Last blog ever, so sad....really I think I'm going to miss it.
http://www.as.ua.edu/rel/pdf/rel105sylspr2005.pdf
Honors Intro to the Study of Religion
University of Alabama
So this isn’t an advanced undergraduate or graduate course, but I thought that an exception could be made because it’s taught by Russell McCutcheon and it was the closest thing that I could find to theory that he teaches/taught. I really liked that the class had a balance and something of a separation between method and theory: the year is divided into three sections the first about classification; the second approaches to the study (anthropology, feminism,etc); and the third contemporary politics of classification. This last section makes it seem like the course is grounded in practical application of the study. And also, because of the way it is organized it seems like discussion would be less likely to become muddled and more focused.
http://www.clas.ufl.edu/users/mpoceski/Sylllabi/methodtheorysyllabusf03.htm
Method and Theory I
College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, University of Florida
I really like the assignments for this course: for example introduction to practical method like interviewing and also an interview with a member of faculty about their method/theory. But, I wasn’t a fan of the reading list – it seems rooted in the early to mid-20th century. And I would think that at the graduate level these would not be new theorists for students, so I don’t know why reading Future of an Illusion would be beneficial, besides the fact that the list doesn’t seem critical enough.
http://www.uofaweb.ualberta.ca/historyandclassics/pdfs/Relig475_575Landy.pdf
RELIG 475/575 (THEORY AND METHOD IN THE STUDY OF RELIGION)
University of Alberta
The course is actually focused on ritual studies and skewed towards anthropology, but I think that it is a good introduction to both understanding and applying method and theory for undergraduates. The assignments are similar to ours, but more structured. I also liked the reading list which includes Bell and Orsi.
http://rels.queensu.ca/rels802.php
RELS 802* Core Course II: Theory and Method in Religious Studies
Queen’s University
The syllabus for this graduate course is pretty sparse, and quite frankly I find the idea of making a presentation on method and theory pretty intimidating. But that’s just me. I included it because I think the assignment to review both of the course texts is a good one, because I think that it would require students to demonstrate in a context outside of their expertise the extent to which they have understood and internalized the course material.
http://www.aarweb.org/syllabus/syllabi/c/carlson/integrating_seminar-carlson.htm
Integrating Seminar Religious Studies 390
DePaul University, 2000
“This is a course about all the other courses. This is a meta-course; it’s reflexivity 101.”
And reflexivity is the word here: student’s are required to write a paper based on their own liberal arts education and study of religion.
http://www.aarweb.org/syllabus/syllabi/d/desjardins/re476/METHOD.html
Method and Theory in the Study of Religion Wilfrid Laurier University
There is a large amount of reading for this course, but I like the mix which included the close to home:
Remus, Harold, "Religious Studies in Ontario, 1992 to 1999: State-of-the-Art Update." Studies in Religion/Sciences Religieuses 28 (1999): 197-208.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Expertise
Blog 9
The section of Callanan’s article that spoke the most to me in terms of my own education occurs in the second paragraph of page six. She is discussing the classroom dynamic between students in the humanities and hard sciences – and their self-segregation along those disciplinary boundaries. What struck me was the comment that “students and scholars create identifications with home disciplines much like citizens create allegiances with nation-states” (6). The reason that it resonated is because it made me realize the extent to which I hide behind content-based knowledge in the form of one of the disciplines I study: Art History.
When trying to explain an idea, and really in general – I talk about art a lot. And to qualify that, I do find it simpler to use a concrete example than purely abstract thought.
However I realize that my knowledge of art is only becoming more specialized, more expert if you will. And that now when I use it – it is within the framework of Art Historical discourse, i.e. the way I was taught. While upper-year courses expect other considerations (such as sociology, religion, anthropology) to be applied to art, initially Art History is taught in a very linear manner, with a specific European canon (Coliseum, Chartres, Mona Lisa, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon). The assumption is that it is necessary to know these works to have any grasp of Art History. Which is problematic for several reasons, basically that the canon is not only biased in hurtful ways (i.e. Eurocentric, etc.) but also to a certain extent arbitrary. I would contrast this with a course such as RLG 200 Phenomenon of Religion, which does not aim to instill a canon of theory of religion – but covers major thought with case studies. It encourages the reflexivity that Callanan lauds from the outset of the student’s undergraduate career.
Although – it would be wrong not to note that the discipline of Art History is considerable more established than Religion, which would clearly be a factor in how adaptable any discipline would be in incorporating new theory.
Back to my original point: what I noticed was the extent to which I use the discipline of Art History as a form of self-identification. An example, you all would be more than familiar with would be my blog. As in “because I study Art History….” The reason I started talking about art in the first place, was because after the mid-term feedback – I tried to incorporate material not as closely related to the text (as per suggestion) and the only thing that I felt comfortable talking about was art.
Why is that the case? Well, I think that has to do with what is valued not only in the institution but society in general – you can’t talk about it unless you are an expert. Unless you know the facts. The history. The framework, theory and so forth. I think that it is easy to talk about what we are expert in – especially at the university because our knowledge becomes so specialized. Which may be a cynical comment, but I think that when we want to make a point in an interdisciplinary context it becomes difficult, if not impossible for others to argue if they are not “as expert”.
I guess that my point is that Callanan’s article did encourage a certain amount of reflexivity in me because it illuminated how inflexible I am in the way I think and argue.
The section of Callanan’s article that spoke the most to me in terms of my own education occurs in the second paragraph of page six. She is discussing the classroom dynamic between students in the humanities and hard sciences – and their self-segregation along those disciplinary boundaries. What struck me was the comment that “students and scholars create identifications with home disciplines much like citizens create allegiances with nation-states” (6). The reason that it resonated is because it made me realize the extent to which I hide behind content-based knowledge in the form of one of the disciplines I study: Art History.
When trying to explain an idea, and really in general – I talk about art a lot. And to qualify that, I do find it simpler to use a concrete example than purely abstract thought.
