Book Review: The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion: The
Significance of Religious Myth, Symbolism, and Ritual Within Life and Culture –
by Mircea Eliade, translated from the French by Williard R. Trask (Harcort
Brace & Company 1957, 1959)
Another fascinating book. Eliade was among the best of the
‘mythographers.’ Here he covers the structure of myth and religion. He also
covers sacred space, sacred time, theophanies, the ideas of chaos and cosmos,
cosmogony, myth as paradigmatic model, symbolism, patterns in religion,
heirophany, rites of passage, initiation, and anthropo-cosmic homology.
The sacred always manifests as “other,” he says, or as
different from the natural. That is why we tend to both fear and be fascinated
by the sacred. The idea of the sacred is first explored simply as the opposite
of the profane. When humans experience something beyond the profane, they may
consider it to be a manifestation of the sacred or the sacred showing itself.
This is what he terms a heirophany.
Heirophany may be paradoxical, as in the example that a certain stone or tree
comes to be considered sacred. It is paradoxical in the sense that the object
is both profane and sacred. In archaic societies, he says, the sacred is
considered both more powerful and more real than the profane. He also explores
in the book the ‘desacralized’ nonreligious humans of the modern world in
comparison to the human of archaic societies and religious groups. He refers to
the sacred and the profane as two modes of being in the world. He also notes
that differences in economy, culture, and social organization, and the history
of a people influence the religious experiences of a people.
Religious humans consecrate space, which means they declare
certain places to be sacred according to myth and belief. Consecration of space
often involves defining a center, a representative center of the world as a
fixed point. Defining such a center is a hierophany and also a re-enactment of
the creation of the world. The difference between profane and sacred space can
be exemplified by a church, where the threshold marks the change from profane
to sacred space. As such many cultures have rituals to acknowledge such
thresholds. Sometimes, when a sacred space is sought there is a sign from
nature, either found or evoked, that accompanies such designation and
represents divine intervention. Cultures often define their own tribal space as
sacred and that of others as profane. Their consecrated space represents cosmos
while everything outside of it represents chaos. The Vedic consecration of a
new territory by building a fire altar with specific dimensions and symbolic
features is an example. Ritual consecration of space is fairly similar among
hunter-gathering societies, agricultural societies, and historical religions –
it is repetition of a cosmogony, the act of creation (of the world). The cosmic
pillar or world tree is representative of the fixed point at the center of the
world, whether the skambha of Indians
or the Irminsul of the Saxons. The pillar of a temple or house is the same. The
Milky Way is often the stellar model of the cosmic pillar. The cosmic pillar,
is the axis mundi, the center of the
world. It is the connection and point of access between heaven and earth and of
all the ‘worlds’ or cosmic regions.
Another form of the sacred center is the ‘cosmic mountain.’ He
gives the examples of Mt. Meru in India, Mt. Haraberezaiti in Iran, the
mythical ‘Mount of the Lands’ in Mesopotamia, and Mt. Gerizim in Palestine.
Most of the modern religions also have remnants of cosmic mountain/axis mundi
beliefs. The ka’aba of Islam is an example. The top of a mountain is closest to
the celestial realms. The Babylonian ziggurat was literally a cosmic mountain,
with each step referred to a planet of the celestial heavens. Holy places are often called the navel of the
earth, the center of the world. Construction of houses, temples, fire temples,
yurts, etc. and even fabrication involves what Eliade calls cosmogony as paradigmatic model. Thus
every creation connects back to the creation of the world. The creation and the
created thing are microcosm as the creation of the world and the world are macrocosm.
It is what he called an anthropic
homology, in this case a human-created correspondence to original creation.
