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Sabeanism

Sam Cyrous

International Academy of Positive

Psychotherapy, Wiesbaden, Germany

An ancient religion which should not be mistaken

with the Sabaeanism of Saba (or Sheba), nor with

the Sabianism (with “i” in English rather than with

“e”) originated from the group of followers of John

the Baptist who did not accept Jesus as the Christ.

Term Confusion and History

The confusion of the three is a constant through

the literature and it is primarily due to

a translation mistake of the Koran byMarmaduke

Pickthall – the term mentioned in the Koran

refers to the religious group and it is written

with the Arabic letter sad, and Saba is written

with sin and is referred to the people of Saba,

Yemen. Other cause of confusion results from the

fact that the Ansar tribe of Saba adopted the

Koranic Sabeanism as a religion. A third cause

can be pointed in the fact that the followers of

John the Baptist, being persecuted and expelled

from Palestine, have settled down in the city of

Harran, where Sabeanism was the dominant reli-

gion and also, after the conquest of Alexander,

the center of religious and intellectual activity.

Finally, a historical cause is in the fact that the

first commentarists of the Koran, the historians

D.A. Leeming (ed.), Encyclopedia of Psychology and Religi# Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014

and the jurists of Islam, not seeing a Sabean,

concluded that all the peoples of the world who

were not Christian, Jews, or Muslims, living from

India to Spain, were Sabeans.

Only in the tenth century, it was known that

there were two different groups: the ones living at

the area of the Euphrates – the Mandaeans, fol-

lowers of John the Baptist – and the descendents

of the city of Harran – the Harranians

(Mehrabkhanı 1995).

In this period, the Mandaeans lived among the

Sabeans in Harran, probably, copying some of

their cosmology, and later in Babylon, where

assimilated local beliefs; posterior to the arrival

of Muslims in Iraq (636 CE), they moved to the

swampy lands of meridian Iraq (Cardenas n.d.).

Sabeanism and Other Religions

According to Mehrabkhanı (1995) there are no

more living believers of this religion, and the only

sources referring to it are theMuslim historians of

the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries, the expla-

nations presented in Baha’ı texts, their mention in

Judaism – e.g., Yeshayahu/Isaiah 45:14 and Iyov/Job 1:15 – and the existence advocated in the

original Islam through quotes that distinguish

the followers of the book, by one hand, the

Muslims and by the other, the Jews, the

Christians, and the Sabeans (2:62; 5:69; 22:17).

As mentioned, their geographical origin was

attributed to the city of Harran (Mesopotamia),

destroyed by the Mongol invasions of the twelfth

on, DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6086-2,

S 1568 Sabeanism

century. In the Bible (Genesis 12:4) one can read

that Abram “departed out of Haran,” indicating

that he could be from there. In letters, the Guard-

ian of the Baha’ı Faith, Shoghi Effendi, by his

turn, mentions that “The followers of this religion

lived in Ur of the Chaldees, where Abraham

appeared” (1941 cit. in Research Department

1996) and “Abraham is considered as having

been a follower of that Faith” (1939 cit. in

Hornby 1994). And the Koran describes some

beliefs of the land of Abraham as similar to

those of the Sabeans.

The founder of Islam Himself is seen as being

of Sabean origin, according to some descriptions

of His time. About Muhammad, Ibn Jurayi

(767) wrote “He is a Sabian”; ‘Abd al-Rahman

‘ibn Zayd (798) mentioned “The polytheists used

to say of the prophet and his companions ‘these are

the Sabians’ comparing them to them, because the

Sabians who live Jaziartal-Mawsil would say ‘La

ilaha ila Allah’” (a sentence common in Islamic

theology); and Rabi’ah ‘ibn ‘Ubbad (contempora-

neous of Muhammad) wrote “I saw the prophet

when I was a pagan. (. . .) I noticed a man behind

him saying ‘he is a sabi.’ When I asked somebody

who he was he told me he was ’Abu Lahab, his

uncle” (G€und€uz 1994, pp. 18–19).

Religious Life

Sabeans believed in the need of demiurges that

had all the virtues and perfections of one God

unique, incognoscible, incomprehensible and

prophets capable of answering any questions

and unite humankind in conciliation and peace.

From unknown date of foundations and having

a founder or a “Prophet (. . .) Whose name is

unrecorded” (Effendi, 1938 cit. in Departamento

de Pesquisa da Casa Universal de Justica 2006),

the learned attributed its origin to Seth – son of

Adam, or Idris, Enoch – having in account that

their pilgrimage was to Giza, Egypt, where the

tombs of Idris and Seth would be, or even to

Hermes Trismegistus. This absence of a known

founder made them “replace their unknown

prophet with these spirits” (Mehrabkhanı 1995),

in a total of seven, that govern the earthly world

and manage the worldly and the spiritual prob-

lems. Those spirits assumed a celestial body as

their own physical one – Saturn, Jupiter, Mars,

the Sun, Venus, Mercury, and the Moon – having

erected temples for each one of them, in Harran

(possibly, in a total amount of 12).

Each of these temples, without images, pos-

sessed a different architecture. The ceremonies in

these temples were under the absolute control of the

sacerdotal individuals, existing a clear dependence

towards them. A detailed analysis of the religious

phenomenon would show an increase of need of

clergy dominion as one would go back in time and

a consequent apparent loss of responsibility of the

believers’ personal acts. Nevertheless, in the case of

Sabeanism, there was a belief that the individual’s

spirit is conscious of the punishments and rewards

he/she was receiving during life, indicating an indi-

vidual responsibility, despite the need of constant

sacerdotal presence and confirmation on the lives

and thoughts of the believers: humans were perfect

creations, but in potential, and through the interven-

tion of the spirits and through the clergy, theywould

have their development. Thus, conscience would

become the meaning organ, as defined by Frankl

(2002), guiding each human being and permitting

the maintaining of his/her own identity, making

him/her aware of his/her objective in life. In

this way, a Sabean was someone that, guided,

reflected on his attitudes, because “freedom of

adopting an attitude (. . .) is never completed if it is

not converted and transformed in freedom

to assume responsibility” (Frankl 2001, p. 75).

Responsibility is now an essential force in Sabean

psychology,marking as a “distinctive note ofman in

his humanity” (Guberman and Soto 2005, p. 122).

Family Life

The concept of family, by its turn, was one

of equality, under the law, between men and

women, in a monogamist couple, making more

likely to have a more congruent child education,

in what couple and family therapist could call

balanced, or at least, inclination to a more bal-

anced and healthy family system. Divorce was

not forbidden, but it was unadvised and only

Sabeanism 1569 S

made possible, once more, through the interven-

tion of a superior and exterior entity: in this case

a judge after the analysis of the adultery charges

(only acceptable cause of divorce).

S

Collective Life and Individual Life

It was a religion that defended an individual role,

submissive to an external orientation: from the

judge, the clergy, or the spirits. Thabit ibn-i-Qarrah

(a devoted Sabean) has written that “some chosen

among the people” are those who “have reached all

this and have shown the way to heal the badness of

the souls and have filled the world with the institu-

tions and centers to fulfill and extend wisdom and

piety.” These are the fewwho leaded thematters of

the community. A first and superficial analysis

could attribute the locus of control of the believers

to external variables, but if such was true, the cities

where they lived, as was the case of Harran,

wouldn’t have been the centers of cultural enter-

prises, where difference was accepted. In reality,

respecting the guide of those who were hierarchi-

cally superior could be compared to the respect

a student has towards the teacher or the relationship

of a patient with his therapist: at the end, responsi-

bility is of him/her who has, initially, lesser infor-

mation and knowledge and who wants to learn and

develop new capabilities. Thus the ninth and tenth

centuries recorded great sages of Sabean origin,

like philosophers, astronomers, physicians, and

botanicals.

The existence of a class superior in knowledge

and wisdom could also prevent a common indi-

vidual from imposing his opinions to others: as

consequence equality, tolerance to difference,

and equal opportunities would be as if instituted.

The very own diversity of the temples could be

seen as an acceptance of difference and diversity.

As a consequence, social and moral principles

could only result of a social consensus.

Individual Life

At an individual level, like other religions, there

were prayers – in a total of three or five obligatory

ones, depending on the referral source. They took

care of their bodies and clothing, as it would be

needed for devotional moments. Such act shows

a belief in some kind of relationship between the

body and the spirit. They fasted three times

a year – in a total of 30–46 days – believed that

circumcision was against divine creation, and

were forbidden to eat some sorts of meats, garlic,

onion, lentils, or broad beans.

Scholars assume they believed in life after

death, due to their erect and without prostration

prayers for the dead during funerals, the

archeological findings pointing to their burial

with fingernails, and, in a specific record, the

figure of a Phoenix on the tomb with the sentence

“let there be the joy of a happy ending!”

They were, besides all these, owners of firm-

ness and constancy before hardships, as reported,

once more, by Thabit ibn-i-Qarrah: “when every-

one was under the influence of the Cross, our

parents, with the help of God, showed firmness

(. . .). Blessed those who show constancy and

accept all kinds of calamities for the cause of

hanputeh, and manifest certitude and confidence.”

It was perhaps under this vision that they reached

vast corridors of the African world, despite their

Asian origins. There are authors who believe that

Sabeanism was the precursor of African religions,

as the case of the Ngoni people of the Bantu

ethnicity of Swaziland, as described by Cardenas

(n.d.), or even Santeria taken to the Americas,

centuries later.

See Also

▶Abraham and Isaac

▶Adam and Eve

▶Baha’ı Faith

▶Baptism

▶Christianity

▶Circumcision

▶Conscience

▶ Frankl, Viktor

▶God

▶ Islam

▶ Judaism and Psychology

▶Locus of Control

S 1570 Sacraments

▶ Prayer

▶ Purpose in Life

▶Religion

▶ Santerıa

▶ Soul: A Depth Psychological Approach

Bibliography

Cardenas, B. V. (n.d.). Apuntes sobre los Sabeanos.Baha’ı Library Online. Retrieved from http://bahai-

library.com/file.php5?file¼villar-cardenas_apuntes_

sobre_sabeanos&language.

Departamento de Pesquisa da Casa Universal de Justica.

(2006). Sabeısmo, Buda, Krishna, Zoroastroe Assuntos Correlatos. Mogi Mirim: Editora Baha’ı

do Brasil.

Frankl, V. E. (2001). Psicoterapia y existencialismo –Escritos selectos sobre la logoterapia. Barcelona:

Editorial Herder.

Frankl, V. E. (2002). La voluntad del sentido –Conferencias escogidas sobre logoterapia. Barcelona:Editorial Herder.

Guberman, M., & Soto, E. P. (2005). Diccionario delogoterapia. Buenos Aires: Grupo Editorial Lumen

Hvmanitas.

G€und€uz, S. (1994). The knowledge of life. The origins andearly history of the Mandaeans and their relations tothe Sabians of the Qur’an and to the Harranians.Oxford.

Hornby, H. H. (1994). Lights of guidance: A Baha’ıreference file. India: Baha’ı Publishing Trust/

Thomson Press.

King James Bible.Mehrabkhanı, R. (1995). Los sabeos y el Sabeısmo.

Apuntes Baha’ıs, II Epoca. Rivista N�4, 53–72.Research Department of The Universal House of Justice.

(1996). MEMORANDUM to David Garcia.The Qur´an. (n.d.) (trans: Ali, Y.).

Sacraments

Carol L. Schnabl Schweitzer

Pastoral Care, Union Presbyterian Seminary,

Richmond, VA, USA

Sacred Ritual: Public Act

From a religious perspective, a sacrament is

a ritual that has been elevated to a special status

because it is believed to have been instituted by

a divine figure. For Christians, for example, these

sacred rituals or sacraments are believed to have

been instituted by Christ. Scholars that study

ritual are able to agree (mostly) on at least two

points: (1) “ritual consciousness is pre-critical”

and (2) “ritual is meaningful and that meaning

consists of the words or ideas to which ritual

acts refer” (Grimes 1993, p. 7). Moreover, ritual

is a collective, or corporate, and public act, as

opposed to an individual or personal and private

act; ritual is also traditional as opposed to created

or invented. On these points, even Freud would

be likely to concur since he declared that an

obsessional neurosis was a “half comic and half

tragic private religion” (Freud 1907, p. 119). Thisis not to say that new rituals are not created or

invented and later adopted as sacred, but it is

a process that takes place over generations. The

generational process points to the need for

some kind of ritual authority – especially with

regard to sacred rites or sacraments. Authority is

ascribed to sacred texts, tradition (the genera-

tional process), ecclesiastical hierarchies, and

the like. Grimes identifies several other sources

of ritual authority: performance according to

rules established by sacred or liturgical texts,

functions that cohere with the social context

and/or work to achieve explicit goals, and moral

criteria which ritual subscribes to and ensures that

ritual is just (Grimes 1993, p. 50). Thus, as psy-

chologist of religion Paul Pruyser was led to

conclude: “in religion, it is folly to ignore the

impact of action on belief. Religious belief is

embedded in religious practices; creed is grafted

onto cult” (Pruyser 1974, p. 205). Though doc-

trine about such religious practices is in some

ways inseparable from the culture and the

practice it describes, there is an unavoidable

“chicken-egg” question about which is prior.

What then does psychoanalytic theory teach us

about ritual and the sacraments in particular?

Obsession: Private Act

Freud had a less than charitable view of religious

ritual and declared that all religion was best

understood as a universal obsessional neurosis

Sacraments 1571 S

(Freud 1907/1959, p. 126). What Freud labeled as

“neurotic ceremonials” are “small adjustments to

particular everyday actions. . . which have always

to be carried out in the same, or in a methodically

varied, manner” (Freud 1907/1959, pp. 117–118).

If these actions are not carried out methodically and

repetitively (daily), the individual experiences

intolerable anxiety. Thus, one conclusion pertaining

to the function of ritual is that ritual serves as

a defense mechanism, which assists in reducing an

individual’s anxieties about everyday life. Freud

attends particularly to the small additions to what

would otherwise be “mere formalities” or exagger-

ations of formal procedures; these additions or

exaggerations may have a “rhythmic character”

which consists of pauses and repetitions. One

could argue that these “neurotic ceremonials”

have an almost musical quality about them. Yet

even Freud distinguishes between “neurotic cere-

monials” and religious rituals as we shall see.

S

Neurotic Obsession or Sacred Rite?

The similarities that Freud identified between

neurotic obsessions and sacred rites include the

conscientiousness with which the practices are

observed as well as the attention paid to details,

the “qualms of conscience” or guilt that is

stimulated by neglecting the rituals, and the

observation or performance of such rituals in

isolation from other activities in conjunction

with a prohibition against the interruption or dis-

ruption of the act. The dissimilarities are equally

apparent and include the “stereotyped” character

of religious ritual (Freud cites prayer as an exam-

ple), the corporate or communal nature of sacred

ritual, and the details or dimensions of religious

rituals that are imbued with significance and sym-

bolic meaning consciously by the believer (Freud

1907/1959, p. 119). Here we can note the “pre-

critical consciousness” and meaning located in

words and ideas that Grimes describes. In con-

trast, an obsessional neurosis is acted out in pri-

vate and the meaning (there is always a symbolic

meaning) is not known, at least consciously, to

the individual who engages in such practices.

Finally, Freud contends that if “deeper insight”

into the actual mechanism of the obsession is to

be attained, then one needs to examine what is at

the bottom or root of the obsession which is

“always the repression of an instinctual impulse

(a component of sexual instinct)” (Freud 1907/

1959, p. 124). Here then we see that an obses-

sional neurotic practice addresses the guilt which

is related to the repression of an impulse and by

analogy one can see a similarity with the function

of sacraments which, at least in part, are rituals

performed to cleanse the believer from sin. Thus,

as Freud concludes, the origins of religion are

located in the renunciation or suppression of “cer-

tain instinctual impulses” (Freud 1907/1959,

p. 125). Acts of penance or contrition, which are

deemed sacraments in some Christian denomina-

tions, are ritual acts engaged in to compensate for

the believer’s sinful behaviors, and these acts

have a pathological counterpart in obsessional

neuroses. As Pruyser notes, however, this treat-

ment of religious ritual doesn’t do justice to reli-

gious practice which leads him to render a more

favorable reading of sacraments and religious

rituals building upon the work of Winnicott and

Erikson (Pruyser 1974, pp. 205–213). What then

does this more favorable understanding of sacred

ritual look like?

Sacraments as Sacred Ritual

Pruyser takes Winnicott’s idea of a transitional

object and its transitional sphere (the attention

paid to and “goings on” surrounding the transi-

tional object) as his starting place. The transi-

tional object is a ritual or sacred object which,

Pruyser argues, is the transcendent. The object is

held as sacred; for example, an infant’s mother

and the rest of the family realize almost intui-

tively that a blanket or teddy bear is precious and

it acquires a “ceremonial focus” within the fam-

ily. It isn’t washed with the rest of the laundry, is

often carried everywhere, and is treated with awe

or reverence. This transitional sphere wherein the

object becomes sacred is also the source of illu-

sion in the positive sense of the word. It is the

space between “the mental image produced by

the mind itself and the objective perceptual image

S 1572 Sacred King

produced by the real world impinging upon the

sensory system. Illusion is neither hallucination

nor delusion, nor is it straightforward sense per-

ception. Illusion also includes mystery” (Pruyser

1974, p. 11). Thus, the transitional object has an

almost numinous – even if illusory – quality

about it, while the transitional sphere is the loca-

tion for mediation between inner and outer reality

and in this way serves as the place from which

religion emanates. The first occurrence of ritual

takes place when an infant and mother exchange

smiles while the infant is nursing (Erikson 1977,

p. 87). How then does this lead to the develop-

ment of sacred ritual and the celebration of sac-

raments? If we consider the Christian sacraments

of baptism and the Eucharist as examples, we can

see that they are in some sense religious dramas

enacted in a worship context that deal primarily

with notions of grace and judgment (or damna-

tion) which invite communal participation. To be

sure, the celebration of the sacraments is fraught

with symbols, the multivalent meanings of which

perhaps only the clergy or ecclesiastical authori-

ties are able to explain fully, but their absence

from the drama of human life would signal noth-

ing short of a person with a negative identity

(Erikson) or an individual who has never learned

to play (Winnicott).

See Also

▶Anxiety

▶Christianity

▶Compulsion

▶Defenses

▶Erikson, Erik

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶ Instinct

▶ Pruyser, Paul

▶ Psychoanalysis

▶ Psychology of Religion

▶Ritual

▶ Shame and Guilt

▶ Superego

▶ Symbol

▶Transitional Object

▶Winnicott, Donald Woods

Bibliography

Erikson, E. (1977). Toys and reasons: Stages in theritualization of experience. New York: W. W. Norton.

Freud, S. (1907/1959). Obsessive actions and religious

practices In J. Strachey, (Trans.). The standard editionof the complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud(Vol. 9). London: Hogarth Press (1959).

Grimes, R. L. (1993). Reading, writing, and ritualizing:Ritual in fictive, liturgical, and public places.Washington, DC: Pastoral Press.

Pruyser, P. W. (1974). Between belief and unbelief. NewYork: Harper & Row.

Pruyser, P. W. (1983). The play of the imagination:Toward a psychoanalysis of culture. New York:

International Universities Press.

Winnicott, D. W. (1971). Playing and reality. London:Tavistock/Routledge.

Sacred King

Stacey Enslow

Anthropology Department, Purdue University,

West Lafayette, IN, USA

The Sacred King is a unification of the concepts

of the innate self-ruler; the human being as

a potentiality expressed in competence, com-

mand, resourcefulness, and self-control. This is

united with the mystical, religious, or psychic

self, as the leader of the unearthly aspects of the

human. The Sacred King joins the office of the

secular King and the holy Priest into a single

whole person, one who acts with authority and

knowledge in the inner and outer realms of

human experience. Sacred King seeks to achieve

homeostasis but at an idealized level. He (the

Sacred King is a “masculine” aspect – it is under-

stood that archetypes are manifested in both gen-

ders and sexes) is the bridge between extremes of

human social and personal/religious experience.

In Eastern metaphysics, the human is conceived

of as a bridge between “heaven” and “earth,”

whereas in Western metaphysics, humanity is

seen as possessing, or linking, the extremes of

the “upper” or celestial worlds and the “lower” or

demoniac worlds – heaven:hell, human world:

faery/other world, and Arcadia: Hades.

Sacred King 1573 S

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Mythic correspondences include, as earthly

beings, Gilgamesh, Rama, and The Fisher King.

Some deities representing Sacred Kingship are

Marduk, Prajapati, and Osiris.

As Gilgamesh, the earliest recorded Sacred

King in history, the Sacred King represents the

culmination of the journey of the soul, from real-

ization of potential to the limits of the physical

self, to the unification of desires, and will to

achieve the end of the soul’s journey. Gilgamesh

is the SacredWarrior, and theWanderer, who has

achieved success in the quest for selfhood and

self-mastery. Gilgamesh also shows the power of

the Sacred King as living and ruling in two

worlds: the land of the living and the land of the

divine, be they ancestors or gods. Working with

the high priestess/goddess of the land, the Sacred

King is the judge and upholder of sacred law, and

by his decree secular and sacred law are joined.

The goddess and the land are forces with which

the Sacred King must remain in balance with,

to stay healthy and potent.

Rama is the lawgiver: he who arbitrates the

sacred law and also keeps the land fertile through

fairness and justice. Rama is the Sacred King as

universal or social conscience, and the self as

a social force; both a binder and administrator.

As Rama, the Sacred King represents the idea

of latent sovereignty within the self, or self-

rulership, as well as the ability to empower, and

rule, others. This aspect of the Sacred King is the

fulfillment of the social contract between the

individual and humanity: as a self-realized

human being, the Sacred King performs his

duties of office and is in turn sustained within

the interconnected energy exchange between

himself, the land, and society on one hand

and between himself, the goddess of the land,

and the collective spirit of the people on the

other. Thus the Sacred King fulfills the “Divine

Mandate” of Eastern metaphysics as a bridge

between heaven and earth. By mastering the

Shadow within himself, he is also the bridge

between the “lower” or demonic and “upper” or

angelic realms as well.

The Fisher King is the wounded self, seeking

reconciliation and healing: the Sacred King as

victim and as self-immobilized. Just as the

empowered Sacred King represents the self-

realized self-ruler, the Fisher King represents

the powers of the King: healing, union, justice,

rulership, and wisdom, all rendered impotent by

the innate power of the King turned against the

self. In this aspect of the archetype, the illness of

the self is a public role, affecting the health of the

entire network he is connected to: the land, and its

divinity, and the people, and their collective

spirit.

For the Fisher King, all relationships that the

Sacred King needs to fulfill are out of balance,

rendering the King unable to perform his func-

tions and unable to be healed until the imbalances

both within and without the self are healed. The

Fisher King’s illness is reflected in the land, and

so the land ceases to nourish the King, or his

people. Also, the land no longer nourishes the

social network of the people, and so they cannot

heal the King: The Fisher King is sick in body,

social function, and psyche.

The Sacred King has a strong messianic com-

ponent: like the Fisher King, Rama and Osiris are

embodiments of the Returning King which

involves a period away from society and family

(through illness, a personal quest or exile, death)

and then a return to liberate and rule again.

Sexual potency is an important aspect of the

Sacred King; all Sacred Kings excel in combat,

and usually possess superlative weapons; when

the King’s power is lessened, there is a

corresponding lessening, or even breakage, of the

potent weapon, and vice versa. The libido is

a driving force for the Sacred King; the erotic

interplay between Gilgamesh and Inanna, the love

affair of Rama/Radhi, and the castration and reju-

venation of Osiris by Isis illustrate the necessity of

the male/female dynamism not only as a catalyst

but also as a means of attainment.

When the role of the Sacred King is fulfilled, he

is the idealized ruler of the inner self. For the

individual, the Sacred King is a realization of

Maslow’s self-actualized person. In all his aspects,

the Sacred King reflects an integration of the pri-

vate self and the social self; the King is ruler and

hero, healer and warrior. In all instances, the

Sacred King is a responsible participant (and even

initiator) of social action, for benefit or for ill.

S 1574 Sacred Mountains

See Also

▶Angels

▶Archetype

▶Christ

▶Conscience

▶Demons

▶Descent to the Underworld

▶Eros

▶Heaven and Hell

▶Libido

▶Liminality

▶Love

▶Monomyth

▶Mother

▶Osiris and the Egyptian Religion

▶ Self

▶ Shadow

Bibliography

Jacobsen, T. (1976). The treasures of darkness.New Haven: Yale University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1959). The basic writings of C. G. Jung(V. Staub De Laszlo, Ed.). New York: Modern

Library.

Maslow, A. H. (1968). Toward a psychology of being(2nd ed.). New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold.

Sacred Mountains

Lee W. Bailey

Department of Philosophy and Religion,

Ithaca College, Ithaca, NY, USA

I will lift up mine eyes unto the mountains

(Psalm 121).

Mountains with their cloudy, snowy beauty

are sacred spaces. Can you feel it? They are

Mother Earth in her heaviness reaching toward

the sky, dusted with crystals from heaven. We are

drawn to their numinous, heavy, ancient magnif-

icence; they lift our souls to the sky. Gods seem to

inhabit their caves, peaks, and volcanoes. They

are wonderful spectacles to view and challenging

for tiny humans to climb. People revere them so

much that they build artificial mountains, like

Hindu temples, Babylonian ziggurats, and Egyp-

tian and Mexican pyramids. Spires pointing

heavenward on churches, mosques, and temples

are like mini-mountains. Skyward mountainous

mysteries evoke many feelings – humility, awe,

fear, and challenge for the ego – the aura of the

Divine Self. Being closer to the sky evokes

a transcendent hierophany, the presence of the

sacred (Eliade 1958, p. 101).

Europe

Mount Olympus in Greece was the home of Zeus,

who threw down thunder and lightning, frightening

Greeks with his cosmic power. Delphi is Apollo’s

sanctuary high onMt. Parnassus, with several tem-

ples and a cave where the ancient Delphic Oracle

gave her treasured mysterious advice. Mount Ida,

near the site of the TrojanWar, was the home of the

Phrygian goddess Cybele, Earth Mother. In Crete,

Mt. Ida is the home of the goddess Rhea, who gave

birth to Zeus in a cave. The Parthenon, Athena’s

temple, rises on the Acropolis like a sparkling

crown on Athens. These goddesses gave women

images of the divine to identify with.

Mt. Athos is a rugged Greek mountain

protruding into the Aegean Sea, home of Greek

Orthodox monasteries. The celibate monks pray,

study, and paint icons (Mt. Athos). Mont Saint-

Michel off the coast of Normandy, France, was

a sacred mountain for Celtic worship of Belenus,

Roman worship of Jove. Christian hermits lived

there until a bishop had a vision of a shrine atop

the rock in 708, and so the great cathedral/castle was

built, still busy with pilgrims today.

In Israel, Moses climbed sacred Mt. Sinai, saw

and heard God in the burning bush, where he

reverently received the sacred Ten Commandments,

initiating the holy Hebrew Law. Pilgrims still

climb Sinai.

Residents of the snowy Alps are enchanted by

its ruggedmountains – including 82–4,000-m-high

summits popular for hiking and skiing. The Swiss

peaks were celebrated by Mary Martin’s inspiring

songs in the 1965 film The Sound of Music such as

Sacred Mountains,Fig. 1 Khor Virap

monastery in Armenia with

Mount Ararat in the

background. Photograph

owner: Andrew

Behesnilian. This figure is

licensed under the creative

commons attribution 2.0

generic license. http://en.

wikipedia.org/wiki/File:

Kohrvirab.jpg

Sacred Mountains 1575 S

S

“Climb Ev’ry Mountain” and “The hills are alive

with the sound of music.” Here mountains sym-

bolize difficult barriers in life to cross to freedom.

Archaic Alpine traditions include the legend of the

ancient Germanic goddess Perchta (Bertha), “the

bright one,” a guardian of the mountain beasts who

may appear as beautiful or ugly. She was white

robed with a horned mask and one large foot. She

was angered if people forgot to feed her and would

slit people’s bellies open and stuff themwith straw

(Perchta). She expresses the beauty and danger of

the Alpine regions.

Mt. Croagh Patrick in Ireland rises 2,510 ft

above County Mayo, with prehistoric shrine

foundations. It was the residence of the Celtic

deity Crom Dubh. St. Patrick visited the

mountain in 441 and banished the ancient reli-

gions, symbolized as snakes and dragons. Today

believers climb the pilgrimage trail to the peak,

perhaps to shed their own such shadowy feelings

(Gray 2007). In Turkey, snowy Mt. Ararat,

a dormant volcano (16,946 ft.), on whose peak

the legendary Noah landed his mythic ark, offers

an image of divine power lifting up and saving

survivors of disasters (Fig. 1). Similar stories are

told by Native Americans about Mt. Rainier in

Washington state and Mt. Shasta in California

(Bernbaum 1997, pp. 148–150).

Asia

In China there are many sacred mountains

(Shan). The remarkable Zhangjiajie Park in

Hunan is where many tall, very narrow moun-

tains rise like pillars in the cloudy mist. (These

were an inspiration for the mythic film Avatar’s

scenes of the indigenous people flying dragons

off floating rocks.) The Five Great Mountains are

the mythic locations of the creator god Pangu’s

body. These have been destinations for emperors

to go for worship and sacrifice. Pilgrims climb up

and offer incense, chant, and sacrifice imitation

money, praying for children. The five are in the

east, Tai Shan (Tranquil Mountain), which has

a grand stairway; the west, Hua Shan (Splendid

Mountain); the south, Heng Shan (Hunan)

(Balancing Mountain); the north, Heng Shan

(Shanxi) (Permanent Mountain); and the center,

Song Shan (Lofty Mountain).

The four Buddhist sacred mountains areWutai

Shan (Five-Platform Mountain), Emei Shan(Lofty Mountain), Jiuhua Shan (Nine Glories

Mountain), and Putuo Shan, an island dedicated

to the goddess Guanyin.The four Taoist sacred mountains are Wudang

Shan, Longhu Shan (Dragon Tiger Mountain),

Qiyun Shan (As High as the Clouds),

S 1576 Sacred Mountains

and Qingcheng Shan (Secluded Place) (SacredMountains of China).

Japan has many sacred mountains. Notable is

Mt. Fuji, meaning “everlasting life.” Revered

Fuji-san is Japan’s national symbol and highest

mountain, rising 12,388 ft. It has several Shinto

temples. Fuji is seen as the embodiment of the

Earth Spirit. Pilgrimages to the top attract about

40,000 people a year. Ancient myths tell of its

divine origins, spiritual powers, and resident

deities, such as the Shinto Goddess of Flowering

Trees and the Buddha of All-Illuminating

Wisdom (Gray 2007).

Hindus and Buddhists feel in the Himalayas the

home of gods and immortals. The Himalayas are

the huge, magnificent home of Mt. Everest

(Chomolungma or Goddess Mother of the

World), the highest mountain on the Earth

(29,029 ft.) that has severely challenged many

climbers. The local clan of Sherpas guides those

who dare to climb to the top of the world, as close

to the heavens as you can walk. Edmund Hillary

and Tenzing Norgay were the first to reach this

highest peak in the world in 1952. It was seen as

a great conquest by Westerners. But Asians see

more sacred presence, than a place to be con-

quered, in these highest peaks.

The Buddhist Sherpas envision the protector

goddess of Mt. Everest, Miyolangsangma, who

guides them (Norgay 2001). But, to those who

live nearby, the most sacred Himalayans are not

to be climbed. Mt. Kailash in Tibet (22,028 ft.),

near the source of major rivers to the south, is

seen as a holy mountain, the mythical axis of the

universe, the hill where the invisible Mt. Meru

(Sumeru to Buddhists) rises above Kailash

thousands of miles. It is the glistening crystal

pagoda of Brahma (Indra for Buddhists). These

high mountains are seen by Asian believers as

holy places to experience ultimate reality. Images

of the center of the world, the axis mundi, are

places for theophanies – presence of the divine

(Eliade 1958, p. 373). Pilgrims do prostrations all

around Mt. Kailas, like the pagoda of a deity,

over boulders, streams, and glaciers, seeking to

feel the presence of supreme absolute. Divine

Shiva is envisioned sitting serenely on its peak.

When needed below, Shiva married the lovely

goddess Parvati and she had Karttikeya, who

defeated demons and liberated the world from

evil (Bernbaum 1997).

On the island of Bali, Indonesia, are four

sacred mountains, the homes of the gods, the

largest being Mt. Agung (10,308 ft.), their

supreme manifestation of Shiva. The religion of

the Balinese is a syncretic blend of Hinduism,

Buddhism, Malay ancestor cults, and animistic

magic.

InAustralia the dramaticUluru, or Ayers Rock,is the beautiful red mountain rising 1,135 ft from

a flat plain. It is seen as the solidified remains of

the Aborigine Dreamtime Ancestors who roamed

the Earth at creation. Aborigines revere this

amazing stone greatly, for it connects them

psychologically to their archetypal Divine Self

(Gray 2007).

In Africa, Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, where

the Chagga people live, they call the 17,000-ft-

high mountain simply Kibo, which means highly

revered, embodying eternity (Bernbaum 1997).

Americas

The highest mountain in Hawaii is Mauna Kea,

13,796 ft. above sea level. It is about 2 million

years old. All of Hawaii’s peaks are sacred, but

this is one of the most sacred. In ancient times,

only high-ranking tribal chiefs were allowed to

ascend its peaks.

Pilgrims climb mountains to see the big pic-

ture that provokes spiritual reflections. When you

can see over 50 miles away, psychologically you

are flying high with feet on the ground. Native

Americans such as Black Elk climbed Harney

Peak in the sacred Black Hills for vision quests.