However I realize that my knowledge of art is only becoming more specialized, more expert if you will. And that now when I use it – it is within the framework of Art Historical discourse, i.e. the way I was taught. While upper-year courses expect other considerations (such as sociology, religion, anthropology) to be applied to art, initially Art History is taught in a very linear manner, with a specific European canon (Coliseum, Chartres, Mona Lisa, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon). The assumption is that it is necessary to know these works to have any grasp of Art History. Which is problematic for several reasons, basically that the canon is not only biased in hurtful ways (i.e. Eurocentric, etc.) but also to a certain extent arbitrary. I would contrast this with a course such as RLG 200 Phenomenon of Religion, which does not aim to instill a canon of theory of religion – but covers major thought with case studies. It encourages the reflexivity that Callanan lauds from the outset of the student’s undergraduate career.
Although – it would be wrong not to note that the discipline of Art History is considerable more established than Religion, which would clearly be a factor in how adaptable any discipline would be in incorporating new theory.
Back to my original point: what I noticed was the extent to which I use the discipline of Art History as a form of self-identification. An example, you all would be more than familiar with would be my blog. As in “because I study Art History….” The reason I started talking about art in the first place, was because after the mid-term feedback – I tried to incorporate material not as closely related to the text (as per suggestion) and the only thing that I felt comfortable talking about was art.
Why is that the case? Well, I think that has to do with what is valued not only in the institution but society in general – you can’t talk about it unless you are an expert. Unless you know the facts. The history. The framework, theory and so forth. I think that it is easy to talk about what we are expert in – especially at the university because our knowledge becomes so specialized. Which may be a cynical comment, but I think that when we want to make a point in an interdisciplinary context it becomes difficult, if not impossible for others to argue if they are not “as expert”.
I guess that my point is that Callanan’s article did encourage a certain amount of reflexivity in me because it illuminated how inflexible I am in the way I think and argue.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Still "talking" about art...where I stand on contextualism
The only way I can explain where I stand on contextualism is to use examples from what I study, which means art. I think that I am justified in using a specific work because in art historical discourse, art is read as text. That is unless one is only analyzing it from a formal perspective (light, colour, perspective, line, etc.), which is actually not common practice anymore. This is because art does not exist, nor is it created in a vacuum.
The example I am going to work with is a miniature mosaic (see illustration) that is located in the Louvre. It was donated to the museum in the late 19th century by an aristocrat who procured it in Italy. Those are the facts about it. I am currently writing a term paper for another course on this work. I have learned that all of the other information attached to it is the product of hypothesis and guesswork. What is that information? Well, its place of production has been labeled as Constantinople (Istanbul) during the late Byzantine period, around the early 14th century. The figure depicted is generally agreed upon to be St. George (although through other labeled art and textual sources it is known that George was not the only saint during this period to be illustrated slaying a dragon), but there is no definitive indication on the mosaic.
Okay, so if I look at Skinner’s three assumptions: writing as extension of speech, contexts are readily discernable, authorial intention is usually unproblematic to locate (139). The first doesn’t apply to the visual arts, but the second two will never be possible realistically. It won’t be known who made it, who it was made for or why? Does that mean it is unreadable? Likewise, with Pocock’s assertion that “most interesting acts of translation in interpretive traditions are anachronistic” (140). If that were the case, then wouldn’t that be imposing my own bias onto the work? Wouldn’t my interpretation be informed by later images influenced or not by the original? BUT if I attempt the opposite does that put a premium on authorial intent? I think that even if the work is readable without that information, in the study of a history it does violence on the originator of the piece not to attempt to understand the original context. Particularly when dealing with traditions that have not been dominant in the university.
Such as the Byzantine Empire.
BUT that does not address the issue of Nietzsche’s umbrella. In other words, artworks don’t exist for the historian alone. And I think that is where the meat of the issue of contextualism comes in.
Is the mosaic not readable if you don’t know anything about the alleged place/time of its creation? St. George? Or even horses, dragons, knights? The historian would claim that unlike Derrida (142) the work isn’t “fully” readable without a history, BUT with so much guesswork involved that is a big assumption. Also, that would imply that the historical context is essential, that without text the mosaic isn’t understandable. And considering that the current text associated with it is less than two centuries old – what would that mean for the viewers before it entered the Louvre? Does that not limit the work to a hypothesized origin with no later value? Unfortunately my paper and most of art history focuses on the place/time of creation. This would make it hard to incorporate the criticisms of contextualism.
Okay, so if I look at Skinner’s three assumptions: writing as extension of speech, contexts are readily discernable, authorial intention is usually unproblematic to locate (139). The first doesn’t apply to the visual arts, but the second two will never be possible realistically. It won’t be known who made it, who it was made for or why? Does that mean it is unreadable? Likewise, with Pocock’s assertion that “most interesting acts of translation in interpretive traditions are anachronistic” (140). If that were the case, then wouldn’t that be imposing my own bias onto the work? Wouldn’t my interpretation be informed by later images influenced or not by the original? BUT if I attempt the opposite does that put a premium on authorial intent? I think that even if the work is readable without that information, in the study of a history it does violence on the originator of the piece not to attempt to understand the original context. Particularly when dealing with traditions that have not been dominant in the university.
Such as the Byzantine Empire.
BUT that does not address the issue of Nietzsche’s umbrella. In other words, artworks don’t exist for the historian alone. And I think that is where the meat of the issue of contextualism comes in.
Is the mosaic not readable if you don’t know anything about the alleged place/time of its creation? St. George? Or even horses, dragons, knights? The historian would claim that unlike Derrida (142) the work isn’t “fully” readable without a history, BUT with so much guesswork involved that is a big assumption. Also, that would imply that the historical context is essential, that without text the mosaic isn’t understandable. And considering that the current text associated with it is less than two centuries old – what would that mean for the viewers before it entered the Louvre? Does that not limit the work to a hypothesized origin with no later value? Unfortunately my paper and most of art history focuses on the place/time of creation. This would make it hard to incorporate the criticisms of contextualism.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Moral Emotions and The Watchtower
I don’t have focused research area yet, but I was intrigued by the prospect of applying an analysis of emotion to something that I am interested in studying. Specifically, I am going to talk about two areas of Christianity that I find fascinating (other examples that I use will also are from that tradition, I apologize if that is problematic in understanding my blog): eschatology and evangelical movements.In this blog I will be talking about emotion and the art in the Watchtower tracts of the Jehovah’s Witnesses.
