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51 pages 1 hour read

Mircea Eliade, Transl. Willard R. Trask

The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 1956

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Chapter 2Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapter 2 Summary: "Sacred Time and Myths"

Like the dimension of space, time is experienced differently in a sacred than in a profane mode. Sacred time is “a primordial mythical time made present” (68), the time of cosmogony, or the god’s creation of the world. Through participation in ritual events such as festivals, homo religiosus accesses this mythical time and brings it into the present moment. As such, sacred time, unlike ordinary time, is non-linear, since it is “endlessly repeatable, endlessly recoverable” (69) and often re-entered at scheduled times throughout the year or a lifetime. This life in two different times—the sacred and the profane—distinguishes a religious life from a profane life, which lives only in perfectly linear profane time. This is like the break in profane space that sacred space offers: “Just as a church constitutes a break in plane in the profane space of a modern city, the service celebrated inside it [by reviving the time of myths] marks a break in profane temporal duration” (72).

The “mythical time” brought forward in festivals is the cosmogony, the time of the creation of the world. Christianity is somewhat unique in this respect, since their mythic time is an actual historical event: “the time in which the historical existence of Jesus Christ occurred” (72). Traditional religions, however, locate sacred time in a non-historical, mythical time.

This mythical time is mapped onto the profane time of human life through a sacred calendar. Given the natural life cycle of crop birth and death that a year contains, many religions hold the calendar year to represent a complete life cycle of the cosmos, such that each year is a rebirth of existence and a “recover[y of the] original sanctity” (75) of creation. Yearly festivals repeat the cosmogony, therefore, to revivify existence through the creative force that emerges from the cosmogony, as if each new year is a new cycle of the living cosmos. At the same time, yearly festivals also offer opportunities for personal purification and the re-actualization of bonds or goals. A prominent example of such a festival is the yearly reading of the creation myth The Enuma Elish in Ancient Mesopotamia, accompanied by rituals of purification (77). Another example is the modern “New Year,” where humans similarly reactualize their goals for the year.

In some festivals the resanctification of reality first requires a metaphorical annihilation of the world, in which all of society ritually “dies” before being created anew, much like how a crop withers and then regrows. In this model, it is profane time that needs to be destroyed to access sacred time. During festivals, humans also rehearse the same actions as those undertaken by the gods during the creation, such as in Australian aboriginal rituals of travelling between sacred sites in the order that the ancestors did. Experientially, this allows participants to “recover the sacred dimension of existence, by learning again how the gods or mythical ancestors created man” (90). This explains the scripted, ritualistic aspects of many festivals and public ritual events.

The insertion of events of sacred time into profane time sanctifies and regenerates profane time, making time habitable. In this regeneration, it also participates in the deeper authorization of reality that all other sacred dimensions, such as sacred space, do: “it is sacred time that makes possible [. . .] ordinary time [. . .] It is the eternal present which makes possible the profane duration of historical events” (89). Because sacred time has such authoring power, other important events such as coronations of a new ruler, preparations for war, or even medical procedures are accompanied by rituals recasting the cosmogony. In ritual healing, such as that of the Tibetan Na’khi people, the cosmogonic myth is recited, and the “myth of the origin of the medicines employed is always incorporated” (83). All active power on this earth emerges from the power of creation, and it is therefore necessary to call upon this power imbued in the medicines at creation to employ their effects.

It is important to recognize that the ontological supremacy of sacred over profane time is not equivalent to a rejection of history or progress in these cultures. Instead, it is a constant appraisal of historical events of progress as “new divine revelations” (90) made possible by the sacred. However, the “nostalgia” (92) for the time of the gods exemplified by sacred time can be seen to “lead to a limited number of gestures and patterns of behavior” (93) scripted by ritual and tradition. While such “paraly[sis]” (93) could be interpreted as anxiety over change and therefore a shirking of the responsibility of history, it is best to understand religious activity as assuming a different kind of responsibility—responsibility for maintaining the order of the cosmos by maintaining sacred relationships between humanity and the divine. This is an “optimistic vision of existence [. . .] a total cleaving to being” (94), which does not rely on forward historical progress, but on balance, to mark human success.