Devil’s Tower in Wyoming (5,112 ft.) is the

white culture’s name for the surviving core of

a volcano sacred to Native Americans, who call

it “Bear Lodge,” after a legend of girls being

chased by bears. They were lifted high to safety

when the land raised them high up, and the bears

trying to climb up left their claw marks. The

spirits of the Earth protect the natives from

Sacred Mountains 1577 S

S

attackers. Pieces of these cylindrical volcanic

rocks have slowly fallen down to the base.

I asked a ranger how long the most recent fallen

one had been there, and he said, “Oh, not long,

just 10,000 years.” See mountains, think long

geological time spans, and feel small. The nearby

“other horn of the buffalo” toward the sunrise is

Bear Butte, a mountain sacred to the Lakota and

Southern Cheyenne, where the Cheyenne

received their four sacred arrows and teachings

from the Creator (Page 2001).

In northern California isMt. Shasta, a 14,000-ft.

snowy peak sacred to indigenous people as far

away as Peru. In southern Montana, the Crazy

Mountains are rugged peaks sacred to the Crow

nation, for vision quests and fasting. The Blackfeet

people revere the Badger and TwoMedicine peaks

in northern Montana, where a legend tells of

Scarface, who was ridiculed by the boys for his

scar. So he took a journey across these mountains

to the sunrise, in order to marry a chief’s daughter.

When, after many trials, he faced the sun, his scar

was removed, and he returned to marry the girl and

was renamed Young Morning Star. He brought to

his people the Sundance and rises daily with the

Morning Star. His legend links the psychology of

painful soul scars and romance, with the religion of

heroic quests and stars. North of Flagstaff, Arizona,

rise the 12,000-ft. San Francisco Peaks, where the

Hopi people garden in the desert valleys and value

every drop of rain channeled to their gardens. In the

Hopi villages, the spirit kachinas rehearse the rain-

making powers of their mountain homes, dancing

in Hopi villages (Page 2001).

Yosemite Valley, in California’s Sierra

Nevada range, is a magnificent valley surrounded

by huge treeless peaks and high waterfalls that

inspire awesome wonder. John Muir said “no

temple made with hands can compare with

Yosemite” (Bernbaum 1997, p. 144). The entire

valley feels sacred. Once I hiked to a high bald

peak there at dusk to join star watchers and peek

toward the infinite through their telescopes; I saw

Saturn’s rings – that felt cosmic. Different tribes

of indigenous people lived there for thousands

of years, such as the Miwok and the Paiutes.

The Miwok called the valley the “Ah-wah-nee.”

Their word for grizzly bear was “uzumati,” which

became “Yosemite” (Barrett and Gifford 1990).

The ancient Incas felt many spirits in the

Andes mountains, the longest continental moun-

tain range in the world, 4,300 miles long. They

climbed up the Andes to build Peru’s sacred

mountaintop Machu Picchu (7,970 ft) during the

reign of their ruler Pachacuti (1438–1472). Offer-

ings (capacocha) were given at shrines on Incan

lands, to mark events in the emperor’s life – ill-

ness, war, death, and birth of a son. Special offer-

ings were given to the Sun God Inti to assure

plant growth; to Illapa, the weather god, to assure

rain; and the Creator Viracocha. But they were

terrified by some mountain spirits. Most grue-

some, atop Mt. Llullaillaco, a volcano in Chile

(22,500 ft), were found the frozen sacrificed

mummified bodies of drunken children, left to

freeze to death, to pacify the angry mountain

gods. This indicates great fear of the stormy

mountains, of epidemics, and of natural calami-

ties such as volcanic eruptions. These gods of the

Incas were thought to need sacrifices, sometimes

the lives of innocent children, to pacify them

(Reinhard and Ceruti 2010, pp. 121–22). This

horrible practice of sacrifice – we give to you

gods so you will give peace to us –

unfortunately, has been practiced around the

world for similar reasons. But this has been for-

bidden by the world’s major religions today.

The US Appalachian Mountain range extends

from Canada to Alabama. It holds the Appala-

chian Trail, the Smoky Mountains, and the Blue

Ridge Mountains. The Eastern Band of the Cher-

okee nation lives in North Carolina mountains.

Their traditional “Great Spirit” presides over all

things and created nourishing Mother Earth and

her spirits, Oldest Wind, Lucky Hunter, and Corn

Mother, for which they are grateful (Easternband of Cherokee).

Mountains increase self-knowledge, even if

partly unconscious, through feelings of massive

beauty, snowy awe, vast heights, humility, and

connections to mysterious sacredness. “Do you

wish to see the transfigured Christ? Ascend

that mountain and learn to know yourself”

(Jung 1979, Vol. 9, Pt. 1, para 403n).

S 1578 Sacred Prostitution

See Also

▶Ecotherapy

▶Guanyin

▶ Indigenous Religions

▶Marıa Lionza

▶ Participation Mystique

▶ Participatory Spirituality

▶ Soul in the World

▶ Spiritual Ecology

Bibliography

Barrett, S. A., & Gifford, E. W. (1990). Indian life of theYosemite region: Miwok. San Francisco: Yosemite

Association.

Bernbaum, E. (1997). Sacred mountains of the world. SanFrancisco: Sierra Club.

Coleman, S., & Elsner, J. (1995). Pilgrimage. Cambridge:

Harvard University Press.

Eastern band of Cherokee. Retrieved from http://nc-

cherokee.com/. Accessed 30 May 2012.

Eliade, M. (1958). Patterns in comparative religion.Lanham: Sheed and Ward.

Gray, M. (2007). Sacred earth: Places of peace andpower. New York: Sterling Publishing.

Jung, C. G. (1979). The collected works of Carl G. Jung.20 Vols. (G. Adler, Ed., trans: Hull, R.F.C.) Princton:

Princeton University Press.

Mauna Kea. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/

Mauna_Kea. Accessed 30 May 2012.

Mountains. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/

Mountains. Accessed 30 May 2012.

Mt. Athos. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/

Mt._Athos. Accessed 30 May 2012.

Norgay, J. T. (2001). Touching my father’s soul. SanFrancisco: HarperSanFrancisco.

Page, J. (2001). Sacred lands of Indian America.New York: AbramsPublishers.

Perchta. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/

Perchta. Accessed 2 June 2012.

Reinhard, H., & Ceruti, M. (2010). Inca rituals andsacred mountains. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of

Archaeology Pr. University of California.

Sacred mountains. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.

org/wiki/Sacred_mountains. Accessed 28 May

2012.

Sacred mountains of China. Retrieved from http://en.

wikipedia.org/wiki/Sacred_Mountains_of_China. Accessed

28 May 2012.

Sacrifice. (2012). Encyclopaedia Britannica online

academic edition. Retrieved from http://www.

britannica.com.ezproxy.ithaca.edu:2048/EBchecked/

topic/515665/sacrifice. Accessed 25 May 2012.

Sacred Prostitution

Paul Larson

The Chicago School of Professional Psychology,

Chicago, IL, USA

Religion has had at best an ambivalent attitude

toward human sexuality. All religions recognize

the value of sexual union between a man and

a woman in a mutually committed relationship

and recognized through some sort of rite of mar-

riage. Beyond that type of sexuality, most other

forms have received more or less harsh condem-

nations and proscriptions. Thus, sacred prostitu-

tion, or providing sexual acts to strangers as

a religious act or in exchange for a donation to

a religious organization, has had very limited

acceptance and much more condemnation.

Where we have record of sacred prostitution, it

has occurred in association with the older pagan

fertility goddesses of the ancient Near East. Since

most of the commentators, especially those found

in the Bible, have condemned the practice, the

accuracy of their description of the practice

should be taken with some skepticism. In the

Hebrew Bible (Tanach), the term for a servant

of a temple who would provide a sexual act to

a supplicant of the goddess is “K’desh” (male) or

“K’deshah” (female), with the plural being

“K’deshim” and “K’deshot” respectively, and

the literal root meaning is closer to “holy one”

without any sexual connotation. “Hierodule” is

the term in English for this role as translated from

ancient works in Hebrew, Greek, or Latin. The

Greek historian Herodotus (1, 199) noted that in

Mesopotamia it was required that a woman offers

herself sexually at the temple of Mylitta once in

her lifetime.

Budin (2008) has taken the position, based on

philological analysis of the evidence, that sacred

prostitution did not exist. As noted above some of

the terminology does not imply sexual action, but

has come to be associated with a sexual meaning

only through a tradition she claims is fatally

flawed. The strong moralistic tone found in the

Sacred Space 1579 S

Jewish and Christian writers who are the source

of much of the evidence lends weight to her

criticism. She also rightfully points out that pros-

titution was well known in most of those civili-

zations without any religious overtones, and

references to sacred prostitutes don’t usually use

the terms for regular sex workers. Thus, one is

left with much doubt as to whether or what extent

the practice existed. It is probable that there were

some associations of ritual sexual activity with

religious institutions. There is evidence for the

existence of “hieros gamos” (Gk.), a ritual sex act

between a king or high priest and a high priestess

in ancient Mesopotamia. But Budin’s argument is

that the practice was not widespread or institu-

tionalized. Greenberg (1988) focuses more on the

male hierodule, particularly the “galli” (Lat.), the

temple servants of the Phrygian deity Cybele.

The cult of Cybele came to Rome and became

an important one during the period of the empire.

These men castrated themselves as part of their

initiation into their priestly role and donned

female garb. There is some evidence that they

subsequently were available for sexual liaisons

with males, though our most detailed account

(Apulius, second century CE/1962) is a satirical

work of fiction. Herodotus’ note cited earlier is

both the earliest reference and the least burdened

by judgment as to the practice he describes, so it

is harder to dismiss. Nevertheless, the evidence is

scanty and imprecise, and the final word should

be that controversy surrounding the practice

makes firm conclusions difficult.

S

See Also

▶Rites of Passage

▶Ritual

▶ Sex and Religion

Bibliography

Apulius. (1962). The golden ass (trans: Adlington, W.).

New York: Collier Books. (Original work published

2nd century CE).

Budin, S. L. (2008). The myth of sacred prostitution inantiquity. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Greenberg,D. E. (1988).The construction of homosexuality.Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Sacred Space

Ariel Schwartz

Northwestern University, Evanston, IL, USA

Classic Views of Sacred Space

Whether a holy city, a marked tree or river,

a constructed cathedral or mosque, a cemetery,

or a roadside shrine, sacred spaces anchor the

structures of most world religions. Conceptually,

sacred space entails a break with the rest of space.

When people declare a place “sacred,” it implic-

itly becomes separate and different from other

spaces, unique unto itself. Yet numerous ques-

tions complicate the universally acknowledged,

seemingly straightforward concept. Who or what

renders a space “sacred”? Through what process?

For what duration? Under what terms? And ulti-

mately, what does it mean for a physical space to

be “sacred”? The theories of two classic scholars

of religion, Mircea Eliade and Gerardus van der

Leeuw, are widely referenced in determining

answers to these questions.

Gerardus van der Leeuw, an early twentieth-

century Dutch historian and philosopher of

religion, set forth some of the definitive aspects

of sacred space in his book Religion in Essence

and Manifestation (1986). His qualifications of

sacred space begin in the specification and own-

ership of space. He stipulates that a place is a part

of the more abstract, expansive concept of space.

That place becomes a position when man selects

it, frees it, and declares it powerful. This notion’s

ambiguity lies in its contradiction: the space

emerges as sacred in the same moment that man

chooses and empowers it. A position becomes

sacred “by the effects of power repeating them-

selves there, or being repeated by man.” Man

discovers and orients a sacred space and also

S 1580 Sacred Space

maintains its character through ritual acts.

Evocative of the numen – the sense of awe, fear,

and dread of divine power – sacred space

involves the continuously active and activating

process of man’s ritual in a set place.

Van der Leeuw also suggests that sacred space

provides an eternal home for people, albeit not

merely as a residence or a locus for communal

activity. A model of the universe, sacred space

offers people access to the power of the divine. In

fact, if a temple becomes only a meeting place, it

loses its “cosmic-sacred character”; more

emphatically, “it is no longer believed that any-

thing really happens there.” Sacred space, for

Van der Leeuw, requires a burgeoning power

between the divine and humankind through

a position in space. And yet, “the real sanctuary

is man.” Van der Leeuw conceives of true sacred

space as within the self but emerging materially

through man’s selection and consecration of posi-

tions in space.

Eliade echoes and elaborates upon Van der

Leeuw’s declarations about sacred space in his

renowned work The Sacred and the Profane(1987). According to Eliade, religious man

experiences space as non-homogenous; he recog-

nizes some locations as distinctive from others,

allowing for the transcendence of the profane

world. Each sacred space implies a hierophany,

“an irruption of the sacred that results in

detaching a territory for the surrounding cosmic

milieu and making it qualitatively different.”

Alternately put, the sacred emerges, or erupts, at

a specific site, and man’s role in the process is to

identify, occupy, and utilize the space and its

sacrality. By establishing the space, he found

a world, mimicking the divine work of creating

the universe. Eliade’s definition regards sacred

space as a mirror of the cosmos, with the axismundi at its center. Such a unique position sta-

tions sacred space as a bridge between the sacred

and the profane, linking man’s everyday actions

with the work of the gods and thus transforming

them into sacred acts. The sacrality of the emer-

gent space is reiterated through the dynamic

interactions between man, place, and man’s

rituals in the place. While the substantive value

of a space compels man’s sacred experience and

rituals, the rituals continually claim and consecrate

the place.

Both concepts of sacred space may be under-

stood as a two-step process of settlement and sanc-

tification. Establishing a sense of order for religious

man, the construction of sacred space also signifies

individual experiences of personal connections

to the divine. Religious man separates himself

from others, sets aside a particular space and time

for transcendence, and uses the sacred space as

a source of closeness and a mode of communica-

tion with the gods: “He not only cosmicizes chaos

but also sanctifies his little cosmos” (Eliade 1987).

Religious man’s sacred space symbolically pro-

tects him from the unknown and permits him to

live in the universal, not merely intellectually but

also experientially. Fundamentally, considerations

of sacred space require analysis of living, sensa-

tional bodies: space and humans are interwoven

and mutually constitutive.

Modern Views of Sacred Space

Modern perspectives on sacred space continue to

emphasize the direct and reciprocal relationship

between human beings and sacred places. Most

recent scholarship builds on the work of twenty-

first-century historian of religion Jonathan Z.

Smith. He argues against Eliade’s notion that

humans discover or recognize sacred spaces

introduced into the world by supernatural beings

(Smith 1993). Criticizing Eliade’s implicit theol-

ogizing of territory, he contends that humans

construct “worlds of meaning” and that territory

is a tool for this work. He posits that people use

map and territory to insert meaning into their

lives, and in so doing, “human beings are not

placed, . . .(but) bring place into being.” Smith

argues that place is the byproduct of active and

deliberate intentions, rather than the “passive

receptacle” of human thought or the simple ter-

rain for human proceedings. Navigating and

reconfiguring myths and rituals about space, peo-

ple create and utilize these maps to build meaning

and create order in sacred spaces.

Other contemporary scholars of sacred space

similarly focus on the sacred as the boundary that

Sacred Space 1581 S

structures the relationship between humans and

territory (Gill 1998; Knott 2005; Kong 2003).

Unquestionably, location and human embodiment

are contingent upon one another, meaning that

sacred space emerges from human experiences

and actions in a particular socio-spatial location.

A subsequent academic challenge regarding sacred

space is how to examine the intricacies of sacred

space as it is lived, rather than merely as it is

conceived. Because people and space interact in

specific, localizedways, scholarsmust ground their

studies of sacred space in each individual place to

understand the ways in which people experience

sacred space on global, national, regional, local,

and individual bodily scales. Such a phenomeno-

logical and holistic approach will move toward

comprehending the varied processes of conquest,

appropriation, ownership, boundary making,

exclusion, and exile implicit in the creation of

sacred space.

Sacred Space, Fig. 1 Ganges River, India (Photograph

by author)

S

Kinds of Sacred Space

Geographer of religions Chris Park rightly wrote,

“Sacred space to most religions means real places

on the ground” (Park 1994). For Eliade, any phys-

ical place can be a sacred space. Any place

possesses the capacity to be a perfect image of

the cosmos, if people discover it to be so. “An

entire country (e.g. Palestine), a city (Jerusalem),

a sanctuary (the Temple in Jerusalem), all equally

well present an imago mundi” (Eliade 1987). Reli-gious adherents declare as sacred anything from

the natural environment to man-made institutions,

from large cities to small villages and towns, from

historic sites to burial spots, and from international

places of worship to the individual home.

Religious ecology brands the natural world as

infused with the divinity of the supernatural beings

that created it. Eliade offered that the gods

manifested modes of the sacred in the structures of

the world and in natural phenomena. In Hinduism,

for example, water is sacred, and India’s seven

rivers – the Ganges, Yamuna, Saraswati, Narmada,

Indus, Cauvery, andGodavari – are considered holy.

Each is related to a different god, and numerous rites

and rituals are performed at their banks (Fig. 1).

Some traditions deem mountains sacred.

Mount Olympus is thought of as the home of the

ancient Greek gods, and people revere Mount

Tate, Mount Haku, and Mount Fuji as the Three

Holy Mountains of Japan. Practitioners of Shinto

consider Mount Fuji the embodiment of all

nature, possibly even in possession of a soul,

while Buddhists venerate it as a gateway to

another world. Other natural sacred spaces may

encircle a sacred object. For instance, Muslims

worldwide perform a hajj (pilgrimage) to the

Black Stone of the eastern corner of the Ka’bah

in Mecca, a city made sacred by the presence of

the Grand Mosque, which encloses the Ka’bah

and its stone. Other religions invoke practices

that organize natural space and imbue it with

sacrality. The Chinese practice of feng shui

arranges the natural and man-made worlds in

accordance with heavenly principles to maximize

personal qi, or power. Similarly, Korean Bud-

dhist geomancy interprets and orchestrates

topography to create sacred spaces.

Sacred Space,Fig. 2 Western Wall,

Jerusalem, Israel

(Photograph by author)

S 1582 Sacred Space

Decreasing in scale from the natural to the

built environment, entire cities or villages may

be considered sacred spaces. As mentioned, Mus-

lims regard the city of Mecca as sacred for its

possession of the Ka’bah. Mormons consider

sacred the Salt Lake Basin of Utah, with Salt

Lake City designated the City of Zion. Like

most Mormon villages, Salt Lake City is mapped

to promote subsistence agriculture and self-

sustainability, in accordance with the Mormon

ideal of partnering with God to redeem the earth

in daily living. The three Abrahamic traditions

acknowledge the entire city of Jerusalem as

sacred space, in part due to the numerous reli-

gious events that transpired there but also as “the

world’s central point,” a typical example of

sacred space (van der Leeuw 1986).

The most frequently acknowledged form of

sacred space is the man-made institution for

prayer. Explicitly constructed places of worship,

such as temples, cathedrals, synagogues, and

mosques, vary in architecture and are highly cul-

turally dependent. Hindus seek out spaces close

to water, which they believe to be holy. Aiming

for minimal landscape disruption and maximal

landscape mirroring, they construct their temples

to resemble mountain peaks and the rooms inside

to evoke caverns. Hindu sacred space often

encompasses all land surrounding a temple, so

that the temple lies at the center of the town

crossroads. Types of Buddhist temples vary

according to sect. Mikkyo temples are often

found in the hills, surrounded by forests, while

Jodokyo temples lie at the center of a pond, as

though a separate albeit accessible Paradise of

Enlightenment. Zen temples tend to be located

on level ground and usually involve a simple

garden that implies nothingness and solitude

and is meant to prompt meditation. Churches

and synagogues tend to be constructed in

accordance with population growth and demand,

often serving as the nuclei for their communities.

Internally, all synagogues are oriented so that

people face toward the Holy Ark containing

the Torah scrolls and toward the Western Wall

in Jerusalem. Similarly, all mosques compel

attendees to face Mecca. In these cases, people

mentally reside in their sacred cities despite their

physical presence elsewhere in the world (Fig. 2).

Finally, sites of personal importance may be

recognized as sacred spaces. Cemeteries memo-

rialize individuals and are revered for the

sacrality of the lives that were. Alternatively,

acts like cremation re-sacralize certain spaces

once they contain human remains, as with holy

rivers like the Ganges, in India. The Chinese

align their graves spatially according to the laws

of feng shui to ensure the continued balance and

harmony of the dead. Yard and road shrines in

Catholic and Eastern Orthodox areas craft

Sacred Time 1583 S

everyday spaces evocative of the sacred, while

domestic altars found in Hindu or Mexican Cath-

olic homes offer a personal relationship between

family and deity. Such examples demonstrate

that personal space, in any form, may be sacred

space.

S

Challenges of Sacred Space

An exploration of sacred spaces would not be com-

plete without a brief acknowledgement of the prob-

lems inherent in sacred space. One conflict over

sacred space is the question of its shared or exclusive

nature. Religious violence has arisen numerous

times as a result of disputes over sacred territory;

Jerusalem (Israel) and Ayodhya (India) are both

sites claimed by at least two religious traditions

that clash over their asserted control over the mean-

ing and use of the land (Friedland and Hecht 1998).

Another problem of sacred space is the capacity

for its appropriation. In the case of the Devils

Tower National Monument in Wyoming, Native

Americans struggle to protect sacred nature from

its use as public land by recreational climbers

(Freedman 2007). Perhaps most problematically,

the sacrality of a space implicitly denotes the dis-

tinct possibility of the space’s desecration. Often,

the importance of a sacred space may also be its

downfall; flocks of visitors cause damage to the

very places that they come to see and experience.

Government and religious leaders express con-

cerns about increasing pollution in the holy city

of Varanasi, India, whereas Mecca faces the mod-

ern forces of capitalism, which are changing the

face of the holiest city of Islam. While the defini-

tion of sacred space may remain contestable, var-

iable, and changeable, it is clear that sacred spaces

are undeniable sources of conflict, concern, and

volatility.

See Also

▶Axis Mundi

▶City

▶Eliade, Mircea

▶Hierophany

▶ Jerusalem

▶Ka’bah

▶Mecca

▶Mountain, The

▶ Phenomenological Psychology

▶ Pilgrimage

▶Religious Experience

▶Revelation

▶Ritual

▶ Sacred Mountains

▶ Sacred Time

▶Temenos

▶Transcendence

▶Western Wall

Bibliography

Eliade, M. (1987). The sacred and the profane: The natureof religion (trans: Transk, W. R.). San Diego:

Harcourt, Brace.

Freedman, E. (2007). Protecting sacred sites on public

land. American Indian Quarterly, 31(1), 1–22.Friedland, R., & Hecht, R. (1998). The bodies of nations:

A comparative study of religious violence in Jerusalem

and Ayodhya. History of Religions, 38(2), 101–149.Gill, S. (1998). Territory. In M. C. Taylor (Ed.), Critical

terms for religious studies (pp. 298–313). Chicago:

University of Chicago Press.

Knott, K. (2005). Spatial theory and method for the study

of religion. Temenos, 41(2), 153–184.Kong, L. (2003). Mapping ‘new’ geographies of religion:

Politics and poetics in modernity. Progress in HumanGeography, 25(2), 211–233.

Park, C. (1994). Sacred worlds: An introduction togeography and religion. London: Routledge.

Smith, J. Z. (1993). Map is not territory: Studies in thehistory of religions. Chicago: University of Chicago

Press.

Van Der Leeuw, G. (1986). Religion in essence andmanifestation. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Sacred Time

Rod Blackhirst

Philosophy and Religious Studies, La Trobe

University, Bendigo, VIC, Australia

In profane understandings, time appears to be

a constant linear sequence of moments, but all

S 1584 Sacred Time

religious and spiritual traditions conceive of

a “sacred time” that is outside of or other than

this sequence. Commonly, this sacred time is

said to be an “eternal now” that is located

“between” (or above or beyond) the moments

that make up linear time. Time is an agent of

death, corruption, and the finite; spiritual tradi-

tions seek a realm that is ever living, incorrupt-

ible, and infinite and therefore not subject to the

flux of time.

The psychological perception of time is incon-

stant. Time will often seem to either “fly” or

“drag,” and it seems to pass slower to children

and pass faster as we age. Similarly, there are

cultural differences in the perception of time.

The nomad, for instance, has more of a spatial

than a temporal consciousness. For the nomad the

starry sky is a map, while for the sedentary city

dweller, it is a clock. The decline of nomadic life

and the arrival of sedentary life (recorded in such

myths as the Biblical story of Cain and Abel) is

therefore the passage from the sacred to the pro-

fane experience of time.

One of the most primordial accounts of sacred

time comes from the Australian Aborigines who

describe a period called the “Dreaming” or the

“Dreamtime.” While this is usually conceived of

as a time long before memory, it is also under-

stood to be ever-present and can be accessed at

any time by way of religious rites. This same

convention is a feature of most religious systems;

the liturgical or theurgical elements of the system

allow a symbolic relocation from profane to

sacred time, which is at the same time a return

to the formative and creative period or the point

of a sacred theophany (intervention of God into

time).

The most conspicuous instance of this in the

Semitic religions is the Jewish Sabbath which is

celebrated every 7 days (Saturday) and is a return

to the Divine repose after the 6 days of creation.

The reiteration of sacred events is the guiding

principle of sacred calendars and calendrical sys-

tems. The annual reiteration of events is not

merely commemorative; it is a symbolic return

to sacred time. Often, intercalary days and festi-

vals are regarded as especially sacred because

they represent “time outside of (normal) time.”

In Judeo-Christian mythology, the period that

Adam and Eve spend in the Garden of Eden is the

paradigmatic instance of sacred time. Sacred time

is Edenic and before the Fall. But as historical

religions, Judaism and Christianity both propose

paradoxical instances of sacred periods that are

within the fold of history. In Judaism, the period

during which the Israelites wandered in the

wilderness in a sacred time is “out of history”

even though it is understood to have been

a historical event. In Christianity, the Last Supper

was a historical event at a definite time and place,

but it also dwells in sacred time since it can be

accessed by the Real Presence of Christ in

the Eucharist. Similarly, the crucifixion was

a historical event, but in Christian theology, it is

also an eternal event; the sacrifice of Christ is

now and ongoing. In shamanism and in shamanic

practices that persist in later religions – such as

fasting, chanting, trances, dancing, autohypnosis,

or the sacramental use of drugs – there is

an attempt to have direct and immediate experi-

ence of “time beyond time” and to induce

a psychological state of timelessness that is not

merely symbolic. In folktales, popular stories, or

the so-called fairy tales, sacred time is signaled

by the convention “once upon a time” which

refers to a mythical time that is no time in

particular.

Sacred time is pristine and archetypal; it is the

time when the shape and patterns of life and the

world were first established. It is therefore myth-

ological and nonhistorical, history then being

defined as a decline, a deviation from, or the

passing away of sacred time. Plato, giving

a very traditional account of it, says in his

Timaeus that “time is a moving image of eternity”

and that the forms or archetypes of the world

reside in eternity, their temporal (and corruptible)

manifestations being “images” or copies of the

atemporal originals. In his dialog called The

Statesman, Plato also gives an account of the

idea of “eternal return,” namely, the notion that

historical time is circular (rather than linear) and

that all events in time are repeated endlessly. This

idea is surprisingly widespread, as Mircea Eliade

has documented, and follows from the idea that,

ultimately, the movement of time is an illusion

Sacrifice 1585 S

and that only motionless eternity (sacred time) is

real. The myth often takes the form of an era in

which the world moves in one direction (with the

sun rising in the east and setting in the west)

followed by a catastrophic reversal of direction

at end of this era (after which the sun rises in the

west and sets in the east). Time, so to speak,

winds up and then winds down, although in fact

both movements cancel each other out and there

is really no movement at the level of the princi-

ple. The religious mystic or the spiritual seeker

aspires to this principle (which is spatially

represented as the center or axis of a wheel) and

therefore to freedom from the cycles and vicissi-

tudes of time and decay. In the Eastern religions,

this idea is expressed in terms of cycles of birth

and rebirth, and the timeless realm is attained

through liberation from these cycles. In modern

thought, the idea of “eternal return” was taken

up by the German philosopher Nietzsche who

presented it as a nihilistic denial of the liberal

ideal of progress.

See Also

▶Christianity

▶ Judaism and Psychology

▶Myth

▶Nietzsche, Friedrich: Religion and Psychology

▶ Plato and Religion

▶Ritual

▶ Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Atheism

▶ Shamans and Shamanism

S

Bibliography

Alexander, S. (1920). Space, time, and deity (Vol. 2).

London: Macmillan.

Brumbaugh, R. S. (1984). Unreality and time. Albany,NY: State University of New York Press.

Cowan, J. (1992). The elements of the Aborigine tradition.Shaftesbury, England: Element.

Eliade, M. (1959). The sacred and the profane: The natureof religion (trans: Trask, W.). London: Harcourt Brace

Jovanovich.

Eliade, M. (1971). The myth of the eternal return:Cosmos and history. Princeton, NJ: Princeton

University Press.

Sacrifice

Morgan Stebbins

Faculty of the New York C.G. Jung Foundation,

New York, NY, USA

The concept of sacrifice was once so important

in the study of religions that whole develop-

mental taxonomies were created to define them

from this standpoint (Frazer 1890; Hubert and

Mauss 1981). We can still see it as one of the

least understood but central ideas in religion, in

dynamic psychology, and in common parlance.

Sacrifice, like many words that have crossed

from ritual to general usage, can be defined in two

general ways. On one hand, it is giving up some-

thing for something else, and on the other, it is

giving up something precious (anything from

grain to animals to goods to humans) to a deity,

usually in supplication. For the former, one might

wonder how it is different from the concept of

simple exchange – and indeed, it seems to be

hardly differentiated especially when applying

models of social value systems which depend

on both cohesion and coercion. For example,

a mother is said to sacrifice for her children or

a soldier for his or her country, and yet it is hard to

see how it was not a matter of job description

in the first place. That is, it seems to be more

a choice in terms of both having children and

parenting style, except that socially the value of

parenting is higher than that of self-care. The

same goes for military sacrifice (the so-called

ultimate sacrifice) and other things that benefit

a given social group. Both of these examples

show that the dynamic involved is that of giving

up something personal for something collective

or interpersonal (and something that often needs

to remain unexamined to retain its influence).

For all of these examples, critical theory in

the style of Slavoj Zizek indicates that a form

of ideology is active. That is, a master signifier

embedded in the language of a particular social

group designates collective goals as more valu-

able than the pursuit of personal consciousness or

desire. In this sense, the master signifier acts to

S 1586 Sacrifice

justify a regrettable life – if one has sacrificed

something major for something else of less

tangible import, one could hardly be expected

to have excelled as a person. Of course, this

dynamic can be reversed so that, for example,

with sports figures, one might be either nega-

tively or positively assessed in terms of sacrifice

made for some great achievement. In either case,

we can see the caustic lens of social reprobation

at work. To the extent that ideological cultures

can express a sentimentality toward sacrifice, we

have to remember Jung’s words that “sentimen-

tality is the sister of brutality” (Jung, 385).

Before moving to the specifically religious con-

cept of sacrifice, let us notice that the word itself is

derived from the Latin words sacre, or sacred, and

facere, the verb meaning to make. So sacrifice is

that act which makes something (or someone)

sacred. The terrain of the sacred includes a range

of experience from sublime experience of union to

terrible and destructive acts of the divine. To make

sacred then is to approach themeaning of taboo – it

is nearing the holy fire, the spark of life, and the

dark reaches of the psychoid realm of the psyche.

The term “psychoid” refers to a theoretical level of

the unconscious which can never be plumbed and

yet out of which content emerges. One could think

of it as the irreducible biological substrate of the

mind (see Jung 1969).

In the realm of religious traditions, sacrifice of

some kind in nearly ubiquitous.

It also served a social or economic function in

those cultures where the edible portions of the

animal were distributed among those attending

the sacrifice for consumption. This aspect of

sacrifice has recently become the basis of an

economic explanatory model (see especially

R. Firth, E. E. Evans-Pritchard). Animal sacrifice

has turned up in almost all cultures, from the

Hebrews to the Greeks and Romans (particularly

the purifying ceremony Lustratio and from the

Aztecs to the Yoruba). The ancient Egyptians,

however, forbade the practice as being primitive,

although the entombment of both humans and

animals in a sacrificial form with the Pharaoh as

companions after death was common.

The Hebrew word for sacrifice is korban, from

the root karov, meaning to come close to God.

This is a more spatial aspect of the quality of mak-

ing sacred. The opening chapters of the book of

Leviticus explain in great detail the variousmethods

of sacrifice as well as provide a veritable taxonomy

of sacrificial victims. Sacrifices were classified as

bloody (animals) or unbloody (grain and wine).

Bloody sacrifices were again differentiated into

holocausts (whole burnt offerings), guilt offerings

(divided into a burnt part and a part kept by the

priest), and peace offerings (also partial burning).

A specific set of sacrificial offerings was the

scapegoat, particularly instructive psychologically

because these were a pair of goats with different

functions. As is well known, the scapegoat was

adorned with ribbons representing the sins of the

village and driven out into the wilderness. The

other goat was an unblemished holocaust orwholly

burnt offering to God. Psychologically translated

this shows an inability to sustain a proximity to

the divine while suffering consciousness of sins.

Moreover, in the person manifesting the victim

mentality, there is a split which both cannot bear

responsibility for mistakes and in which there is an

unconscious identification with the divine –

represented by the wholly burnt and therefore

nutritionally unavailable goat. In other words, for

this type of split subject, the only path to an expe-

rience of value is through suffering.

The practice of human sacrifice is a particularly

instructive, if brutal, reminder of the power of the

gods however imagined. This translates into

a personal possession by a transpersonal structure

which results in the destruction of anything human.

Examples come from all over the world: In the

Greek world, there are many stories of human

sacrifice from youths sent to appease the Minotaur

to Iphigenia being sacrificed by her father Aga-

memnon for the sake of favorable war wind.

There are many conflicting ancient sources, and

in fact, only Aeschylus’ Agamemnon and Pindar’s

11th Pythian Ode describe her actual sacrifice and

her father’s bloodguilt, prompted by his eagerness

for war.