I am going to be working on the assumption that everyone has seem at least one copy of the Watchtower, and likely has come into contact with a member of that church “witnessing”. I am also not going to question the idea that conversion involves emotion. I do not think that it is a purely intellectual act, or spiritual for that matter.
The issue here is that the tracts are mass produced on an international level; there are not targeted publications for different groups within society. I have gotten the same literature in upper middle-class Oakville as I have in my socio-culturally mixed neighbourhood in downtown Toronto. This is unlike political propaganda, which is a close cousin. Potential converts, then are from different economic, educational, ethnic and religious backgrounds and are given the same material. But they cannot all respond to it in the same way. In other words, I think that neither an exclusively universalist nor relativist approach would work.
*
The Watchtower tracts are also reliant on a heavily moralizing message. But the audience could arguably have less common ground. Which leads me to the idea that the form that the art takes in the Watchtower needs to be familiar (and therefore readable) and I think also borrows from the authority of those sources to provoke an emotional response in potential converts. I am not, however, implying anything insidious. What I do mean is that it uses mainstream advertising because it is understandable. And the kind of images used in journalism because it has authority both in terms of ‘fact’ and reinforcing moral norms. This is in spite of the fact that the Jehovah’s Witnesses are counter-cultural in orientation.
The issue here is that the tracts are mass produced on an international level; there are not targeted publications for different groups within society. I have gotten the same literature in upper middle-class Oakville as I have in my socio-culturally mixed neighbourhood in downtown Toronto. This is unlike political propaganda, which is a close cousin. Potential converts, then are from different economic, educational, ethnic and religious backgrounds and are given the same material. But they cannot all respond to it in the same way. In other words, I think that neither an exclusively universalist nor relativist approach would work.
*
The Watchtower tracts are also reliant on a heavily moralizing message. But the audience could arguably have less common ground. Which leads me to the idea that the form that the art takes in the Watchtower needs to be familiar (and therefore readable) and I think also borrows from the authority of those sources to provoke an emotional response in potential converts. I am not, however, implying anything insidious. What I do mean is that it uses mainstream advertising because it is understandable. And the kind of images used in journalism because it has authority both in terms of ‘fact’ and reinforcing moral norms. This is in spite of the fact that the Jehovah’s Witnesses are counter-cultural in orientation.
For example, on the online version of the Watchtower in a section on “The End of Poverty” there are images akin to those used by NGO’s to solicit monetary support. I think that understanding a potential convert’s emotional response to the images would be as part of the “society’s most deeply held values” (16), and as a moral response and therefore a moral emotion (14). The “deeply held value” in this case, I think, is expressed in the mainstream media as the First World responsibility in terms of aiding developing nations. Whether the emotion provoked is guilt, empathy or something else, again I think is dependent upon the situatedness of the individual. It is however a moral emotion because it is a reaction to what has been predetermined to be a moral issue.Ok, I hope that made sense.
(In Art History there is a concept called Reception Theory; which in a nutshell means that an artwork is studied from the perspective of an observer and not the artist/patron. I first came across it when studying entrance decoration on Romanesque (Medieval) churches. A number of these had relief sculpture depicting the Last Judgement. Needless to say, this is a heavily moralizing narrative, the ultimate judgment of the individual. And its position high on the entrance to the church/cathedral with a seated Christ would have, at least in part, an emotional impact on those entering (regardless of whether or not they were clergy or laity, aristocrat or not). The emotional analysis would be simpler then in the sense that there was more common ground for the intended public that is in terms of shared morality, artistic idiom, theodicy, etc. But the idea of intended audience is what interests me. And in terms of emotion, I think that the Last Judgement motif would provoke different responses depending on the individual’s perception of their own moral standing. Which would mean that their emotional response would be a moral judgment (14).)Monday, October 29, 2007
Modrian, Sherman, and Kandinsky: Stoller’s three modes of rationality and art.
I decided to try something new this week, and I’m looking forward to hearing what you think. Maybe because I also study Art History, I find it easier to think in terms of works of art, especially in regards to concept and theory. So this week I have decided to use art to understand Stoller’s modes of rationality. Also, I am working under the assumption that these aren’t works and artists known to you, so I will give as concise explanations as possible, in addition to the illustrations.
Piet Mondrian was an early 20th century Dutch painter interested in non-representational art. (For Mondrian this would eventually mean a reduction to line and colour block) This interest was informed in part by Symbolist thought, itself Neo-Platonic: what they were interested in was a visual art closer to music, in that it did not have any illusory aims in terms of the material world. Instead it was meant to invoke something beyond the material, a universal ideal. Which I think can be compared to Levi-Strauss’ ‘elementary forms’ (246) as underlying structures. I think it can and should be argued that Mondrian came from the same intellectual tradition as Levi-Strauss; I think which priviledged abstract notions above real-world situations.
The criticism these ‘lumpers’ (244) came in the form of Relativism.
Cindy Sherman is an American photographer who, in the late 1970’s took a series of self-portraits (frequently with a visual acknowledgement of this in the presence of the shutter cord) in poses derived from American pop-culture stereotypes of women. For example, the ‘available’ woman stretched out on a bed or a housefrau. Key to understanding her art then is the knowledge that she is the photographer, and as artist is commenting on those depictions of women. This involves agency.
Furthermore, while it is mostly incidental that Mondrian was say Dutch, Sherman’s art doesn’t make sense without knowledge of her gender. This hinges on two key elements of Relativism – the privileging of experience and diversity (248). Because without her experience as a women viewing those source images in the first place, there would not be her response. Her response then was a product of a specific reaction, a specific mode of thinking, of reasoning. That is a ‘diversity of rationality’ (248).
