Friday, 29 April 2016

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/.
           
           





[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/.

Friday, 1 April 2016

Thinking Simply, Praying Out Loud: On the Importance of Being Reverent.

Sometimes it is difficult to take a step back and ponder the ineffable, to really sit down and reflect on what it means to be. It is, however, very important that we take the time to do these things. Life can be very stressful, hard-going, and chaotic, but if we do not stop to listen to our inner-selves, then we end up missing the point. So, I set up a little spot in my bedroom, allowing me to unpack, destress, and listen to my inner voice. I placed my grandfather’s black and silver rosary on the floor in the shape of a circle. At the center of the circle I placed a candle. At one side of the candle I put a colourful little statuette of St. Teresa of Avila, and on the on the other, I positioned a statuette of St. Benedict of Nursia. I visited this spot three times: two times at night, once with the candle alight, and one time during the morning while the birds were chirping from out of my window.
The first time was quite nice. I spent most of the time praying out loud, and saying snippets of the rosary. It was then that I lit the candle. It was pleasant, and also strangely reminiscent of an earlier time in my life when I had a peculiar desire to form circles of things, such as the wooden replica of Stonehenge I had made in my backyard while living in the countryside as a young boy. For some reason or another, the act of building or replicating stone circles stirred something deep within me. Now, as I become more aware of my spirituality, it seems that this act has become a deeper and more symbolic gesture towards God. As I sat next to my little creative spiritual spot, I endeavoured to cultivate reverence, not only to God, but to the shred of divinity from within. I placed the statuettes closer to the candle, as though they were gathered round a fire. St. Teresa, St. Benedict, and myself, all gathered around a little candle. It was a moment. Indeed, ever since the invention of fire, humankind has had a sense of something greater than themselves, and it was at this moment that I may have also felt that sense of Otherness in an surreal blend of the ancient world and my own Catholic religious heritage in the present moment.  
The second visitation was perhaps not as lovely as the first, but resulted in a physical sensation. I was having a hard time sleeping, and I felt the need to go to the place I had created for myself. I prayed some more, and I felt a shiver go up my spine. Later, I drifted into a deep sleep. The third time was in the morning, I simply made myself a cup of tea, and sat down and contemplated. The birds outside were singing their praises, and I sat silently, listening to my inner-self. I kept telling myself not to worry about things, and to be at peace, and to trust in the Lord. And if I put the Lord first in all that I do, then things will gradually start to calm down, and I start to become myself again. And so, I listened to what my inner-voice was telling me, and I began to relax, and I felt better. From this it seems that the Sacred manifests itself in ways that are often physical, but always evokes something from within. It is important to be properly initiated, and to be receptive to the Sacred. Perhaps in order to develop a sense of the sacred, we also need to be reverent, and take the time to be reflective, and most importantly to listen.