In Mesoamerica, human sacrifice was even

more widespread from Aztec sacrifice of many

(usually enemy) humans in order to assure the

rising of the sun to common Mayan and Incan

sacrifice for astrological and architectural reasons.

Sacrifice 1587 S

S

It has been found in Norse culture, Indonesian

tribal society, and in some African cultures and

persisted until recently in India in the form of

immolation of the widow of a Brahmin on his

death pyre. The immolation of the widow is called

sati. Legislation to outlaw it was passed only as

recently as 1987.

Frazer and other early theorists of religion

established a dubious but very influential hierar-

chy or development of sacrifice from the human

to the animal to the symbolic to, not surprisingly,

the Christian (Frazer, The Golden Bough). Ofcourse the latter (the Eucharist) is really a form

of human sacrifice but with the twist that it is also

a sacrifice of God and is self-inflicted. In this

model, we come very close to a psychological

view in that the most valuable thing one can give

up for something higher or greater is an aspect of

oneself. The factor which keeps this process from

becoming merely an exchange is that of uncer-

tainty. Although some anthropologists have seen

sacrifice as a fairly transparent manipulation of

the divine, the Catholic and Orthodox churches

have gone to great lengths to explain that it is

not in fact a manipulation of the Godhead but

rather an offering which is then responded to

out of grace, albeit suspiciously consistently.

The instructive Biblical passage is the moment

in the garden of Gethsemane in which Jesus

admits that he doesn’t want to go through with

the crucifixion but then assents, saying “Not my

will, but thine, be done” (Gospel of Luke,

41:22–24). This is also found in Paul, Galatians

2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ, it is no

longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”

We can see that psychologically the dynamic

is one of giving up the lesser for a chance at some

uncertain greater. This is only viable within depth

psychological approaches for which there is

a mode of functioning or a psychic structure

which is seen as bigger, greater, wiser, or more

comprehensive. However, within these systems

we can see another sort of sacrificial taxonomy.

An image of human sacrifice would indicate

a blame of the other, of animal sacrifice indicates

a relinquishing of instinct, of agricultural offer-

ings shows a dynamic of cultural sacrifice, and

a self/symbolic sacrifice shows that a process of

giving up something highly valuable and

personal for the transpersonal is indicated.

In this process the first victim is instinctive

certainty, replaced by doubt and concomitant

differentiation. This becomes the development of

an evaluating consciousness, one that weighs

options and consequences. If successful, personal

guidelines emerge in the shape of instinct molded

by will. This phrase is instructive as it is Jung’s

very definition of the psyche; it is “instinct

modified by will” (Jung 1979, p. 56), which if

still successful, pushes the natural impulses into

a corner. There is a danger as well as hardship in

this, but further sacrifice including spiritual

ambition in favor of something still unknown but

symbolically indicated reveals the logic of the soul

apparent in the present in any given moment.

To turn the image another way, we can see the

sacrificial knife (of differentiation) as the instru-

ment of a kind of regeneration. It is one that kills

the failing king or dominant part of conscious-

ness. As such the knife acts like the Lacanian

concept of any speech act: it carries content but

also carries the implicit worldview in which the

content can be viable, thus undercutting the very

subject of the utterance. In Lacan’s case, what

must be given up is the attachment to a specular

(i.e., apparent in vision only) wholeness in favor

of a more authentic experience of fragmentation

in the face of ideological social pressure

(Lacan 1901/1981).

Lacan’s analysis indicates the coercive aspect

of sacrifice that may be supported by a social

agenda. In this we see that the dynamics of sen-

timentality include brutality, so that a statement

of sacrifice of some overt type “I sacrifice for

you” (or the call for a patriotic sacrifice under

the banner of “us” when what is meant is “you”)

is revealed as a desperate gambit to maintain

control at any price and is the reverse of

a personal spiritual process.

Sacrifice is a key aspect of both religion and

psychology. In religious terms, it was archaically

practiced through the sacrifice of an animal in

order to change the supplicant’s relationship

with the divine. It has changed to become

a sacrifice of personal intention in favor of divine

spirit – although this is ambiguous, it brings the

S 1588 Sacrifice of Isaac

concept very close to the psychological meaning

in which growth is seen as giving up the smaller

for the larger. For Freud this meant giving up the

sexual urge, or sublimating it, into cultural pur-

suits. For Jung there is a definitive religious

instinct in which sacrifice is made of the small

personality in favor of the large. Although simple

to describe, in practice it involves a typically

difficult struggle to let go of something that pre-

viously defined the subject in favor of something

not yet fully known but more comprehensive.

See Also

▶Christ

▶ Judaism and Psychology

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶Lacan, Jacques

▶Osiris and the Egyptian Religion

Bibliography

Bataille, G. (1992). Theory of religion. New York: Zone

Books.

Carter, J. (2003). Understanding religious sacrifice.New York: Continuum.

Davies, N. (1981). Human sacrifice: In history and today.New York: Dorset Press.

Eliade, M. (1978). From the Stone Age to the Eleusinian

mysteries. In W. Trask, (Trans.) A history of religiousideas (Vol. I). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Frazer, J. (1890). The golden bough. London.Freud, S. (1913). Totem and taboo. New York: W. W.

Norton.

Freud, S. (1939). Moses and monotheism. New York:

Random House.

Heinsohn, G. (1992). The rise of blood sacrifice and

priest kingship in Mesopotamia: A cosmic decree?

Religion, 22.Hubert, H., & Mauss, M. (1981). Sacrifice: Its nature and

function. Chicago: University of Chicago Press

(Reprint, original 1898).

Jung, C. G. (1956). Symbols of transformation. London:Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Jung, C. G. (1969).On the nature of the psyche. Princeton,NJ: Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1979). Aion. Princeton, NJ: Princeton

University Press.

Lacan, J. (1901/1981). The four fundamental conceptsof psychoanalysis (The seminar of Jacques Lacan

Book XI) (Ed. J.A. Miller, trans: Sheridan, A.).

New York; London: W.W. Norton.

Sacrifice of Isaac

Erel Shalit

Israel Institute of Jungian Psychology,

Ra’anana, Israel

The sacrifice of Isaac, in Hebrew the akedah, i.e.,

the binding of Isaac, is one of the Bible’s most

dramatic stories. In its extreme brevity, the

narrative is an archetypal skeleton, not fleshed

out by personal details or human feelings. It

thus lends itself to innumerable theological

explanations, philosophical readings, and psy-

chological interpretations.

God tells Abraham to go to the land of Moriah

(possibly meaning the land of the Amorites, the

land of worship, or the teaching place of God) and

offer his beloved son Isaac for a burnt offering.

Abraham does not question his God, with whom

he has sealed a covenant. He has been promised

that he will “multiply exceedingly” and become

a father of many nations. He binds his son Isaac

and lays him upon the wood on the altar he has

built, but when raising his knife, the angel calls

upon him not to slay his son. He has passed God’s

test of devotion, and a ram is offered in place of

Isaac. Abraham then calls the place Adonai-

yireh, because “the Lord has been seen” (Genesis

22: 1–14).

For philosophers and religious commentators,

the test of Abraham has provided a stage, similar

to the trial of Job, for contemplating good

and evil. Kierkegaard emphasized Abraham’s

anguish and suffering in preserving his faith.

For him, “only one who draws the knife gets

Isaac” (Kierkegaard 2006, p. 27). The willingness

to fulfill the command (or rather, as phrased in

Hebrew, the request) to sacrifice Isaac becomes,

then, for Kierkegaard, a rekindling of faith in the

good God, while for Kant it represents an act of

evil to be rebelled against.

In Jewish thought, the perception of the story

has commonly emphasized Abraham’s devotion

to God, to the extent of sacrificing the embodi-

ment of his future. It has been considered

a paradigm of the readiness to give up life in

Sacrifice of Isaac 1589 S

S

order to sanctify the divine name but also as

punishment for Abraham having sent Ishmael

into the wilderness.

Some biblical scholars have read the account

as a prohibition against child sacrifice, such as

mentioned, for instance, in Jeremiah (7: 31; see

also Exodus 22: 28–29; 2 Kings 3: 27, 16: 3, 21:

6), with the angel intervening to prevent Abra-

ham’s act of filicide. The narrative has also

served as a model for anti-Semitic blood libels

accusing Jews of ritual murder of non-Jewish

children.

Already, some early legends told the story that

Abraham in fact did slay and then burned

Isaac. The lad “was reduced to ashes,” only to

be revived by God’s “life-giving dew” (Spiegel

1993, p. 37). Thus, Isaac served as a “symbol for

the archetypal experience of death and re-birth”

(Dreifuss 1971, p. 72).

The symbolic death of Isaac has been under-

stood as transformative, confirming him in his

role as chosen to carry out God’s promise to

Abraham, to be the one in whom the seed shall

be called (cf. Abramovitch 1994, p. 123; Genesis

21: 12). This seed, says St. Augustine, while

called in Isaac, is gathered together in Christ by

the call of grace. The sacrifice of Isaac becomes

the precursor of Christ; like Jesus carried His

cross, Isaac himself carried the wood to the

place of sacrifice, and like the ram was offered

in place of Isaac, so Jesus would die on the cross

for humankind.

The name of the sacrificial child is not men-

tioned in the Quran. Consequently, Muslim

scholars have disagreed whether it concerns

Ishmael or Isaac. Since it is said that Abraham

offered up his only son, scholars have argued this

could only mean Ishmael, the elder of the two.

The importance ascribed to the sacrifice is

reflected in Eid-ul-Adha, the Feast and Festival

of Sacrifice, celebrated immediately after the

Hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca.

Psychological Aspects

The akedah offers a kaleidoscope of psychologi-

cal facets and interpretations. Abraham, Urvater

of the monotheistic religions, stands in the center,

between the Father-God, who now requires of

him the sacrifice of his repeatedly promised

seed, and the late-born son, predestined to fulfill

the covenant and conceive the earthly offspring.

The offering of a child to appease the gods is

a common theme in myth and legend in many

traditions.

Psychological interpretations naturally tend to

look at the father-son relation. One aspect of this

is submission – both Abraham’s and Isaac’s – to

the command of the father. It entails the recogni-

tion of God’s supremacy, interpreted on the psy-

chological level as reflecting weakness in relation

to authority. Yet, the archetypal scheme seems

more important than personal character, since

Abraham already had shown himself quite capa-

ble of challenging God, as when he argues and

negotiates with God to spare the sinners with the

righteous in Sodom (Genesis 18: 23–33).

Father’s Reluctance Against His Son

In a sense, the akedah is a reversal of and prede-

cessor to the Oedipus complex. A complex would

not have been born in Oedipus’s name if it were

not for his father Laius, who frightened by the

oracle’s prophesy of his son’s patricide and

mother-incest exposed Oedipus to certain death.

Only the shepherd’s compassion saved Oedipus

the child from certain death by unprotected

and defenseless exposure to archetypal forces.

Likewise, Acrisius, fearing the prophesy that

his grandson would kill him, locked his daughter

Danae and grandson Perseus in a chest and threw

them into the river to an unsure fate, though they

were saved by the good fisherman. (Later,

Perseus saved Andromeda, who was offered by

her father, the king, to appease the sea monster

Cetus.) The Laius complex, the father’s fear of

the son, who eventually will destroy and replace

him, precedes the son’s slaying of the father.

Castration anxiety, in which the child fears the

father’s anger because of its choice of the mother

as love object, is an innate aspect of the Oedipus

complex. Theodor Reik refers to Das Incestmotiv

by Otto Rank, in which he “conceived of Isaac’s

S 1590 Sacrifice of Isaac

sacrifice, prevented only at the last moment, as

a threat to castrate Abraham’s son” (Reik 1961,

p. 66). The threatened castration and near

sacrifice of the son can be taken to mean that

the genitality and vitality of the ego may feel

threatened by new instinctual and archetypal

elements that arise from the unconscious. Conse-

quently, the ego responds like a vulnerable father

who undermines his son’s rise to masculinity.

The libido and potency of the sonmay threaten

many a father, and the youthful spirit of the

revolting son may pose a challenge to his author-

ity. Jung relates father-and-son not only to an

interpersonal dynamic but also to the intrapsychic

polarity of discipline and instinct (Jung 1956,CW5, par. 396). In the individual psyche, the father

may represent adherence to the collective con-

sciousness of established norms, rules, and prin-

ciples, whereas the son represents an upcoming,

purposeful complex, which by its mere newness

may pose a threat, even in the case when, as with

Isaac, he collaborates in the sacrifice. In the

edifying process of acculturation, aspects of the

child’s nature are slain.

Rite of Initiation

The sacrifice of Isaac (whose name means he

laughed, Genesis 21: 6) has been looked upon

as a puberty rite of initiation. The characteristics

of the divine and innocent child, who has thrived

in the delightful embrace of the Great Mother, are

shed in juvenile rites-de-passage. In the process

of becoming an adult, the child is now exposed to

the requirements and principles of the spiritual

father. Isaac’s age at the time of the sacrifice is

unclear; while phenomenologically he appears to

be a child, legends have given his age as 25 or 37.

That is, Isaac moves from childhood to maturity,

from innocence to consciousness. In some

legends Satan tries to prevent Abraham from

carrying out the sacrifice, thereby introducing

conscious doubt into the otherwise passive

submission. Satan is thus found in his role as

adversary, instigating toward consciousness.

Rites of initiation require the sharpening of the

maturing ego’s strengths by exposure to what is

experienced as a very real threat to body and soul.

The ego is exposed to hardships and extreme

conditions, such as sleeplessness and infliction

of physical pain. The ego is required to hold out

against its own destruction, in order to be ren-

dered adequate to carry the Self or a transcendent

principle into living, embodied reality. The dan-

ger may entail, as in the case of Isaac, being

burned by fire, nature’s very essential transfor-

mative energy, whether representing Logos and

consciousness, Eros and relationship, or Thana-

tos and destruction (Shalit 2012, p. 5f.). The

evolving ego must be able to both endure and

revolt against the father’s authority, in order to

carry, continue, and regenerate the collective

spirit, whether social, religious, or otherwise.

Sacrifice and Transformation

The readiness to sacrifice one’s offspring for

a higher cause has been prevalent during all

times, as the death of the young in innumerable

wars testifies. In devotion of a principle, whether

transcendent, ideological, or intrapsychic, the

individual’s embodied identity may be sacrificed.

Many wars for one’s devoted country, religion, or

ideology attest to the sacrifice of one’s offspring,

even if reluctant and painful.

In the sacrifice of Isaac, Abraham succumbs

to the command of God to sacrifice the human

flesh and ego for divinity and a greater Self. As

a prefiguration of Christ, God’s test of Abraham

“is to determine whether Abraham was willing to

share Yahweh’s later ordeal of sacrificing his son,

Christ. Abraham is asked to participate in the

tragic drama of divine transformation” (Edinger

1984, p. 98).

Processes of psychological transformation and

individuation entail the temporary defeat, or sacri-

fice, of the ego. Jung writes, “Quite apart from the

compassion [Abraham] felt for his child, would not

a father in such a position feel himself as the victim,

and feel that he was plunging the knife into his own

breast?” He continues, “The self is the sacrificer,

and I am the sacrificed gift, the human sacrifice,”

whereby the self can be integrated or humanized and

pass “from unconsciousness into consciousness”

Sacrifice of Isaac 1591 S

(Jung 1969, CW 11, par. 397ff.). With the sacrifice

of Isaac, God nearly destroys his own creation

(Sh€arf-Kluger 1967, p. 154). Destruction is psycho-logically crucial in processes of transformation and

creativity, and the process of individuation requires

sacrifice and near destruction or representative,

symbolic sacrifice, as in the akedah. However, the

individual ego may, likewise, collaborate with an

ideology, a mass, or a leader claiming God-like

proportions, sacrificing mature and critical

consciousness.

S

Psychization

Jung coined the term psychization for the process

whereby an instinct or a sensory experience is

transferred into the psyche and consciousness.

The instinctual reflex becomes the reflection of

the psyche, just like soul and psyche constellate

by the capacity to reflect. This is the process

whereby the actual deed can be psychically

represented, and experience becomes consciously

experienced experience (Shalit 2004). The infant

comes to psychically experience, for instance,

touch and pain to which he or she is exposed. The

concrete deed or physical sensation, such as pain,

becomes represented and imagined in the psyche.

This lies at the core of symbol formation and

acculturation and of the representative dimension

of art and literature.

Psychization expands the human sphere, says

Neumann, by the withdrawal of “Gods, demons,

heaven, and hell,” in their capacity as psychic

forces, “from the objective world,” and their

incorporation in the human sphere (Neumann

1970, p. 338f.).

The binding of Isaac signifies a cultural tran-

sition, whereby the sacrifice of the firstborn was

replaced by animal sacrifice. Whereas there is

little or no archeological evidence of the practice

of filicide, the binding of Isaac provides a striking

archetypal image of the transition from literal-

ness to symbolic representation, from actual

deed to image formation, i.e., of soul making, in

the absence of which the ego is literalized and

“trapped in ‘reality’” (Hillman 1992, p. 51). By

substituting the sacrificial animal for the actual

son, the akedah represents the separation of

meaning from act. The near sacrifice thus repre-

sents the very essence of psychic processes –

intrapsychically, interpersonally, as well as

culturally.

See Also

▶Abraham and Isaac

▶Akedah

▶Augustine

▶Bible

▶Christ

▶Evil

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶Hillman, James, and Alchemy

▶ Judaism and Psychology

▶Kierkegaard, Søren

▶Oedipus Complex

▶Rank, Otto

▶Ritual

▶ Sacrifice

▶ Scapegoat

Bibliography

Abramovitch, H. H. (1994). The first father. Lanham:

University Press of America.

Dreifuss, G. (1971). Isaac, the sacrificial lamb. TheJournal of Analytical Psychology, 16, 1.

Edinger, E. (1984). The creation of consciousness: Jung’smyth for modern man. Toronto: Inner City Books.

Hillman, J. (1992). Re-visioning psychology. New York:

Harper Perennial.

Jung, C. G. (1956). Symbols of transformation, CW 5.London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Jung, C. G. (1969). Transformation symbolism in themass. Psychology and religion, CW 11. London:

Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Kierkegaard, S. (2006). Fear and trembling. New York:

Penguin.

Neumann, E. (1970). The origins and history of conscious-ness. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Reik, T. (1961). The temptation. New York: George

Braziller.

Shalit, E. (2004). Will fishes fly in Aquarius -or will they

drown in the bucket? San Francisco Jung InstituteLibrary Journal, 23(4), 7–33.

Shalit, E. (2012). The hero and his shadow:Psychopolitical aspects of myth and reality in Israel(Rev. Ed.). Hanford, CA: Fisher King Press.

S 1592 Sai Baba

Sh€arf-Kluger, R. (1967). Satan in the Old Testament.Evanston: Northwestern University Press.

Spiegel, S. (1993). The last trial: On the legends andlore of the command to Abraham to offer Isaac asa sacrifice. Woodstock: Jewish Lights Publishing.

Sai Baba

Fredrica R. Halligan

Mind Body Spirit Institute, Stamford, CT, USA

Personal History

Sri Sathya Sai Baba is a holy man who was born

in the tiny hamlet of Puttaparthi in south-central

India on November 23, 1926. At age 13 he

declared his spiritual purpose and commenced

aministry that has provided spiritual nourishment

for millions of devotees worldwide. Until he died

on Easter Sunday, April 24, 2011, Sai Baba was

a teacher, healer, and miracle worker. He valued

all religions and was trans-traditional in outlook.

Over the years his influence expanded so that his

organization has been providing free education

and medical care and clean water to countless

poor Indians. Similar projects are organized in

other countries because Sai Baba’s call is to uni-

versal love and service. He taught: “The best way

to love God is to love all and serve all.”

To his devotees Sai Baba was an Avatar, and

he is believed to be the second of three Divine

Incarnations that all carry the name Sai Baba.

The first of the three lived in the nineteenth and

early twentieth century in a mosque in the town

of Shirdi, India. Although his parents were

Hindu, he was raised by a Moslem holy man,

after his parents went off to the forest to become

ascetics (sanyases). That first Sai Baba was

a teacher and healer who used ashes from a fire

in the mosque for healing purposes. Shirdi Sai

Baba, as he is called, fostered interreligious

understanding by teaching Hindus about Allah

and Moslems about Rama and Krishna. At the

time of his death, both Hindus and Moslems

claimed him. Shortly before he died in 1918,

he confided to a close devotee that he would

return in 8 years.

In 1926, a child was born and named Sathya

Raju. There are many stories about miraculous

events that attended his conception and birth,

and, as a young boy, Sathya was known to be

very spiritual and loving. His playmates called

him Guru (“teacher”) and he was known for his

generosity both to his friends and to wandering

beggars. Whenever he witnessed suffering, he

provided help in some way.

Sathya’s parents were sometimes distressed

by his unusual behavior, especially when he quit

school at the age of 13 and announced that his

devotees were waiting for him. “Who are you?”

his perplexed father asked. Sathya replied, “I am

Sai Baba,” and picking up a handful of jasmine

flowers, he threw them on the ground. The

flowers are said to have formed themselves into

letter shapes that spelled out the name: Sai Baba.

Thenceforth, he has been known as Sathya Sai

Baba. His miracles are numerous. Among the

most frequent and well-documented miracles

are materializations. When Sai Baba waved his

hand, various material objects appeared, appar-

ently out of thin air. He sometimesmade jewelry –

rings or lockets – or icons for devotees. These

religious objects included Hindu images such as

Krishna or Christian icons such as the crucifix.

Frequently, he materialized vibhuti, a sacred ash

used for healing. In providing this healing ash, he

echoed and went beyond the sacred ash that

Shirdi Sai Baba used for similar purposes.

(Even after his death, numerous devotees have

discovered vibhuti coming forth from pictures of

their beloved Guru.)Sai Baba lived in a large ashram in the town of

Puttaparthi, where he has also built a hospital and

a university, both to serve the people free of

charge. At his ashram, called Prashanti Nilayam,

(Abode of Highest Peace), major feast days are

celebrated by hundreds of thousands of devotees

flocking in to view the holy man (darshan) and to

receive the spiritual energy of his blessings. Sai

Baba has told devotees that shortly after his death

the third Sai Baba reincarnation will occur, who

will carry the name of Prema Sai Baba (Prema

means love and Sathya means truth).

Sai Baba 1593 S

S

Teachings

In addition to his charitable work, materializa-

tions and occasional miraculous healings, Sathya

Sai Baba taught his devotees through public dis-

courses given frequently at his ashram. These

teachings have been gathered into books, which

now comprise the 42-volume Sathya Sai Speaks

series. There is also a website where his message

is articulated. For example, this writing from

1968 describes Sathya Sai Baba’s self-definition

of purpose:

I have come to light the lamp of Love in your

hearts, to see that it shines day by day with added

luster. I have not come on behalf of any exclusive

religion. I have not come on a mission of publicity

for a sect or creed, nor have I come to collect

followers for a doctrine. I have no plan to attract

disciples or devotees into my fold or any fold.

I have come to tell you of this unitary faith,

this spiritual principle, this path of Love, this virtue

of Love, this duty of Love, this obligation of

Love (Sathya Sai Baba, 7/4/68, cited on www.

sathyasai.org).

Despite his stated lack of specific plans to

attract followers, there are over 30 million

devotees worldwide who follow the teachings of

Sai Baba and believe him to be an Avatar, that is,

an incarnation of God on earth. When asked

directly whether he is God, Sai Baba frequently

responded, “Yes, and so are you!” A central com-

ponent of his teaching is that the Divine is omni-

present; Divinity resides in every person and our

primary duty in life is to discover that indwelling

divine life (Atman). In 1997, he spoke to a large

group of devotees:

Embodiments of Love! Only that person can

be said to lead a full human existence whose

heart is filled with compassion, whose speech is

adorned by Truth and whose body is dedicated to

the service of others. Fullness in life is marked by

harmony of thought, word and deed. . . . In every

human being Divinity is present in subtle form.

But man is deluded. . .. The innumerable waves

on the vast ocean contain the same water as

the ocean regardless of their forms. Likewise,

although human beings have myriads of names

and forms, each is a wave on the ocean of Sath-Chith-Aananda (Being-Awareness-Bliss). Every

human being is invested with immortality. He is

the embodiment of love. Unfortunately he fails to

share this love with others in society. The root

cause of this condition is the fact that man is

consumed by selfishness and self-interest. . ..Only when this self-interest is eradicated man

will be able to manifest his inner divinity (Sai

Baba, 1997, p. 191f).

Like Jesus, Sai Baba frequently taught in par-

ables, which were often spoken in modern idiom.

He used airplanes, for example, to teach about the

presence of an unseen God (the pilot), and elec-

trical energy to teach about the inner, unseen

current that activates a multiple of appliances,

even as God motivates and activates humans.

Sometimes Sai Baba taught from the wisdom of

the Vedas, the Bhagavad Gita, or other ancient

Indian scriptures; at other times he spoke quite

directly to the needs and problems of the

twentieth- and twenty-first-century global soci-

ety. In 1993, for example, he spoke about

a problem that is increasingly newsworthy in the

twenty-first century:

My advice to office-goers and students is that it is

good for them to commute by cycle at least 5 or

6 km a day. This cycling exercise is very useful, not

only for maintaining health, but also for reducing

the expenditure on automobiles. . .. Moreover it

serves to reduce atmospheric pollution caused by

harmful fumes from automobiles. The carbon

dioxide smoke from motor vehicles and factories

is already polluting the air in cities and is affecting

the ozone layer above the earth. The primary task is

to purify the environment, which is affected by

pollution of air, water, and food. All the five ele-

ments [earth, water, air, fire, and ether] are affected

by pollution. People should, therefore, try to reduce

the use of automobiles and control the emission of

harmful industrial effluents . . . . Trees play a vital

role in helping mankind to receive oxygen from the

atmosphere while they absorb the carbon dioxide

exhaled by human beings. Hence the ancients

favored the growing of trees to control atmospheric

pollution. But nowadays trees are cut down

indiscriminately and pollution is on the increase

(Sai Baba, 1993, p. 35f).

Like Gandhi, Sai Baba emphasized the impor-

tance of the fivefold values: truth, love, peace,

nonviolence, and righteous living (Sathya,

Prema, Shanti Ahimsa, and Dharma). Sai Babatreasured the Bhagavad Gita and he frequently

taught his devotees the meaning of the metaphors

of that archetypal story of the war between good

S 1594 Sai Baba

and evil. For example, on the battlefield in the

Gita, Krishna says:

The point, old friend – and this is very important –

is to do your duty, but do it without any attachment

to it or desire for its fruits. Keep your mind always

on the Divine (Atman, the Self). Make it as auto-

matic as your breath or heartbeat. This is the way to

reach the supreme goal, which is to merge into God

(Gita 3:19. Hawley, 2001, p. 32).

Sai Baba taught that the battlefield is our inner

life. Our spiritual aim should be to surrender to

the Divine, to be a willing instrument of God’s

Will, and to leave the results of that action in

God’s hands. This relatively simple statement is

the essence of life’s goal; it is a spiritual work

worthy of conscious effort (sadhana). Sai Baba

has provided many teachings that support this

goal. To keep focused on the Divine, he taught

that the easiest method in this era is, with every

breath, to repeat the name of God (namasmarana,

remembering God through any name that has

personal meaning).

Sai Baba’s teachings also emphasize the

importance of purity of heart, which entails let-

ting go of desires and attachments. The union of

opposites involves transcending the natural ten-

dency to have likes and dislikes, attachments, and

aversions. Rather, he taught, one should strive to

care equally for friend and foe, to behave calmly

whether one receives praise or criticism, and to be

indifferent to honor and ignominy. Equanimity is

fostered when one is able to accept suffering as

a blessing in disguise and to accept adulation with

humility.

Psychotherapy with Devotees

In working psychologically with devotees of Sai

Baba or with others who adhere to similar Eastern

traditions, it is important to understand and

accept their worldview. While anger, jealousy,

fear, pride, lust, etc. are natural psychological

states, the spiritual aim in this Eastern tradition

is to transcend those states. World – as we know

it – is illusory (maya). The only permanent reality

is the Divine and that permeates everyone and

everything. Every situation is a scene in the

Divine play (leela). Psychologically, this attitudeenables devotees to take life a little more lightly

and to cope with its vicissitudes a little more

gracefully.

Self-Realization

In summary, to the devotee of Sri Sathya Sai

Baba, the aim of life is to surrender to God, to

be the Instrument of Divine Will, to fight the

various battles of life, but to leave the outcome

in God’s hands. In order to accomplish that aim,

the primary purpose of life is to discover the

Godlife (Atman) within oneself and to honor

that same Godlife in others – all others. Self-

realization means to know that identity and

unity experientially. Sai Baba promised that

such self-realization results in a state of bliss. In

essence, he said, we are being, awareness, and

bliss (sath-chith-ananda), i.e., when we are fully

aware of the Divine within each of us, and acting

from that awareness, we shall receive bliss as

a natural occurrence. Thus, when we aspire for

world unity and work toward that end, we work in

consort with the Divine Will. We merge with the

Divine One.

See Also

▶Atman

▶Avatar

▶Bhagavad Gita

▶Healing

▶Hinduism

▶ Incarnation

▶ Psychotherapy and Religion

Bibliography

Hawley, J. (2001). The Bhagavad Gita: A walkthrough forWesterners. Novato: New World Library.

Sai Baba. (1993). Sathya Sai speaks (Vol. 26). PrashantiNilayam: Sri Sathya Sai Books & Publications Trust.

Sai Baba. (1997). Sathya Sai speaks (Vol. 30).

Prashanti Nilayam: Sri Sathya Sai Books &

Publications Trust.

Samsara and Nirvana 1595 S

Samsara and Nirvana

Frank Scalambrino

Department of Philosophy, University of Dallas,

Dallas, TX, USA

On Buddha’s birthday a spotted fawn is born – just

like that (Basho 1999, p. 70).

S

Introduction

The structure of this double entry, i.e., the

combination of the entries Samsara and Nirvana,

moves from an analysis of samsara and nirvana as

religious concepts to the question of the relation

between nirvana’s revelation and the perceptual

shift which results from performing a phenome-

nological reduction (cf. Heidegger, 1962; cf.

Heidegger, 2008). In other words, if the practice

of meditation, for example, zazen (cf. Suzuki

1993, p. 29) or koan (cf. Suzuki 1971,

pp. 18–200), produces what is tantamount to

a phenomenological reduction and if meditation

is a practice toward the revelation of nirvana, then

to what extent is the accomplishing of a phenom-

enological reduction a practice toward revealing

or realizing nirvana?

Next, a brief conceptual analysis of nirvana in

relation to different conceptualizations of time

follows the examination of the above question.

On the one hand, it seems as though how one

thinks of time influences how one thinks of sam-

sara and nirvana. On the other hand, complicating

matters further for anyone who would attempt to

understand samsara and nirvana, thinking of

nirvana tends to invoke concepts like “absolute

emptiness” or “nothing(ness),” and how we think

of these concepts seems to be intimately depen-

dent on our understanding of the relation between

time and existence. Hence, to conclude the first

part of this double entry, I clarify the difference

between nirvana and nonbeing by way of

a phenomenological description of nonbeing for

the sake of illustrating what nirvana is not. Real-

izing that the “nothing” to which nirvana is often

taken to refer is not the nothing of “nonbeing”

should help clarify how to think of samsara and

nirvana.

The entry concludes, then, with a gesture

toward what the research project of tracing the

textual use and changing readings of nirvana

and samsara might look like across psychology

as a natural (Naturwissenschaften) and as

a historical-social-individual-human science

(Geisteswissenschaften). Such a research project

would include a discussion of the differing con-

ceptions of nirvana found in Freud and Jung and

a gesture toward explicating the presence, and

perhaps therapeutic use, of the psychic revelation

of “nothingness,” “emptiness,” or nirvana (or at

least the differing uses of phenomenological

reductions) present in the various accounts

spanning the division often referred to as “the

four forces of psychology.” The four forces of

psychology are here taken to be varying psycho-

logical accounts divided by methodology and

theoretical point of departure.

Conceptual Analysis

Nirvana is notoriously an elusive notion. Take, for

example, Nagarjuna’s celebrated claim: “Samsara

is nothing essentially different from nirvana.

Nirvana is nothing essentially different from sam-

sara” (cf. Lee 2006, pp. 464–465; Nagarjuna 1970,

p. 158). Further, nirvana is supposed to refer to

some difference, i.e., a salvation, worth striving

for by way of the “thirty-seven practices” which

lead to enlightenment, i.e., nirvana (Hirakawa

1990, pp. 48, 51). These practices conclude with

the famous “Noble Eightfold Path” supposed to

lead to the “cessation of suffering,” i.e., duhkha

(Humphreys 1990, pp. 65–70). The trajectory of

this soteriology may be thought through by

thinking Samsara to the Four Noble Truths to the

Three Jewels of Buddhism (which include medita-

tive practices leading to the experience of

a phenomenological reduction revealing samsara

as profane) to a contemplative life (samadhi) forthe sake of further unfettering to nirvana “with

spatiality” to only a small number of rebirths with

nirvana while perfecting wisdom (prajna) as an

S 1596 Samsara and Nirvana

arhat and enduring until samyak sambuddha, i.e.,“final” nirvana.

Along this trajectory, then, may be thought

various stages relative to two different revela-

tions of nirvana – nirvana with spatiality (nirvana

with embodiment/remainder) and nirvana with-

out spatiality, i.e., final nirvana (nirvana without

remainder). Before discussing the above trajec-

tory further, however, it is worth mentioning that

according to the “Mindfulness of Breathing

Sutra” from the Middle Length Discourses

(118.15), the development and cultivation of

“mindfulness of breathing” is supposed to be

sufficient to achieve enlightenment, i.e., aware-

ness of nirvana from within samsara. Hence,

“mindfulness of breathing” as the performance

of a phenomenological reduction opens an

interesting space for comparison of Western

philosophers and psychologists informed by

phenomenological practices.