Wassily Kandinsky was an artist contemporary to Mondrian, involved with the Blauer Reiter group. By the time he painted Composition VII, the formal properties of his work were notable for highly abstracted figures and intense colour. Like Mondrian he was interested in an almost non-cognitive response to his art, he was also interested in the spiritual dimension of art. BUT his work, including Composition VII, was heavily influenced by Russian Orthodox icons and Christian narrative, in this case the Last Judgement. As such, he art can be viewed on different levels: the decorative aspects of the formal properties and the inclusion of Last Judgement figures (BUT in that case only really, if the viewer has that information).
What does this have to do with the Phenomenological mode? I think that the decorative quality of Kandinsky’s work, the one that most people are familiar with, is analogous to the ‘everyday’ aspect of that mode. And that the other symbols in the work can be compared to the cultural conditioning that effect meaning (250), in this case what the viewer sees in the painting. Or not. (Or for that matter, if the viewer comes from the Christian tradition, whether or not they are an insider)
So, which is most convincing?
Stoller seems to privilege the last mode he mentions: the embodied, at least as a goal. I think that the difficulty in deciding which is most convincing lies in that Post-Enlightenment legacy, the over-arching framework, or at least the search for it. While Mondrian considered representational art to be deceitful in a manner of speaking, couldn’t it be said on the other hand that looking for something beyond the mundane, the idea that a higher principle exists is also a bit ridiculous? On the other hand, while Relativism is such a narrow focus; how can you ignore the power dynamic that lead to its necessity? And here the example of Sherman, I think, makes sense, her experience as a woman is different period. To ignore that would not be just. (Although I guess that is applying a universal principle in itself)
That leaves phenomenology. And I think this is the most convincing, and again, if you look at Kandinsky’s painting. A viewer from the same religious background *might* perceive things, that someone from an entirely different tradition would not. BUT a viewer from a similar background who has an understanding of that period of art would have a different level of interpretation.
I hope that made sense. I think I was just trying to understand the three modes, and hopefully it can relate to rationality.
Piet Mondrian was an early 20th century Dutch painter interested in non-representational art. (For Mondrian this would eventually mean a reduction to line and colour block) This interest was informed in part by Symbolist thought, itself Neo-Platonic: what they were interested in was a visual art closer to music, in that it did not have any illusory aims in terms of the material world. Instead it was meant to invoke something beyond the material, a universal ideal. Which I think can be compared to Levi-Strauss’ ‘elementary forms’ (246) as underlying structures. I think it can and should be argued that Mondrian came from the same intellectual tradition as Levi-Strauss; I think which priviledged abstract notions above real-world situations.
The criticism these ‘lumpers’ (244) came in the form of Relativism.
Cindy Sherman is an American photographer who, in the late 1970’s took a series of self-portraits (frequently with a visual acknowledgement of this in the presence of the shutter cord) in poses derived from American pop-culture stereotypes of women. For example, the ‘available’ woman stretched out on a bed or a housefrau. Key to understanding her art then is the knowledge that she is the photographer, and as artist is commenting on those depictions of women. This involves agency.
Furthermore, while it is mostly incidental that Mondrian was say Dutch, Sherman’s art doesn’t make sense without knowledge of her gender. This hinges on two key elements of Relativism – the privileging of experience and diversity (248). Because without her experience as a women viewing those source images in the first place, there would not be her response. Her response then was a product of a specific reaction, a specific mode of thinking, of reasoning. That is a ‘diversity of rationality’ (248).
Wassily Kandinsky was an artist contemporary to Mondrian, involved with the Blauer Reiter group. By the time he painted Composition VII, the formal properties of his work were notable for highly abstracted figures and intense colour. Like Mondrian he was interested in an almost non-cognitive response to his art, he was also interested in the spiritual dimension of art. BUT his work, including Composition VII, was heavily influenced by Russian Orthodox icons and Christian narrative, in this case the Last Judgement. As such, he art can be viewed on different levels: the decorative aspects of the formal properties and the inclusion of Last Judgement figures (BUT in that case only really, if the viewer has that information).
What does this have to do with the Phenomenological mode? I think that the decorative quality of Kandinsky’s work, the one that most people are familiar with, is analogous to the ‘everyday’ aspect of that mode. And that the other symbols in the work can be compared to the cultural conditioning that effect meaning (250), in this case what the viewer sees in the painting. Or not. (Or for that matter, if the viewer comes from the Christian tradition, whether or not they are an insider)
So, which is most convincing?
Stoller seems to privilege the last mode he mentions: the embodied, at least as a goal. I think that the difficulty in deciding which is most convincing lies in that Post-Enlightenment legacy, the over-arching framework, or at least the search for it. While Mondrian considered representational art to be deceitful in a manner of speaking, couldn’t it be said on the other hand that looking for something beyond the mundane, the idea that a higher principle exists is also a bit ridiculous? On the other hand, while Relativism is such a narrow focus; how can you ignore the power dynamic that lead to its necessity? And here the example of Sherman, I think, makes sense, her experience as a woman is different period. To ignore that would not be just. (Although I guess that is applying a universal principle in itself)
That leaves phenomenology. And I think this is the most convincing, and again, if you look at Kandinsky’s painting. A viewer from the same religious background *might* perceive things, that someone from an entirely different tradition would not. BUT a viewer from a similar background who has an understanding of that period of art would have a different level of interpretation.
I hope that made sense. I think I was just trying to understand the three modes, and hopefully it can relate to rationality.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Experience and the 'Language Game'
After reading Scharf’s article several questions come to my mind regarding experience and language:
Without language, how can we know WHAT experience is?
Even if it is ineffable how can it exist or happen/have happened without the representation of language?
If there is no experience, then how do you explain or understand accounts? Are they merely a product of socialization? In other words, we think that they exist, so they do to us? Is that not a bit patronizing? Or, at the very least, reductive?
