983_ICOMOS/p_icomos_ben_ezra_recommendation.pdf

[43] Lambert, 136.

[44] Caroline Williams. “Transforming the Old: Cairo’s New Medieval City,” Middle East Journal 56, no. 3 (2002): 457.

[45] Al Jazeera, “Egypt’s Community Buries Deputy Leader,” aljazeera.com, last accessed March 25 2016,

http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2014/03/egypt-jewish-community-buries-deputy-leader-201431295947206212.html

Betwixt and in Between: the sacred, and creativity.

Recently, I had some friends visit from out of town. These friends of mine wanted to explore the city. So, on a bright spring day, we ventured out into the streets of downtown Victoria, and wandered around. While walking along Blanchard Street, my friends decided that they wanted to see the local Anglican cathedral, Christ Church Cathedral. I was quite surprised by this. Not only were they not religious, but they were also expressing some slightly offensive jokes about a religious holiday the night before. Alas, we shuffled into the building, and silently observed our surroundings. As we made our way out of the building, my friends talked about how it was important for them to experience religious spaces, saying something to the effect of, “we never grew up with religion, but yet we find religious places to be especially appealing”. One of them was particularly impressed by the architectural design, and the general layout of the building. Their interest in religious space seemed slightly peculiar, however. How is it that even those who do not consider themselves to be religious find themselves enchanted with religious material culture? What it is it about the nature of religious spaces that has the power to captivate us? In this paper I would like to explore what it means for a space to be sacred. I contend that our experience of the sacred is significantly elevated by the atmosphere and feeling of sacred space. Moreover, the aesthetical quality of sacred space is the result of a unique process of creativity that manifests in a dimension that exists between the creative imagination of the human-self, and the Real, qua the ontological locus of reality. I will briefly begin by reflecting on the ideas of Mircea Eliade and Thomas Bender.

            Mircea Eliade’s classic book, The Sacred and the Profane, is an illuminating study of the ‘sacred’. According to Eliade, “the first possible definition of the sacred is that it is the opposite of the profane”[1]. As Eliade states, the sacred “always manifests itself as a reality of a wholly different order from ‘natural’ realities”[2]. For Eliade, the sacred is a powerful force that, upon its appearance, consequentially establishes the Real in the world. Depending on how people decide to characterize the Real, it might be described as God, Allah, the Dao, or Brahman. Nevertheless, it is a power that is unlike anything else in existence. Once we experience the sacred, our world is opened up, and we are suddenly aware of the Real. This new awareness unlocks the door to a cosmic perception. We then become attuned to the universe in an entirely different way. However, the emergence of the sacred also leads to a profound bifurcation of reality. We might describe this process as an ontological break in time and space. On the one hand, there is the sacred, and on the other, there is the profane.  

Eliade’s analysis of the sacred is a fascinating account of the dynamic relationship between the sacred and profane. Eliade’s philosophical framework appears to be profoundly Platonic. The sacred is similar to the “Living Being” found in Plato’s Timaeus.  In Plato’s Timaeus, it seems that all things are a reflection of the “eternal Living Being”[3]. Similarly, the sacred exists as an objective reality that “ontologically founds the world”[4]. Both are concerned with what is Real. For Eliade, the sacred does not appear to be dependent on our temporal activities, or our subjective interpretations, it is the ground of being itself.

 In The Sacred and the Profane, the creation of sacred space occurs when “man symbolically transforms it into a cosmos through the ritual repetition of a cosmogony”[5]. Sacred space is representative of a universal microcosm. According to Eliade, the function of sacred space is to “repeat the paradigmatic work of the gods”[6]. The purpose of symbols, myths, rituals and festivals, is to recall the materialization of the sacred into the world. Hence, the formation of sacred space is an act of “consecration”[7]. According to Eliade, this can only be realized if we are aware that “’our world’ is always situated at the center”[8]. This center is the ‘imago mundi’, a focal point, a point of orientation. The sacred is that which establishes and organises the cosmos. For Eliade, the sacred always appears to be an objective and universal Other. Moreover, the consecration of sacred space orientates us with this ‘universal Other’.