Settling a territory is also akin to creating a world and the cities of ancient
times were designed as models of the cosmos. The city, house, or created world represent
order and cosmos while areas beyond come to represent chaos. Dragons and
serpents tend to represent chaos in Near Eastern myths and were often treated
as enemies of the king or demons to be conquered. Beyond the city was where
enemies came from. In several myths the dragon is slain and cut into pieces to
form the cosmos. The slaying of the primal water dragoness Tiamat by Marduk was
re-enacted at every New Year by the Babylonians. The Hebrews had similar
stories. Order is invoked as an enclave protected from chaos as in city walls
or ritual consecration by casting a protective circle to keep out demons,
death, and disease. Even non-religious modern people still practice
demonization of things they fear or do not understand. Eliade notes that
recreating the cosmogony of slaying the monster of chaos for a structure might involve
bloody sacrifice. The structures mimic the cosmos. The yurt is supported by a
central pillar and the smoke hole of yurt or teepee is the shaman’s path to
other worlds. In Vedic India during construction a snake was slain in imitation
of Indra slaying the demon Vritra. Its head was staked and fixed to the point
of the center of the structure/world. This is one form of the so-called ‘building
sacrifice.’ They are kind of universal being part of the slaying of chaos to
initiate order, being a component of Near Eastern, Chinese, Indo-European, and
other mythos. Structures, particularly temples, were also modeled on the celestial
realm of stars and planets. Mesopotamia was exemplary in this regard. In
summary, all creation imitates creation of the world and involves the
consecration of space. All beyond the order created by the gods and recreated
by humans in imitation is considered chaotic, evil, feared and dangerous. Thus,
in a sense the creation of the cosmos and its imitation serves also to define the
good and evil.
Next he delves into ‘sacred time.’ Since I have dwelled on
this in previous reviews of Eliade’s works I will be brief here. Cosmogony
re-enactment invokes sacred or mythical time, the time of original creation.
Thus humans can ‘partake’ in the creation dramas of their gods. Mythical time
is non-linear and non-historical. Judaism was the first major delving into
historical time. The New Year as the beginning of the Wheel of the Year is the
renewal of the original cosmogony. Time began at the original cosmogony. The
New Year renewal offers hope in that the failures of the past can be cast off. Before
it occurs there is often a purging through chaos which represents the time
before creation. This reenactment of chaos before time is often wild and
orgiastic. Thus we have things like ‘carnival.’ In modern secular society we
can also see examples of the urge toward regeneration – perhaps in political
candidates where “change” is often a successful rallying call. Obama embraced
change and won. Trump shouted for a sort of renewal in the slogan “Make America
Great Again” and won. Recitations of origin myths accompany many rituals of
archaic peoples. They invoke the sacred ‘time of origins,’ a time that is
considered indestructible. The mythical event is thus eternally present. Thus
the people can become periodically contemporary with the gods. Myths are
paradigmatic models, says Eliade. Remembering the myths is a sacred act of
connecting with mythical time and space and forgetting them is considered
sinful. There is forgetting when cosmic religions become historical religions,
he says, which can result in less conviction in the power of traditions. While
there is some reenactment of sacred acts in modern historical religions there
is much lost. He calls the reenactment of creation myth the ‘myth of the
eternal return.’ He gives the Indian yugas
and comparable Greek time cycles as examples. In India the dogmas say that the
world is periodically destroyed and re-created. Nothing happens once, all is
recreation:
“Cosmic duration is repetition and anakuklosis [Greek], eternal return.”
According to Eliade the Hebrews first tied their cosmic
tribal myths to historical events and historical time. Thus certain historical
events became celebrated and remembered as theophanies. The historical
reenactment of the life of Christ follows the new pattern of historical
theophany. Thus when Rome became Christianized so too did the calendar become
referenced to the time of the life and death of Christ.
Next he considers the sacredness of nature. First he
mentions the “Uranian Gods” associated with the sky and the celestial realm of
stars. The infinite nature of the sky and the fact that it is far away and “high”
account for its “otherness.” The sky represents transcendence, he says. He
notes that supreme gods of peoples are often sky gods. He gives examples:
Mongolian Tengri, Chinese Ti’en, Indian Dyeus, Geek Zeus, Roman Jupiter, Celtic
Taranis, and Slavic Perun. He also notes that supreme sky gods may end up
becoming remote gods, only called in times of supreme danger. This has been
noted in many cultures but particularly in Africa. After creating the world and
man the supreme god retreats back into the far heavens and has less day-to-day
relevance and becomes a last resort. He suggests that the discovery of agriculture
may have something to do with increased focus on fertility and fertility gods
and less on the transcendent supreme sky deities. He notes that the Hebrews
often returned to Baal and Astarte during times of peace and prosperity and
only returned to Yahweh in times of distress, when the fertility deities were
not seen as adequate.
Next he mentions aquatic symbolism. The waters or watery
abyss often represent the primordial chaos preceding creation. They are the “spring
and origin.” Acts of immersion and baptism are repetitions of manifestation.