And also, are all religious or mystical experiences the same at the root – that is should we assume that they all come from the same ‘place’ or is the notion of ‘family resemblances’ that Scharf mentions (97) more profound? If you consider the phenomenon of alien abduction (108-109) in contrast to William James et al, could it be that the experiences under consideration are NOT some sort of contact with one thing. But several or multiple forces, for lack of a better term. Fundamentally, is there a way to separate experience from its roots? As Scharf summarized: the progression from Post-Enlightenment attempts to defend religion as the expression of experience, to Perennial Philosophy to its effects on D.T. Suzuki and Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (that is on non-European traditions and our notion of them). Even though the concept of experience is situated in a certain universalism, is it useful anyway? Can it be divorced from that?
So what role does language play in all of this? Well, without language, that is signifiers, how do we know it exists (even if only as a recollection or happening in our minds? Regardless of what assumptions that makes about the nature of the mind, especially in terms of autonomy.) In other words, is the ‘dream report the only criterion for the dream’ (113)? Is the recording of experience the only way it exists?
Or is the application of language to experience, whatever it is, as Dennett claims (111) relational? I think that in terms of the scholar, perhaps. BUT in terms of the individual, the community member. No. If you look at groups that have a strong confessional component, such as charismatic Christian churches (even if they are descended from the same phenomena that inspired William James) what does it mean for members to share tales of their experiences with each other? The same could be said of any other tradition with framework descended from Perennial Philosophy (100-103).
I guess the biggest assumption that Scharf discusses is our really foundational myth of the autonomous individual (111) and that this individual is in possession of inner, private experience. But how do we get around that? Not only is the individual central to the current European-inspired framework, BUT it is central to any attempt to address persons outside of their signifiers. Fundamentally this is tied to social justice, if there is no concept that we are all individuals and all equal, then people and groups can be objectified.
Without language, how can we know WHAT experience is?
Even if it is ineffable how can it exist or happen/have happened without the representation of language?
If there is no experience, then how do you explain or understand accounts? Are they merely a product of socialization? In other words, we think that they exist, so they do to us? Is that not a bit patronizing? Or, at the very least, reductive?
And also, are all religious or mystical experiences the same at the root – that is should we assume that they all come from the same ‘place’ or is the notion of ‘family resemblances’ that Scharf mentions (97) more profound? If you consider the phenomenon of alien abduction (108-109) in contrast to William James et al, could it be that the experiences under consideration are NOT some sort of contact with one thing. But several or multiple forces, for lack of a better term. Fundamentally, is there a way to separate experience from its roots? As Scharf summarized: the progression from Post-Enlightenment attempts to defend religion as the expression of experience, to Perennial Philosophy to its effects on D.T. Suzuki and Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (that is on non-European traditions and our notion of them). Even though the concept of experience is situated in a certain universalism, is it useful anyway? Can it be divorced from that?
So what role does language play in all of this? Well, without language, that is signifiers, how do we know it exists (even if only as a recollection or happening in our minds? Regardless of what assumptions that makes about the nature of the mind, especially in terms of autonomy.) In other words, is the ‘dream report the only criterion for the dream’ (113)? Is the recording of experience the only way it exists?
Or is the application of language to experience, whatever it is, as Dennett claims (111) relational? I think that in terms of the scholar, perhaps. BUT in terms of the individual, the community member. No. If you look at groups that have a strong confessional component, such as charismatic Christian churches (even if they are descended from the same phenomena that inspired William James) what does it mean for members to share tales of their experiences with each other? The same could be said of any other tradition with framework descended from Perennial Philosophy (100-103).
I guess the biggest assumption that Scharf discusses is our really foundational myth of the autonomous individual (111) and that this individual is in possession of inner, private experience. But how do we get around that? Not only is the individual central to the current European-inspired framework, BUT it is central to any attempt to address persons outside of their signifiers. Fundamentally this is tied to social justice, if there is no concept that we are all individuals and all equal, then people and groups can be objectified.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Time, Gender and Adam
Is essentialism the same thing as the search for origins? I would argue that from a linear standpoint, and as the product of one: yes it is. This comes from the original creation story in Genesis of a world created by the Abrahamic God not just in sequence, but with an intentional form. But it should also be noted that this framework can include ‘evolutionary’ lines of thinking, those under the rubric of science and empiricism. In other words, when speaking of a linear view I would like to include not only the Judeo-Christian view of time (which would also contain a certain amount of eschatology, that is an expected end-point in time in the future), but also the post-Enlightenment thinking, in the field of Religion beginning in the 19th century, for example figures such as Tylor and Frazer).
So, what does this have to do with the physical Adam? I think that an intentional, original form should be taken into account, but also the notion of the fall. Although that should not be limited to the Christian account and reading of the fall. In Boyarin’s article the fall and physicality of this original human (whether or not Adam was by default male is not important just yet), is discussed in terms of two streams of Feminist thought linked to early Christianity and formative Rabbinic Judaism. That is the materialist feminist Monique Wittig (‘For there is no sex. There is but the sex that is oppressed and the sex that oppresses’, 118) and the early Christian concept of the original spirit created called Adam, based on Gen 1:26-28; and the contrast of Luce Irigaray’s view of inescapable gender and the prevailing thought in Judaism of the original hermaphrodite (128 and on). In terms of the two religious traditions, the fundamental difference lies in the idea of what the fall means, for the Christians (for example Paul Gal 3:26-29*) the fall was into corporeality; whereas in the Jewish tradition the physical body and organization of life around the genders did not exclude the members from spiritual life (although women were limited to the domestic sphere).
What does this view of the past have to do with gender? First off, I think that it would unreasonable to apply any progressive view of gender to texts from the first century CE. BUT what is important here, I think, is that there is a distinction between the two religious traditions and the feminists. For the traditions, I would argue that there seems to be the continual presence of the past in the present, but as an ideal (which, needless to say, is removed). In the case of feminism, I think that the scholarship and political thought is searching for an unknown original form to humanity. The desired form is known, but its shape isn’t clear. In other words, either some fundamental lack of difference or specific difference, both of which lead to a certain amount of oppression. That is undeniable. The past then, is important for feminism as both the record of oppression, but I suspect also the notion that the oppression is not a necessary feature of social life. That maybe it was in some way accidental.