The Four Noble Truths, then, are considered

one of the Three Jewels of Buddhism. And, upon

embracing the Jewels, a being enters the first

stage toward nirvana, i.e., as a “stream-entrant”

(Hirakawa 1990, p. 57). Embracing these Jewels

(Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha) is tantamount to

believing in the possibility of enlightenment and

nirvana, believing in the path leading to enlight-

enment, e.g., the Four Noble Truths, and

participating in the practices associated with

enlightenment and nirvana (Hirakawa 1990,

p. 57). To contextualize, such a path to enlight-

enment may fruitfully be compared to Plato’s

description of the just released “prisoner” in the

“Allegory of the Cave” (cf. Republic 515c-e3).

There are three other stages associated with

progress through the “thirty-seven practices.”

They are once-returner, non-returner, and arhat

(the one who is worthy of samyak sambuddha,i.e., final nirvana) (Hirakawa, 1990, p. 57). Fur-

ther, the ethical path along these stages, invoking

liberation, is described as the loosening of “ten

fetters – ignorance, conformations, conscious-

ness, name and form, the six senses, contact,

sensation, grasping, becoming, and old age and

death . . . to be overcome before Nirvana [can] be

reached” (Humphreys, 1990, p. 66). And, the

distinction between two nirvanas helps here,

since the arhat “manages to avoid suffering that

arises due to change in something to which he is

attached, but not the fact that sensations are often

unpleasant nor that things are imperfect due to

being brought about by something else” (Leaman

1999, p. 22). Hence, release from one’s fetters

may be thought of as ascendance through these

stages toward nirvana; and the successful over-

coming of the realms, to which one would have

otherwise been bound by fetters, allows an arhat

to enter final nirvana upon the death of the phys-

ical body (cf. Schopenhauer 1958, pp. 506–507).

An adequate conceptualization of “Samsara”

and “Nirvana,” then, would render samsara as the

repetitive cyclical realm of birth and rebirth asso-

ciated with suffering and nirvana as both salvation

through liberation from the suffering associated

with samsara and liberation from rebirth in sam-

sara. Such a rendering follows the Buddha’s first

teachings after experiencing nirvana in which he

revealed the “Four Noble Truths” which relate to

suffering. First, the “truth of suffering,” which is

the awareness of suffering, is also thought to be the

awareness of samsara. Second, the “truth of the

origin of suffering” refers to an awareness of desire

and attachment in relation to suffering. Third, the

“truth of the cessation of suffering,” which is an

awareness of the cessation of suffering, is also

thought to be an awareness of nirvana. Fourth, the

“truth of the path to the cessation of suffering”

refers to the habits and practices involved

toward the cessation of suffering, i.e., nirvana

(cf. Gyatso 1994).

Nirvana: Aporia, PhenomenologicalReduction, or Death?

With the path of liberation identified, then, is it

possible to think through an agent’s psychologi-

cal process leading from samsara to nirvana? If

so, then Western philosophers concerned with

agency might be able to help. For example,

Immanuel Kant’s (1724–1804) description of

apperception suggests an agent becomes self-

aware through a focal revelation derived from

awareness immanent in multiple perceptions. In

other words, through an agent’s interaction with

Samsara and Nirvana 1597 S

S

the phenomenal world, i.e., samsara, an agent

becomes self-aware – as that which is interacting.

However, there is still a third step left in this

dialectic. The third step, on the one hand, the

agent is not the phenomena experienced. On the

other hand, the agent is neither the “I” nor any of

the discursivity which may stand in for the “I.”

Rather, the agent is transcendental. The third

step’s uncovering being, then, the revelation of

the nondiscursive transcendental, i.e., the agent,

as condition for the possibility of both the unity of

apperception and the experiencing of samsara.

Further, just as we can encounter an object

through a phenomenological reduction such that

the more discursive aspects of its being are brack-

eted, so too can we realize our movement and

dwelling as that of a nondiscursive transcendental

being. Notice the process of this realization may

also be referred to as the “emptying” of the self.

And emptying here is in quotes as it is clearly

meant metaphorically, since the self is, of course,

not a physical object. Hence, awareness of being

transcendental, as such, arrived at via phenome-

nological reduction is entrance into the nirvanic

stream (noted above).

Now, to perform a phenomenological reduc-

tion, without doing so merely in reflection (cf.

Husserl 1983, p. 103), would be something like

attempting to sense your senses sensing. And, to

accomplish this, you would need to be in

a phenomenologically reduced relation to experi-

ence. Prior to meaning “your” senses, they would

just be (the repetition of not-yet-judged apprehen-

sions, i.e., sensations). Further, supposing a “sense”

to be a bundle of multiple unconscious possible

thoughts (cf. Kant 1998) and supposing the auto-

maticity of contraction dilationwhich allows for the

exchange of content in sensory awareness (“I” feel

“my feet,” “I” feel “my hands”), then there would

be gaps created in the process of exchanging

content. Such would be to not make the being of

the sense depend on the presence of the object but to

make the presence of the object depend on the

capacity of the power of animation (cuwZ�) to

sense.

In this way, it is possible to become aware of

gaps in your experiencing, in other words, the

power of animation instantiates, but does not

perpetually hold an experience in being.

“Nonbeing” refers to those gaps in experiencing.

Your being is not persisting, it is pulsing

(Scalambrino 2011, p. 560). Hence, just as it

seems incorrect to equate nirvana with nonbeing,

it seems incorrect to equate nirvana with death.

So, the physical death associated with final

nirvana is not more nirvana; it is less samsara.

Eternity and Perspective:The Hermeneutics of Samsara

Is there awareness of the presence of the eternal?

In Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, Shunryu Suzuki

(1904–1971) recounts: “Dogen said, ‘Time goes

from present to past.’ This is not true in our

logical mind, but it is in the actual experience of

making past time present” (Suzuki 1993, p. 33).

And a question to help clarify, “When you are

sitting in the middle of your own problem, which

is more real to you: your problem or you your-

self?” (Suzuki 1993, p. 40).

Similarly, St. Augustine’s perplexity moves

from “If the future and the past exist, I want to

knowwhere they are” (Augustine 1993, p. 222) to

“the present of things present is sight, the present

of things past is memory, the present of things

future is expectation” [223]. And juxtaposing

Suzuki and St. Augustine illuminates the ques-

tion: Are memories and expectations clouding

a vision of the present? This is perhaps what the

Buddhist monk Dogen (1200–1253) referred to in

stating, “Most people think time is passing and do

not realize that there is an aspect that is not

passing” (Dogen 1975, p. 70). Finally, coming

full circle, to think through the possible relations

between eternity and time would be to answer the

question asked earlier regarding possible aware-

ness of eternity.

The post-structuralist tradition beginning with

Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason (1781–1787) andespecially with his Critique of the Power of

Judgment (1790) seems open to the possibility

of a difference that cannot be structured. Hence,

post-structuralism is capable of reading the struc-

ture of memory, expectation, and the objects of

sight as identifiable precisely because of their

S 1598 Samsara and Nirvana

being part of a structure. Now, if this structure

includes time, then the post-structural difference

could be eternal as “outside” the structure identi-

fied as time.

In order to think through the possible relation-

ships between eternity and time, consider

an example from Friedrich Nietzsche’s Die

frohliche Wissenschaft (1887):

Sub specie aeterni – A: “You are moving away

faster and faster from the living; soon they will

strike your name from their rolls.” – B: “That is

the only way to participate in the privilege of the

dead.” – A: “What privilege?” – B: “To die no

more” (Nietzsche 1974, p. 218).

This movement is mirrored (cf. Williams

2001) in Nietzsche’s “The Three Metamorphoses

of the Spirit” (cf. Nietzsche 1969, p. 54), and

Wilhelm Wurzer (1942–2009) links the meta-

morphoses with different perspectives regarding

eternity (cf. Wurzer 1983, p. 269). Hence, the

“Camel” spirit who carries the burden of samsara

thinks “time” in “eternity.” The “Lion” spirit who

rages against the burden of samsara thinks of

an “eternity of time,” and, as the agent of

a “New Enlightenment,” the “Child” spirit eter-

nally plays, thinking of time with the seriousness

of a child at play (cf. Nietzsche 1989, p. 83).

Notice, then, that thinking through these

possible relations between time and eternity

affirms the conclusion of the previous section.

A non-reflective phenomenological reduction

and a contemplation of time provide the possibil-

ity of identifying more with the nirvanic stream

than with samsara. Further, it is possible to think

of the power intuiting time to thereby be eternal

“outside” of time. Hence, this different perspec-

tive regarding eternity opens a space to think the

possibility of reincarnation not merely after phys-

ical death but repeatedly in regard to “your”

current physical body.

Summarized a different way, the awareness of

the presence of the eternal would be like the real-

ization of the power animating an experience both

as the power allowing for the conceptualizing of an

experience and as the nonconceptual power that

you most are. Keeping in mind that space and time

depend on the present (“sight” of the) environment

of the experience for identification, even if time

and space are intuitions of the power allowing

for an experience in space and time, the power

itself is neither of space nor time. In other

words, depending on how you think of time, the

power of animation (cuwZ�) might be eternal.

Perhaps Plato would call this the “immortality of

the soul” (cf.Phaedo 63e8-64a7; 66b2-66e2; 67e3;

72d6-73a3).

It is the awareness of that power undergoing

transformation to leave the wheel of birth and

rebirth that allows us – to “enter the stream” –

the option to live more mindful of that power than

any of its manifestations. Despite the difficulty of

the dialectic leading to such a psychological dis-

covery, retreating to a position of “eliminative

materialism” (EM) (cf. Churchland 1981) would

be tantamount to embracing samsara to deny

nirvana. In the same vein as this criticism

of EM, Henri Bergson (1859–1941) argued

concerning the relationship between the natural

scientific discoveries regarding brain damage

studies and the psychological truths they purport-

edly uncover:

That there is a close connection between a state of

consciousness and the brain we do not dispute. But

there is also a close connection between a coat and

the nail on which it hangs, for, if the nail is pulled

out, the coat falls to the ground. Shall we say, then,

that the shape of the nail gives us the shape of the

coat, or in any way corresponds to it? (Bergson

1991, p. 12).

Whereas answering Bergson by affirming

a correspondence between brain and psyche

tends toward thinking psychology as a natural

science (Naturwissenschaften), denying a direct

correspondence tends toward the thinking of psy-

chology as a historical-social-individual-human

science (Geisteswissenschaften).

Scala Amoris v. Scala Natura

Reminiscent of the disagreement among the cen-

tral figures taken to illustrate Plato and Aristotle,

respectively, in Raphael’s (1483–1520) famous

fresco “The School of Athens” (1510–1511) is

the disagreement between those who claim the

methods of psychology should reflect its status

as a historical-social-individual-human science

(Geisteswissenschaften) and those who claim

Samsara and Nirvana 1599 S

S

the methods should reflect those of natural

science (Naturwissenschaften) – scala amoris

v. scala natura (cf. Van Kaam 1958, p. 22).

Moreover, this distinction is not unlike the

different discussions of the psyche found in

Plato (Geisteswissenschaften) (cf. Phaedo) and

Aristotle (Naturwissenschaften) (cf. De Anima

414a-414b). Hence, analyzing the single idea of

“psychology,” one could use this distinction to

indicate the subsequent two parts (cf. Gadamer

1989; Husserl 1970).

A further distinction, perhaps most useful

when distinguishing between therapeutic inter-

vention orientations, referred to at times as the

“four forces in psychology” may be used to indi-

cate the difference(s) across various psychologi-

cal accounts (cf. Brennan 2003; Hergenhahn

2008). Such clarification is beneficial, for exam-

ple, when texts such as Raymond J. Corsini’s

Handbook of Innovative Therapy suggest the

existence of over 1,000 different types of psycho-

therapy (cf. Corsini 2001). Hence, if we take the

four forces of psychology to be divided by the

extent to which the methodologies involved

embrace “natural kinds” in regard to psychology,

then the first two forces of psychoanalysis and

behaviorism may be thought of as on the natural

kinds side of the division (Naturwissenschaften)

along with a number of reactions to these forces

which still adhere to natural kinds, e.g., function-

alism, cognitivitism, and neuronalism. In con-

trast, on the side of the division which

thinks natural kinds as dependent on the mind

(Geisteswissenschaften), i.e., the side of the

division which embraces the Kantian Copernican

revolution (Kant 1998, pp. 110–111), are found

“third force” phenomenological-hermeneutic

psychologies such as Rogerian, Gestalt, Existen-

tial, Transpersonal (contemplative), and post-

structuralist theories and the fourth force of

“systems”-based theories of psychology such

as family therapy and other theories which main-

tain, e.g., “that individuals may only be under-

stood within the social [and historical] context in

which they exist [emphasis added]” (Prochaska

& Norcross 2006, p. 352). Whereas – generally

speaking – the former (Naturwissenschaften)

lends itself to an understanding of psychological

salvation as dependent on physical destruction,

the latter (Geisteswissenschaften) seems to allow

for a salvation more consistent with that found

regarding samsara and nirvana.

Sigmund Freud

Though one might refer to a more existential-

phenomenologically grounded psychoanalytic

theory as “psychodynamic,” the Freud who

authored Project for a Scientific Psychology(1895) seemed interested in psychology as

a natural scientific enterprise. Similarly, and

following Arthur Schopenhauer (1788–1860)

(cf. Schopenhauer 1958, p. 506–509), Sigmund

Freud (1856–1931), specifically in the Economic

Problem of Masochism (1924), suggested,

“the nirvana principle expresses the tendency of

the death instinct” (Freud 1961a, p. 160). And the

aim of the “death instincts” is to “conduct

the restlessness of life into the stability of the

inorganic state, and it would have the function

of giving warnings against the demands of the life

instincts” (Freud 1961a, p. 160). Hence, Freud

seemed to read any striving for nirvana as the

manifestation of the body’s desire to cease its

own processes of maintaining life (cf. Freud

1955, pp. 143–144).

Since, in Darwinian fashion, life for Freud

emerges from the nonliving and struggles to sur-

vive, in Beyond the Pleasure Principle (1920),

Freud speculated an “inertia” tending, then,

toward nonliving. Further, Freud suggested,

“everything living dies for internal reasons

[Freud’s emphasis]” (Freud 1955, p. 38). And

Freud unfolded this interiority from which death

derives in Instincts and Vicissitudes (1915) noting

“an ‘instinct’ appears to us as a concept on the

frontier between the mental and the somatic, as

the psychical representative of the stimuli

originating from within the organism and

reaching the mind” (Freud 1957, pp. 121–122).

And Freud clarified that “By the source of an

instinct is meant the somatic process which

occurs in an organ or part of the body and

whose stimulus is represented in mental life by

an instinct” (Freud 1957, p. 123).

S 1600 Samsara and Nirvana

Carl Gustav Jung

It is possible to arrive at Carl Gustav Jung’s

(1875–1961) reading of samsara and nirvana

in at least two ways – his direct comments in

their regard and his criticism(s) of the interpreta-

tion of instinct in which Freud grounds

nirvana. To begin, Jung spoke of samsara and

nirvana directly, and, in contrast to Freud’s

equation of ego dissolution with internal death,

Jung wrote:

To us, consciousness is inconceivable without an

ego . . . If there is no ego, there is nobody to

be conscious of anything. . . . The Eastern mind,

however, has no difficulty in conceiving of

a consciousness without an ego. Consciousness is

deemed capable of transcending its ego condition;

indeed, in its ‘higher forms, the ego disappears

altogether. Such an ego-less mental condition can

only be unconscious to us, for the simple reason

that there would be nobody to witness it (Jung

1969, p. 484).

In this way Jung allows for a reading of

nirvana beyond a Freudian psychic-apoptosis.

According to Jung, “The Mind in which the

irreconcilables – samsara and nirvana – are

united is ultimately our mind” (Jung 1969,

pp. 488–489). Moreover, “what we [in the

West] call the ‘dark background of conscious-

ness’ is [in the East] understood to a ‘higher’

consciousness. Thus our concept of the ‘collec-

tive unconscious’ would be the European equiv-

alent of buddhi, the enlightened mind” (Jung

1969, p. 485). And since Jung associates this

“higher consciousness” with introversion, he

noted “Introversion is felt here [in the West] as

something abnormal, morbid, or otherwise objec-

tionable. Freud identifies it with autoerotic, ‘nar-

cissistic’ attitude of mind. . . . In the East,

however, our cherished extraversion is depreci-

ated as illusory desirousness, as existence in the

samsara” (Jung 1969, p. 481).

In Freud and Jung: Contrasts (1929), then,

Jung declared, “I prefer to look at man in the

light of what in him is healthy and sound, and to

free the sick man from just that kind of psychol-

ogy which colors every page Freud has written”

(Jung 1970, p. 335). And, according to Jung, “the

question of instinct cannot be dealt with

psychologically without considering the arche-

types, because at bottom they determine one

another” (Jung 1978, p. 134). In a parallel

construction, Jung then unfolds his understanding

of instincts and archetypes. On the one hand,

“Instincts are typical modes of action, and wher-

ever we meet with uniform and regularly recur-

ring modes of action and reaction we are dealing

with instinct, no matter whether it is associated

with a conscious motive or not” (Jung 1978,

p. 135). On the other hand, “Archetypes are typ-

ical modes of apprehension, and wherever we

meet with uniform and regularly recurring

modes of apprehension we are dealing with an

archetype, no matter whether its mythological

character is recognized or not” (Jung 1978,

pp. 137–138). Jung’s notion, then, holds open

the possibility of unconscious apprehension and

a way of discussing the apprehension by way of

archetypes, such that “Just as conscious appre-

hension gives our actions form and direction, so

unconscious apprehension through the archetype

determines the form and direction of instinct”

(Jung 1969, p. 137). And, finally, regarding the

archetype in its relation to instinct Jung notes,

“the yucca moth must carry within it an image,

as it were, of the situation that ‘triggers off’ its

instinct” (Jung 1978, p. 137). Hence, Jung clearly

seems to have the more Geisteswissenschaften

friendly reading of samsara and nirvana.

Conclusion

In conclusion, it would seem that to do the

least amount of interpretative violence to the

notions of samsara and nirvana in the process of

performing a more thorough examination of the

concepts across psychology, one might proceed

by comparing various psychological accounts

regarding change and death. For example, how

might the influence of Epictetus’ Enchiridionsquare with what may be thought of as the more

natural scientific interests of Cognitive Behav-

ioral Therapy (CBT)? Moreover, is it the case

that CBT’s roots run too deep in the psychoana-

lytic soil from which it came to consider it based

in phenomenology and hermeneutics? Is it

Samsara and Nirvana 1601 S

possible to provide “mindfulness”-based therapy

within a natural scientific perspective, and, if

so, then is it possible to reread phenomenologi-

cally based approaches without altering their

fundamental character? To what extent might

“stream-entering” make one a better psychother-

apist? Finally, in regard to systems theory,

one might examine the extent to which the

psychological change of individual family mem-

bers shifting the family unit from a closed

to a “healthier” open position utilizes agent,

i.e., group member, specific techniques which

may be thought of as designed for “stream-

entering.”

S

See Also

▶Archetype

▶Arhat

▶Bodhisattva

▶Death Anxiety

▶Eschatology

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶Heaven and Hell

▶Heidegger, Martin

▶Hinduism

▶ Immanence

▶ Immortality

▶ Incarnation

▶ Instinct

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶Koan

▶Meditation

▶Mindfulness

▶Nietzsche, Friedrich: Religion and Psychology

▶Nirvana

▶Nonduality

▶ Phenomenological Psychology

▶ Plato on the Soul

▶ Prajna

▶Quest

▶ Shakers

▶ Shamans and Shamanism

▶ Soteriology

▶Virgin Birth

▶Zazen

▶Zen

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Sangha

Paul Larson

The Chicago School of Professional Psychology,

Chicago, IL, USA

In Buddhism the Sanskrit term “sangha” has

two meanings. More generally, it refers to the

entire community of all practitioners of Buddha

dharma, both lay and monastic. It is also used to

specifically refer just to the monastic community,

both monks and nuns. Contemporary Buddhists

often refer to themselves not only as Buddhist but

as dharma practitioners. This emphasizes the

point that they are active in meditation, chanting,

or some other spiritual practice or discipline. This

is in contrast with the Western monotheisms

where the term “believers” emphasizes the cog-

nitive component, what doctrines one holds or

affirms.

The sangha is one of the three gems, the other

being the dharma and the Buddha. Collectively,

they are known as the “triple gem.” To become

a Buddhist one would take refuge in the triple

gem. The concept of taking refuge refers to the

first of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism, the

pervasiveness of human suffering. As one expe-

riences the reality of suffering, one seeks refuge

from not only the suffering itself, but with knowl-

edge of the cause of suffering, attachment, one

seeks the way out by practicing the methods that

lead to enlightenment.

See Also

▶Buddhism

Santerıa 1603 S

Bibliography

Behkert, H., & Gombrich, R. (Eds.). (1984). The world ofBuddhism. London: Thames & Hudson.

Robinson, R. H., & Johnson, W. L. (1997). The Buddhistreligion (4th ed.). Belmont, CA: Wadsworth

Publishing.

Santerıa

Sana Loue

School of Medicine, Department of Bioethics,

Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland,

OH, USA

S

Origins

Santerıa, more formally known as Lukumı or La

Regla Lukumı, originated in Africa and was

brought to Cuba by slaves from western Africa,

many of whomwere fromYoruba-speaking areas

that are now part of Nigeria and Benin. The

religion was brought to the United States during

the 1940s by immigrants from Cuba. It has

been estimated that approximately 10 million

individuals in the Americas are adherents to

the Afro-Cuban religion Santerıa; somewhere

between half a million and 5 million of them are

located in the United States. It is believed that

approximately 50,000 adherents reside in South

Florida. In addition, there are also large clusters

of practitioners (santeros, a status that is

explained in greater detail below) in New York

City, New Jersey, and Connecticut. Although

many believers may have been raised in the

Santerıa tradition, followers of other faiths are

increasingly identifying as believers of Santerıa.

In many respects, Santerıa is unlike Western

religions. While Western religions such as

Christianity, Islam, and Judaism rely on doctrine

and liturgy embodied in sacred texts to define their

beliefs and boundaries, Santerıa relies instead on

the careful performance of numerous rituals and

the fulfillment by its followers of these prescribed

rituals and sacrifices. Unlike various denomina-

tions within Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, for

example, Santerıa does not have a centralized, hier-

archical structure. Each house-temple (casa de

santos) acts independently of others and may

engage in very different practices and have differ-

ent interpretations of those practices in comparison

with other house-temples. Followers of Santerıa

are known as such because they have carried out

specific actions during prescribed rituals, not

because of an accident of birth.

Significant disagreement exists with respect to

the characterization of Santerıa as a syncretized

religion. Santerıa has been labeled as such because

some observers have noted that adherents to Sante-

rıa appear to be praying to Catholic saints and

concluded that Santerıa followers have merged the

Catholic and African belief systems and abandoned

their gods (orishas or orichas) in favor of the Cath-

olic saints. Various scholars, however, have argued

that because the Yoruba slaves in Cuba faced reli-

gious persecution when they worshiped the orishas,

they masked this worship by imbuing a particular

Catholic saint with the power and characteristics of

a particular orisha. Although it appeared that the

slaves were now praying to a saint, they actually

continued to worship a particular orisha as

manifested in the form of a particular saint. As an

example, the orisha Orunla, who is the god of

wisdom, is often manifested as Francis of Assisi,

St. Philip, or St. Joseph. The persecution in Cuba of

adherents to Santerıa continued until relatively

recently; the practice of the faith was a punishable

crime in Cuba until 1940, and persecution contin-

ued until the 1980s. Even in the United States,

Santerıa did not gain formal recognition as

a religion until 1993, when the United States

Supreme Court ruled that prohibitions against

religious rituals involving animal sacrifices were

violative of the United States Constitution.

Basic Beliefs

Santerıa is a highly complex and ritualized faith.

The various rituals, proverbs, and relationships

that exist between adherents and officiants of the

faith and the orishas serve to bind each to the other.

As evident from the following discussion, survival

of one depends on nourishment of the other.

S 1604 Santerıa

It is believed that the orishas manifest them-

selves in other religions in addition to Santerıa by

virtue of ashe, an amoral neutral energy force that

serves as the foundation for all that exists and

that is possessed by all entities that have life or

power. Accordingly, it is believed that every

human being who worships the Divine is actually

worshiping the orishas. All religions, however,

are to be accorded respect since all faiths contain

truth.

Every individual is believed to be the spiritual

child of an orisha. The identity of the orisha

parent will become known once the individual

becomes a follower of Santerıa. The new believer

can then begin to foster the relationship with his

or her orisha parent and look to the orisha for

guidance and assistance with his or her problems.

Significantly, the sexual orientation and gender

identity of the adherent are not tied to

the characteristics of the deity. For example,

a self-identified gay male with female-associated

mannerisms may be a follower of Chango, one of

the most powerful orishas.

When an individual dies, his or her ori,

analogous to the Christian concept of a soul,

returns to Olodumare, the ultimate god, who causes

the ori to be reborn in successive lives until its

destiny on Earth has been fulfilled. Accordingly,

death is viewed not as the end of life but rather as

the beginning of a new existence.

Although the orishas are powerful, they are not

immortal. Their survival depends on sacrifices

made to them by their believers. The relationship

between the orishas and believers is complex; each

depends on the other for survival.

Santerıa’s primary purpose is to assist the

individual to live in harmony with his or her

destiny; they will more easily be able to meet

life’s challenges and overcome difficulties if

they follow the appropriate rituals. These difficul-

ties may include marital strain, financial stress,

illness, and problems with children. Although the

individual is deemed to be responsible for his or her

actions, assistance may be sought from the appro-

priate spirit. The individual’s performance of

a prescribed ritual will provide energy to that spirit

so that the spirit can provide assistance to the

individual.

Santerıa does not personify the qualities of good

and evil as God or Satan, angels or devils. Rather,

what is to be considered good or evil depends upon

the particular circumstances. Unwelcome events

are not deemed to be punishment for having com-

mitted a sin or for a human frailty but are instead

seen as the natural consequence of disharmony.

Restoration of harmony between the physical and

spiritual realms is deemed to be critical. This can

be accomplished through the perfect performance

of various rituals designed to demonstrate respect

to the appropriate orishas and to placate them. If

done successfully, the orishas will reward the

individual by granting his or her request, even if

the fulfillment of that request would be to the

detriment of others.

Ritual

Individuals seeking assistance with their difficulties

will consult a santero or santera for a consulta.

(Santero refers to males and santera to females;

the term santero will be utilized in the remainder

of this entry to signify both male and females.)

Santeros who have developed a reputation of

being knowledgeable and powerful may have

established a casa de santos, known as an ile.

These are often located in a room or basement of

a house that has been converted for this purpose

and that houses shrines of Santerıa. Santeros are

believed to be extensions of Olodumare, the

supreme spiritual source. In their role as mediators

between humans and orishas, they are able to offi-

ciate at ceremonies and rituals, diagnose illness,

effectuate healing, and dispel evil spells. Santeros

have been trained by longer-term practitioners of

the faith who have “birthed” more junior members

(male padrinos and female madrinas) and are

recognized as their mentors’ godsons (ahijados)

and goddaughters (ahijadas).

The process of restoring harmony between the

physical and spiritual worlds and discovering

how to be in balance with one’s destiny often

begins with divination. Although each individual

is believed to have a destiny, actions are not

predetermined; rather, each person can pursue

actions that are congruent with their destiny and

Santerıa 1605 S

S

reach their full potential, or they may act in ways

that are in opposition to their destiny and create

disharmony. Divination will help to clarify the

client’s situation, reduce anxiety, and identify

a solution to the client’s difficulties. The santero

will ask the client questions about his or her

situation; the client is able to clarify for him- or

herself the presenting problem as he or she relates

it to the santero.

A detailed description of the varied divination

processes is beyond the scope of this entry. In

brief, divination may be achieved through

reliance on sanctified coconuts which, after

being tossed, reveal a yes-no response to

a question that has been asked of an orisha;

through the use of cowrie shells that constitute

the “mouth” of a specified orisha; and through the

use of kola nuts or palm nuts.

Only babalawos, male high priests whose abil-

ities exceed those of the santeros, are authorized to

perform various forms of divination, such as that

accomplished through the use of kola nuts or palm

nuts. Additionally, only babalawos can perform

animal sacrifices. Over time, the power and impor-

tance of babalawos has diminished as increasing

numbers of santeros learn the rituals involving

animal sacrifice and the more advanced forms

of divination.

A sacrifice or tribute to a particular orisha may

be prescribed at the conclusion of the consulta.

Offerings, known as ebbos, may be prescribed for

a variety of purposes: to give thanks for the favor-

able resolution of a problem; to obtain an orisha’s

favor; to appease an angry orisha; to ward off an

attack; to mark the beginning of a particular cere-

mony, such as an ordination; and to obtain an

orisha’s blessing at the start of a new venture

or enterprise, among others. Each ritual service

necessitates the payment of a monetary offering

(derecho) to the orisha. The derecho is often

needed in advance in order to pay for the various

component objects to be used in the ritual, such as

food, candles, and animals. The blood from animal

sacrifices is used to nourish the orisha; the animals

are cooked and eaten following most Santerıa rit-

uals, with the exception of healing and death rites.

The ritual of sacrifice or offering serves as

a catharsis for the client’s emotions that are

associated with the difficulties he or she described

during the consulta.

A santero, or even an adherent, may become

possessed by an orisha during the course of

a ritual. A client’s belief in spirit possession

may in some cases complicate a mental health

diagnosis by a Western-trained mental health

professional. However, a client’s reliance on San-

terıa rituals and consultas may serve to comple-

ment therapy by providing additional support,

feedback, and opportunity for self-reflection.

Accordingly, it is critical that a mental health

professional be willing to engage his or her client

in a discussion of the client’s religious and

spiritual beliefs.

Adherence to Santerıa or membership in the

faith is not a prerequisite to a consulta.

Individuals who seek entrance to Santerıa as

a full member must proceed through a series of

four rituals that includes (1) receipt of the beaded

necklaces (elekes), containing specific beads thatreflect the orishas to whom the individual is

responsible; (2) making the image of Eleggua,

a warrior orisha responsible for determining

human destinies; (3) receiving the warriors

(Guerreros), that is, receiving from the babalawo

objects associated with the warrior orishas

Eleggua (his image), Oggun (iron tools), Ochosi

(a bow and arrow), and Osun (an iron chalice with

a rooster); and (4) asiento, an elaborate multi-day

ritual through which the individual is reborn into

Santerıa. Various aspects of the asiento serve to

distinguish and separate the post-asiento individ-

ual from his pre-Santerıa identity: the initiate’s

head is shaven, he is given a new name, and he is

kept in seclusion. Initiation into the faith through

the four rituals typically requires several years

and tutelage under a particular santero. The

individual is free to halt the process at any stage

and may continue as a member of the faith at the

level he has attained.

Benefits

Santerıa has provided and continues to provide its

adherents with a sense of family, community,

refuge, and belonging and the possibility of

S 1606 Sarasvati

exerting some degree of control within one’s

current existence. Reincarnation of the ori

assures the continued existence of the individual

and the regeneration of the community. These

physical and emotional benefits are evident

throughout the faith’s history. During the

period of slavery in Cuba, the faith provided

a mechanism through which individuals could

momentarily escape from their oppression.

Cuban immigrants to the United States found

fellowship and community in the casas de santos,

where fellow clients spoke the same language

and held similar worldviews. The santeros and

santeras serve as surrogate godparents, while

fellow adherents are seen as siblings. The casas

de santos also serve as marketplaces, where cli-

ents can exchange goods and assist each other

economically. In short, the casas de santos and

its personages constitute family and community,

bound together through an intricate system

of ritual and respect and, not infrequently,

experiences of oppression.

See Also

▶Ritual

▶ Sacrifice

Bibliography

Baez, A. B., & Hernandez, D. (2001). Complementary

spiritual beliefs in the Latino community: The

interface with psychotherapy. The American Journalof Orthopsychiatry, 71(4), 408–415.

Church of the Lukumi Babalu Aye, Inc v. City of Hialeah.

(1993). 508 U.S. 520.

De La Torre, M. A. (2004). Santerıa: The beliefs andrituals of a growing religion in America. Cambridge,

UK: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company.

Mason, M. A. (2002). Living santeria: Rituals andexperiences in an Afro-Cuban religion. Washington,

DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.

Powell, E. (n.d.). The derecho: An anthropologicalapproach to understanding monetary exchange inSanterıa. Senior thesis, Department of Anthropology,

Haverford College, Haverford.

Vidal-Ortiz, S. (2011). “Maricon”, “pajaro”, and “loca”:

Cuban and Puerto Rican linguistic practices and sexual

minority participation, in U.S. Santerıa. Journal ofHomosexuality, 58(6/7), 901–918.

Sarasvati

Malgorzata Kruszewska

Sonoma State University, Rohnert Park,

CA, USA

Sarasvati is a riverine goddess invoked in the Rig

Veda, the oldest of the ancient sacred text of

India. She maintains a prominent place in Hindu-

ism as goddess of knowledge, music, and sound

and is often portrayed as one of the three great

(maha) female deities along with the goddess of

prosperity, Lakshmi, and the fierce protectress

mother, Durga. She is a pan-Asian goddess

represented in Jain, Sikh, and Buddhist temples,

rituals, and narratives. There is some evidence

that an Old Iranian river goddess, Haraxwaitl,

may also refer to a similar female deity.

Historically, a river Sarasvati existed until its

mysterious disappearance by 800 BCE, which

is variously attributed to climate changes, geo-

logical shifts or possible earthquakes, and

drought conditions. Speculations of locating the

actual river continue to this day, pointing to the

geographical areas along the west border areas of

India between modern day Punjab and Pakistan.