However, there are some people who view the sacred as a product of the human imagination. For them, the sacred is deeply subjective. This subjectivity is represented in the creation of sacred space. According to Bender, “the places we make act as mirrors to our lives. They reflect the good or ill, passion or indifference, with which we hold them back onto the people whose lives they touch”[9]. This approach appears to be a more humanistic approach to the idea of the ‘sacred’ than that of Eliade’s. It focuses on the other side of the spectrum: the human side. As Bender states, “what is significant about sacred places turns out not be the places themselves. Their power lies within their role in marshalling our inner resources and binding us to our beliefs”[10]. From this perspective, it seems that the purpose of sacred space is part of a greater process of individuation, i.e., the formation of the self. 

 In Bender’s view, we create sacred spaces in order to express ourselves to a fuller extent. In a sacred space we tend be more in touch with ourselves. Where we see ourselves in relation to the universe becomes clearer. For instance, when we walk into a cathedral we are struck by a certain feeling. One might argue that the cathedral is built for one purpose: the glory of God. If this is the case, then we could argue that the purpose of the structure of the cathedral is to allow our mind to travel upward to the top of the spire, and then onward to the heavens. Similarly, one might claim that the purpose of a hermit’s cave is to allow for deeper contemplation, without the distraction of ordinary things. It appears that sacred space functions in a way that permits our minds to enter altered states of conscious, and to truly engage with the formation of the self.

However, I would like to argue for a middle way: a conception of the sacred that lies between the realms of subjectivity and objectivity. It appears as though a truly objective perspective of the sacred would perhaps leave little room for the personal. Likewise, a truly subjective approach would most likely reduce the sacred to the workings of the human imagination. The human imagination is a powerful tool, yet it cannot fully comprehend the ineffable. There is a reason why something is ineffable, for it cannot properly be put into words. However, our creative powers are remarkable. Indeed, creativity is a truly human characteristic. If the sacred really is something that “ontologically founds the world”[11], then there must be a dimension of the sacred that exists both from within, and from without. I contend that this dimension simultaneously resides within the human self, and in the creative faculties of the Real. For it is creativity that links the two. Our interaction with this spiritually creative dimension often inspires us to cultivate certain qualities, such as reverence, patience, humility, appreciation, compassion and equanimity. For instance, many musicians find that song-writing is a spiritual process. It is as if they are tapping into a sacred dimension of music. Music, as a “universal phenomenon”[12], has a way of transcending the ‘normal’ into something sublime.

            The sacred, as a particular dimension in time and space, can then be manifested both on its own, as a creative process of the Real, and as an imaginative spiritual endeavour of the human-self. Because our minds are endowed with a creative imagination, we possess an innumerable variety of ways of thinking about the universe and our relation to it. When we create sacred space, we ascend to a symbolic level of reality where our actions, words, and constructs, actually have the potential to manifest the sacred. This is especially evident in ritual activity. Here I would like to discuss some of the key features of sacred space.

            Some important elements in the creation of a sacred space include the incorporation of certain kinds of materials and architectural styles such as the stone of a cathedral, the marble in a temple, the mud of a mosque. All of these things contribute not only to the actual building, but also to the aesthetic quality of the space itself. For instance, the use of materials in Jamat Khana’s Prayer Facility adds a minimalistic touch to a religious space that is meant for the minimal: contemplation, prayer, and reflection. The use of colours, especially the red flooring, matched with the sandstone colouring of the walls, have a very desert-like appeal. The Sagrada Familia in Spain is an example of the terrifying, yet powerfully entrancing, aesthetic of the sacred. It really is quite an amazing feat of ingenuity. Looming above the city of Barcelona, the Sagrada Familia was constructed over a 128-year period. It is a towering testament to the creation of sacred space.