* I think that this article is limited by the fact that it does not attempt to take a larger context into account in terms of the early Christian texts. Specifically, in discussing Paul’s notion of transcending gender (even if it an androgyne that is by default male), Boyarin does not take into account the high level of eschatology in early Christianity. Simply put, the expectation that the end was imminent is more informative than the notion of what Adam was. I think that any notion of Adam was not something thought over, but something taken as ‘fact’.
So, what does this have to do with the physical Adam? I think that an intentional, original form should be taken into account, but also the notion of the fall. Although that should not be limited to the Christian account and reading of the fall. In Boyarin’s article the fall and physicality of this original human (whether or not Adam was by default male is not important just yet), is discussed in terms of two streams of Feminist thought linked to early Christianity and formative Rabbinic Judaism. That is the materialist feminist Monique Wittig (‘For there is no sex. There is but the sex that is oppressed and the sex that oppresses’, 118) and the early Christian concept of the original spirit created called Adam, based on Gen 1:26-28; and the contrast of Luce Irigaray’s view of inescapable gender and the prevailing thought in Judaism of the original hermaphrodite (128 and on). In terms of the two religious traditions, the fundamental difference lies in the idea of what the fall means, for the Christians (for example Paul Gal 3:26-29*) the fall was into corporeality; whereas in the Jewish tradition the physical body and organization of life around the genders did not exclude the members from spiritual life (although women were limited to the domestic sphere).
What does this view of the past have to do with gender? First off, I think that it would unreasonable to apply any progressive view of gender to texts from the first century CE. BUT what is important here, I think, is that there is a distinction between the two religious traditions and the feminists. For the traditions, I would argue that there seems to be the continual presence of the past in the present, but as an ideal (which, needless to say, is removed). In the case of feminism, I think that the scholarship and political thought is searching for an unknown original form to humanity. The desired form is known, but its shape isn’t clear. In other words, either some fundamental lack of difference or specific difference, both of which lead to a certain amount of oppression. That is undeniable. The past then, is important for feminism as both the record of oppression, but I suspect also the notion that the oppression is not a necessary feature of social life. That maybe it was in some way accidental.
* I think that this article is limited by the fact that it does not attempt to take a larger context into account in terms of the early Christian texts. Specifically, in discussing Paul’s notion of transcending gender (even if it an androgyne that is by default male), Boyarin does not take into account the high level of eschatology in early Christianity. Simply put, the expectation that the end was imminent is more informative than the notion of what Adam was. I think that any notion of Adam was not something thought over, but something taken as ‘fact’.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Difference Between Text and Performance
What is the difference between ritual (performance) and text? Why is it important or necessary to differentiate them? What are the problems if this isn’t done?
In this context what we are really asking is what the difference is for the outsider, the scholar, the researcher? I think that where the difference lies is in two related areas: the insider/outsider distinction and also the level of participation in which text and ritual can each allow for the outsider.
It goes without saying, but I will anyway, that there is a difference between the insider (and believer) and the person studying a particular religious tradition (the outsider), or what Bell terms the ‘observing scholar’ and ‘performing native’ (219). Even taking into consideration Sharf’s comparison of ritual to music (251) and his conclusion that ritual can be participated in and appreciated by the masses and not just the lettered (267); I don’t think that it would unnecessarily particularize rituals too much to say that the things that make them ritual (for example what Bell calls the ‘internal authority….the communal, performative and symbolic’ aspects (220) or what Sharf claims sets ritual apart from the quotidian, things such as vestments, and purified objects (247)) and are known to and have meaning attached to by the insiders cannot be viewed as ritual even without that basic understanding. That is to say, ritual is different (as Sharf makes clear), although it shouldn’t be assumed that the outsider will always recognize or understand ritual (this Bell addresses when discussing the performative approach, which is as a part of an ‘awareness of the scholar’s own position’ (210)).
Furthermore, ritual cannot be participated in the same way text can. Text is meant to be read. Even as an outsider – you are doing what the form demands. Ritual on the other hand, even if understood by the outsider, can only ever be witnessed or re-enacted (what Bell refers to as putting the theorist into a more ‘active role’ (211)). Any breaking down of a particular ritual will reduce it to words, to text (Sharf’s ‘music to score’ (250)). A done thing once it is written, whereas the point of ritual lies in the doing, that is the continual performing.
Also, I think a key to understanding potential problems with viewing ritual as text lies in contextualizing the known formation of text. While origins of specific rituals are various, text is easier to root out the historical context, redactions, etc. and text is at the end of the day Whereas, with ritual, the nature is different, that is to say, even if ritual involves text, or is prescribed by text or even just inspired by it, it would not be a generalization to state that a participant need know that text to engage in the ritual (just for example, the Eucharist, inspired by a story in the New Testament, but historically not necessary to have read or have specific knowledge of the source text to participate). In other words, text, at the end of the day is formed and read by a certain elite; ritual does not always need to be either (in terms of formation, what Bell refers to as ‘domestic practices and local religion’ (210)). An example of this, easily, can be found in Bell’s discussion of home-based ancestor worship ritual (beginning 213), which is not textually/scripturally based at all.
I think that fundamentally, the important difference for the scholar between ritual and text is that if they are not differentiated, then they both loose context. That is, their differences in comparison will not be appreciated if they are not recognized as different in kind.
In this context what we are really asking is what the difference is for the outsider, the scholar, the researcher? I think that where the difference lies is in two related areas: the insider/outsider distinction and also the level of participation in which text and ritual can each allow for the outsider.
It goes without saying, but I will anyway, that there is a difference between the insider (and believer) and the person studying a particular religious tradition (the outsider), or what Bell terms the ‘observing scholar’ and ‘performing native’ (219). Even taking into consideration Sharf’s comparison of ritual to music (251) and his conclusion that ritual can be participated in and appreciated by the masses and not just the lettered (267); I don’t think that it would unnecessarily particularize rituals too much to say that the things that make them ritual (for example what Bell calls the ‘internal authority….the communal, performative and symbolic’ aspects (220) or what Sharf claims sets ritual apart from the quotidian, things such as vestments, and purified objects (247)) and are known to and have meaning attached to by the insiders cannot be viewed as ritual even without that basic understanding. That is to say, ritual is different (as Sharf makes clear), although it shouldn’t be assumed that the outsider will always recognize or understand ritual (this Bell addresses when discussing the performative approach, which is as a part of an ‘awareness of the scholar’s own position’ (210)).