The Sanskrit name suggests a flowing quality

associated with both water and eloquence.

Sarasvati is usually depicted with four arms hold-

ing her musical instrument (vina), sacred beads

(mala), and a scroll or book and with her animal

vehicle the goose, swan, or peacock at her feet.

Painted images of Sarasvati portray her gliding

on river waters cascading from a mountain

source. She is associated more with moving

waters that transform the landscape rather than

with still, placid bodies of water. The knowledge

attributed to Sarasvati therefore arises from the

life force and movement of the river.

The Sarasvati river as described in the RigVeda is powerful, forceful, and unpredictable. In

this way, the quality of the waters differs greatly

from lake, sea, or pond deities. Yet she is not only

a water deity for she also is Sound. Sarasvati is

invoked by poets and seers for inspiration, poetry,

and music. Knowledge is gained by entreating

Sarasvati, Fig. 1 Sarasvati clay statue, street shrine

during Sarasvati Puja, 2011, Kolkata (Calcutta) (Photo

courtesy of the author)

Sarasvati 1607 S

S

Sarasvati to bless her devotees with the flow of

thoughts, words, and music.

Psychologically, Sarasvati symbolizes the

cognitive skills of reading, thinking, and free-

flowing verbal and written expression. She also

symbolizes the psychology of the artistic “flow”

of inspiration and skill in musical performance.

She represents the divine gift of these skills of

articulation, arising from inspiration.

Knowledge of words is used in conjunction

with knowledge of the healing powers of water

(often in the form of prescribed baths) and spe-

cific medicinal herbs found along the river

waters. Thus, an early version of Sarasvati por-

trays her as a physician who was called on to heal

the Vedic god Indra after he drank an excess of

Soma. It is understood that knowing the correct

mantra and proper recitation of these powerful

sounds may bring about restoration of health and

remedies misfortune. Psychologically she is an

image of the knowledge of healing arts and med-

icine – herbs and mantras.

Knowledge depicted as a female divinity can

be found in the Greek religious and mythological

narratives of Sophia and Athena as well as in the

biblical references to Eve receiving the fruit from

the Tree of Knowledge. Each of these offers

a specific understanding of the qualities associ-

ated with the acquisition and use of knowledge

according to specific historical and cultural con-

text that contributes to the formation of how

knowledge is psychologically defined and per-

ceived (Fig. 1).

Sarasvati in modern Hinduism has come to be

associated with the pure (sattvic) knowledge of

the Vedas. She is often associated with the sacred

rituals of Brahminical knowledge which include

performance of correct ritual and recitation

of Sanskrit mantra. She also appears in non-

Brahminical literature and ritual such as in

Tantric traditions which view all female deities

as manifestations of the goddess and as sakti.

In popular rituals, Sarasvati is frequently

associated with the privilege of psychologically

accessing and receiving a specific education such

as literacy or the sacred Sanskrit language. In this

context, she represents the arts and technology of

civilization. In India, statues and poster art of

Sarasvati are most often found in libraries, book-

stores, and performing arts halls, since it is under-

stood that these are places where the goddess

resides. Children offer their books to Sarasvati

to receive her blessings and to ensure success in

educational endeavors.

Sarasvati is honored during the 9-day Durga

Puja festival in autumn as well as on a specially

designated Sarasvati Puja day in February/

March. Rituals include offering books, learning

devices, and musical instruments to the goddess

as well as abstaining from reading for the day to

honor the importance of words.

Knowledge, as defined by the myths and

images of Sarasvati, includes not only the sacred

psychology of intelligence but also memory,

insight, cleverness, inspiration, eloquence, and

the ability to read, recite, and perform songs,

rituals, and chants. She is often considered to be

speech (vac).

S 1608 Satan

Sarasvati is associated with the arts through

storytelling, music, drama, science, technology,

medicine, and a metaphysical realization of the

universe as sound. Sarasvati always holds the

vina, the musical instrument that symbolizes

the subtle vibrations of the body and the universe

itself, at both the psychological and the divine level.

See Also

▶Archetype

▶Goddess Spirituality

▶Hinduism

▶Water

▶Women in Hinduism

Bibliography

Airi, R. (1977). Concept of Saraswati in Vedic literature.New Delhi: Rohtak Co-operative Print and Pub

Society.

Biernacki, L. (2007). Renowned goddess of desire:Women, sex and speech in tantra. New York: Oxford

University Press.

Bose, M. (2011). Women in the Hindu tradition: Rules,roles, exceptions. New York: Routledge.

Goldman, S. J. S. (2000). Speaking gender: Vac and the

Vedic construction of the feminine. In J. Leslie & M.

McGee (Eds.), Invented identities: The interplay ofgender, religion and politics in India. New Delhi:

Oxford University Press.

Jantzen, G. M. (1999). Becoming divine: Towardsa feminist philosophy of religion. Bloomington:

Indiana University Press.

Ludvik, C. (2007). Sarasvati, riverine goddess of knowl-edge: From the manuscript-carrying vina-player to theweapon-wielding defender of the Dharma. Leiden:

Brill.

Padoux, A. (1992). VAC: The concept of the word inselected Hindu Tantra. Delhi: Sri Satguru

Publications.

Patton, L. L. (2002). Jewels of authority: Women andtextual tradition in Hindu India. New York: Oxford

University Press.

Pintchman, T. (1994). The rise of the goddess in the Hindutradition. Albany: State University of NewYork Press.

Witzel, M. (2001). Autochthonous Aryans? The evidence

from old Indian and Iranian texts. Electronic Journalof Vedic Studies, 7(3), 1–115. Retrieved from http://

www.ejvs.laurasianacademy.com.

Zysk, K. (1985).Medicine in the Vedas: Religious healingin the Vedas. New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass

Publishers.

Satan

▶Devil

Scapegoat

Tadd Ruetenik

St. Ambrose University, Davenport, IA, USA

Scapegoating commonly refers to the process

by which an individual, or perhaps a group,

gets shunned unfairly so that a community can

avoid considering a more complex problem. An

unremarkable employee, for example, might get

fired from a company experiencing major sys-

temic problems, in the hopes that this action

will show that the company is serious about

reform. Scapegoats can also be found at the

more prominent levels of a community. A foot-

ball coach will often be fired in an attempt to

reform a team of weak players, or more seriously,

a political leader will be killed in response to

problems among the populace.

The common factor here seems to be the

defenselessness of the victim or group of victims

and the injustice of the punishment, which

is either misapplied or inappropriately harsh.

The origin of the scapegoat, however, comes

from Leviticus 16, where the process is actually

prescribed by law. A priest is instructed to lay his

hands on a goat, confess the sins of the people,

and send the goat out of the community and into

the desert. The consequences of the people’s sins,

which otherwise would build endlessly, are thus

believed to be expuled from the community along

with the animal. The goat is neither guilty nor

innocent: it is just a goat. The punishment is thus

not misapplied, and the punishment is not too

harsh – unless we consider alternative versions

of the story in which the goat is pushed off of

a cliff. A similar story of scapegoating occurs in

the synoptic Gospels in the story of Jesus

banishing demons by transferring them into

a herd of swine that were sent into the sea.

Scapegoat 1609 S

S

The demons are named “Legion” and require

a scapegoat in the plural.

The fact that in both stories the scapegoat is

an animal and not a human seems to justify

the action morally. When humans are the ones

scapegoated, however, the act is regarded as

unjust. The problem with scapegoating, how-

ever, is that its perpetrators often do not see

it for what it is. A myth develops that the sins

of the individual are real and justify his

exclusion. When Jesus is being crucified, he

remarks that the people “know not what they

are doing.”

Identifying this kind of blindness is important

to the work of Rene Girard. According to Girard,

a largely unconscious scapegoat mechanism is at

work in the foundation of human civilization.

The mechanism takes the form of unchallenged

religious rituals. “Violence and the sacred are

inseparable,” says Girard in Violence and the

Sacred, “but the covert appropriation by sacrificeof certain properties of violence - particularly the

ability of violence to move from one object to

another - is hidden from sight by the awesome

machinery of ritual.”

This machinery results from the pervasive-

ness of mimetic desire within communities.

Mimetic desire is a type of rivalry in which

its competitors are focused not on objects of

desire, but rather for the desire itself. Girard’s

example involves considering two children

who are simultaneously introduced to a new

toy. Rivalry develops as soon as one child,

perhaps sensing the impending interest of the

other, is attracted to that toy. Predictably, the

second child will also become interested in

that toy, but not because of any intrinsic

value in the object. Rather, the child is inter-

ested in the other child’s interest. The object

in question is of secondary importance and, in

the case of pronounced mimetic rivalry,

becomes irrelevant.

One does not have to look to the immaturity of

children to find examples of mimetic rivalry. The

interest of a few customers in a sales bin usually

prompts the interest of many others. As clever

marketers understand, the contents of the bin are

not as important as the fact that someone appears

interested in sifting through it, and this interest

causes an anxiety in others, who fear they just

might be missing out on something. What they

are missing out on is the act of looking.

There are of course more intense and impor-

tant cases of mimetic rivalry involving jealous

lovers, business competitors, rival countries,

etc. These cases involve more significant and

dangerous conflicts and threaten community sta-

bility. According to Girard, mimetic rivalry is

both contagious and violence inducing, and

when the threat of mob violence becomes suffi-

ciently acute, a scapegoat is sought by the

members of the community. The violence done

to the scapegoat by the community serves to

dispel the dangerous force by symbolically expel-

ling the agreed-upon object. Yet the symbolic

expulsion is not viewed by the community as

such. Scapegoat rituals are seen as real solutions,

not just symbolic acts. In the case of the witch

trials in colonial America, the common interpre-

tation is that the sacrificed women were victims

of some kind of conscious conspiracy by the male

elders, who trick the gullible masses. Such an

interpretation avoids considering the insidious-

ness of scapegoat mechanism. According to

Girard, both the persecutors and the public are

sincere in their beliefs. The primitiveness of

a community (and indeed for Girard its lack of

Christian revelation) is measured by the extent

to which this scapegoat mechanism eludes

consciousness.

The importance of Christianity is that it

reveals the scapegoating mechanism by showing

that the victim, in this case Christ, is innocent.

The point however is not that innocence con-

demns scapegoating while guilt exonerates it;

the point is that either way scapegoating is

a mistaken response to the problem. The

scapegoated individual is not the real threat; it

is, rather, an escalation of communal rivalries

that threatens peace. The resurrection of Christ

is seen as a victory over the dark necessity of

violence and scapegoating that constitutes partic-

ular communities and indeed civilization in

general. Christianity reveals, according to Jesus,

and elaborated by Girard, “things hidden from

the foundation of the world.”

S 1610 Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Atheism

See Also

▶Ritual

▶ Sacrifice

▶ Santerıa

Bibliography

Girard, R. (1972). Violence and the sacred. Baltimore:

Johns Hopkins University Press.

Girard, R. (1978). Things hidden since the foundation ofthe world. Stanford: Stanford University Press.

Schopenhauer, Nietzsche,and Atheism

David Berman

Department of Philosophy, Trinity College,

Dublin, Ireland

Schopenhauer’s atheism is implied rather than

directly stated. For nowhere in his published

works does he either deny the existence of God or

describe himself as an atheist. Hence, Nietzsche’s

confident claim, in hisGay Science 357, that Scho-penhauer was the “first admitted and inexorable

atheist among us Germans” (1974) stands in need

of qualification. A more accurate statement might

be that for a German – rather than a French or

British writer of that time – Schopenhauer was an

honest and open atheist.

Schopenhauer’s Atheism

That having been said, atheism does seem to be

a clear implication of Schopenhauer’s system:

for given that this world is essentially blind eternal

will to life, there does not seem to be any need for an

intelligent and good God who creates this world.

There is, however, at least one place in

Schopenhauer’s published work where he comes

close tomaking his atheism explicit, which he does

by what is essentially a psychological argument.

The argument, in his main work, The world as will

and representation, vol. 2, xlviii, is based on the

fact that we human beings represent the highest

possible development of morality and intelligence.

Schopenhauer’s argument is not just that there is no

evidence that there is any being higher than us in

these respects but that there couldn’t be. And this is

shown, he thinks, by the saints and ascetics of all

religions, who, because they are more morally and

intellectually sensitive than their fellow human

beings, are able to see that this world is the worst

of all possible worlds, which moral insight leads

them to mortify or deny themselves, with the aim

(most clearly expressed in Buddhism) of achieving

nirvana or nothingness, which for Schopenhauer is

the most perfect state. Hence, it is clear to Scho-

penhauer that if, for the sake of argument, we try to

imagine a (supposed) more intelligent and good

being, such as God, or a being even marginally

superior to the saints, we would realize that such

a being would even more instantly annihilate itself

when it realized how revolting this world was.

Schopenhauer’s psychological-atheistic argu-

ment is important not only for the light that

it sheds on his mind and metaphysical system but

also as providing the crucial context for

Nietzsche’s idea of the overman, the central idea

of his Thus Spoke Zarathustra (Part 1, 1883) and

his general attempt to rescue man from nihilism. In

his early work, the Birth of Tragedy (1872), Nietz-

sche acceptedmuch of Schopenhauer’s pessimism,

but still not Schopenhauer’s nihilistic belief that the

highest good was nirvana. Instead of that bleak

prescription, Nietzsche puts forward the more

nuanced idea of the tragic life, as exemplified by

Aeschylean tragedy, as the highest condition for

man. Andwhile he does not repudiate this aesthetic

prescription in his later work of the 1880s, Nietz-

sche does change his focus there, a change that was

partly brought on by his break with Richard Wag-

ner and their commonmentor, Schopenhauer, who,

in 1886 Nietzsche nonetheless describes as “my

first and only teacher, the great Arthur Schopen-hauer.”More positively, Nietzsche had by that time

come under a new influence, more scientific than

aesthetic, namely, the theory of evolution. For now

his hope is that a new type of man might be

evolved, which will answer the threat of nihilism.

Thus, Zarathustra’s announcement of the death of

Schreber, Daniel Paul 1611 S

God, at the beginning of Thus spoke Zarathustra, isimmediately followed by “I teach you the overman.

Man is something that shall be overcome. . . [and]What is the ape to man? A laughing-stock or

a painful embarrassment. And man shall be just

that for the overman. . .” (1962, 124).

S

Nietzsche’s Anti-Atheism

But against such a higher development was

Schopenhauer’s atheism, as outlined above, which

appeared to show that such a development was not

possible, since man represented an evolutionary

dead end; hence, no being more perfect than

man can evolve – which, for Nietzsche, was the

nightmare of nihilism. So Nietzsche opposed

Schopenhauer’s atheism, although not completely,

since for one thing he still accepted much of

Schopenhauer’s pessimistic account of life. So

Nietzsche, like his great teacher, rejected the opti-

mistic idea that scientific or cultural or political

improvements might be effected which would

improve our happiness quotient – something Nietz-

sche associated with the shallowness of English

Utilitarianism.

In short, for Nietzsche, Schopenhauerian athe-

ism had many roles and implications, sometimes

pushing in different directions, which Nietzsche

importantly explores in The Gay Science, sec-tions 125, 343, 357, and 370 (Berman 1998). So

atheism, thanks to Schopenhauer and others, is

going to bring about enormous destruction in our

world. A vast amount is going to crumble, “for

example, the whole of European morality”

(Nietzsche 1974, section 343). And yet Nietzsche

says, in 125, we human beings did it, we are

God’s “murderers.” But then he dramatically

asks: “How did we do this? How could we drink

up the sea. . .wipe away the entire horizon?”

(1974). And Nietzsche goes on and on about the

dire consequences of the deicide, which there is

no need to stress here, since it is widely appreci-

ated; but what is not so conspicuous or appreci-

ated is the opposing tendency in Nietzsche, his

anti-atheism, according to which the destructive

deicide also has a good side, since it is going to

clear the way, opening up new possibilities for

new creations (1974, section 343), to which

Nietzsche alludes even in 125, when he says: “Is

not the greatness of this deed too great for us?

Must we ourselves not become gods simply to

appear worthy of it?” (1974). This is Nietzsche’s

hope. But it is a hope that is threatened by

Schopenhauer’s psychological-atheistic argument,

a threat that Nietzsche sought to oppose by, among

other things, his acute unmasking or transvaluating

of what he took to be Schopenhauer’s nihilistic

concepts of goodness and knowledge, pity and

compassion, showing how they worked against

life and instinct and hence against the great hope

of a new evolutionary development of man

(Berman 1998).

See Also

▶God

▶Nirvana

Bibliography

Berman, D. (1998). Schopenhauer and Nietzsche: Honest

atheism, dishonest pessimisim. In C. Janaway (Ed.),Will-ing and nothingness. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Nietzsche, F. (1924).Human, all-too-human (trans: Cohn,P. V. Pt. 2.). London: Allen & Unwin.

Nietzsche, F. (1962). Thus spoke Zarathustra (trans:

Kaufmann, W.). In The portable Nietzsche(pp. 121–439). New York: Viking Press.

Nietzsche, F. (1967). Birth of tragedy (trans: Kaufmann,

W.). New York: Random House.

Nietzsche, F. (1974). The gay science (trans: Kaufmann,

W.). New York: Vintage.

Schopenhauer, A. (1966). The world as will and representa-tion (trans: Payne, E. F. J.) (2 Vols.). New York: Dover.

Schreber, Daniel Paul

Lorna Lees-Grossmann

Department of Psychosomatic Medicine,

Klinikum Rechts der Isar, Munich, Germany

Daniel Paul Schreber (1842–1911) was a lawyer

and judge by profession but became infamous as

S 1612 Schreber, Daniel Paul

the author of Denkw€urdigkeiten einesNervenkranken, or Memoirs of My Nervous

Illness. In this work he detailed his experiences

during his second period of mental illness,

lasting from 1893 until 1902. Many well-known

psychologists subsequently adopted Schreber as

a case study, although none of them ever met or

corresponded with him.

Schreber’s illness began with his half-dreaming

thought that it must be nice to be a woman submit-

ting to sexual intercourse. He began to experience

auditory hallucinations shortly before his hospital-

ization in October 1893, but in February 1894 his

hallucinations became more severe and for the first

time visual. From these hallucinations Schreber

extrapolated information that he used to create

a complex worldview:

God

“Forecourts of Heaven”

“Tested souls”

Hiatus of experience and self – awareness at the moment of death. Ended by God,

who examines the soul and judges it

Human beings

Humans havematerial souls present as “rays” in

the nerves of the body. At the moment of death, the

body is left behind, andGod then examines the soul

for “blackening,” or damage through sinful behav-

ior. Once finished, God assigns the soul a period of

time and a method through which it will be puri-

fied; it becomes a “tested soul,” meaning that it is

untested. Schreber’s “soul-language” contains sev-

eral similar antonymic references, e.g., “juice” for

“poison.” Once the soul is purified, it enters the

“forecourts of heaven,” where it enjoys continued

“voluptuousness,” defined by Schreber as pleasur-

able experience caused by the uninterrupted close-

ness of God. God is split into Upper and Lower

Gods, named after Ahriman and Ormuzd, the sons

of Zurvan, the Persian God of Time. He is unlike

the Judeo-Christian God in that He is neither

omnipotent nor benevolent; He is a disinterested

observer of theworld and only intervenes in excep-

tional circumstances.

Schreber believed that earthly harmony could

only be achieved through his transformation into

a woman so that he could bear God’s children and

thus perpetuate a new and superior race of human

beings. To encourage the transformation, he took to

wearing feminine adornments and asking medical

staff to examine his developing breasts. Schreber

believed that God was working against the “Order

of the World” in this matter: His rays had become

dangerously linked with Schreber’s, a link that

could prove fatal to God were it to be severed

while Schreber was still in possession of his wits.

For this reason God was involved in an attempt

with Schreber’s psychiatrist Flechsig to destroy

Schreber’s reason. This “soul murder,” as Schreber

termed it, took the form of physical attacks and

constant harassment from “tested souls.”

The most famous of the multiple analyses of

Schreber is Freud’s own. Freud, like the others,

never met Schreber and concluded that Schreber’s

homosexual anxiety was to blame for his break-

down. Freud argued that Schreber turned the love

he felt for another man, possibly his father or

brother, into hate. He then justified his hatred

through delusions of persecution. Schreber’s

change of sex was therefore an attempt to render

his homosexual desires acceptable.

Alternative analyses include Niederland’s,

who noted the similarity between the miraculous

punishments suffered by Schreber with the

suggested educational methods of Schreber’s father,

the pedagogue Moritz Schreber. Schatzman’s

analysis went further than Niederland’s and blamed

Moritz Schreber’s “sadistic” teaching methods for

Schreber’s illness on the grounds of these miracu-

lous punishments. All of these analyses accept the

original diagnosis of Schreber as suffering from

paranoid schizophrenia, but Koehler suggested that

Schrebermay originally have been suffering clinical

depression and in fact only made the “schizophrenic

switch” in February of 1894.

Schreber published his Memoirs partly in the

hope that they would become the foundational

text for a new religion based on the knowledge

revealed to him by the “tested souls.” His experi-

ences were to be viewed in the context of martyr-

dom; his suffering led to the acquisition of

knowledge of the extraordinary world that is

Seder 1613 S

inaccessible to humans under normal circum-

stances. Comparisons can also be drawn with Bib-

lical Job, Hildegard of Bingen, and other religious

mystics.

See Also

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶God

▶ Job

Bibliography

Baumeyer, F. (1956). The Schreber case. The Interna-tional Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 37, 61–67.

Freud, S. (1958). Psycho-analytic notes on an autobio-graphical account of a case of paranoia (dementiaparanoides), SE XII (pp. 1–82). London: Hogarth

Press. (Translated from the German under the general

editorship of J. Strachey, London).

Israels, H. (1989). Schreber: Father and son. Madison:

International Universities Press.

Koehler, K. G. (1981). The Schreber case and affective

illness: A research diagnostic re-assessment.

Psychological Medicine, 11, 689–696.Niederland, W. G. (1974). The Schreber case:

Psychoanalytic profile of a paranoid personality.New York: Quadrangle.

Schatzman, M. (1976). Soul murder: Persecution in thefamily. Harmondsworth: Penguin.

Schreber, D. P. (2000). Memoirs of my nervous illness.(I. MacAlpine & R. Hunter, Eds.). New York:

New York Review of Books.

S

Search for the Father

▶Monomyth

Seder

Lynn Somerstein

Institute for Expressive Analysis, New York,

NY, USA

The Seder, a yearly event celebrated on the 15th

and 16th of the month of Nissan, is a part of the

Passover celebration that marks the Jew’s Exodus

from Egypt in the thirteenth century BCE. The

word “Mitzrayim,” Hebrew for Egypt, comes

from the root meaning narrow, so the Jews

escaped from a narrow place to a broader world.

Since the Exodus is a prelude to God’s revela-

tion onMount Sinai, the Seder is an opportunity for

each participant to relive the Exodus as a personal

spiritual event. The Seder meal is supposed to

replicate the experience of escaping from bondage

to freedom and can include family references and

stories about danger, freedom, and redemption.

Reciting the family’s history is a way to draw

individual members closer together; and the Hag-

gadah, the story of the Exodus, says that the more

one speaks about liberation, the better. The Hagga-

dah and the family stories together are an oral

recitation of history and a way to remember it.

The word “seder” means order, or order of

service, referring to the ritual and the celebratory

meal. A thorough house cleaning leads up to the

event. Special pots, pans, tableware, and foods

are served, and some foods are prohibited – no

leavened foods or grains are eaten.

Matzohs are allowed because they have been

carefully prepared in under 18 min. They com-

memorate the haste with which the Jews fled the

Egyptians, without time to let the bread rise.

The Seder meal teaches about the Exodus.

Since it is so different from usual family meals,

it inspires people, especially children, to ask

questions, like the famous, “Why is this night

different from every other night?”

The Seder is quintessentially a family meal,

usually led by the eldest male in the household.

Participation in the Seder at whatever level is

a powerful emotional experience of the love and

hate occurring in the outside world and within the

family as well. Using special cookware and din-

nerware and avoiding prohibited foods for the

entire week of Passover can be an exercise in

mindfulness or frustration.

The meal concludes with songs and with the

declaration, “Next year in Jerusalem!” This can

mean the literal city of Jerusalem, or it can mean

Jerusalem as a symbol of personal redemption

and freedom. Whichever theme is emphasized,

the personal effect of recreating ancestral, family,

S 1614 Self

and individual histories and relationships to

bondage and freedom can indelibly mark one’s

soul with a respect for self-determination and an

eternal emotional connection with one’s people.

See Also

▶Exodus

▶ Jerusalem

▶ Judaism and Psychology

Bibliography

Seder. (n.d.). Retrieved from: http://www.britannica.com/

EBchecked/topic/532142/seder#tab ¼ active � checked

%2Citems� checked&title¼ seder%20–%20Britannica

%20Online%20Encyclopedia.

Wigoder, G. (Ed.). (1974). Encyclopedic dictionary ofJudaica (p. 539). Paris: Leon Amiel.

Self

Ann Casement

British Jungian Analytic Association, London, UK

Self lies at the heart of Jung’s conceptualizing on

the structure and dynamics of the psyche. He first

encountered the Self inmidlife during the turbulent

years of 1916–1918 while undergoing his “creative

illness” following the difficult breakdown of his

relationship with Freud. As a result, Jung took

midlife to be universal for experiences of the Self

to come into being, a view that has been contested

by later analytical psychologists. Jung’s definition

of the Self is that it is the totality of the psyche as

well as being the prime archetype that keeps the

psyche from disintegrating at times of stress. Fur-

thermore, it transcends and goes beyond psyche.

If it is conceptualized as the prime archetype,

the Self would be the container of opposites, above

all perhaps those of good and evil. In this regard,

Jung refers to it as a “complexio oppositorum

(which) proves to be not only a possibility but an

ethical duty” (Jung 1954, p. 320). This is to be

found at the very center of what it is to be human

which is also an analogy of God: “Man is God, but

not in an absolute sense, since he is man. He is

therefore God in a human way. . .every endeavour

of our human intelligence should be bent to the

achieving of that simplicity where contradictories

are reconciled” (Jung 1954, p. 320). Here Jung is

quoting Nicholas of Cusa of whom he says:

“The alchemists are as it were the empiricists of

the great problem of opposites, whereas Nicholas

of Cusa is its philosopher” (Jung 1954, p. 320).

Furthermore, “The self is a union of opposites parexcellence, and this is where it differs essentially

from the Christ-symbol. The androgyny of Christ

is the utmost concession the Church has made to

the problem of opposites” (Jung 1953, p. 19).

On the other hand, Jung’s writings contain

many references to the synonymous nature

of the Self with the God-image as follows:

“Christ exemplifies the archetype of the self”

(Jung 1959a, p. 37) (Original italics). “The

Christ-symbol is of the greatest importance for

psychology in so far as it is perhaps the most

highly developed and differentiated symbol of

the self, apart from the figure of the Buddha”

(Jung 1953, p. 19). However, in so doing Jung

was not trying to take on the mantle of

a religious thinker but, instead, remained always

aware that he was an empirical psychologist.

“Strictly speaking, the God-image does not coin-

cide with the unconscious as such, but with

a special content of it, namely the archetype of

the self. It is this archetype from which we can

no longer distinguish the God-image empiri-

cally” (Jung 1958a, p. 469). This image of whole-

ness rises independently in the consciousmind from

the depths of humankind’s psychic nature. He goes

on to say: “. . .the self is not a philosophical concept

like Kant’s ‘thing-in-itself,’ but an empirical con-

cept of psychology, and can therefore be hyposta-

tized” (Jung 1958b, p. 262).

Self and Individuation

The Self is all important not only in the individ-

uation process of individuals but also in that of

collective groups though the symbols of the Self

Self 1615 S

are different at different historical epochs. He

elaborated this in his work Aion, the name of

which is taken from the Mithraic god who rules

over time, as follows:

. . .“wholeness”. . .is nevertheless empirical in so

far as it is anticipated by the psyche in the form of

spontaneous or autonomous symbols. These are the

quaternity or mandala symbols, which occur not

only in the dreams of modern people. . .but are

widely disseminated in the historical records of

many peoples and many epochs. Their significance

as symbols of unity and totality is amply confirmed

by history as well as by empirical psychology (Jung

1959c, p. 31) (Original italics).

Jung goes so far as to say the Self represents

psychic totality and is both conscious and uncon-

scious. From the latter realm, it may manifest in

dreams, myths, and fairy tales in the figure of the

“supraordinate personality” (Jung 1971, p. 460).

In this way, it takes on the form of king, hero,

prophet, or savior or a symbol of wholeness such

as a circle or cross. “I have called this wholeness

that transcends consciousness the ‘self’ The goal

of the individuation process is the synthesis of the

self. . . symbols of wholeness frequently occur

at the beginning of the individuation process,

indeed they can often be observed in the first

dreams of early infancy” (Jung 1959b, p. 164).

This tantalizing glimpse into Jung’s interest in

infancy was taken up and elaborated by the ana-

lytical psychologist, Michael Fordham, whose

ideas will be expanded further in this entry.

S

Encounter with the Self

In exploring the connection between the Self and

ego, Jung turned to the Biblical story of theBook of

Job. Similarly, the analytical psychologist Edward

Edinger depicts the relationship between the story

of Job with its relevance for the psyche of modern

man and William Blake’s Illustrations of the Book

of Job. As Edinger states: “. . .the Job story is an

archetypal image which pictures a certain typical

encounter between the ego and the Self. This typ-

ical encounter may be called the Job archetype”

(Edinger 1986, p. 11). Edinger further states: “The

term ‘Self’ is used by Jung to designate the trans-

personal center and totality of the psyche.

It constitutes the greater, objective personality,

whereas the ego is the lesser, subjective personal-

ity. Empirically the Self cannot be distinguished

from the God-image. Encounter with it is

a mysterium tremendum” (Edinger 1986, p. 7).

An encounter between Self and ego always

results in a defeat for the latter. However, if it

can sustain the ordeal and at the same time

become aware of its meaning, ego may experi-

ence an insight into the transpersonal psyche. In

the Blake drawings, Job is first depicted as living

in a state of unconscious innocent contentment.

In the second picture, Satan manifests in a stream

of fire between Yahweh and Job and represents

the urge to individuation which is a challenge

to complacence and living unconsciously.

“Dionysian energy of excess has erupted into

the Apollonian order” (Edinger 1986, p. 19).

The later pictures illustrate the growing dyna-

mism of Dionysian energy and its impact on ego

by destroying its containing structures, depicted in

the Job story as the loss of his children and their

families. Psychologically, this corresponds to the

onset of bad dreams and neurotic symptoms such

as depression and psychosomatic symptoms. Ego

may try to deal with these by splitting them off and

dissociating them from consciousness, which results

in an impoverishment of the conscious personality.

The book goes on to illustrate the complete

breakdown of Job (ego) when confronted with the

dark side of the Self (Yahweh), which a later

picture depicts as Job on high pointing down to

the chthonic aspects of the numinosum, Behe-

moth and Leviathan. “This is the other side of

the numinosum, which wemust always remember

is a union of opposites” (Edinger 1986, p. 55). As

Edinger goes on to say: “Job is being shown the

abysmal aspect of God and the depths of his own

psyche, which contains devouring monsters

remote from human values. . .God reveals his

own shadow side, and since man participates in

God as the ground of his being he must likewise

share his darkness” (Edinger 1986, p. 55).

Blake’s pictures and the Book of Job end with

Job’s fortunes being restored and with an enlarge-

ment of his personality through an encounter with

the Self. As Jung says: “. . .the widening of con-

sciousness is at first upheaval and darkness, then

S 1616 Self

a broadening out of man to the whole man”

(Jung 1963, p. 171).

Primal Self

The analytical psychologist, James Astor, views

Michael Fordham as the last of the founders of

a movement in analysis, who tapped into some-

thing essential in the discipline. Fordham’s

pioneering work led to a developmental model

of Jung’s ideas of the self. “His most radical

departure from Jung was to describe the actions

of the self in infancy and childhood such that the

infant, far from being uncentered at birth, as Jung

originally thought, is a person with an individual

identity even in utero” (Astor 2007).

In this way, Fordham revised Jung’s thinking

of the self in showing how, through interacting

with the environment, it helped to mold and cre-

ate it. In this way “The self, as Forham conceived

it, was the instigator as much as the receptor of

infant experience. This conception gave rise to

the particularly Jungian theory of ego develop-

ment in which the interaction between mother

and baby ensured the uniqueness of the situation,

a uniqueness created as much by the infant as by

the mother” (Astor 2007).

The prospective nature and self-regulating

function of the psyche through the self’s unifying

characteristics “could transcend what seemed to

be opposite forces” though in the course of that it

could be “‘exceedingly disruptive’ both destruc-

tively and creatively” (Astor 2007).

Astor sums up Fordham’s revised thinking on

Jung’s theory of the self to include a primary self or

original state of integration as follows: “This

primal self, he thought, gave rise to structures

from interaction with the environment which it in

part created. It existed outside of time and space,

and was similar to a mystical (or contemporary

scientific concept such as emergence), whose man-

ifestations had archetypal form. This primary self

was integrated, and in Jung’s sense it was an

agency of the psychewhich transcended opposites”

(Astor 2007). Astor links this to Fordham’s inno-

vative thinking about the dynamic structure of the

self which infant research is arriving at quite

separately from analytic thinking. “Fordham took

the innateness of Jung’s archetypal psychology

and demonstrated the way in which the environ-

ment affected it” (Astor 2007). Furthermore, “by

having a theory of deintegration we are able to

think about the observed behavior of the infant as

being continuous with the self. What this means is

that the development of the individual baby is

in effect an early form of individuation”

(Astor 2007).

Fordham also challenged Jung’s thinking

about the self as both the totality of the psyche

and an archetype. “As for the archetype defini-

tion, Fordham notes that it accounts for a range of

phenomena related to wholeness (archetypal

images) and, in fact, is closer to the data than

the totality definition. However this data ‘cannot

also be the totality’ because it excludes the ego,

which Jung differentiated from the archetypes”

(Urban 2005, p. 574).