            Sacred space is as much of a cultural phenomenon as it is a spiritually material phenomenon. For instance, the newly restored Ben Ezra Synagogue in Cairo plays the host to many local Jewish legends surrounding its origins[13]. The Ben Ezra Synagogue is also the oldest synagogue in Egypt. They say that the Biblical prophet Moses used to pray there while he was living in Egypt before the Exodus. However, there appears to be no historical evidence for this claim. The Ben Ezra Synagogue’s association with various Biblical and local myths and legends is part of the main reason why it is important to the Jewish cultural identity in Egypt. Moreover, in general, there appears to be a magical quality associated with old buildings such as the Ben Ezra Synagogue. These buildings tend to radiate with an ancient character.

However, there is another important element at play here. This is the role of ambience in sacred space. The Indian yogi, Sadhguru, once wrote about the role of fire in ancient Indian religious practices. Sadhguru said,

it is part of the tradition that if you want to create the right kind of atmosphere, the first thing you do is light a lamp. If you light a lamp and simply sit there – you don’t have to believe in any God or gods. The moment you light a lamp, around the flame, a certain etheric sphere naturally occurs. Where there is an etheric sphere, communication is better. Before you talk to God, you want to create the right kind of ambience, a certain amount of etheric sphere.[14]

Indeed, many religious traditions throughout history have used different devices to accentuate sacred space. For example, in Catholicism it is customary to burn incense during the procession in the Mass. Similarly, the burning of sage is a common religious practice for many indigenous peoples in North America. However, in spite of all these religious practices, fire is perhaps the most significant. Of course, our species has used fire for many different purposes, but one can imagine how over thousands of years, the imagery and feeling of fire has burned a tremendous mark on our evolutionary consciousness.

             Here, I have argued that there exists an intermediate dimension of the sacred, existing between the subjective self and the sublimely objective Other. We have the potential to enter into this dimension, and explore the underlying meaning of things through the creative capacities of our minds. Although my friends were perhaps unaware of it at the time, there was a very good reason for their curiosity for Christ Church Cathedral. The space was attractive to them because it was created in order for people to better connect with the sacred, the Real, the very thing that gives life meaning.

Bibliography

Bender, Thomas.  “Making Places Sacred.” tombender.org. Last accessed April 11, 2016.

http://www.tombender.org/sustdesignarticles/MAKING%20PLACES%20SACRED%2088.pdf, 1.

Eliade, Mircea. The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion. New York: Houghton

Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 1987.

Plato, Timaeus. Translated by Desmond Lees. London: Penguin Books, 1977.

Lambert, Phyllis. Fortifications and The Synagogue: The Fortress of Babylon and the Ben Ezra

Synagogue, Cairo. Montreal: Canadian Centre for Architecture, 2001.

Letts, Richard. “Music: universal language between all nations?.” International Journal of Music

Education 29, no. 1 (1997): 22-31.

 “Light the Fire Within.” isha.sadghguru.org. Last accessed April 11 2016.

http://isha.sadhguru.org/blog/yoga-meditation/science-of-yoga/lighting-right-fire-within/.

           

           

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[1] Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 1987), 10.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Plato, Timaeus, trans. Desmond Lees (London: Penguin Books, 1977), 50.

[4] Eliade, 21.

[5] Ibid., 31.

[6] Ibid., 32.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid., 42.

[9] Thomas Bender, “Making Places Sacred,” tombender.org, last accessed April 11, 2016, http://www.tombender.org/sustdesignarticles/MAKING%20PLACES%20SACRED%2088.pdf, 1.

[10] Ibid., 2.

[11] Eliade, 21.

[12] Richard Letts, “Music: universal language between all nations?,” International Journal of Music Education 29, no. 1 (1997): 22.

[13] Phyllis Lambert, Fortifications and The Synagogue: The Fortress of Babylon and the Ben Ezra Synagogue, Cairo, (Montreal: Canadian Centre for Architecture, 2001), 197.

[14] “Light the Fire Within,” isha.sadghguru.org, last accessed April 11 2016, http://isha.sadhguru.org/blog/yoga-meditation/science-of-yoga/lighting-right-fire-within/.