Water dissolves form into the formless and washes away sins. The cosmic flood
is also a baptism of sorts. Life arose from the waters, in myth and now in our
scientific view. All form is above the primal waters. Ritual immersion in water
as baptism is a form of ritual regeneration and rebirth. Even in Christianity
there is the idea that immersion involves confronting and overcoming the water
dragon or monster of the abyss, as in other Near Eastern myths. Thus in several
ways Christian baptismal symbolism is a continuation of previous aquatic
symbolism. He notes that in Asiatic and Oceanic myths water is often seen as
the waters of death.
Many symbols are universal, he notes. One is of the Earth as
mother and as both origin and destiny, Terra Mater (Mother Earth). In many
cultures one ‘belongs’ to a place and we all return to the Earth at death. The
human woman as mother is often a microcosm of the Earth Mother. Giving birth on
the ground was practiced in many cultures worldwide. The practice of laying an
infant on the ground is another example. Symbolic burial in the ground,
partially or wholly (with breathing apparatus) is a form of baptism in the
earth for some cultures. Subsequent emergence is emergence from the womb. In
some cosmic religions creation comes about by the hierogamy or sacred marriage
between the Sky Father and the Earth Mother. He notes the presence of this
mythos especially in Oceania but also in Asia, Africa, and the Americas. Human
marriage is thus often seen as a microcosm of this cosmic marriage. Human
sexuality can be treated similarly. Fertility of the fields was/is often
insured by orgiastic behavior, sometimes actually in the plowed fields. Again
the orgiastic behavior represents a regression to the chaos before creation, in
this case before creation of the crops.
Religion has come up with the idea of absolute reality,
typically not the reality of life on earth, but something beyond – maybe that
which precedes life and follows death or something spiritual practitioners can
discover. Absolute reality is symbolized, says Eliade, by the sacred tree of
life.
Next he explores the relatively modern ‘discovery’ of the
desacralization of nature. Science, as the new world view, especially its mechanistic
aspect (and probably less so a more holistic, systems approach to science)
leads the way. However, he notes that we can hardly overcome the charms of
nature. One example he gives is China, where Taoism has preserved the
veneration of nature as sacred in aesthetics and art.
He gives quick explanations of solar and lunar symbolism.
The birth, growth, decay, death, and rebirth of the moon in its cycle taught
humans all over about cycles and rhythms of change. He thinks it is the rebirth
of the moon that suggested to early humans that death is not the end. The sun
does not change shape like the moon although it is always in motion. Heroes are
often solar, being seen and depicted as indestructible, powerful, and steady.
The sun fights darkness and descends into the underworld at dusk, into the
realm of darkness and death, and re-emerges at dawn unchanged. While in lunar
symbolism darkness may be seen as origin and a necessary part of the cycle in
solar symbolism it is often seen as adversary. The sun is seen as illumination
and intelligence and darkness as ignorance.
Next, in considering ‘human existence and the sanctified
life,’ he notes that the European peasantry did not simply adopt historical Christianity
but incorporated pre-Christian folk beliefs into their forms of the religion.
He refers to this as ahistorical Christianity, or cosmic Christianity. The life
of man becomes homologized to the cosmic life, or follows a paradigmatic model.
This is perhaps particularly so with the European cultivators, peasant farming
communities. For religious man, homo religiosus,
the cosmos is alive and speaks. It is the paradigmatic image of human
existence. The earth-woman homology in agricultural societies is one example where
women are seen symbolically as fields to be cultivated. The later Vedas and the
Sumerian accounts provide numerous examples. Eliade describes the view of homo religiosus as being “open to the
world” which enables one to know oneself through knowing the world. Being open
to the world means that one can come into contact with the gods.
The sacred and the profane are two separate spheres of
existence and yet there is direct correspondence between them in mythic contexts.
These homologies often constitute whole “systems of micro-macrocosmic correspondences.”
The primary anthropo-cosmic homology is human-universe. The human is the world
in miniature. The homology of man as heaven or sky and woman as earth informs
many religious structures and rites. The woman as the altar of Vedic sacrifice
is one example. In India the female represent prakriti, or the material world, while the male represents the
transcendental spirit. In Indian Tantra all of the human organs and systems are
seen as their cosmic counterparts in the inner subtle body architecture of
chakras, winds, channels, and drops.