In conclusion, it is worth noting that the

term “Self” is spelt with a capital “S” in some

instances and a small “s” in others. The former

tends to be used by classical Jungians who view

the Self as synonymous with the God-image; in

the latter, it is used by analytical psychologists of

the developmental school of thought. While

Fordhamwas not an atheist, “Much of Fordham’s

work has countered this religious aspect of

Jungianism” (Astor 2007). At the same time,

“His respect for Jung and his understanding of

the value of his studies of the manifestations of

the collective unconscious led him to try to take

a balanced position with respect to both the

psychological and religious perspective” (Astor

2007).

See Also

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶God Image

▶ Individuation

▶ Job

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶ Jungian Self

▶Mandala

▶Numinosum

Self Psychology 1617 S

S

Bibliography

Astor, J. (2007). Analytical psychology and MichaelFordham. In A. Casement (Ed.), Who owns Jung?(pp. 76, 77, 81–82). London: Karnac Books.

Edinger, E. (1986). Encounter with the self: A Jungiancommentary on William Blake’s illustrations of theBook of Job. Toronto: Inner City Books.

Jung, C. G. (1953). Introduction to the religious and

psychological problems of alchemy. In H. Read,

M. Fordham, G. Adler (Eds.), Psychology andalchemy (Vol. 12). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Jung, C. G. (1954). The psychology of the transference. In

H. Read, M. Fordham & G. Adler (Eds.), The practiceof psychotherapy (Vol. 16). London: Routledge &

Kegan Paul.

Jung, C.G. (1958a). Answer to Job. InH. Read,M. Fordham,

& G. Adler (Eds.), Psychology and religion: West andEast (Vol. 11). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Jung, C. G. (1958b). Transformation symbolism in the

mass. In H. Read, M. Fordham, & G. Adler (Eds.),

Psychology and religion: West and East (Vol. 11).London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Jung, C. G. (1959a). Christ, a symbol of the self. In

H. Read, M. Fordham, & G. Adler (Eds.), Aion:Researches into the phenomenology of the self.Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1959b). The psychology of the child arche-

type. In H. Read, M. Fordham, & G. Adler (Eds.), Thearchetypes and the collective unconscious (Vol. 9).

London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Jung, C. G. (1959c). The self. In H. Read, M. Fordham, &

G. Adler (Eds.), Aion: Researches into the phenome-nology of the self. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1963). The personification of the opposites. In

H. Read, M. Fordham, & G. Adler (Eds.), Mysteriumconiunctionis: An inquiry into the separation andsynthesis of psychic opposites in alchemy (Vol. 14.).

London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Jung, C. G. (1971). Definitions. In H. Read, M. Fordham,

& G. Adler (Eds.), Psychological types (Vol. 6).

London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Urban, E. (2005). Fordham, Jung and the self. The Journalof Analytical Psychology, 50(5), 571–594.

Self Psychology

Carol L. Schnabl Schweitzer

Pastoral Care, Union Presbyterian Seminary,

Richmond, VA, USA

The psychology of the self is a psychoanalytic the-

ory of the development of the self which focuses

primarily on narcissistic disorders or configurations

of the self. With the publication of Heinz Kohut’s

The Analysis of the Self in 1971, the psychology ofthe self, thoughwidely criticized by psychoanalytic

theory purists, began to gain respect as a psycho-

analytic treatment for a particular kind of

pathology – narcissism. Heinz Kohut understood

his work to be an addition to, rather than

a replacement of, Freud’s groundwork in psycho-

analysis. There are several significant points of

departure from Freud’s metapsychology including

Kohut’s precise understanding of transference,

internalization, and empathy.

Narcissistic patients, according to Kohut, expe-

rience the transference not as a projection of their

existing internal psychic structures but rather as an

expression of a need for internal psychic structures

which are missing. Thus, the analytic task focuses

on liberating the patient from his or her denial of

a need. Likewise, Kohut offers us a somewhat dif-

ferent understanding from Freud of the process of

internalization. Building upon Freud’s work,

Kohut understands internalization as more than

the taking in of the qualities of the libidinal object

which is lost and mourned; it is a process which

includes the taking in (or internalizing) of idealiza-

tions of a selfobject when that object has temporar-

ily failed in one of its need-fulfilling functions. One

indication that analysis is progressing fromKohut’s

perspective is the ability of the analysand to tolerate

the inevitable empathic failure of the analyst.

Kohut proposed a bipolar model of the self:

one pole is related to ideals (idealized self), the

other is related to ambitions (grandiose self), and

the area or space between the two is comprised of

inborn skills and talents. The poles of the self are

developed in relation to selfobjects (or the origi-

nal primary caretakers who fulfill the needs of the

developing self). The maternal selfobject is asso-

ciated with the idealized self while the paternal

selfobject is associated with the grandiose self

(originally the narcissistic self). These selfobjects

are not viewed as separate entities but rather in

terms of the way they fulfill or fail to meet the

needs of the developing infant. Kohut theorized

that an infant could tolerate a traumatic failure on

the part of one but not both parental selfobjects

(or others who may have primary caretaking

S 1618 Self Psychology

responsibility). Thus, a paternal selfobject need

not be the biological father; it may not even

be a male but someone who provides father-

like care. The same is true for the maternal

selfobject.

The three major constituents of the self (ideals,

ambitions, and talents) shape the three major

groups of transference experiences in the analytic

process. If the area of ambitions (grandiose self) is

damaged, the patientwill likely experience amirror

transference in which the analyst is the person

around whom constancy is established. This can

be related to the “gleam in a mother’s eye as she

gazes at her infant.” If the area of ideals is dam-

aged, then the patient experiences an idealizing

transference which means that the analyst provides

soothing and tension-regulating functions if the

narcissistic injury occurred early in childhood. If

the injury occurred later in childhood (or even

beyond childhood), then the analyst may become

“de-idealized” quickly as the analysand seeks

attachment with an omnipotent object. And finally,

if the area of skills and talents is damaged, then the

patient looks for reassurance in an alter ego or

twinship transference in which the analyst is expe-

rienced as being similar to the analysand’s grandi-

ose self. How then does analysis change from

Freud’s original understandings according to

Kohut’s theory of the self? In other words, how

does analysis provide a cure?

Freud maintained that a narcissist was not cur-

able because a narcissist was not accessible to the

influence of psychoanalysis; thus, the patient

lacked the ability to invest in a transference rela-

tionship (Freud 1959a, b). The noteworthy differ-

ence is Kohut’s focus on the treatment and cure of

narcissistic personality disorders. The touchstone

in Kohut’s analytic process is empathy which he

understood as a data-gathering toolwithin the ana-lytic relationship, not a cure in itself (seeHowDoes

Analysis Cure? 1984, pp. 300–307). Why is empa-

thy in and of itself not a cure? Kohut, using an

illustration from Nazi Germany, demonstrated

that empathy (or the ability to put oneself in

another’s shoes) can be used for good or ill. The

Nazis used empathy to exploit the vulnerabilities of

their victims to inflict emotional pain. Neverthe-

less, Kohut contended that empathy is what

ultimately affirms our humanness and makes psy-

chological existence possible (Kohut 1995). In an

attempt to correct themanymisunderstandings and

misappropriations of empathy in the analytic rela-

tionship, Kohut offered the following toward the

end of his life in 1981: empathy is “the capacity to

think and feel oneself into the inner life of another

person” (How Does Analysis Cure? 1984, p. 82).

Indeed, the capacity to experience empathy is

one of the five qualities identified by Kohut

which signal the transformation of narcissism

in the therapeutic relationship. The origin of

empathy is located in the earliest mother-

infant relationship as the developing self of

the infant takes in the mother’s feelings

toward the infant.

Other determinants of a healthy self include

creativity, transience, humor, and wisdom. The

analyst is able to observe these qualities develop-

ing in the transference relationship. Creativity,

quite simply, is a person’s ability to idealize his

or her work; it suggests a capacity of playfulness

and imagination. One may observe that a patient

is now able to celebrate his or her innate skills and

talents instead of seeking reassurance.

Transience is the ability to accept one’s own

mortality. The patient demonstrates an ability to

surrender the need to be omnipotent, first in rela-

tionship to the analyst and then subsequently in

other relationships. Humor, if it is not a defensive

posture (e.g., sarcasm may be a defensive signal),

suggests an acceptance of transience. When

humor is indicative of a transformation of narcis-

sism, the patient has experienced a strengthening

of his or her values and ideals. A genuine sense of

humor, according to Kohut, is witnessed by the

analyst as the patient’s ego is able to experience

amusement when reflecting upon old rigid con-

figurations of the ego (e.g., grandiose fantasies

and exhibitionistic strivings).

Wisdom, or at the very least a modicum of

wisdom, may emerge at the end of a successful

analysis. Like Freud, Kohut suggested that

analysis never truly ends but he maintained that

a successful analysis is eventually terminated.

During the concluding phases of analysis,

wisdom attained by the analysand helps to main-

tain self-esteem even upon recognizing personal

Selfobject 1619 S

limitations. The analysand may exhibit a friendly

disposition toward the analyst even though there

are conflicts remaining, and the analyst’s limita-

tions have been recognized by the patient as well.

In brief, human frailties are now tolerated with

composure instead of being defended against

with tendencies toward self-aggrandizement or

infantile idealization.

Within a religious framework, too much

interest in the self may be viewed as pride, self-

centeredness, selfishness, or sinfulness. Pastoral

theologian Donald Capps has written about the

narcissist as a tragic self (Capps 1993) who feels

more depleted than ever upon the recognition or

observation that others receive the mirroring that

one desires for oneself. The unmet desire for

mirroring triggers a shame response as the gran-

diose self receives another disappointment. As

Capps observes, many faithful Christians reel

from the admonitions against seeking praise and

recognition which is in itself a tragedy of faith

because “[w]hat was a display of healthy

narcissism is redefined as an expression of self-

centeredness, and the Christian faith is used to

legitimate the renunciation of our desire to be

mirrored. This is tragic, for mirroring is at the

very heart of the Christian gospel. Quite simply

but profoundly, it is the form and means by which

the depleted self experiences divine grace, the

benediction of God” (Capps 1993, p. 64). Thus,

in part, Christian faith may be an impediment to

the analytic process, especially if the narcissistic

vulnerability presented by an analysand is

a wounded grandiose self.

S

See Also

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶Kohut, Heinz

▶Libido

▶Narcissism

▶ Projection

▶ Psychoanalysis

▶ Self

▶ Selfobject

▶ Self Psychology

▶Transference

Bibliography

Capps, D. (1993). The depleted self: Sin in a narcissisticage (pp. 60–64). Minneapolis: Fortress Press.

Freud, S. (1959a). The dynamics of transference. In Thestandard edition of the complete psychological worksof Sigmund Freud (trans: Strachey, J.) (Vol. 12,

pp. 89–108). London: Hogarth Press.

Freud, S. (1959b). On narcissism. In The standard editionof the complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud(trans: Strachey, J.) (Vol. 14, pp. 67–102). London:

Hogarth Press.

Kohut, H. (1971). The analysis of the self: A systematicapproach to the psychoanalytic treatment of narcissis-tic personality disorders. New York: International

Universities Press.

Kohut, H. (1977). The restoration of the self. New York:

International Universities Press.

Kohut, H. (1984). The curative effect of analysis: The selfpsychological reassessment of the therapeutic process(Chap. 6). In Goldberg, A. (Ed.), How doesanalysis cure? (pp. 300–307). Chicago: University of

Chicago Press.

Kohut, H. (1991). Some therapeutic transformations

in the analysis of narcissistic personalities

(Chap. 12). In P. Ornstein (Ed.), The search forthe self (Vol. 4). New York: International Univer-

sities Press.

Kohut, H. (1995). The analysis of the self: A system-atic approach to the psychoanalytic treatmentof narcissistic personality disorders (12th edn,

pp. 296–307).

Siegel, A. M. (1996). Heinz Kohut and the psychology ofthe self. New York: Routledge.

Strozier, C. B. (Ed.). (1985). Self psychology and thehumanities. New York: W. W. Norton.

Strozier, C. B. (2001). Heinz Kohut: The making ofa psychoanalyst. New York: Farrar, Straus, &

Giroux.

Selfobject

D. Brian Smothers

The Counseling Center of Milwaukee,

Milwaukee, WI, USA

Definition

Selfobject: An object which is used in the

service of the self or objects which are experi-

enced as part of the self and provide a function for

the self.

S 1620 Selfobject

Discussion

The selfobject is the central psychic apparatus

within Heinz Kohut’s theory of self psychology.

To understand this ambiguous concept, one must

understand Kohut’s departure from conventional

analytic discourse. Kohut’s usage of an object sig-

nificantly differs from the Freudian usage of an

object. Freud’s object exists, primarily, as the target

of libidinal cathexis; whereas Kohut’s object is

cathected with narcissistic energy in the service of

the self. Freud’s thinking was bound to the Carte-

sian dualism of the scientific revolution, in which

one is experienced as either a subject (ego) or an

object (other). Kohut, on the other hand, recog-

nized the capacity for internalization of the experi-

ences of the subject-in-relation to the object and the

object-in-relation to the subject. Accordingly, the

selfobject is those dimensions of our experience of

another person that relates to this person’s func-

tions in establishing our sense of self.

Based on his groundbreaking work with tradi-

tionally unanalyzable individuals, narcissistic

patients, and those with other disorders of the

self, Kohut established a bipolar theory of devel-

opment that contrasted with the traditional drive

model proposed by Freud. Extending the works

of Margaret Mahler, Heinz Hartmann, and

Edith Jacobson, Kohut’s work sought to develop

a theory of self. For Kohut, the infantile or rudi-

mentary self develops along two primary contin-

uums in relation to others, the grandiose self and

the idealized parental image.

Kohut viewed narcissism not as pathological,

but as a necessary component of healthy develop-

ment. In his theory, the infant must develop a sense

of confirmation through themirroring of the parent.

Thus, the parent must reflect back the grandiosity

of the child as a means of her acceptance and

participation in the infant’s developing sense of

self and self-agency. Children are biologically

and environmentally dependent on an (m)other

for food, shelter, and nurturance. This other pro-

vides critical tasks by fulfilling physiological and

psychological needs that the child cannot fulfill

herself, though the child will experience the other

as an extension of herself. Effective mirroring

builds the child’s internal confirmation of her

self-agency through the development of healthy

selfobjects. These internalizations will aid her by

mobilizing her to act on the world and to have her

needs met. If the need for mirroring is absent or

inadequate, the child will grow to feel deficient and

will spend her life seeking the selfobject to fulfill

this gap within herself. Psychic structures of self

are built through the process of transmuting inter-

nalizations. Through the process of optimal frus-

tration of the child’s narcissistic needs by the

parent, the child’s emergent self develops. The

emergent self will eventually provide mirroring

and idealizing through mature relations and the

external/internal functions of mature selfobjects.

According to Kohut, one’s experience of self

is the unconscious experience(s) of self in rela-

tion to objects, therefore self is selfobjects. Thus,

as an individual experiences a sense of “I,” he/she

is inextricably bound to the “I” in relation to the

particular “other” to whom he/she is experien-

tially connected. Therefore, the experience of

self differs across time, contexts, and relation-

ships. The concept of a selfobject refers not to

an object in the interpersonal sense of the word,

but to the inner experience of an object; therefore,

the selfobject is defined by our inner experience

of the object and its function in establishing

a sense of self. Put more simply, selfobjects are

not necessarily selfs or objects, but one’s internal

subjective experience of the relationship and its

functions for the self.

It is important to note that the rudimentary

infantile self is bound to the experience of exter-

nal others and their selfobject functions. As the

individual matures, selfobjects may not necessar-

ily be experiences with a physical manifestation

of an other, but may be one’s dynamic experience

of a piece art, music, literature or religious tradi-

tions, beliefs, and associated matters. Mature

individuals can turn to selfobject functions of

symbolized abstractions to meet their deepest

self needs, as we are never fully independent of

our deepest self needs.

In his interview with Robert L. Randall,

a young theologian, Kohut briefly outlines the

theological implications of self psychology. For

Kohut, the role of religion could not be simply

reduced to one dimension of the self, though with

Sex and Religion 1621 S

S

this said, his focus on the idealizing needs and the

role of religion is worth noting. According to

Kohut, the core nuclear self is developed through

mirroring, idealizing, and the optimal frustration

of these needs. Through the optimal responsive-

ness of the caregiver in meeting the mirroring and

idealizing needs, and the eventual frustration of

those needs, the child slowly internalizes the

selfobject functions and the nuclear self emerges.

The parent must allow the child to idealize him or

her, essentially merging with the perceived

strength found within the parent. In the rudimen-

tary child unable to meet her own needs, this

process may be internalized in ways such as,

“You are perfect, and I am a part of you, so

I am perfect.” As mentioned above, the mature

individual never outgrows the basic self needs,

though they are altered through the usage of

mature selfobject relations. Accordingly, God is

the perfect idealizeable object. The sense of

belonging to a religious tradition or having

a personal relationship with God may, through

the process of merger and idealization, align one

with God’s perfection.

A benevolent image of God may provide the

mirroring and idealizing functions needed during

times of distress. It is not unusual to hear an

individual state that “God is my strength,” indeed

the psalmist even made this assertion. Thus, faith

or one’s faith may function as an organizing

selfobject experience, providing psychic struc-

ture and experiences of self leading towards equi-

librium, cohesiveness, well-being, and esteem.

Individual differences are uniquely respected

within this conceptualization, as one’s experi-

ence of a religious experience is not internalized

and experienced in the same manner as another’s.

The religious experience of hearing a moving

sermon, participation in the Eucharist, or the

symbol of Christ on the cross becomes internal-

ized sources of self through the experience and

selfobject functions of these abstractions. In the

Muslim tradition, the Koran and recitation of

Koranic verses may hold substantial symbolic

selfobject functions for individuals of this faith.

The Koran soothes, supports, and strengthens the

Muslim through its subjective and shared

selfobject functions.

See Also

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶Kohut, Heinz

▶Narcissism

▶Object Relations Theory

▶ Psychoanalysis

▶Relational Psychoanalysis

▶ Self

▶ Self Psychology

Bibliography

Hedayat-Diba, Z. (1997). Selfobject functions of the

Koran. The International Journal for the Psychologyof Religion, 7, 211–236.

Kohut, H. (1971). The analysis of the self: A systematicapproach to the psychoanalytic treatment of narcissis-tic personality disorders. Madison: International

Universities Press.

Kohut, H. (1984). How does analysis cure? In A. Goldberg

(Ed.), With the collaboration of P. E. Stepansky(pp. 240) Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Schlauch, C. (1999). Rethinking selfobject and self: Impli-

cations for understanding religious matters. PastoralPsychology, 48, 57–78.

Stozier, C. (1997). Heinz Kohut’s struggles with religion,

ethnicity, and God. In J. L. Jacobs & D. Capps (Eds.),

Religion, society and psychoanalysis: Readings incontemporary thought. Boulder: Westview.

Sex and Religion

David A. Leeming

University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, USA

Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me

(John Donne, Holy Sonnet 15).

Sexual and religious experiences have in com-

mon characteristics conveyed by such words as

desire, mystery, ritual, passion, ecstasy, and

union. Ideally we go to religious services and

“to bed” because our bodies and our psyches

desire something beyond ourselves. There is

a sense of awe and mystery associated with both

S 1622 Sex and Religion

activities and certain rituals that contribute to

passion and, when things go well, to ecstasy in

both. The fact that, for some, such an analogy will

smack of sacrilege or even heresy only indicates

the depth of the split between these two natural

human activities. If we have a deeply ingrained

horror of mixing sex and religion, this has not

always been so.

To begin as far back as we have records of

religious experience, we would have to look to

the Paleolithic (Old Stone Age) period to such

sites as the great painted caves and prehistoric

settlement ruins in southern France. There we

would find, among other objects, abstract and

stylized drawings of what appear to be female

genitalia and paintings of strange humanoid

male figures with animal heads and pronounced

genitals dancing before great horned beasts. The

themes of the paintings and related figurines, and

the dark and moist painted caves themselves,

as many scholars have pointed out, suggest

not prehistoric bathroom graffiti but myths of

a goddess-based religion in which human sexual-

ity, centered on the woman, serves as a metaphor

for the hoped-for fertility of the humans of the

given tribes and of the surrounding earth with its

potential plant and animal food sources.

A natural development of the Paleolithic

goddess mythology took place in the Mesolithic

(Middle Stone Age) and Neolithic (New Stone

Age) periods, in which the female, now clearly

a mother goddess associated with the emerging

practices of agriculture and animal husbandry,

was often depicted in the act of giving birth, as,

for example, in the famous case of the goddess on

sanctuary walls and in figurines at the site called

Catal H€uy€uk in Anatolia (modern Turkey).

Appropriately, the goddess at Catal H€uy€uk was

accompanied in her many birthing representa-

tions by a male fertility principle in the form of

a bull.

The sacred marriage of the Great Goddess and

the Bull of Heaven – of Earth and Sky – would be

celebrated as a central act in the various forms of

the Sumero-Babylonian religion in Mesopotamia

throughout the Copper and Iron Ages. It was

celebrated, for instance, in various “hymns”

which today’s religious people would probably

consider to be pornographic and sacrilegious.

In one hymn, the goddess Inanna calls out:

My vulva, the sacred horn,

Heaven’s vessel

Is eager, like the new moon, to be full.

My fallow land desires a plow

Who will plow my moist ground?

The goddess being impregnated and giving

birth to new life was a logical and almost inevi-

table early metaphor for hunter gatherers and

especially for agriculturalists that depended on

the fertility of earth for survival. And it is in this

context that the depositing of the male seed in the

womb or any plant seed in the ground would have

been expressed metaphorically by way of such

mythical figures as the god who pours out his

life-giving fluid and the dying and buried or

“planted” god who returns in the spring.

The process by which sexuality begins to get

a bad name in religion seems to coincide with the

demise of female power and political importance

in the face of a rising male-dominated, warrior-

based patriarchy. In ancient Mesopotamia,

for example, we find a significant change from

early-second-millennium BCE Sumerian stories

of a positive relationship between the hero-king

Dumuzi (Tammuz) and the goddess Inanna

(Ishtar) to a late Babylonian version of the stories,

in which the heroic Gilgamesh scornfully refuses

the advances of the same goddess. The situation

in which the patriarchal hero refuses the sexual

advances of the now suspect, strength-draining

female is repeated in other contexts around the

world. The Irish hero Cuchulainn’s refusal of

Queen Maeve – an avatar of the old fertility

goddess Morrigan – is a Celtic example. The

Bible contains stories of the harm that can come

when the otherwise powerful and dominant male

is seduced. The stories of Adam and Eve and

Samson and Delilah are only two of many such

stories in which the femme fatale has replaced the

old fertility goddess. In Greece it is Pandora,

whose name really means “gift giver” and

who was in all likelihood once a goddess of

agricultural abundance, who is said by Hesiod

to have released the evils of the world from her

famous box.

Sex and Religion 1623 S

S

Nowhere is the antagonism between sexuality

and religion more evident than in the three great

monotheistic or Abrahamic religions, Judaism,

Christianity, and Islam, as they have evolved. The

“People of the Book” envision a world created

alone by a distinctly mateless god, Yahweh-God-

Allah. Although there are other examples of ex

nihilo (from nothing) creations by male gods, the

more natural metaphor for the conception and birth

of the universe has involved the union of male and

female. Whether by way of a primal mound (liter-

ally a pregnant Earth), the primal maternal waters,

the cosmic egg, or intercourse between primal god

and goddess, the feminine aspect of nature, with

only a few exceptions, plays a significant role in the

world’s creation stories. This is true, for example,

of most animistic religions as well as of Hinduism,

Shinto, Taoism, and certain branches of Buddhism,

although, it must be said, each of these religious

cultures, like the Abrahamic traditions, has tended

to place women in an inferior position to men in

human society.

The exclusion of the feminine from godhead

in the Abrahamic religions developed in part, of

course, from the concept of a single deity and the

desire of Jews, Christians, and Muslims to sepa-

rate themselves from so-called Pagan traditions.

Furthermore, the depiction of the Abrahamic

god – Yahweh, God, or Allah – as essentially

male is a reflection of the realities of cultures

that had long been patriarchal. It might well be

argued, however, that patriarchy itself, including

as it does the insistence on God’s maleness and

singularity and the relegation of women to

secondary status, is, as Karen Armstrong has

suggested, “expressive of deep anxiety and

repression” (1993, p. 50).

“Repression” is an important word here. We

know, for instance, that the Hebrews in Canaan as

depicted in the biblical book of Exodus, like most

peoples of the ancient world, tended to assimilate

the deities of conquered or neighboring peoples. It

was only the development of priestly law and early

rabbinical condemnation of Canaanite religious

practices that led to the repression of the popular

worship among the Hebrews of the goddess

Asherah (“God’s wife”), for example, in her

many, often erotic, aspects. By being stripped

from godhead, sexuality, associated particularly

with women, inevitably became tainted by the con-

cept of sin. Women were tempters; women were

psychologically and even physically dangerous.

Thus, it was Eve who corrupted Adam, initiating,

among other things, shameful sex. And it was

Delilah who seduced Samson, symbolically cas-

trating him by cutting off his hair.

The repression of the natural relationship

between sexuality and religion in the Abrahamic

religions has not been limited to story or myth. It

is clearly expressed in ritual practices which,

whatever their original “religious” or social

intent, have resulted in a sense of the essential

impurity of certain biological functions associ-

ated with human sexuality and an inferior role for

women. In effect, religion has been used to

reinforce the repressive patriarchal idea of

women as the valuable property of men, the

necessary but controlled vehicles for pleasure –

under certain circumstances – and reproduction.

Christianity and Islam have perpetuated the

tradition of the essential impurity of sex and the

consequential inferiority of women. The repression

of sexuality in Christianity is expressed metaphor-

ically in the depiction of Jesus and hismother in the

canonical gospels and dogmas. There the asexual-

ity of Jesus, the virginity of Mary, and Mary’s own

immaculate conception form a de facto denial of

the sacredness of sexuality itself, a denial that is in

conflictwith the depictions of holymen and avatars

of godhead in other religions – Krishna andMoses,

for example. Jesus’ asexuality undermines the

theological position that Jesus is God truly

sharing our human nature.

Until very recently, Christians and Jews did

not ordain women to their clergy ranks. And even

now such ordination is denied not only by the

more orthodox branches of Judaism but by most

Muslims and by the largest sect of Christianity,

the Roman Catholic Church. It should be pointed

out that this is true in spite of the prominent role

played by women in the early organization of

Christianity and Islam.

Saul of Tarsus (Saint Paul) preached the “head

covered, back of the church” doctrine that greatly

resembles the early prohibitions against women

studying the Torah or praying in the synagogues

S 1624 Sex and Religion

or the present restrictions applied to Muslim

women in regard to places of prayer. By the

second century CE, the North African theologian

Tertullian (160–220) saw women as “the devil’s

gateway,” a point of view developed by one of the

most influential of the “church fathers,” Saint

Augustine (354–430), in the doctrine of Original

Sin. The first sin, that of Adam and especially

Eve, was passed on to humans in the sexual act;

he announced an act to which men were enticed

by women: “What is the difference, whether it is

in a wife or a mother, it is still Eve the temptress

that we must beware of in any woman” (see

Armstrong 1993, pp. 123–124).

As in the case of Judaism and Christianity,

certain Islamic scholars have used often distorted

understandings of scripture to justify what can

only be called, in spite of various complex and

supposedly positive rationales, the oppression of

women in such institutions as polygamy, female

circumcision, purdah, and the denial of basic

social and political rights. At the center of this

oppression has been the sense of male ownership

and a strict double standard in regard to sexual

practice. For the Muslim, as for the Christian and

Jew, the female and female sexuality are power-

ful and potentially tempting distractions that can

take the believer’s mind away from religion and

proper order and threaten male control. For many

among the Abrahamic faithful – believers in the

one god, a wifeless male god, and his prophets –

to accept the equality of women would be to

accept what are seen as the chaotic ways of the

pagan. In short, the secondary status of women is

linked to the doctrines of exclusivity associated

with Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.

On the other hand, it has been argued by many

that the Abrahamic attitude towards sexuality

represents an alienation of humans from their

humanity. Nietzsche called the Christian God

a “crime against life.” And there have, of course,

always been challenges within religious tradi-

tions to the prevailing view of the incompatibility

of sex and religion. Like the ancient hymns to

Inanna, the biblical Song of Songs is a celebration

of holy sex. And, implicitly or explicitly, mystics

of all three Abrahamic religions (and other

religions as well) have turned to sexuality for

language that can convey the desire, the

mystery, the ritual, the passion, the ecstasy, and

the union that together comprise full religious

experience.

In a poem of the sixteenth-century Christian

Spanish mystic Saint John of the Cross, the Soul

sings of its intimate union with God:

O flame of love so living,

How tenderly you force

To my soul’s inmost core your fiery probe!

Since now you’ve no misgiving,

End it, pursue your course

And for our sweet encounter tear the robe!

The thirteenth-century Sufi (Muslim mystic)

Jelaluddin Rumi used similar imagery to convey

his sacred love of a friend, a love inseparable

from his love of God:

The Friend comes into my body

looking for the center, unable

to find it, draws a blade,

strikes anywhere.

And later,

Two hands, two feet, two eyes, good,

as it should be, but no separation

of the Friend and your loving.

Any dividing there

makes other untrue distinctions like “Jew”,

and “Christian”, and “Muslim”.

See Also

▶Christianity

▶Exodus

▶God

▶Great Mother

▶ Islam

▶ John of the Cross

▶Ritual

▶ Song of Songs

▶ Sufis and Sufism

Bibliography

Armstrong, K. (1993). A history of God. New York:

Knopf.

Campbell, R. (Trans.) (1967). Poems of St. John of theCross. New York: Universal Library.

Sexuality and American Religions 1625 S

Moyne, J., & Barks, C. (Trans.) (1986). Unseen rain:Quatrains of Rumi. Putney: Threshold Books.

Wolkstein, D., & Kramer, S. N. (Trans.) (1983). Inanna:Queen of heaven and earth: Her stories and hymnsfrom Sumer. New York: Harper & Row.

Sexuality and American Religions

Megan Goodwin

Department of Religious Studies, University of

North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Chapel Hill,

NC, USA

S

The academic consideration of sexuality is crucial

to the study of American religions. Religious

thought, belief, affect, and practices construct and

constrain America beliefs about and practices of

sexuality. Scholars of American religions should

be “thinking sex”: because religious Americans

take sex very seriously; and because religious

Americans’ thinking about sex has significant

material consequences.

Theories of sexuality begin by confronting and

complicating the normalization of a heterosexual/

homosexual binary. Psychoanalysis helped create

and enforce this binary by insisting that sex is the

truth of ourselves (Foucault 2012). In the late

nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, analysts

and sexologists began to catalogue and pathologize

sexual differences as deviances. Consequentially,

psychoanalysts also diagnosed as deviants those

who engaged in “unusual” sexual behaviors

(nonreproductive sex acts, including masturbation

as well as same-sex sexual object choices). The

semantic space between deviance and deviants is

small but significant: while sexology and early psy-

choanalysis focused on a number of sexual “abnor-

malities,” their key epistemological innovation was

the creation of sex-as-identity. The popular convic-

tion that sex tells uswhowe really are owesmuch to

psychoanalysis; the prevailing organizational struc-

ture that emerged from psychoanalysis has been

a heterosexual/homosexual binary. Thus, until the

late nineteenth century, many people might have

engaged in sodomy, but homosexuality as an iden-

tity was literally unthinkable (Foucault 2012).

As historian David Halperin (2004) explains, we

now find it hard to imagine a world not organized

around sexual identity – but critical sex theory tries

to do just that.

Thinking critically about sex means challeng-

ing cultural assumptions about what is “normal”

to do with (to, on, in) one’s body, as well as

thinking hard about where our ideas of normalcy

came from. Critical theories of sex address and

trouble the pathologization of difference. Such

theories have traditionally focused on individual

subjectivity, agency, and resistance.

In short, critical sex theory addresses cultural

assumptions about sexual bodies, including issues

related but not limited to gender and sexual prac-

tices. While contemporary theorizations of sex

began with challenging heteronormativity (the pri-

macy and normalization of heterosexuality), this

school of thought now addresses homosexuality as

an identity, same-sex sexual object choice as

a practice, nontraditional gender presentation (trans-

sexuality, transgender, intersex), and transgressive

sexual practices (e.g., celibacy, BDSM, non-monog-

amy, sex work). Critical theories of sexuality con-

sider all those who are or feel marginalized based on

their sexual practices and/or identities, as well as

their bodily identities and/or presentations (Halperin

1997, p. 62).

Several key premises about sexuality should

inform scholarly engagement with American

religions. Foremost among these must be the

terms’ universal importance: cultural assumptions

about “normal” gendered behaviors and sexual

practices shape us all (Sedgwick 2008). Thus,

a theoretically rigorous approach to sexuality in

American religions must attend to masculinity as

well as femininity and account for cis- and

transgender as well as intersex and gender-queer

presentations. American religious scholarship

informed by sexuality studies should moreover

account for howgroups are shaped by their relation-

ships to hetero- as well as homosexuality; such an

inquiry should also interrogate how,when, andwhy

certain groups institute transgressive sexual prac-

tices (e.g., non-monogamy, cross-generational

relationships, celibacy).