Myths are recitals of the events and logic of creation, which explain how and why events and activities exist as they do. Once proclaimed, myths become absolute and inviolable truths upon which all other truth claims are founded. “Once told, that is revealed, the myth becomes apodictic truth; it establishes a truth that is absolute” (95). Human acts, as such, become sacred when they are prescribed by mythic events, such as mythic origins of agriculture making certain agricultural activity sacred. “The supreme function of the myth is to ‘fix’ the paradigmatic models for all rites and all significant human activities” (98). This allows man to sacralize the world through their activities, but often requires a great degree of dedication to difficult acts. Cannibalism, for instance, “is not a natural behavior for primitive man [. . .] it is a cultural behavior [. . .] based on a religious [belief that] for the vegetable world to continue, man must kill and be killed” (103). This is so because myths in these cultures prescribe slaying as the origin of all plant life, such as through the creation of the earth from the body of a slain monster. Therefore, acts of cannibalism are taken as sacred responsibilities in these cultures.

Sacred time offers the opportunity for regeneration of humanity and their place in the cosmos, and therefore even when the acts necessary in ritual are brutal, the relationship to reality is ultimately optimistic. However, when “a sense of the religiousness of the cosmos becomes lost” (107), such as in modern secular society, the repetition of cycles of regeneration and their attendant acts become meaningless. This “necessarily leads to a pessimistic vision of existence” (107) and the unending cyclical nature of reality becomes terrifying and inescapable.

Such philosophies of the infinite cycle of existence complete with the endless repetition of all events are known through the concept “eternal return” (108) emerging in late-stage Indic Brahminism and Greek philosophy. Judaism and Christianity depart from this logic, as their deity is understood to have arrived at a particular point in time, with existence therefore linear and leading to an eventual end-time. Later philosophies of historical time emerge from this religious foundation, but when robbed of its sacrality, such a conception of time “presents itself as a precarious [. . .] duration, leading irremediably to death” (113).

Chapter 2 Analysis

In the Introduction and Chapter 1, Eliade introduced the concept of the sacred as transcendental reality and divine creative force. He defined the hierophany as the manifestation of the sacred on the earthly plane. He proposed life in proximity to the sacred as an ontological mode that holds the sacred as the ultimate reality beyond and behind all material existence, and he explored how this ontology is expressed in the particular material dimension of space. In Chapter 2, Eliade expands his exploration of the sacred mode to a new, equally integral dimension of human life: time.

Chapters 1 and 2 of The Sacred and the Profane explore the mechanics of sacred experience through two linked dimensions of human life. These two chapters bear strongly similar argumentative and analytical frameworks, with similarities of argumentation in Chapter 2 that mirror those of Chapter 1.

Just as sacred space is opposed to profane space, sacred time is opposed to profane time. While sacred space “breaks up” profane space through hierophany, sacred time “marks a break in profane temporal duration” (72) through hierophany. Breaks in profane space are required to provide order and orientation to wild, amorphous profane space; sacred breakage in profane time is required to “make possible [. . .] ordinary time” (89). In both cases, this necessity for the sacred to restore reality to the profane is due to the supreme creative force of the divine. As Eliade writes in Chapter 2, periodic re-entry into sacred time is required to return time to its “original sanctity” (75). Yearly festivals recover the sanctity of the cosmos, “the sanctity that it possessed when it came from the Creator’s hands” (75).