The homology of body-house-cosmos is quite prevalent. The
Indian example reveals that the body utilizes the spinal column as the cosmic
pillar, the breaths become the winds, the navel or heart the center of the
world, etc. The human body is also depicted in the yoga tradition as “a house
with a pillar and nine doors.” The doors, of course, refer to the body
orifices. The house or temple may also be seen as a body. Often at the top
there is the “eye of the dome” which corresponds to the smoke hole of the yurt
and teepee and thus to the doorway to celestial worlds. In India there is
similarly the brahmarandhra, the
opening at the top of the skull from where the soul escapes at death. Holes in
dwellings and temples have the very same name. Thus in some traditions when
death is desired due to prolonged agony, boards are removed from the roof in a
kind of sympathetic magic to bring about death and presumed release from agony.
The skulls of dead yogins were sometimes broken to free their souls. In Tibetan
Buddhism and other tantric and yogic traditions there are rites and practices
where the consciousness is directed through the brahmarandhra. One is called Phowa
and is a preparation for death. Another is the Chod rite which can be seen as a kind of mock death or shamanic
death, although in Buddhist context it is a ritual of generosity. The symbolism
of breaking the roof/skull to attain flight or liberation is thus cognate
between shamanism and Hinduism and Buddhism. The notion of “passing through the
narrow gate” is part of the same body-house-cosmos homology. The symbolism of
passing through the narrow hole can also be seen as a kind of rebirth through a
womb and most often as a passage point from one realm to another – for shamans
to travel in the realms and for soul travel at death. Passage from one state to
another is also the main theme of initiation and of so-called ‘rites of
passage.’ The narrow gate and the perilous bridge represent a dangerous
passage. In Tibet the death bardo is referred to as a ‘dangerous pathway.’ In
Iranian mythology it is the dangerous Cinvat Bridge which is crossed after
death. The river Styx is perhaps another and in Slavic myths there is a
dangerous climb up a high cliff face. The vision of Paul mentions a dangerous
bridge the width of a hair and I believe in Islam there is a bridge to paradise
said to be made of seven strands of hair. In several of these examples the
sinners don’t make it, only the virtuous.
Rites of passage include puberty rites, marriage rites, and
funerary rites. Each implies a change in ontological and social status. While these
are most important for the religious, secular humans also are partly bound to
such beliefs since they too pass through these changes, particularly with
changes in social status. Eliade makes a distinction between puberty rites that
all adolescents are required to undergo and initiations into secret societies
where only some are chosen to undergo. Such initiations serve to bring about changes
in ontological status. Initiated humans become more “complete” in the
mythic-religious scenarios of the tribe than the non-initiated. Initiation is a
path to “otherness” and since these initiations are considered to have been begun
by the gods, then it is a sacred otherness. Thus the human can approach the
mythical ideal and become the paradigmatic hero or archetype.
“Initiation usually comprises a threefold revelation:
revelation of the sacred, of death, and of sexuality.”
The initiate is the newborn, the one who has gained new
knowledge, and the one who has passed through the ordeals. Sometimes there is
an initiatory hut that represents the womb from which the initiate emerges
after symbolic death. Sometimes it is the skin of a recently sacrificed animal
that serves as the womb. Regression to the fetal state represents regression to
the primordial chaos of formless pre-existence. Dire and painful ordeals may
accompany tribal initiations: circumcision, scarring, mutilation, tattooing, whipping,
isolation, fasting, etc. Novices may take up the manner of ghosts, the
attributes of the dead, the ancestors. One way they do this is to eat with
their mouths, avoiding using their hands, as ghosts are sometimes believed to
do. While women’s and men’s initiations may differ in symbolism they all
involve a deepened ‘access to the sacred.’ First menstruation rituals for women
are quite common and may involve isolation, special diets, shunning, avoidance
of daylight, and required discomforts. He notes that girls’ first menstruation
rites are often individual while boys’ puberty rites are often in groups.
Entering the belly of a monster, into cosmic darkness, is another motif in the
death part of initiation. The “initiatory sickness” of shamans is a very
similar form of initiatory death. The totality of crisis sets the tone for
re-emergence into the new birth and the new knowledge and powers.
“Above all, we understand this: the man of the primitive
societies has sought to conquer death by transforming it into a rite of passage.”
Humans thus die to the profane life and are born into the
sacred life. Death then comes to be seen as the ‘supreme initiation.’ Rebirth and
regeneration requires death.