Second, the study of sexuality is neither inter-

changeable with nor reducible to the study of

S 1626 Sexuality and American Religions

gender. Rather, each term informs the other. Queer

theorist Judith Butler suggests that heteronor-

mativity – the cultural assumption that heterosexu-

ality is both exclusively natural and universal –

creates gender by requiring binary roles. Butler

calls this the “heterosexual matrix,” which

“assumes that for bodies to make sense there must

be a stable sex expressed through a stable gender

(masculine expresses male, feminine expresses

female) that is oppositionally and hierarchically

defined through the compulsory practice of hetero-

sexuality” (Butler 1990, p. 151). That is, heteronor-

mativity makes sense of sexual bodies in

hierarchical, binary, reproductive terms – and thus

compels certain gendered behaviors.

Finally, western cultures value some sexual acts

and gendered behaviors more than others:

those acts and behaviors usually correspond to

a hierarchical, binary, reproductive understanding

of human embodiment. Those who engage in

“normal” sexual acts and gendered behaviors are

considered sane, respectable, law-abiding, worthy

of socialmobility, institutional support, andmarital

benefits (Rubin 1993, p. 12). Unrepentant sexual

transgressors and “gender outlaws” (cf. Bornstein

2012)may be accused ofmental illness, disrespect-

ability, and criminality, as well as restricted social

and physical mobility, loss of institutional support,

and economic sanctions (Rubin 1993, p. 12).

Mainstream cultures often interpret unconven-

tional religious beliefs or practices as evidence of

sexual and/or gender transgression, and engage-

ment in sexual and/or gender transgression often

invites mainstream suspicion toward marginal

religions’ theologies and praxes.

Accepting these premises – the universal

importance, imbricated construction, and hierar-

chical cultural valuation of gender identities and

sexual behaviors – allows insight into the func-

tion and significance of sexuality studies for the

field of American religions. The insights pro-

vided by sexuality studies allow scholars to inter-

rogate the ways American religions use sexuality

to create space for difference, secure access to

privilege, or are denied privilege on the grounds

of sexual transgression.

It is moreover important to note that “thinking”

sex does not exclude the consideration of sexuality

in conservative religiousmovements, such asOrtho-

dox Judaism or Christian ex-gay ministries (Gerber

2011). Much critical work on sexuality focuses on

transgression of and resistance to norms. As Amer-

ican religious historian Ann Taves (1997) notes,

“recent textbooks of American religions. . .discusssexuality explicitly only when it ‘deviates’ from the

norm” (p. 28). But disrupting the presumed natural-

ness of heterosexuality also allows scholars to inter-

rogate instances in which religious people practice

and valorize conservative sexualities.

Scholars of American religions must also

resist “overthinking” sex – which is to say that

sex is religiously and politically significant, but

also one among many concerns for scholars of

embodied religions (Jakobsen and Pellegrini

2004, p. 139). Focusing on sexuality in American

religions does not exempt scholars from consid-

ering other cultural factors – race, education,

geographic location, economic status – that con-

struct and constrain religious belief and practice.

Scholarship of sexuality andAmerican religions

engages the field of psychology at several points.

For example, ex-gay ministries such as Exodus

International and Love in Action, maintaining that

homosexuality is not in keeping with Christian

doctrine, advocated “reparative” or “conversion

therapy” to shift the sexual orientation of nonheter-

osexuals (Erzen 2006). [Notably, the president of

Exodus International (perhaps the most visible of

such ministries) stated unequivocally in June 2012

that the organization no longer focuses on sexual

reorientation (Gerber 2012)]. The American Psy-

chiatric Association (2000) has condemned any

treatment “based upon the assumption that homo-

sexuality per se is a mental disorder or based upon

the a priori assumption that a patient should change

his/her sexual homosexual orientation”; however,

a number of ex-gay ministries continue to support

conversion therapy. Similarly, The Church of Jesus

Christ of Latter-day Saints continued to advocate

electroshock therapy as a treatment for homosexu-

ality years after the APA condemned the practice;

pressure from the APA is thought to have finally

discouraged electroshock therapy at Brigham

Young University (Vance 2008).

Psychology also finds itself in tension with

sexuality and religion in the theology and

Sexuality and Buddhism 1627 S

practice of Scientology. The Church of

Scientology has officially denounced psychology

and psychiatry as harmful and deceptive, and

homosexuality as sexual perversion or illness

(Hubbard 1969, 2007). The Church’s current

position on homosexuality is contested; however,

Church leaders in San Diego publicly supported

Proposition 8, a 2008 legislative attempt to ban

same-sex marriage in California. At the same

time, queer author and activist Kate Bornstein

(2012) recounts being attracted to the Church

because thetans (Scientologists’ “eternal souls”)

have no gender. Scholars might draw upon such

cases as Scientology and ex-gay ministries

for a richer consideration of the imbrication of

sexuality, psychology, and American religions.

Critical consideration of sexuality in North

American religious scholarship requires taking

seriously the embodied construction of religious

difference. Critical theories of sexuality in

conversation with psychology encourage scholars

to think differently – deeper, broader, more care-

fully – about what sex is, what it can mean, and

what it can do. As such, “thinking sex” facilitates

rich and theoretically rigorous scholarship of psy-

chology and American religions.

S

See Also

▶Body and Spirituality

▶Homosexuality

▶LGBTQI and Queer Studies

▶Religion, Sexuality, and Psychoanalysis

▶Transgender and Gender Identity

Bibliography

American Psychiatric Association. (2000, May). Positionstatement on therapies focused on attempts tochange sexual orientation (reparative or conversiontherapies). Retrieved from http://web.archive.org/web/

20110110120228/ http://www.psych.org/Departments/

EDU/Library/APAOfficialDocumentsandRelated/

PositionStatements/200001.aspx. Accessed 12 Aug 2012.

Bornstein, K. (2012). A queer and pleasant danger: Thetrue story of a nice joins the Church of Scientology,and leaves twelve years later to become the lovelyJewish boy who lady she is today. Boston: Beacon.

Butler, J. (1990). Gender trouble: Feminism and thesubversion of identity. London: Psychology Press.

Erzen, T. (2006). Straight to Jesus: Sexual and Christianconversions in the ex-gay movement. Berkeley:

University of California Press.

Foucault, M. (2012). The history of sexuality: Anintroduction. New York: Random House Digital.

Gerber, L. (2011). Seeking the straight and narrow:Weight loss and sexual reorientation in evangelicalAmerica. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Gerber, L. (2012, July 4). Is change possible? Shifting the ex-

gay question. Religion Dispatches. Retrieved from http://

religiondispatches.org/archive/sexandgender/6142/is_chan

ge_possible_shifting_the_ex-gay_question__%7C_sexuali

ty_gender_%7C_/. Accessed 12 Aug 2012.

Halperin, D. M. (1997). Saint Foucault: Towards a gayhagiography. New York: Oxford University Press.

Halperin, D. M. (2004). How to do the history of homo-sexuality. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Hubbard, L. R. (1969, June 23). Crime and psychiatry.Retrieved from http://freedom.lronhubbard.org/page080.

htm. Accessed 8 Dec 2012.

Hubbard, L. R. (2007). Dianetics: The modern science ofmental health. Commerce City: Bridge Publications.

Jakobsen, J., & Pellegrini, A. (2004). Love the sin: Sexualregulation and the limits of religious tolerance.Boston: Beacon.

Rubin, G. (1993). Thinking sex: Notes for a radical theory

of the politics of sexuality. In H. Abelove, M. A.

Barale, & D. M. Halperin (Eds.), The lesbian and gaystudies reader. London: Psychology Press.

Sedgwick, E. K. (2008). Epistemology of the closet.Berkeley: University of California Press.

Taves, A. (1997). Sexuality in American religious history.

In T. A. Tweed (Ed.), Retelling U.S. religious history(pp. 27–56). Berkeley: University of California Press.

Vance, L. L. (2008). Converging on the heterosexual

dyad: Changing Mormon and Adventist sexual norms

and implications for gay and lesbian adherents. NovaReligio: The Journal of Alternative and EmergentReligions, 11(4), 56–76.

Sexuality and Buddhism

Jo Nash

Sri Lanka International Buddhist Academy,

Kandy, Sri Lanka

Sexual Ethics and the Buddhist Precepts

There are two codes of sexual ethics underpinning

all schools of Buddhism, those regarding monastics

and those for the laity. The monastic code for all

S 1628 Sexuality and Buddhism

monks and nuns across all three Buddhist vehicles

(Theravada, Mahayana, and Vajrayana) is simple

and straightforward – total celibacy. The reason for

this is that undertaking to train in the monastic code

involves the renunciation of sexual desire, which is

understood to be caused by a form of dissatisfaction

that detracts from spiritual practice. Monks and

nuns are required to adhere to strict vows of celi-

bacy in accordancewith theVinaya, which includes

refraining from masturbation and nongenital

contact with the opposite sex, such as hugging or

kissing. Private meetings between monastics and

the opposite sex are also restricted to protect the

deterioration of the vows. Such meetings usually

involve a chaperone, such as trusted upasaka (lay

Buddhist holding the five precepts), who will

accompany the monastic to such a meeting.

For lay people the sexual ethics are somewhat

different and to a large degree amatter of voluntary

conduct. A lay follower of any Buddhist vehicle

may volunteer to undertake training in the five

precepts. Practitioners of the third precept under-

take the training to abstain fromsexualmisconduct.

However, for lay people sexual expression in the

context of an appropriate relationship is understood

to be a healthy method of dealing with the conse-

quences of having a human body in the desire

realms. We all have sexual hormones driving us

to reproduce and/or experience sexual pleasure,

and for most people this is not something we can

conquer voluntarily. However, there are situations

where sexual behavior can lead to violations of

other precepts, and it is in these situations when

a lay follower is encouraged to abstain. Precepts

that can be violated easily when not training in the

third precept properly include the second precept

“I undertake the training to abstain from taking that

which is not given” and the fourth precept “I under-

take the training to abstain from false speech.”

What Constitutes Sexual Misconduct?

Sexual behavior towards or with a monk or nun is

always a form of sexual misconduct, as is any

form of nonconsensual sex as defined by the laws

of the land and at a given time, including rape,

molestation, and sex with minors. Other areas of

sexual activity that have led to ethical debates

among Buddhists are mentioned below.

Monogamy Versus Non-Monogamy

When lay people train in the Buddhist precepts,

each situation which risks undermining those

precepts should be assessed individually using

wisdom and compassion. One can assess whether

sexual behavior constitutes misconduct through

reference to the other precepts and a consideration

of potential consequences of the behavior. For

example, extramarital affairs may involve lying to

others because the truth would cause suffering to

other people. As people tend to find out the truth in

the longer term, then, to avoid causing suffering,

those training in the third precept should try to

abstain from this kind of behavior. Of course it is

possible that taking another sexual partner than

one’s spouse is consensual and that everyone

involved knows what’s going on, but this kind of

situation is rare. A downloadable booklet on

Buddhism and Polyamory (2006), written by Zen

practitioner H.E Hoogstra, argues that what causes

suffering in non-monogamous relationships is

attachment, not the sexual behavior itself in any

intrinsic sense. She argues that non-monogamous

committed relationships can offer the greatest

opportunity to overcome attachment and its allies,

such as jealousy, greed and hatred. Casual sex out-

side of a committed relationship may also risk hurt-

ing others who find themselves becoming more

attached or emotionally involved than they antici-

pated, due to the emotional bonding that can occur

during the sexual act. However, the truth is that there

can be no hard and fast rules about how to apply the

third precept, except in relation to the other precepts

and the specific situation and people involved.

Homosexuality, Bisexuality,Transgendered Sexuality,and Nongenital Sexual Acts

There are some debates among Buddhists about

these matters. Those holding proscriptive views

about nonheterosexual relationships are being

Sexuality and Buddhism 1629 S

influenced more by their predominant cultural

attitudes than explicit prohibitions laid down by

the Buddha. On the whole, the Buddha never said

anything explicit about the ethics of gender in

relation to sex acts, but he did refer to the

unethical nature of sexual behaviors which

involve violence, manipulation, deceit, or intox-

ication. Whether these behaviors took place

between members of the same gender or different

genders was not mentioned. In Ancient India the

third precept discouraged sexual exploitative

practices such as abduction, forced marriage,

rape, incest, sex with minors, sex with monks or

nuns, and coerced adultery. In certain cultures

additional texts that comment on the given teach-

ings of that tradition also include commentary on

homosexuality, bisexuality, and nongenital sex-

ual behavior as forms of misconduct, because

they contravene traditional cultural norms around

what is deemed acceptable. However, nothing

was stated explicitly in the original Sutras about

whether same sex relationships constituted mis-

conduct, rather all sexual behaviors were under-

stood to lead to suffering, as sex tends to evoke

attachment, which leads to craving and sorrow.

Even when sex takes place in an appropriate

relationship, it leads to pleasure associated with

a release of tension, but this is impermanent and

will soon be replaced by further dissatisfaction

and craving. This is why the Buddha exhorted

those wanting liberation to abstain from sexual

behavior as far as possible.

S

Pornography

As Winton Higgins says in his excellent talk on

“Buddhist Sexual Ethics” about the third precept,

. . . the precept’s ambit, especially today, is obvi-

ously much wider and covers violating behaviours

that the women’s movement among others has

rightly politicised(. . .) Where power relations are

prevalent, the power relations themselves have

a gender component, and opportunities and cultural

encouragement for abuse are ubiquitous. Among

other things, sexual harassment is harming and

involves taking the non-given, based on a deep-

seated presumption - and delusion - in male condi-

tioning about the constant sexual availability of

women(. . .). Rape in marriage is strikingly similar.

Also violent and misogynist pornography which

creates a hostile and unsafe environment for

women and induces moronic and demonic mind-

states in men, including delusions about the nature

of women and what they want. So both sexes suffer

harm. Publication or use of pornography which

eroticises women’s subordination thus plainly con-

travenes the third precept. But by no mean all

pornography does so, and other sexually explicit

material might be equally innocent.

The proliferation of free pornography available

to download via mobile phones and the internet

was not something the Buddha could have

predicted, and so sexual ethics around the use and

abuse of pornography have never been covered in

the Sutras. However, the issue is highly relevant

today and arguably leads many men and women

into mutual sexual objectification and related acts

of psychological violence against themselves and

each other which need to be reflected upon mind-

fully. Equally the Sutras’ emphasis on monoga-

mous marriage as the most suitable vehicle

for a layman to satisfy sexual desires must be

understood in its specific historical and cultural

context – the Ancient India of 2,600 years ago.

Contemporary sexualities and the range of possible

relationships that can satisfy a need for loving

companionship and sexual fulfilment for lay people

are now very different. Buddhists need to be mind-

ful of the ever-changing and impermanent nature of

the conditioned responses we have to our relation-

ships and be open to exploring more creative ways

of meeting our needs for intimacy than just

conforming to sets of prescribed social norms,

especially those recommended by the Buddha for

his community of followers in Ancient India.

Desires and feelings are impermanent, especially

sexual desire, as is romantic love and even the love

we feel for our friends. This is because everything

we relatewith, including our own hearts andminds,

is evolving and changing all the time. Any attempt

to solidify our responses and needs into the condi-

tioned categories of culturally normative relation-

ships, such asmonogamous heterosexual marriage,

can be regarded as non-Dharmic. However, if this

kind of arrangement does meet the needs of the

individual people concerned, then this may be right

for them. But it is not Dharmic to promote

S 1630 Sexuality and Judaism

a socially sanctioned relationship structure as spir-

itually superior to other arrangements, as the same

relationship structure will not work for everybody

and is even unlikely to work for the same person or

couple across their lifetime.

Higgins writes:

The Buddha (. . .) did not waste a word of condem-

nation on non-procreative sex (hence no list of no-

no’s), but he inspired thousands to ordain into

celibate monasticism and so leave baby making

behind altogether. This was not because he

disapproved of sex or babies, but in an era when

a non-celibate usually ended up with many

children to feed, clothe and house and so had little

freedom or time for spiritual pursuits, celibacy

made a lot of practical sense for many people

with a spiritual urge. Needless to say, the choice

is not nearly as stark in developed countries today,

where contraception is available and earning

a living is a good deal easier.

In conclusion, the third precept on sexual

ethics in relationships must be interpreted in

relation to the other precepts and the specific

situation one is dealing with. Anything less than

that would be reactive and habitual rather than

mindful and liberating.

See Also

▶Buddhism

▶Buddhism’s Mahayana: Philosophy

▶Buddhism’s Theravada: Philosophy

▶Buddhism’s Vajrayana: Rituals

▶ Sex and Religion

Bibliography

Bullitt, J. T (2005). What is Theravada Buddhism.Retrieved from http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/

authors/bullitt/theravada.html. Accessed 17 May 2012.

Bullitt, J. T. (2010). Vinaya Pitaka: The basket of thediscipline. Retrieved from http://www.accesstoinsight.

org/tipitaka/vin/index.html. Accessed 17 May 2012.

Higgins,W. (1996). Buddhist sexual ethics. Retrieved fromhttp://www.buddhanet.net/winton_s.htm. Accessed 17

May 2012.

Hoogstra, H. E. (2006). The great activity-love and enlight-enment: A zine on the intersection of Buddhism andpolyamory. Retrieved from http://www.qzap.org/v5/

gallery/main.php?g2_view¼core.DownloadItem&g2_

itemId¼507. Accessed 17 May 2012.

Patheos. (2008a). Religion library Mahayana Buddhism.

Retrieved from http://www.patheos.com/Library/

Mahayana-Buddhism.html. Accessed 17 May 2012.

Patheos. (2008b). Religion library Vajrayana Buddhism.

Retrieved from http://www.patheos.com/Library/

Vajrayana-Buddhism.html. Accessed 17 May 2012.

Wikipedia. (n.d.). The five precepts. Retrieved from http://

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_Precepts. Accessed 17

May 2012.

Sexuality and Judaism

Brett Krutzsch

Temple University, Philadelphia, PA, USA

Jewish attitudes toward sexuality have shifted

across times and locations. Even today, Jewish

ideas about gender and sexuality vary greatly. His-

torian David Biale (1997) has argued that Judaism

cannot be understood as either exclusively repres-

sive or accepting of sexuality; instead, Jewish tra-

dition is replete with examples of pervasive

ambivalence toward sexuality and the body. Con-

temporary Jews are heirs to a legacy of conflicting

arguments about sexuality. What has remained

constant though is a focus on marriage as the

ideal space for sexual activity. However, for cen-

turies, rabbis, Jewish intellectuals, and others have

debated what is sexually permissible and forbidden

within and outside marriage.

The expectations to marry and procreate are as

central to Judaism as the expectation to refrain

from food on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atone-

ment. While attitudes toward sexuality and sex-

ual practices have changed throughout Jewish

history, most Jewish groups and authorities have

restricted sexual intercourse to marriage. The

premise for situating sex and reproduction within

matrimony is based on biblical creation stories.

Rebecca Alpert (1997) suggests that

The creation of humans as male and female, not

male or female, presents [Jews] with the para-

digm of the complementary coupling of men

and women as essential to human experien-

ce. . .suppl[ying] basic explanations about gen-

der, complementarity, sexuality, and compulsory

heterosexuality (p. 22).

Sexuality and Judaism 1631 S

S

Thus, Jewish tradition has maintained that

only two genders exist and has required everyone

to enter married sexual relationships where

biological progeny will be a possible outcome.

Marriage in Judaism, however, has not always

been an arrangement between one man and one

woman. Polygamy was sanctioned and common

for many prominent Biblical figures. The patriarch

Jacob, for example, had two wives and two con-

cubines. Polygamy remained permissible within

Jewish law and was not officially circumscribed

for Ashkenazi Jews (Jews primarily from Eastern

and Central Europe) until about 1000 CE.

Jewish law has always required that everyone

marry, and for much of Jewish history, marriages

were arranged relationships. During the European

Enlightenment though, Jewish intellectual

reformers (the maskilim), influenced by new

approaches to sexuality, romance, and marriage,

opposed arranged marriages, asserting that the abil-

ity to freely select one’s spouse is necessary for

a healthy sexuality (Biale 1997). But even within

marriage, sexuality has remained largely regulated

by Jewish law. For example, the Jewish legal pre-

cept of onah demands that husbands regularly

engage in sexual relations with their wives. For

centuries though, rabbis have debated how often

husbands are required to engage in intercourse and

when (and if) it is permissible to have sex for

pleasure or only for procreation. Jewish law also

dictates that wives are not to engage in intercourse

while menstruating every month, as well as for the

7 days after all menstrual bleeding has ceased.

Known as niddah (“seclusion”), at the conclusion

of those days, thewife immerses herself in amikveh

(purifying ritual bath) and may then resume sexual

relations with her husband. In contemporary times,

few non-Orthodox Jews observe onah or niddah

(Telushkin 1991).

Ancient Jewish law allows husbands and wives

to engage in anal and oral sex, as well as various

sexual positions, as long as sex is done with the

intent of procreation. One sexual activity forbidden

for most of Jewish history, however, is male

masturbation. The Zohar, a chief Kabbalistic text,

treats male masturbation as a heinous, almost

unforgivable sin considered worse than adultery.

Known as a mystical form of Judaism, Kabbalah

began between the eleventh and thirteenth centu-

ries, and Kabbalists were interested in esoteric con-

nections between God and creation. Kabbalistic

writings hold that the sexual union of husbands

and wives brings together the masculine and femi-

nine powers of the Divine. Sex, therefore, has cos-

mic consequences. Kabbalists circumscribed male

masturbation as a violation of Jewish sexual norms

for, among other things, failing to unite the mascu-

line and feminine in intercourse. For much of Jew-

ish law, any sexual act that deviates from the

sanctified union of the male and female, such as

masturbation, is expressly forbidden.

Female masturbation is not given anywhere

near the attention that male masturbation

receives. In fact, most Jewish texts on sexuality,

until the contemporary period, were written by

and addressed to men. Ancient and medieval

writers and codifiers of Jewish law did believe,

though, that women have a sexuality. More spe-

cifically, they believed that, unlike men, women

could not control their sexual desires. Because of

their presumed inability to restrain their sexual-

ity, extensive restrictions were placed on women.

Jewish law, for example, forbids women from

touching men unless they are a relative. Women

must dress modestly, and they are to be separated

from men during prayer services. These con-

straints also purportedly serve to prevent men

from being tempted by women’s ever-present

sexual aura. Like the laws of onah and niddah,

in the present day, these gender restrictions are

largely rejected by non-Orthodox Jews.

Sexual activity occurring between two women

has, historically, not been regarded by most Jew-

ish authorities as an especially heinous violation.

The Bible contains no explicit condemnation of

female same-sex relations. Ancient rabbis only

briefly chastised female same-sex behavior,

and not until Maimonides, the twelfth-century

codifier of Jewish law, was much written on the

topic. Even Maimonides regarded female same-

sex sexual activity as a minor offense to be mon-

itored and punished by husbands and fathers.

Presumably because penile penetration is not

involved, lesbian sex for Maimonides neither

claimed a woman’s virginity nor aroused accusa-

tions of adultery if she was married.

S 1632 Sexuality and Judaism

Following one biblical verse though, male

same-sex intercourse carries with it the threat of

the death penalty. Primarily based on two verses

in Leviticus, Jewish law unequivocally condemns

male same-sex sexual activity. Rabbis of the

Talmud even categorize the prohibition against

male-male sex as gilui arayot, meaning that

a person should sacrifice his life before commit-

ting such a sin. Not until late in the twentieth

century did rabbis begin to formally reevaluate

the prohibitions against same-sex relationships

and sexual activities.

In examining contemporary Jewish perspectives

on sexuality, Alpert (2003) writes that, “Although

remaining committed to marriage as the best

option, liberal Jews have abandoned other prohibi-

tions around sexuality” (p. 186). Therefore, for

most non-Orthodox Jews who are not as closely

bound to Jewish law, prohibitions against mastur-

bation, sex duringmenstruation, and premarital sex

are generally obsolete. And with the emergence of

the gay rights movement in the 1970s, attitudes

toward gays and lesbians have also shifted in

many Jewish communities. Synagogues organized

primarily by and for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and

transgender Jews started to appear in Los Angeles,

NewYork, San Francisco, and other major cities in

the 1970s. In 1985, the Reconstructionist Move-

ment, an American-born progressive denomination

of Judaism, ordained its first openly gay rabbi. The

Reform Movement endorsed the ordination of

openly gay rabbis in 1990, and the Conservative

Movement reached the same position in 2006.

Orthodox Judaism, which unlike Reform,

Reconstructionist, and Conservative Judaism does

not have one unifying governing body, generally

continues to proscribe same-sex sexual activity,

and no Orthodox rabbinical school has publically

endorsed the ordination of gay rabbis.

In a qualitative study of 18 gay and lesbian

Orthodox Jews, psychologists Halbertal and

Koren (2007) found that their participants could

not be described by earlier development models

of homosexuality (e.g., Cass 1979) where identity

synthesis is seen as the ultimate goal. According

to Halbertal and Koren, being gay was almost

always incompatible with being Orthodox, writ-

ing, “Neither one of these identities is assimilated

into the other – that there is neither synthesis nor

resolution of the fundamental opposition between

them” (p. 42). Their findings, therefore, challenge

earlier models of identity development which

claim that a synthesis of one’s identities is nec-

essary for healthy functioning. They conclude

that many gay and lesbian Orthodox Jews rene-

gotiate their identities in various contexts and

that, “the picture that emerges is rather of two

mutually exclusive selves that, following forma-

tive periods of intense conflict and struggle, man-

age ultimately to achieve a working coexistence

within the same body and mind” (p. 40).

Asserting similar findings, in a study of both

Orthodox and non-Orthodox Jewish gay men in

Great Britain,Coyle andRafalin (2000)maintained

that all but one of their 21 respondents reported

periods of identity conflict in trying to reconcile

their gay and Jewish identities. The participants

commonly remarked that they had experienced

pressures from their families and from Jewish insti-

tutions to enter heterosexual marriages and to have

children. Additionally, Coyle and Rafalin found

that, “several participants described identity con-

flict in gay contexts and related experiences of anti-

Semitism in gay communities and organizations”

(p. 17). In other words, the respondents suggested

that the difficulty of synthesizing their gay and

Jewish identities exists not only within Jewish

spheres but also within predominantly gay circles

where anti-Jewish sentiments may have preva-

lence. Their study also highlights how the chal-

lenge of identity synthesis was difficult for Jews

from both observant and secular backgrounds.

Thus, with regard to Judaism and sexuality, expec-

tations to marry and reproduce remain a feature of

many Jewish institutions and communities, regard-

less of their adherence or connection to formal,

rabbinic Jewish law.

See Also

▶Hasidism

▶Homosexuality

▶ Jewish Law

▶ Jewish Sexual Mores

▶ Sex and Religion

Sexuality and Religion: Feminist Views 1633 S

Bibliography

Alpert, R. (1997). Like bread on the seder plate: Jewishlesbians and the transformation of tradition.New York: Columbia University Press.

Alpert, R. (2003). Sex in Jewish law and culture. In

D. Machacek & M. Wilcox (Eds.), Sexuality and theworld’s religions (pp. 177–202). Santa Barbara:

ABC-CLIO.

Biale, D. (1997). Eros and the Jews: From biblical Israelto contemporary America. Berkeley: University of

California Press.

Cass, V. (1979). Homosexual identity formation: A theoretical

model. Journal of Homosexuality, 4(3), 219–235.Coyle, A.,&Rafalin, D. (2000). Jewish gaymen’s accounts of

negotiating cultural, religious, and sexual identity:

A qualitative study. Journal of Psychological & HumanSexuality, 12(4), 21–48.

Greenberg, S. (2004). Wrestling with god & men:Homosexuality in the Jewish tradition. Madison: The

University of Wisconsin Press.

Halbertal, T. H., & Koren, I. (2007). Between “being” and

“doing”: Conflict and coherence in the identity formation

of gay and lesbian Orthodox Jews. In D. McAdams,

R. Josselson, & A. Lieblich (Eds.), Identity and story:Creating self in narrative (pp. 37–61). Washington, DC:

American Psychological Association.

Michaelson, J. (2011).God vs. gay? The religious case forequality. Boston: Beacon.

Telushkin, J. (1991). Jewish literacy: The most importantthings to know about the Jewish religion, its people, andits history. New York: WilliamMorrow and Company.

Telushkin, J. (1994). Jewish wisdom: Ethical, spiritual,and historical lessons from the great works andthinkers. New York: William Morrow and Company.

S

Sexuality and Religion: FeministViews

Leah Thomas

Psychology and Religion, Drew University,

Madison, NJ, USA

Feminism has taken a variety of iterations through-

out the history of the psychology of religion. In the

1970s, feminism emerged in the West within the

fields of theology and psychology, challenging

psychological theories, methods, and applications,

as well as the androcentrism of many religious

traditions. This included questions about the

images of the divine, the role and authority of

sacred texts, and the power of redemptive figures.

Feminist views in relation to sex and sexuality are

rooted in an awareness of the dualisms that have so

often pervaded Western society, especially those

between sex and God, spirituality and sexuality,

body and spirit, and pleasure and goodness. It rec-

ognizes that many dualisms can be traced to andro-

centrismwithin society, including the religious and

psychological traditions. (For a full discussion of

the historical development of this phenomenon, see

this encyclopedia’s article “▶Sex and Religion,”

which chronicles the development from goddess-

based religions to present religious traditions).

These dualisms, products of a patriarchal and hier-

archical worldview, have often included a deep

suspicion of erotic love, as well as a privileging of

men over women, and heterosexuality over homo-

sexuality. They are also often linked to other forms

of injustice, including racial, social, and socioeco-

nomic, as they have rendered the male experience

normative in religious spheres and in psychological

research and theory.

As feminism evolved, so did the realization of

the diversity within feminism, both in ethnicity and

social location. There was increased attention in

psychological research and theories to women of

nonwhite ethnicities, although textbooks and more

mainstream publications tended to still reflect

a white, middle class focus. Multiculturalism was

also showing its face in the theological realm, with

the emergence of womanist and mujerista theolo-

gies, and burgeoning voices of women from around

the globe. More recent trends in feminism in the

religious and psychological realms inquire as to the

relationship between feminism and postmodernism.

Within this discourse, postmodern approaches

examine the socially constructed nature of knowl-

edge, including concepts and theories, and ask

whose interests are being served by particular con-

structions. This takes the form of critiquing the

scientific method and also analyzing the implicit

assumptions embedded in psychological and theo-

logical concepts (i.e., gender, sex, and objectivity).

Postmodern feminists suggest that the production

of knowledge privileges certain views, while

discounting ormarginalizing others. They are atten-

tive to the power of language, and they examine

how language is used to frame women’s

experience.

S 1634 Sexuality and Religion: Feminist Views

The views of feminists in relation to sex and

religion function as critical, inclusive, analytic,

and constructive. As part of the critical project,

they frequently engage in critique of classic texts

and theories. For example, they examine the

absence of women’s experience in Freud’s for-

mulation of the Oedipus complex, noting that

women are only present as an object of their

sons’ incestuous desires. Others critique Jung

for his tendency to downplay personal relation-

ships in favor for eternal transpersonal arche-

types. Feminist scholars in psychology of

religion also participate in an inclusive project,

whereby they name and incorporate women’s

lives and experiences into the research agendas

of the field. They ask how women’s experiences

of the divine feminine and of embodiment shape

the ways that they approach their own sexuality.

The third feminist project is the analytical stance,

which questions the ways that gender shapes

knowledge, culture, and research. This involves

an increased attention to the role of multicultural

issues in this dialogue, including the importance

of social location and the ways in which current

gender scholarship and postmodernism affect

discourses around and about sexuality. Finally,

the work of feminists on sex and religion involves

a constructive effort. It recognizes that much of

the pervading discourse around sex and religion

has functioned to harm individuals and commu-

nities throughout time, and thus, new discourses

must be constructed as counter and corrective.

Some have disputed Freud’s stance towards

sexuality, offering instead an alternative theory

of sexuality embedded in a relational context.

An example of this would be Miranda Shaw’s

work on the place of women in Tantric Buddhism

(Shaw 1994). Shaw first critiques the tradition

that sees women as marginal and ancillary within

Tantric Buddhism. She argues that Buddhist stud-

ies have lagged behind other fields when

approaching the subject of gender and have pos-

ited male dominance as a fixed principle within

Buddhist history. Through employing methods of

women’s studies, historiography, and translation,

Shaw engages in an inclusive project. She seeks

to reclaim the agency of women throughout his-

tory, exhibiting that women played a central,

active role in Tantric Buddhism in India; they

acted as gurus, created new rituals, and were

worshipped as divine beings. Shaw then partici-

pates in an analytic project, questioning how

gender and colonialism shaped the views of

devadasis – women who played significant social

roles as artists, scholars, and performers of ritual

dance and worship. She proposes that colonial

powers, uncomfortable with women who were

engaging in nonmarital sexual activity and/or were

religiously exalted, demonized these women, label-

ing them “harlots” and “sluts.” Finally, her con-

structive effort involves an in-depth examination

of the Tantric union, a ritual that involves the join-

ing of the male and female in a sexual union that

ultimately leads to enlightenment. Shaw demon-

strates that, far from being a degrading ritual

where the woman was sexually exploited for male

spiritual gain, the Tantric union was an ultimate

expression of balance and equality. Women were,

in fact, some of the first teachers who imparted

instructions for the implementation of sexual

union as a means of liberation and were essential

in the creation of an atmosphere of male/female

reciprocity.

Relational View

Certain feminists doing work on the intersection

of pastoral psychology and feminist liberation

theology build on the work of object relations

and use such figures as Fairbairn and Winnicott

to develop a relational approach to mental health.

This branch suggests that “we become persons

literally in and by relation, it is only in ‘mutually

empowering and empathetic relationships’ that

our wellbeing can be secured and sustained”

(Heyward 1989). This view departs from more

traditional individualistic notions of psychiatry,

psychology, and psychotherapy, which link men-

tal health to the process of becoming an “auton-

omous” or “individuated” self. In contrast, these

feminists propose that one’s mental health is ulti-

mately linked to and enhanced by one’s relation

to others, by connection as opposed to separation.