In sacred space, humans channel the creative force of the sacred into the profane world through ritual. These are foundation rituals, fixed upon certain significant locations in space such as the temple at the center of a village or a new plot of land where a domicile will be constructed. Similarly, in sacred time, humans also channel the creative force of the sacred through ritual, specifically festivals, which are fixed into certain positions in time and therefore work to sacralize the time that surrounds them. Just as the axis mundi and temple are the material expressions of the concept of sacred space, festivals are the material expression of the breaking up of profane time with sacred time. Festivals, as such, are hierophanies. Like the hierophanies explored in Chapter 1, they have the capacity to make the world sacred again, just as the temple or church does for space. In this sense, the church can be conceived as the static festival in Eliade’s thinking, and the festival the living church.

Another corollary between sacred space and sacred time is the necessity of ritual to call upon the creative power of cosmogony. In Chapter 1, physical re-enactment of the cosmogony, through rituals such as blood sacrifice, was required to call upon its creative power: The cosmogony had to be genuinely re-lived in space. Similarly, in the dimension of sacred time, the festival rearticulates the cosmogony: “Through annual [or other calendrically scheduled] repetition[s] of the cosmogony, time was regenerated, that is, it began again as sacred time, for it coincided with the illud tempus in which the world had first come into existence” (80).

Importantly, these rituals are not equivalent to a memorialization of sacred events or their retelling, but a genuine re-integration of sacred time into profane time, bestowing its creative power: “the festival is not merely the commemoration of a mythical event; it reactualizes the event” (81). This offers a theoretical explanation for a common problem in the anthropology of ritual: the seemingly arbitrary sequences of actions that must be applied in ritual in order for the ritual to be of genuine sacred effect. Eliade argues this is necessary because these acts repeat the primordial acts performed by the gods during the cosmogony: they are “imitatio dei’” (imitations of the gods) and will be explored more deeply in subsequent chapters.

The concept that sacred time, as the time of mythic creation, can literally re-enter profane time, constitutes the essential difference between the conception of time as lived by a religious and non-religious person. Whereas in profane time history inexorably progresses toward the future, a religious conception of time holds that time is essentially cyclical, as “by its very nature sacred time is reversible in the sense that, properly speaking, it is a primordial mythical time made present” (68). All time relates back to the primordial event of creation which, as it created all things, also initiated time. Yearly cycles are ordained as part of an essential cosmogonic structure, which reiterates the cyclical nature of time. As Eliade also explores, this revivifying power of sacred time not only applies to the natural world but to each individual human being: “By participating ritually in the end of the world and its re-creation, any man became [. . .] born anew [. . .] as it was the moment of his birth” (80).

As the chapter progresses, Eliade twice works against reductionist views on religion which foreground their essential irrationality, instead showing his respect for the philosophical flexibility of religious logic. In the first example, he argues against the idea that a concept of sacred time, and by extension all religious thinking, is ahistorical: “From one point of view this periodical emergence from historical time [. . .] may appear to be a refusal of history” (90). Naturally, the desire for proximity to the sacred does cause traditions of scripted actions and beliefs to develop. However, these traditions and their adherents do not resist the advent of history, as a religious person “does not refuse progress in principle; he accepts it but at the same time bestows on it a divine origin” (90).

In the second example, Eliade shows how a religious principle, robbed of its sacred undertones, becomes a negative philosophy. The concept of eternal return—the endless cyclical progression of time—becomes terrifying without the revivifying aspect of the rebirth of the cosmos at each reiteration of the calendar. As Eliade writes, “the religiousness of the cosmos becomes lost [. . .] repetition emptied of its religious content necessarily leads to a pessimistic vision of existence” (107). Eliade follows this argument by noting that although the concept of historical time emerged from the theological focus on Christ’s life as a historical event, the subsequent loss of a “soteriological” (122) or salvific aspect to time leads to nihilism: “definitively desacralized, time presents itself as a precarious [. . .] duration” (113). This, overall, demonstrates one of Eliade’s overarching conceptualizations of religion in the history of thought. Religion is a meaning-making system that allows humans a wholesome, participatory, and warm relationship with the immensity of existence.

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