He mentions Socrates, who was called a midwife, and notes
that why he was called such is that his work with the dialectic and
philosophical observation allowed him to bring forth the ‘new man.’ It is
similar in India and in Buddhism where the teachers bring forth the students as
transformed humans. Noble students are sometimes called sons and daughters of
the Buddha. Buddha notes in the Majjhima-Nikaya
the formation of a new body through practice:
“Moreover, I have shown my disciples the way whereby they
call into being out of this body (composed of the four elements) another body
of the mind’s creation (rupim manomayam),
complete in all its limbs and members and with transcendental faculties (abhinindriyam).”
Even in Christianity Paul spoke of ‘spiritual sons’ born of knowledge
and adoption of “faith” in the doctrine. Thus in the so-called organized
religions the doctrine, gospel, or dharma becomes the means of initiation from
a state of ignorance to a state of knowledge. Thus it is similar to archaic
initiations where one comes from the profane to the sacred. Eliade does think
Christianity is different since faith is emphasized over knowledge, although
that may not have been true for the Gnostic sects and this victory of faith
over gnosis in Christianity is one of contrived orthodoxy overcoming a more
varied heterodoxy, with social and political implications.
“Modern nonreligious man assumes a new existentialist situation:
he regards himself solely as the subject and agent of history, and he refuses
all appeal to transcendence. In other words, he accepts no model for humanity
outside the human condition as it can be seen in the various historical
situations.”
Eliade seems to think that modern nonreligious humans rely
on de-sacralization to become complete, just the opposite of religious man. I
am not sure if it is that simple especially in light of the fact that we are
all confronted with the mysteries of life and the sufferings of the human
condition. He does concede that nonreligious man descends from religious man
and carries much of that baggage whether he realizes or admits it or not. His
formation thus involves opposing his predecessor and yet it is difficult or maybe
even impossible to eradicate religious thinking entirely. Even the nonreligious
tend to maintain various superstitions and taboos. Eliade refers to “camouflaged
myths and degenerated rituals.” He notes the rather obvious mythic motifs in
cinema with their well-recognized heroes and antagonists. Both cinema and
reading allow us to ‘escape from time’ and its demands at least for a while. The
reader or watcher escapes from history and enters worlds with different
histories, though likely fictional.
He suggests that even political and social movements can
take up mythic forms. He gives the example of communism and Marx resurrecting
the “Asiatico-Mediterranean” myth of “the redeeming role of the Just (the “chosen,”
the anointed,” the “innocent,” the “messenger”; in our day, the proletariat),
whose sufferings are destined to change the ontological status of the world.”
He sees Marxism as a “Golden Age” myth where a Golden Age is placed either at
the beginning or end of history – in this case at the end where good overcomes
evil, not unlike Judeo-Christian messianic myth. Modern utopian mythos, whether
secular or religious, like “back to Eden” or “back-to-nature” and nudism, he
says, also often follow mythic formats. He also mentions that military
initiations, even necessary ones like combat, are sometimes seen as having more
cosmic implications. Another example is psychanalysis where we confront our
hidden subconscious life and all of its ordeals and monsters. We can emerge
transformed in the process much like a reborn initiate. We all endure various
ordeals and overcome obstacles and adversaries as a part of life. Human existence
can be seen as one long initiation. Thus we can hardly escape the symbolism
that pervades archaic thought and our own subconscious. We can hardly be purely
rational no matter how hard we try. Pychoanalysis has revealed that unconscious
lives are filled with symbols and their symbolic operations.
“ … the mode of being of the myth is precisely that it reveals itself as myth, that is, it
announces that something has been
manifested in a paradigmatic manner. “
Existential crises can hardly be separated from mythic or
religious thinking perhaps due to our evolutionary wiring. All religions, he
notes are ontological and are concerned with how we came to “be.” They are
concerned also with how we will come to end and since we know we will die it is
difficult to separate life and death thinking from ontology. In religious
thinking ‘being” and the sacred are identical.
“… religion is the paradigmatic solution for every
existential crisis.”
In the psychoanalytic sense we all have our own personal mythologies.
We have our history of trials and tribulations, successes and failures. However,
he notes, the level of our experience of our psyche and its personal myths does
not rise to the level of religion and open us fully to the sacred. While both the
unconscious and religion may utilize symbols, only in religion do we have the
development of prescribed behaviors. We may have psychic reactions based on our
religious upbringing and such but the examination of our dreams, unconscious
thoughts and wishes, and imaginary lives are still only partial compared to our
conscious development of a purely “metaphysical comprehension of the world.” In
other words, while integration of the conscious and unconscious, in Jung’s terms,
can offer useful psychological healing utilizing symbols, it is not the same as
belief in particular religious scenarios which may utilize the same symbols. It’s
perhaps kind of like utilizing a “fake” personal religion for psychological
healing without having to actually believe in it.