Furthermore, ritual cannot be participated in the same way text can. Text is meant to be read. Even as an outsider – you are doing what the form demands. Ritual on the other hand, even if understood by the outsider, can only ever be witnessed or re-enacted (what Bell refers to as putting the theorist into a more ‘active role’ (211)). Any breaking down of a particular ritual will reduce it to words, to text (Sharf’s ‘music to score’ (250)). A done thing once it is written, whereas the point of ritual lies in the doing, that is the continual performing.
Also, I think a key to understanding potential problems with viewing ritual as text lies in contextualizing the known formation of text. While origins of specific rituals are various, text is easier to root out the historical context, redactions, etc. and text is at the end of the day Whereas, with ritual, the nature is different, that is to say, even if ritual involves text, or is prescribed by text or even just inspired by it, it would not be a generalization to state that a participant need know that text to engage in the ritual (just for example, the Eucharist, inspired by a story in the New Testament, but historically not necessary to have read or have specific knowledge of the source text to participate). In other words, text, at the end of the day is formed and read by a certain elite; ritual does not always need to be either (in terms of formation, what Bell refers to as ‘domestic practices and local religion’ (210)). An example of this, easily, can be found in Bell’s discussion of home-based ancestor worship ritual (beginning 213), which is not textually/scripturally based at all.
I think that fundamentally, the important difference for the scholar between ritual and text is that if they are not differentiated, then they both loose context. That is, their differences in comparison will not be appreciated if they are not recognized as different in kind.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
World Religions and RLG 100
Because I switched into a Religion major subject POSt late in my undergrad career*, at the moment I am taking both the Method & Theory and World Religions courses; which I think is proving to be instructive for this course, and hopefully for World Religions as well.
The syllabus for the latter course begins with the expected preamble as a course description: it states that the course will be a survey of the “major religious traditions of the world”, and will be divided into two sections “Western” (Judaism, Christianity and Islam; which was amended in lecture to Mediterranean) and South East Asia (Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism and Chinese religions). The core text for the course A Concise Introduction to World Religions begins with what it terms ‘Indigenous’ traditions, followed by the three Abrahamic religions, then Hindu, Sikh, Jain and so forth. And although the syllabus states that the course aims to “situate traditions within their larger cultural worldviews” and will also include a lecture on new religious movements; it does follow what Masuzawa terms the “uniformly adopted convention” (256) of world religions discourse.**
I think that the interesting question or angle here is NOT why is this course being taught? Or even why is this course structured in this manner? BUT what are the presuppositions that therse (for the most part) 17 and 18 year-old students bringing to the world religions survey course. Why are they taking it? What has made them think it is important? Is it just for a well-rounded liberal arts education? For an introduction for latter more specific/in-depth study?
I think, actually, that a large part of the reason a student would take RLG 100 is informed by the 19th Century Europeans, that is to say their influence on popular culture. And also, more importantly that what Masuzawa calls the “flatly monotonous pluralism” (256) that became the norm for the 20th century discourse as a product of the ‘scientific’ study of religion (the need to categorize and define, the ‘family resemblances’ and such; essentially a need to impose a European directed order on the people of the world) is key to understanding something held dear in Canadian culture: multiculturalism. That is not to say that the present understanding of multiculturalism and related social justice goals are the direct descendents of this earlier thought; BUT that the underlying concept, the flattening of differences, so necessary to this ‘value’ would lead students to want to have an understanding of world religions. Even if the taxonomy is dubious. In other words, this course would not be taken to understand far off nations, but close neighbours.
* I took Psychology and Religion to begin with, and then followed that with Phenomenon of Religion, Early Christian Writings, and Roots of Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity. Needless to say all of these courses were indeed Eurocentric in material covered and bias. Arguably with cause in terms of the subject matter i.e. psychology and Christianity; two fields of study developed in Europe, for Europeans.
** It would also appear that the standard characterizations that Masuzawa mentions are also present. For example, the Buddhism that Masuzawa comments as generally appearing “benignly compassionate…metaphysical at the core” (256) is presented in the introduction to its chapter in A Concise Introduction to World Religions as having followers that “seek to become more compassionate…more pure of mind, and more spiritually wise.”
The syllabus for the latter course begins with the expected preamble as a course description: it states that the course will be a survey of the “major religious traditions of the world”, and will be divided into two sections “Western” (Judaism, Christianity and Islam; which was amended in lecture to Mediterranean) and South East Asia (Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism and Chinese religions). The core text for the course A Concise Introduction to World Religions begins with what it terms ‘Indigenous’ traditions, followed by the three Abrahamic religions, then Hindu, Sikh, Jain and so forth. And although the syllabus states that the course aims to “situate traditions within their larger cultural worldviews” and will also include a lecture on new religious movements; it does follow what Masuzawa terms the “uniformly adopted convention” (256) of world religions discourse.**
I think that the interesting question or angle here is NOT why is this course being taught? Or even why is this course structured in this manner? BUT what are the presuppositions that therse (for the most part) 17 and 18 year-old students bringing to the world religions survey course. Why are they taking it? What has made them think it is important? Is it just for a well-rounded liberal arts education? For an introduction for latter more specific/in-depth study?
I think, actually, that a large part of the reason a student would take RLG 100 is informed by the 19th Century Europeans, that is to say their influence on popular culture. And also, more importantly that what Masuzawa calls the “flatly monotonous pluralism” (256) that became the norm for the 20th century discourse as a product of the ‘scientific’ study of religion (the need to categorize and define, the ‘family resemblances’ and such; essentially a need to impose a European directed order on the people of the world) is key to understanding something held dear in Canadian culture: multiculturalism. That is not to say that the present understanding of multiculturalism and related social justice goals are the direct descendents of this earlier thought; BUT that the underlying concept, the flattening of differences, so necessary to this ‘value’ would lead students to want to have an understanding of world religions. Even if the taxonomy is dubious. In other words, this course would not be taken to understand far off nations, but close neighbours.
