The subject of
“sacredness” can be confusing, subject to serious misunderstandings,
particularly when trying to understand it from a totally naturalistic
perspective. To start with a repetition:
a religious Weltanschauung divides the world into the secular, or day to day,
and the sacred. The secular includes
most, if not all, of what we consider daily life: work, family, recreation, and
so forth. The sacred deals with the
“other,” the source or center, as you will, of secular life.
The sacred is, as I
mentioned earlier, generally divided into sacred time and sacred space. Sacred time can consist of holy days—or parts
of days—based upon the seasons, historical events, or personal passages in life
such as birth, marriage, death, or reaching adulthood. Sacred space has consisted of temples,
shrines, churches, synagogues, groves, mountains, rivers or even the sky. Sacred space certainly does not need to be
man made, although it certainly has been in most cultures.
Within the sacred,
man has the ability to set aside daily life, at least in its more routine
aspects, and focus on what is truly central.
Theistic cultures might focus on worship of the deities or deity:
thanksgiving, praise, or petitions for this or that favor.[1] The forms of worship might be largely, or
even totally, contemplative, if either the cultural traditions or the personal
interest of the worshiper tended in that direction. Usually, of course, worship was a combination
of all of these, since most religions have both an esoteric and exoteric
aspect, the former appealing to the intellectual or the mystic, and the latter
appealing to the masses of the people.[2] Religions that tended to be non-theistic, at
least in the Western sense, would focus more on contemplation rather than
prayer or sacrifice, and this works even when one’s beliefs are totally
naturalist.
What, one might
ask, is the real difference between sacred time and simply time off from
work? After all, an honest examination
of past cultures clearly shows that for most of human history people had to
work at their occupation every day, unless the day was dedicated to religious
matters. The phenomenon of having purely
secular or profane days off from work is a relatively recent one in human
history.
The biggest
difference, of course, is that secular activities are usually about hobbies,
sports, home improvement, social gatherings, or any other pleasurable
activities that are not a part of our normal occupations, and that negative
feature is precisely what they have in common: they are not work! Even national holidays are now being co-opted
into the culture of recreation.[3] They
generally lack introspective, contemplative or commemorative qualities. Now, this is not a criticism in any way;
there is nothing at all improper about play itself. We need it for healthy living, and that is
justification enough. On a personal
note, I take a great deal of pleasure in certain forms of work on my yard. My current project involves building borders
of landscaping bricks around garden plots that my wife has planted. There is absolutely nothing commemorative,
introspective or contemplative about this activity, but I enjoy it and my wife—not
to speak of my neighbors--approve of the physical improvement.
Is this kind of
activity rational? Strictly speaking, it
is not, but far more importantly, neither is it irrational. An activity can be non-rational without being
irrational, without being something to be avoided. We call something irrational when it violates
the rules of logic and evidence, whereas something that is non-rational simply
has no relationship to such rules. Strictly
speaking, it is not rational for me to be devoted to my little dog, but neither
is it irrational. It is a perfectly
natural, non-rational feeling. On the
other hand, if I were to become convinced that not only could my dog respond
with affection, but that he could also discuss the finer points of Stoic
doctrine with me, I would be not only irrational, but delusional as well. We should embrace the non-rational aspects of
our life at the same time that we reject the irrational.
Since our
perceptions of both sacred space and sacred time are subjective—and to a degree
non-rational—either can be whatever we want them to be, whatever makes us feel
comfortable. When it comes to sacred
space one person might prefer a scene natural beauty, while another might
prefer a dedicated piece of architecture.
Or, for that matter, it might not even be solely dedicated to the
sacred. It need only be sacred when we
wish it to be. A Roman home might have,
in its atrium, a small shrine to the household gods, the Lares and Penates, and
these gods would receive offerings at every meal. That did not mean that one was expected to
treat the atrium with the reverence that one does a temple or church; the
atrium was also the center of all household life.[4]
The origins of
sacred time are also varied, and usually fall into one of two
classifications. A religious tradition
could be primarily historical like those of the Semitic traditions. Sacred times derived from events that were
believed to have happened in real, not mythical, time; they were historical
occurrences. The exodus from Egypt
happened once, the giving of the Torah happened once, the birth, crucifixion
and resurrection of Jesus happened once, and the recitation of the Quran
happened once. To the extent that the
faithful commemorate these events, their participation is virtual and symbolic,
although it may also be sacramental, protestations to the contrary notwithstanding.
Pagan religions, on
the other hand, are usually cyclical, often following recurring events in
nature rather than history.[5] The recurring nature of these events cannot
be stressed too much. Trees lose their
leaves every year, and the days get shorter and colder, not because Demeter is
remembering what once happened to her daughter Persephone, but because she must
now, once again, return to her husband Hades.
The sun was believed to be literally reborn at the winter solstice, and
the worshipers participated in these cosmic events. If the women of Republican Rome did not
awaken Bona Dea from her winter sleep each spring, they believed that winter
would not end. Taking part in these
ceremonies was more than virtual participation, and certainly far more than a
commemoration of an important event.
To a naturalist, it
really does not matter whether we find our sense of the sacred in the
historical or in the cyclic, or if we blatantly combine both views. What does matter is that it is sacred,
distinguished from the secular. Naturally,
the sacred and the secular do intersect; they always did. When ancient people honored the planting of
the crops, offered sacrifices for growing, and celebrated the harvest, they
were clearly aware that a successful crop meant that they had averted famine,
at least for one more year.
Paradoxically, by recognizing the difference between the sacred and the
secular, we are choosing to infuse the secular with the sacred throughout our
lives.
We may choose to
contemplate a secular issue that has a moral component, but in the sacred we
are thinking about it in a different way, or at least from a different
perspective. Suppose I wish to consider
a public issue that has a moral aspect.
On the one hand, I can think about it in a totally secular, totally
mundane, way. I can consider what I can
do to support my own position on the issue, with whom I should speak, how much
my activities will cost, and so forth.
On the other hand, I can examine the moral aspects of the issue and
their relative merits, leaving aside the more mundane considerations. Having a sense of the sacred, of the special,
serves to shield me, for a time, from the more routine aspects of my life, such
as what I will do at work tomorrow, what flowers I should plant in the garden,
what new electronic device I should purchase, or what to have for supper. And, in doing so, it allows me to concentrate
on what is truly central, to that which gives life meaning.
[1] It need not include all
three; Roman gods, for example, were worshiped in a form that is more
accurately described as magic rather than prayer. The god had to grant the favor of the
worshipper, if the request was made in the proper format, and the proper
offering made. Conveniently, if the
favor was not granted, then clearly the ritual had been done improperly. Their worship was largely of the “I do for
you so that you will do for me” variety.
[2] What ancient religion
usually did not include is what in Semitic traditions includes the Sermon or
homily; religious education was either the function of the family, or took
place outside of the normal acts of worship.
[3] If anyone would doubt
this, simply ask this question: Last Memorial Day, did you go to a cemetery to
leave some tribute to a deceased soldier, visit a Veteran’s Hospital, or engage
in some related activity, or did you use the day off for shopping, or fishing,
or some other private enjoyment? For
most people, we all know what the answer would be.
[4] The practical Romans also
treated their temples in the same way; records of state might be kept at the temple, as well as
the state treasury.
[5] Of course I am speaking of
two poles on a continuum rather than a rigid classification of only one or the
other.
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