The final chapter of the book is a chronological survey of
the history of religion as a branch of knowledge. He begins in the nineteenth century
with Max Muller and others and notes schools and institutes developed to study
religion and myth and lists books and authors. He then goes back and gives a
quick survey of what ancient Greek and Hellene writers said about the nature of
religion. He notes the personification of natural forces mentioned by the
Milesian pre-Socratic philosophers. He mentions that Epicurus provided radical
criticism of popular religion, noting that the gods may well exist but are
distant and not interested in humans. The Stoics developed the method of
allegorical interpretation of myths as philosophical or ethical. This gained
wide acceptance and made analysis of myths popular. He also mentions Euhemerus
who considered that mythical beings were once real humans that time and legend
developed into gods, something we know has happened as known historical persons
were deified. Among the Romans Cicero and Varro are notable. Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods was, he says,
an accurate description of the state of rites and beliefs in the last century
B.C.E. He notes that Neo-Pythagoreanism and Neo-Platonism sought to revalorize
the spiritual interpretation of myths and rites. Some like Plutarch and Seneca and
the Stoics emphasized that the multiplicity of gods was really one god.
However, as Christianity came to power their one god was set up in
juxtaposition to the multiplicity of pagan gods and was often used to point out
the superiority of monotheism and the inferiority of idolatry, a position the
later Muslims would duplicate. They sought to distinguish Christianity from
Paganism even though by all evidence there was great similarity of Christianity
to Mystery religions and other pagan cults. Thus as orthodoxy developed in Christianity
it was often in forms directly juxtaposed to Paganism in order to say that the
two were mutually exclusive and later Paganism was stamped out as evil. One
reaction to Christianity among Pagans he notes were textual demonstrations that
Paganism was not merely fertility orgy and excess as the Church Fathers would
say but that Pagans could also be tolerant and pious. The Life of Apollonius of Tyana by the sophist Philostratus (c.
175-c. 249) and the works of the Neo-Platonists Porphyry and Iamblichus also
argued against Christianity and taught both tolerance and the value of syncretism.
The Christian reaction to these thoughtful arguments actually served to
preserve some of their ideas and those of the time that would be otherwise
unknown, lost to the centuries of the de-Paganization of the Western world by
Christianity. He also mentions later s by Muslims – Al-Biruni’s (973-1048)
remarkable description of Indian religions and philosophies, Sharastani’s (d.
1153) description of Islamic schools, Ibn Hazam’s (994-1064) accounts of
Mazdean and Manichaean dualism, and especially Averroes (ibn Rushd, 1126-1198) who
utilized the allegorical method to study religion. Among Jewish scholars he
mentions Saadia (892-942) who expounded views of Brahmins, Christians, and
Muslims, and Maimonides (1135-1204) who attempted a non-syncretic comparison of
religions. He goes on through the Renaissance which included Platonic and
paganistic revivals of sorts. He mentions some other works of the 17th
and 18th centuries that compared religions up to the birth of comparative
mythology. Max Muller wrote Essay of
Comparative Mythology in 1856. He noted parallels of myth and natural
phenomena and noted “solar epiphanies.” In the early 20th century
came Frazer’s Golden Bough, a classic
of comparative myth in which he developed his ideas of “contagion” and “sympathetic
magic.” Another pioneer was Emile Durkheim (1858-1917) who developed the idea
of “totem” to describe Native American notions of animals as clan ancestors. He
notes that Frazer showed that Durkheim’s totemism is not universally disseminated
and may not be the earliest form of religion as others suggested. Other
ethnologists sought to explain early religion in terms of “pre-logical” beliefs
of primitives but these attempts had no lasting impact, he notes. Others like
William James and Freud searched for a psychological origin of religion.
Currently (1950’s) he notes that two approaches now dominate – the search for
the essence of religion and the study of the history of religion. I might add
that since then some are beginning to approach religion from a more biological
standpoint. Edward Wilson, Carl Sagan, and Jesse Bering are examples. The
chronological survey that Eliade gives is very informative overall.
All in all, another great Eliade book. One downside is that
it can be quite repetitive, saying similar things over and over in slightly
different ways. This seems to be true with his more general overview books like
this one but not so with his more detailed works.