* I took Psychology and Religion to begin with, and then followed that with Phenomenon of Religion, Early Christian Writings, and Roots of Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity. Needless to say all of these courses were indeed Eurocentric in material covered and bias. Arguably with cause in terms of the subject matter i.e. psychology and Christianity; two fields of study developed in Europe, for Europeans.
** It would also appear that the standard characterizations that Masuzawa mentions are also present. For example, the Buddhism that Masuzawa comments as generally appearing “benignly compassionate…metaphysical at the core” (256) is presented in the introduction to its chapter in A Concise Introduction to World Religions as having followers that “seek to become more compassionate…more pure of mind, and more spiritually wise.”
Sunday, September 16, 2007
September 19, 2007
What does the privileging of the ‘scripture in context’ approach say about Van Voorst’s viewpoint?
Robert Van Voorst defines the approach he uses and advocates (Asian scripture in the context of its use, ‘how it comes alive in the total life of the religion’) against the two earlier approaches in the study of religion: the initiation of creating and studying reliable translations in mid-19th century, and the later ‘History of Religions’ school (focusing on ritual, myth, symbol, and other non-textual elements). His view of this method, then, is articulated as one that came about due to a natural or historical progression. That is to say, it was the logical step in method in the study of religion.
Or more precisely comparative religions.
The comparative aspect is key to understanding what underlies his view: that a certain categorization of traditions and their aspects is, if not the end goal, an important facet in the differentiation.
While defining elements or natures of religions is necessary to explain them in an academic setting, any taxonomy will inevitably reveal a bias, which Van Voorst admittedly cautions against and addresses -- especially in terms of the existence of the study of religion itself as an endeavour made possible and informed by the Enlightenment and Protestantism. In other words, he reaffirms the very idea that there can be a social scientific approach to culture or any part of it, and also the primacy of the written word. As well, the use of the written word assumes literacy on the part of the audience. This historically and even currently is not the case for the majority of the population, even without language barriers (this Van Voorst does acknowledge in terms of scripture itself).
BUT this leaves in question what or whom academic work is for: that it is created by and for a group with a certain level of literacy and knowledge and opportunity, not accessible to everyone (in other words, is, for instance, Asian scripture, being studied and explained by a group for that group?).
Working within that academic setting, Van Voorst gives several examples of the categorization of religions and concepts used in the study: insider/outsider, different kinds of scripture (narrative, law, poetry, philosophy, etc.), cognitive/non-cognitive and informative/performative uses of scripture and ‘religions of the book’ (for example Judaism and Islam), therefore using language to designate both concrete and abstract aspects of religions. And however much an academic bias is acknowledged, the act of applying language to anything boxes it in. That is to say that in defining a use of scripture, for example in meditation, contains it. And by repeating the terms and labels for the uses or behaviours, etc., they become more enshrined.
Also within Van Voorst’s view is the frequent use of binaries, such as cognitive/non-cognitive and more importantly in his discussion of the ‘especially sacred’ nature of scripture for the religious community. It could be said that by making that particular distinction (sacred/profane, even if it is a definition of convenience for the intended audience) imposes a worldview that makes a specific distinction about objects and space. Even though Van Voorst likely intends to impart the specialness of the texts, the word "sacred" has another dimension to it (known to its intended audience) This, of course, would not hold necessarily true for the religions discussed within Van Voorst’s text.
Robert Van Voorst defines the approach he uses and advocates (Asian scripture in the context of its use, ‘how it comes alive in the total life of the religion’) against the two earlier approaches in the study of religion: the initiation of creating and studying reliable translations in mid-19th century, and the later ‘History of Religions’ school (focusing on ritual, myth, symbol, and other non-textual elements). His view of this method, then, is articulated as one that came about due to a natural or historical progression. That is to say, it was the logical step in method in the study of religion.
Or more precisely comparative religions.
The comparative aspect is key to understanding what underlies his view: that a certain categorization of traditions and their aspects is, if not the end goal, an important facet in the differentiation.
While defining elements or natures of religions is necessary to explain them in an academic setting, any taxonomy will inevitably reveal a bias, which Van Voorst admittedly cautions against and addresses -- especially in terms of the existence of the study of religion itself as an endeavour made possible and informed by the Enlightenment and Protestantism. In other words, he reaffirms the very idea that there can be a social scientific approach to culture or any part of it, and also the primacy of the written word. As well, the use of the written word assumes literacy on the part of the audience. This historically and even currently is not the case for the majority of the population, even without language barriers (this Van Voorst does acknowledge in terms of scripture itself).
BUT this leaves in question what or whom academic work is for: that it is created by and for a group with a certain level of literacy and knowledge and opportunity, not accessible to everyone (in other words, is, for instance, Asian scripture, being studied and explained by a group for that group?).
Working within that academic setting, Van Voorst gives several examples of the categorization of religions and concepts used in the study: insider/outsider, different kinds of scripture (narrative, law, poetry, philosophy, etc.), cognitive/non-cognitive and informative/performative uses of scripture and ‘religions of the book’ (for example Judaism and Islam), therefore using language to designate both concrete and abstract aspects of religions. And however much an academic bias is acknowledged, the act of applying language to anything boxes it in. That is to say that in defining a use of scripture, for example in meditation, contains it. And by repeating the terms and labels for the uses or behaviours, etc., they become more enshrined.
Also within Van Voorst’s view is the frequent use of binaries, such as cognitive/non-cognitive and more importantly in his discussion of the ‘especially sacred’ nature of scripture for the religious community. It could be said that by making that particular distinction (sacred/profane, even if it is a definition of convenience for the intended audience) imposes a worldview that makes a specific distinction about objects and space. Even though Van Voorst likely intends to impart the specialness of the texts, the word "sacred" has another dimension to it (known to its intended audience) This, of course, would not hold necessarily true for the religions discussed within Van Voorst’s text.
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