Not wanting to slip into the fallacy that women

realize their mental health when they live

Sexuality and Religion: Feminist Views, Fig. 1 The

kiss. Sculpture by Auguste Rodin. Rodin Musee, Paris

(Public Domain. This file is licensed under the Creative

Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license. http://en.

wikipedia.org/wiki/File:TheKiss.JPG)

Sexuality and Religion: Feminist Views 1635 S

S

for others, rather than for themselves, they

believe that all humans live into health and

wholeness when they live with others, in relation-ships that embody certain characteristics, includ-

ing greater energy (or zest) for the self and for

action on behalf of the community, a greater

sense of self worth, and an increased sense of

connection to one another and to persons outside

of the relationship (Miller 1986). The flip side of

this view is that the absence of mutually

empowering and empathetic relationships is the

root of abuse.

For feminists who hold views similar to this, sex

is embedded within this relational context and ulti-

mately contributes to deeper relationality with one

another and with the broader world. Some femi-

nists address the connection between the sacred

and erotic, others focus more on the role of sexual

pleasure, and nearly all highlight the broader

connection of eros and sexuality to issues of social

justice. Those who address the relationship

between the sacred and erotic believe that one

explores and experiences the sacred through sexual

experiences, as the erotic is a tangible and embod-

ied experience of God’s love. Some go far as to

define the erotic or God as an experience of “power

in right relation” (Miller 1986). This view of the

erotic contradicts Freud’s view of sexuality, which

maintained that sexuality needed to be restrained

into order to live into fullness of self (the ego ideal).

In this alternate view, sexuality generates “more

energy, not less” for justice-related actions in the

world. It allows people to experience the depths of

power in relation to others as pleasurable and there-

fore connects people to the larger relationships of

power in the world. For these feminists, sexual

expression not only beckons people inward but

also inspires them towards right action on behalf

of the least.

Others in this vein address the undue focus on

procreation within sexual discourse, as well as

the way that current theological discourses view

eros and sexual pleasure. Some maintain that the

task of feminism in relationship to sex is to

retrieve eros from its problematic place as some-

thing needing to be “controlled” by a patriarchal

tradition and to grant it a privileged place in

human relationships, due to its special power to

work for justice, mutuality, and solidarity in

relationships (Gilson 1995). Others counter the

undue focus on procreationism by replacing the

emphasis on procreation with an emphasis on

pleasure, which itself indicates the fundamental

goodness of sex. These feminists argue that plea-

sure, far from being suspect, communicates both

the purpose of sex and its blessed quality. In this

view, when pleasure is mutual, it has the power to

bind people to one another in relationships of

mutuality, love, and justice (Gudorf 1994). For

nearly all feminists who espouse these views, the

erotic is not limited to monogamous heterosexual

relationships. They would maintain that sexual

expression needs to be reimagined in terms such

as “erotic mutuality,” which is not limited by

gender, and is characterized by justice and

reciprocity which leads to deeper connection

and solidarity with others (Fig. 1).

S 1636 Sexuality and Religion: Feminist Views

Goddess and Sexuality

While most of the views mentioned above fall

into the Christian tradition, feminist positions

regarding sex and religion also build bridges

between psychology and goddess spirituality,

asserting that the goddess traditions offer

helpful tools for speaking about sexuality and

sexual expression. In pre-patriarchal goddess-

worshipping civilizations, the goddess was associ-

ated with the planting and harvesting of crops. As

the body of the goddess changed, seeds sprouted,

and crops were harvested. The female body was

revered for its similarity to the goddess, both in its

fertility and sexuality. The narratives that were

passed on therefore honored both the goddess and

women, as the processes of the female body (birth,

menstruation, rebirth) had divine resonance. Fem-

inists who embrace goddess traditions note that,

with the onset of Christianity, women’s sexuality

became something associated with sin; instead of

a creative, God-revealing force, it was something

that was in need of control. Patriarchal religions

thus exercised control over women and their sexu-

ality, as is manifested in the biblical narratives and

the writings of the Church Fathers. Those who

embrace goddess spirituality draw on varying psy-

chological traditions. Many point to the work of

Carl Jung to assert the needed connection between

mind and body (Mijares 2003). Drawing on his

assertion that the collective unconscious is

manifested in the body, they believe that the

unnatural separation of mind and body has

severed humanity from a larger field of poten-

tial consciousness. They point to Jung’s con-

cept of archetypes, revealing the goddess as

one such archetype of feminine power which

needs to be retrieved to free women from

limited self narratives. They maintain that

the recovery of the goddess tradition offers

women and all of humanity the potential to

develop new reverence for life and sexuality

and for the Earth itself. Goddess traditions

note that disrespect for and domination of

women and the earth are closely related to

the domination of the Earth and offer the

potential for healing this split.

Multiculturalism

Feminism’s attention to the reality of multicul-

turalism has also influenced opinions on sex and

religion within the psychology of religion. This

includes areas of intersection between womanism

and mujerista theology and psychology. Women

of color have divergent responses to feminism,

which include both womanism and black femi-

nism. Both of these realities reflect the reality that

feminism has not adequately addressed the reality

and the needs of women of color, including the

fact that women of color are frequently victims of

multiple oppressions (not only sexism but also

racism, colonialism, socioeconomic factors).

Womanism incorporates various elements of

spirituality and engages in a critical analysis of

issues such as race, gender, class, geopolitics, and

culture. A womanist psychology both associates

with and departs from feminist psychology in that

it promotes knowing and being known from the

perspective of black women. It challenges femi-

nist psychology to become more inclusive and to

incorporate the views of women of color into its

work. The issue of sexuality is of great impor-

tance to womanist psychologists of religion. The

black woman’s body and sexuality has histori-

cally existed for the profit and pleasure of men

who owned them and, as such, has endured phys-

ical and sexual abuse. Those who embrace

a womanist psychology of religion ask how reli-

gion and psychology can be used to heal the sexual

wounds of black women, enabling them to love

themselves and their bodies. Womanist psychol-

ogy accentuates the stories and psychological state

of these women as they fight for their own libera-

tion and healing. It builds on different branches of

psychology, including transpersonal psychology.

For example, by placing stories of generational

abuse into a transpersonal communal context,

womanist psychology does not confine these

stories to the family of origin, but incorporates

the community across time and space.

An appreciation of multiculturalism has also

given birth to mujerismo. Mujerista theology is

a blend of feminism, Latin American liberation

theology, and cultural theology, which has as its

Sexuality and Religion: Feminist Views 1637 S

aim the liberation of Latinas from oppression

(Comas-Diaz 2008). Mujerista psychology is

based in a liberation approach. It studies the expe-

riences of oppression, resistance, race, and gender

related to dominant Western discourse. In relation

to sex, the intersection of mujerista theology and

psychology recognizes that many Latinas simulta-

neously cope with the previous generation’s rigid

gender roles, their daughters more progressive atti-

tudes regarding sexuality, and their own sexuality.

Thus, mujeristas attempt to balance these posi-

tions, while also remaining rooted in their own

social location. For example, while white feminists

frequently advocate for contraception and abortion,

Puerto Rican women suffer from a position of

forced sterilization as a consequence of US policy

(Comas-Diaz 2008). To address this reality,

mujerista feminists reclaim the full spectrum of

their sexuality, while also embracing tools such as

folk spirituality and syncretism.

S

Postmodernism

More recently, as feminists engage in a dialogue

with postmodernism, feminists within psychology

of religion critique the discourse that surrounds

religion. The dialogue between feminism and post-

modernism includes two main views: those who

assert that psychoanalysis is helpful in the forma-

tion of subjectivity and the understanding of sexual

difference and those who critique the marginaliza-

tion of women within psychoanalysis. Those who

espouse the first view believe that the ideas of

traditional psychoanalytic theory highlight that

gender and sex are formed within culture, which

enables feminists to critique that such identities are

natural or intrinsic. Many in the second camp focus

on the marginality of women in psychoanalysis.

They charge that women have been closed out of

religious discourse by a notion of God who has

been defined in solely masculine terms. As such,

religion cannot account or name the desire of

women, except in a distorted way.

Feminists within the psychology of religion

incorporate an attention to gender, relationality,

and social location in order to build bridges

between psychology and theology. They incor-

porate a variety of psychological theories in

their efforts, which continuously stress themes

of liberation and social justice. Yet, it is impor-

tant to recognize that a variety of views of sex and

religion exist within the field and that feminism,

in advocating for the importance of social loca-

tion and subjectivity, would affirm the diversity

of these views, asking what each contributes

to the wider body of literature around sex and

sexuality within the psychology of religion.

See Also

▶Body and Spirituality

▶Ecstasy

▶ Female God Images

▶ Freud, Sigmund, and Religion

▶Goddess Spirituality

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶Libido

▶Marıa Lionza

▶Religion, Sexuality, and Psychoanalysis

▶Religion, Sexuality, and Violence

▶Rites of Passage for Girls

▶Roman Catholic Women Priests

▶ Sex and Religion

▶ Sexuality and American Religions

▶ Sexuality and Buddhism

▶ Sexuality and Judaism

▶ Sexuality and Wicca

▶Women, Sex, and Religion

Bibliography

Briggs, M. K. (2011). Working with the divine feminine.

In Integrating spirituality and religion into counseling(pp. 261–276). Alexandria: American Counseling

Association.

Comas-Diaz, L. (2008). Spirita: Reclaiming womanist

sacredness into feminism. Psychology of WomenQuarterly, 32, 13–21.

DeMarinis, V. M. (1993). Critical caring: A feminist modelfor pastoral psychology. Louisville: Westminster.

Farley, M. (2006). Just love: A framework for Christiansexual ethics. New York: Continuum.

Gilson, A. (1995). Eros breaking free: Interpreting sexualtheo-ethics. Cleveland: The Pilgrim.

S 1638 Sexuality and Wicca

Goldberg, N. R. (1990). Returning words to flesh:Feminism, psychoanalysis and the resurrection of thebody. Boston: Beacon.

Gudorf, C. (1994). Body, sex and pleasure: ReconstructingChristian sexual ethics. Cleveland: The Pilgrim.

Heyward, C. (1989). Touching our strength: The erotic aspower and the love of God. San Francisco: Harper and

Row.

Heyward, C. (1999). When boundaries betray us.Cleveland: Pilgrim.

Holiday, J. M. (2010). The word, the body and the kinfolk:

The intersection of transpersonal thought with

womanist approaches to psychology. InternationalJournal of Transpersonal Studies, 29(2), 104–120.

Jonte-Pace, D. (1997). New directions in the feminist

psychology of religion: An introduction. Journal ofFeminist Studies in Religion, 13(1), 63–74.

Landrine, H., & Russo, N. (Eds.). (2010). Handbook ofdiversity in feminist psychology. New York: Springer.

Mijares, S. G. (Ed.). (2003). Modern psychology andancient wisdom: Psychological healing practicesfrom the world’s religions. New York: Haworth.

Miller, J. B. (1986). What do we mean by relationships?(Work in progress, Vol. 22). Wellesley: Stone Center

Working Paper Series.

Miller, M., & West, A. N. (Eds.). (2000). Spirituality,ethics and relationship in adulthood: Clinical andtheoretical explorations. Madison: Psychosocial.

Rutherford, A., Capdevila, R., Undurti, V., & Plamary, I.

(Eds.). (2011). Handbook of international feminisms:Perspectives on psychology, women, culture andrights. New York: Springer.

Shaw, M. (1994). Passionate enlightenment: Women inTantric Buddhism. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Sexuality and Wicca

Melissa Harrington

University of Cumbria, Lancaster, UK

TheWiccan understanding of sexuality is derived

from its history, philosophy, and practice.

Wiccans perceive life to be a precious gift that

should be lived and enjoyed, thus sexuality is

valued as a pleasure as well as for procreation.

Sex is also respected as a means to a sense of

communion with the divine and to connect to the

life force and the creative energies of the cosmos

(Clifton 2006). The life force can be understood

in the same way as prana or ch’i of the eastern

meditative systems and is believed to be gener-

ated and transmitted via magical practice.

Since Wicca emerged as a new religious move-

ment in the mid-twentieth century (Hutton 1999),

most Wiccans grew up during or after the sexual

revolution of the 1960s, within a culture that con-

dones sex before marriage and the use of birth

control within and outside of marriage. Wicca mir-

rors these contemporary cultural norms. Most adult

Wiccans engage in monogamous, sexually active,

relationships prior to monogamousmarriage. Alter-

native relationships such as polyamory also exist

within a smaller demography that reflects numbers

exploring alternative relationship structures in

Western society today. Celibacy is accepted ifWic-

cans do not wish to have sexual relationships, and

gay and lesbian relationships are celebrated and

may be affirmed in same-sex marriages. All rela-

tionships are guided by one rule, theWiccan Rede,

which states “An it harm none, do what you will.”

This view of sex and sexuality is emphasized

in The Charge of the Goddess, a ritual text that

has a variety of older original sources but was

rewritten by High Priestess and author, Doreen

Valiente (1989), in its current form. It is widely

used in Wiccan rites and features in the tradi-

tional Wiccan initiation ceremony:

. . . Whenever ye have need of anything, once in

a month, and better it be when the Moon be full,

then ye shall assemble in some secret place and

adore the spirit of me, who am Queen of all Witch-

eries. There shall ye assemble, ye who are fain to

learn all sorcery, yet have not yet won its deepest

secrets: to these will I teach things that are yet

unknown. And ye shall be free from slavery; and

as a sign that ye are really free, ye shall be naked in

your rites; and ye shall dance, sing, feast, make

music and love, all in my praise. For mine is the

ecstasy of the spirit and mine also is joy on earth;

for my Law is Love unto all Beings. . . Let my

worship be within the heart that rejoiceth, for

behold: all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals.

And therefore let there be beauty and strength,

power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth

and reverence within you . . . . (Valiente 2009).

Many Wiccans come from a Christian back-

ground and have rejected Christianity. They

report a sense of “coming home” to Wicca

(Adler 1986; Harvey 1999). This feeling of

coming home is due to the fact that many have

felt uncomfortable with, or alienated by, the phi-

losophies and practices of traditional religion,

Sexuality and Wicca, Fig. 1 Wiccan handfasting

wedding ceremony in Castlerigg Stone Circle, England

(Photo courtesy of the author)

Sexuality and Wicca 1639 S

S

while Wicca fulfils them, its philosophy fitting

with their own personal and long-held belief sys-

tems (Harrington 2002).

One aspect of Wicca that draws many people is

that it is a religion that celebrates women and

includesGoddessworship. Aftermillennia of patri-

archal monotheism women find this to be a potent

force for empowerment (Starhawk 1989). They

draw on Goddess iconography to explore different

aspects of their own psyche as well as archetypal

images of womanhood (Salomonsen 2002). They

celebrate their sexuality as part of a holistic and

holy model of femininity (Rountree 2004).

Equally, men are drawn to Wicca to worship

the Goddess, but they also find that they are able

to engage with empowering archetypal models of

the male psyche within its rites. The rituals of the

seasonal festivals or Sabbats incorporate folk

traditions and mythology with ritual psycho-

drama that links the human life span to the cycle

of the year’s seasons. This wheel of the yearrevolves around the God and Goddess meeting,

marrying, giving birth, dying, and being reborn in

an endless cycle of regeneration. Witches believe

that enacting these rites brings them closer to the

divine, to nature, and to the life force and forces

of nature of which we and the rest of the natural

world are integrated parts, hence Wicca is often

called “Nature Religion” (Clifton 2006).

The ceremony of Cakes and Ale concludes all

rituals. This consecrates ritual food via an act of

symbolic sex. The Priestess who has embodied the

Goddess in the rite plunges a ceremonial dagger or

Athame into a chalice held by the Priest who has

embodied the God, who kneels before her. She

says “As the Athame is to the male so the cup is

to the female, and conjoined they bring forth great

blessings.” He then extends a plate of cakes to her,

asking her to “bless this food unto our bodies,

bestowing health, wealth, strength, joy, truth and

that fulfillment of love that is perpetual happi-

ness.” The coven passes the chalice to each other

and shares the consecrated food, believed it to be

imbued with magical energy and life force. In this

ritual Wicca is also consciously inverting tradi-

tional power structures as the man kneels before

the woman, it further plays with power/gender in

that each holds a symbol of the other sex, and the

man is the passive/receptive partner to the woman

who is in an active/dominant role (Fig. 1).

Generally however Wicca does not challenge

gender stereotypes; rather it works with them,

as can be seen in the Sabbat cycle. This is

a heterosexual and monogamous interpretation

of the human life cycle in which traditional

stereotypes of masculinity and femininity are

affirmed. As Wicca has developed, it has

attracted gay practitioners, some who find the

classic model of the Sabbats irrelevant to their

sexuality. They have begun to work out ways in

which the Wicca can be more meaningful for

them. This had led to a widening of Wicca’s

denominations which has encouraged expanding

and deepening Wiccan liturgy and praxis.

Whatever their personal sexual orientation,

Wiccans believe sex can be a sacrament. In most

rites in Wicca, the Gods are called on or invokedinto the sacred space of the Wiccan temple and into

S 1640 Sexuality and Wicca

the bodies of a consecrated Priest and Priestess, for

the duration of the ceremony. One Wiccan rite con-

summates this sexually, the Great Rite. Due to

Wicca’s respect for sex and sexuality, the Great

Rite is considered to be a ritual that only highly

experienced practitioners should undertake, and is

usually conducted by a couple of equal status, who

are already a partnership, as a private sacrament.

Here, the body is seen as a sacred vessel of the

Gods and a channel for the divine force of the living

universe. Otherwise, the Great Rite is conducted in

token, as in the ceremony of Cakes and Ale, with

adherents believing that it is just as powerful when

performed symbolically as when in true (Valiente

1989), particularly as this avoids complicating rela-

tionships between participants.

The Great Rite is also used in the third and final

initiation intoWicca. It is believed that when in the

altered state of a Wiccan ceremony, infused with

the divine spirit, the witch is able to transcend

consciousness and reach states of religious ecstasy

and gnosis. Vivianne Crowley discusses its effects

in Jungian terms of the integration of feminine

anima and masculine animus within the psyche of

an initiate, leading to states of psychological well-

being and spiritual integration (Crowley 1996).

Sexual energy is also perceived as a potent source

of energy that can be harnessed for magical means.

Energy is thought to be directable by anywitch. Part

of the earliest Wiccan training includes the use of

candles, chanting, drumming, dancing, mediation,

and knotting cords to raise and send physical, men-

tal, andmagical energy. Thus, sexmagic can also be

done as a conscious act by a couple, who send the

resulting energy towards a specific purpose. This is

often absent healing for another person, as an act of

sympathetic magic, whereby physical means are

used to achieve physical ends.

Wiccan rites also incorporate methodologies

that help changing practitioners’ consciousness,

but maybe seen as titillating to outsiders and

exacerbate taboo aspects of modern Pagan witch-

craft. Some denominations practice nude or sky

clad and report similar feelings of freedom and

closeness to nature as do secular nudists. Initia-

tions include a short and carefully ritualized act

of mild flagellation that helps to send the initiate

into trance. This is part of a long and effective

tradition in the history and technology of

religious consciousness change within initiatory

traditions of the magical the Western Mystery

Tradition (Bogdan 2008).

As a religion in its current form, Wicca is only

half a century old and perhaps that is why it

embodies the zeitgeist of the twenty-first century

with its concerns for equality, ecology, and indi-

vidualism set within a postmodern framework of

personal and spiritual choice. Its preoccupation

with the sacrality and fragility of the Earth and its

revival of Goddess worship are key attractions, but

so too are its view of life and of sexuality. Perhaps

the rites of the initiatory mystery schools of Wicca

are a little too intimate and obscure for them to ever

to become a mainstream religion, but as Modern

Pagan Witchcraft is growing into a more wide

spread form of ecumenical Neo-Paganism, it con-

tinues to diversify and adapt to suit much wider

congregations. Within them all however remains

one shared view that all sexuality is a sacred gift,

and all sexual practices valid, as long as they bring

pleasure, empowerment, connection to nature and

the life force, and communion with the divine to

their participants and harm to no one.

See Also

▶ Female God Images

▶Religion

▶Ritual

▶ Sexuality and American Religions

▶ Sexuality and Judaism

▶ Sex and Religion

▶Wicca

▶Women, Sex, and Religion

Bibliography

Adler, M. (1986). Drawing down the moon: Witches,druids, goddess-worshippers, and other pagans inAmerica today. Boston: Beacon Press.

Bado-Fralick, N. (2005). Coming to the edge of the circle:A Wiccan initiation ritual. New York: Oxford

University Press.

Bogdan, H. (2008).Western esotericism and rituals of initia-tion. New York: State University of New York Press.

Clifton, C. (2006).Her hidden children: The rise of Wiccaand paganism in America. Lanham: Alta Mira Press.

Shadow 1641 S

S

Crowley, V. (1996). Wicca, the old religion in the newmillennium. London: Thorsons.

D’Este, S., & Rankine, D. (2008). Wicca magickal begin-nings: A study of the possible origins of the rituals andpractices found in the modern tradition of paganwitchcraft and magick. London: Avalonia.

Farrar, S., & Farrar, J. (1984). The witches way:Principles, rituals and beliefs of modern witchcraft.London: Robert Hale.

Harrington, M. (2002). The long journey home: A study ofconversion profiles of 35 Wiccan British men.Retrieved from http://www.pucsp.br/rever/rv2_2002/

t_harrin.htm.

Harvey, G. (1997). Contemporary paganism: Listeningpeople, speaking earth. London: Hurst.

Harvey, G. (1999). Coming home and coming out pagan

(but not converting). In C. Lamb & M. D. Bryant

(Eds.), Religious conversion, contemporary practicesand controversies. London: Cassell.

Hutton, R. (1999). The triumph of the moon: A history ofmodern pagan witchcraft. Oxford, UK: Oxford

University Press.

Reid, S. (2006). Between the worlds: Readings incontemporary neopaganism. Toronto: Canadian

Scholars Press.

Rountree, K. (2004). Embracing the witch andthe goddess: Feminist ritual makers in New Zealand.London: Routledge.

Salomonsen, J. (2002). Enchanted feminism: Ritual,gender and divinity among the reclaiming: Itches ofSan Francisco. London: Routledge.

Starhawk. (1989). The spiral dance, A rebirth of the ancientreligion of the great goddess. San Francisco: Harper.

Starhawk. (1990). Truth or dare. San Francisco: Harper

and Row.

Valiente, D. (1978). Witchcraft for tomorrow. London:Robert Hale.

Valiente, D. (1989). The rebirth of witchcraft. London:Robert Hale.

Valiente, D. (2000). The charge of the goddess. Brighton:Hexagon Hoopix.

Valiente, D. (2009). Poem: The charge of the goddess.Retrieved from http://doreenvaliente.org/2009/06/

poem-the-charge-of-the-goddess.

Shadow

Stephen A. Diamond

Center for Existential Depth Psychology

Los Angeles, Los Angeles, CA, USA

For Swiss psychiatrist C. G. Jung, the theory of the

“shadow” was a metaphorical means of conveying

the prominent role of the unconscious in both

psychopathology and the perennial problem of

evil. In developing his paradoxical conception of

the shadow, Jung sought to provide a more highly

differentiated, phenomenologically descriptive

version of the unconscious and of the id than

previously proffered by Freud. The shadow was

originally Jung’s poetic term for the totality of the

unconscious, a depiction he took from philosopher

Friedrich Nietzsche. But foremost for Jung was the

task of further illuminating the shadowy problem

of human evil and the prodigious dangers of

excessive unconsciousness. Especially concerned

with those pathological mental states historically

known as “demonic possession,” Jung’s psycho-

logical construct of the shadow corresponds to yet

differs fundamentally from the idea of the Devil or

Satan in theology. As a parson’s son, Jung was

steeped in the Protestant mythos, digested the rich

symbolism of Catholicism, and studied the other

great religious and philosophical systems. But, as

a physician, he intentionally employed the more

mundane, banal, less esoteric ormetaphysical, and,

therefore, more rational terminology “the shadow”

and “the unconscious” instead of the traditional

religious language of god, devil, daimon, or

mana. For Jung, depth psychological designations,

such as the shadow or the unconscious, were

“coined for scientific purposes and [are] far better

suited to dispassionate observationwhichmakes no

metaphysical claims than are the transcendental

concepts, which are controversial and therefore

tend to breed fanaticism” (cited in Diamond 1996,

p. 97).

The shadow is the unknown “dark side” of our

personality – dark both because it tends to consist

predominantly of the primitive, benighted,

negative, and socially or religiously depreciated

human emotions and impulses like sexual lust,

power strivings, selfishness, greed, envy, aggres-

sion, anger, or rage and due to its unenlightened

nature, obscured from consciousness. Whatever

we deem evil, inferior, or unacceptable and deny

in ourselves becomes part of the shadow, the

counterpoint to what Jung called the persona

(see persona) or conscious ego personality.

According to Jungian analyst Aniela Jaffe, the

shadow is the “sum of all personal and collective

psychic elements which, because of their

S 1642 Shadow

incompatibility with the chosen conscious atti-

tude, are denied expression in life. . .” (cited in

Diamond 1996, p. 96). Indeed, Jung differenti-

ated between the personal shadow and the imper-

sonal or archetypal shadow, which acknowledges

transpersonal, pure or radical evil (symbolized by

the devil and demons) and collective evil, exem-

plified by the horror of the Nazi holocaust. Liter-

ary and historical figures such as Hitler, Charles

Manson, and Darth Vader personify the shadow

embodied in its most negative archetypal human

form. “The shadow,” wrote Jung (1963), is “that

hidden, repressed, for the most part inferior and

guilt-laden personality whose ultimate ramifica-

tions reach back into the realm of our animal

ancestors and so comprise the whole historical

aspect of the unconscious” (cited in Diamond

1996, p. 96). The shadow is a primordial part of

our human inheritance, which, try as we might,

can never be eluded.

The pervasive Freudian defense mechanism

known as “projection” is how most people deny

their shadow, unconsciously casting it onto others

so as to avoid confronting it in oneself. Such

projection of the shadow is engaged in not only

by individuals but groups, cults, religions, and

entire countries and commonly occurs during

wars and other contentious conflicts in which

the outsider, enemy, or adversary is made

a scapegoat, dehumanized, and demonized. Two

World Wars and the current escalation of

violence testify to the terrible truth of this collec-

tive phenomenon. Since the turn of the twenty-first

century, we are witnessing a menacing resurgence

of epidemic demonization or collective psychosis

in the seemingly inevitable violent global collision

between radical Islam and Judeo-Christian or

secular western culture, each side projecting its

collective shadow and perceiving the other as evil

incarnate.

For Jung, the shadow is most destructive, insid-

ious, and dangerous when habitually repressed and

projected,manifesting inmyriad psychological dis-

turbances ranging from neurosis to psychosis, irra-

tional interpersonal hostility, and even cataclysmic

international clashes. Such deleterious symptoms,

attitudes, and behavior stem from being possessed

or driven by the dissociated yet undaunted shadow.

Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic story of TheStrange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde can be

taken as a cautionary tale par excellence: dissocia-

tion of the shadow results in a perilously lopsided

development of the conscious personality and ren-

ders us susceptible to destructive possession by the

disowned shadow. The overly good Dr. Henry

Jekyll is at times taken over body and soul by his

equally evil shadow: the depraved, nefarious,

wicked Edward Hyde, his complete opposite.

Indeed, the shadow contains all those qualities we

hide from ourselves and others, but which remain

active within the unconscious, forming a sort of

“splinter personality” or “complex,” not unlike the

relatively autonomous sub-personalities found in

multiple personality (dissociative identity) disorder

or in so-called demonic possession or demonism.

Under stressful circumstances or in states of fatigue

or intoxication, this compensatory alter ego or

shadow complex can be triggered into temporarily

taking total command of the conscious will. The

abject negativity and destructiveness of the shadow

are largely a function of the degree to which the

individual neglects and refuses to take responsibil-

ity for it, only inflaming its ferocity and pernicious

power. The shadow’s sometimes overwhelming

strength and disturbing ability to intrude into

one’s cognitions, affects, and behavior have

historically been experienced and misinterpreted

as demonic possession, for which exorcism is

believed to be the only treatment. Yet, it must be

emphasized that the shadow is not meant to be

taken literally but rather allegorically: it is not an

evil entity existing apart from the person, nor an

invading alien force, though it may be felt as such.

The shadow is a universal (archetypal) feature of

the human psyche for which we bear full responsi-

bility to cope with as creatively as possible.

But despite its well-deserved reputation for

wreaking havoc and engendering widespread

suffering in human affairs, the shadow – in

distinction to the literal idea of the devil or demons –

can be redeemed: the shadow must never be

dismissed as merely evil or demonic, for it contains

natural, life-giving, underdeveloped positive poten-

tialities too. Coming to terms with the shadow and

constructively accepting and assimilating it into the

conscious personality are central to the process of

Shadow 1643 S

S

Jungian analysis. Working with dream material

(see dreams) is key to comprehending and dealing

constructively with the shadow. The shadow tends

to appear in dreams as a figure of the same sex as the

dreamer, but Jung draws a distinction between

the personal shadow and the anima or animus,

symbolized in dreams as the opposite sex. Typi-

cally, it is the subjective experience of the shadow

or evil and its ego-dystonic effects (or, as in the case

of the hypercivilized Dr. Jekyll, an inexplicable

malaise or vague sense that something vital is miss-

ing in us) which motivates the person to seek psy-

chotherapy and spurs one toward new growth,

maturation, and individuation. Indeed, in many

ways, we need the shadow and must therefore

learn to develop a more conscious and constructive

relationship to it. Becoming conscious of the

shadow requires tolerating the inherent tension of

opposites within, sometimes “having it out” with

the shadow and standing up to its destructive influ-

ence, other times permitting it some measured

outward expression in the personality, but always

treating it with utmost respect.

Notwithstanding its negative influence, Jung

understood the daimonic nature of the uncon-

scious, and that the compensatory effects of the

shadow upon individuals, couples, groups, and

nations could be beneficial as well: “If it has

been believed hitherto that the human shadow

was the source of all evil, it can now be

ascertained on closer investigation that the

unconscious man, that is, his shadow, does not

consist only of morally reprehensible tendencies,

but also displays a number of good qualities,

such as normal instincts, appropriate reactions,

realistic insights, creative impulses, etc” (cited in

Diamond 1996, p. 96). Creativity can spring

from the constructive expression or integration

of the shadow, as can true spirituality. Authenticspirituality requires consciously accepting and

relating properly to the shadow as opposed to

repressing, projecting, acting out, and remaining

naively unconscious of its contents, a sort

of precarious pseudospirituality. “Bringing

the shadow to consciousness,” writes another

of Jung’s distinguished followers, Liliane

Frey-Rohn (1967), is a psychological problem

of the highest moral significance. It demands

that the individual hold himself accountable not

only for what happens to him but also for what he

projects. Without the conscious inclusion of

the shadow in daily life, there cannot be

a positive relationship to other people or to the

creative sources in the soul; there cannot be an

individual relationship to the Divine (cited in

Diamond 1996, p. 109).

Acknowledgement Derived and reprinted by permission

fromAnger,Madness, and theDaimonic: The Psychological

Genesis of Violence, Evil, and Creativity by Stephen A.

Diamond, the State University of New York Press #1996,

State University of New York. All rights reserved.

See Also

▶Anima and Animus

▶Archetype

▶Daimonic

▶Depth Psychology and Spirituality

▶Devil

▶Dreams

▶Evil

▶ Id

▶ Individuation

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶Nazism

▶ Persona

Bibliography

Diamond, S. (1996). Anger, madness, and the daimonic:The psychological genesis of violence, evil, andcreativity (Foreword by Rollo May. A volume in the

SUNY series in the Philosophy of Psychology).

Albany: State University of New York Press.

Frey-Rohn, L. (1967). Evil from the psychological point

of view. In Evil. Evanston: Northwest University

Press.

Sanford, J. A. (1987). The strange trial ofMr. Hyde: A newlook at the nature of human evil. San Francisco:

Harper & Row.

Sanford, J. A. (1990). Evil: The shadow side of reality.New York: Crossroad Publishing Company.

Stwenson, R. L. (1964). The strange case of Dr. Jekyll andMr. Hyde. New York: Airmont.

Zweig, C., & Abrams, J. (Eds.). (1991). Meeting theshadow: The hidden power of the dark side of humannature. Los Angeles: Tarcher/Putnam.

S 1644 Shakers

Shakers

David C. Balderston

Private Practice, New York, NY, USA

Introduction

The Shakers were the largest, longest-lasting, and

the most widespread of all the communal or uto-

pian societies that flourished in nineteenth-century

America, whether secular (Fourierists, Owenites)

or religious (at Amana, Bishop Hill, Ephrata, New

Harmony,Oneida, andZoar). Their formal name is

the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second

Appearing.AChristianmillennial sect, they looked

to their founder, “Mother” Ann Lee, as a female

manifestation of the Christ spirit.

Described first as “Shaking Quakers” from the

free, ecstatic movements that characterized

their worship (shaking is mentioned in several pas-

sages in the Bible, as God’s activity and humans’

response, e.g., Ezekiel 38:19–20 and Hebrews

12:26–27) and because they were mistaken for

nonconformist Quakers, the Shakers developed

certain religious and psychological practices that

helped them to grow, prosper, and endure for many

decades, eventually shrinking to currently one

small group at Sabbathday Lake, ME – still vibrant

and supported by a large organization of Friends of

the Shakers.

Origins

From humble origins in Manchester, England, at a

time of religious ferment and searching outside the

Established (Anglican) Church – for example,

the Quaker movement, itinerant evangelists such

as John Wesley and George Whitefield, and

possibly the immigrant “French Prophets” or

Camisards (a Huguenot sect) – an illiterate

woman named Mrs. Ann Lees Standerin (variant

spellings exist) emerged as a charismatic leader in

a local revivalist group of Quaker origins that was

previously led by a couple named Wardley. After

severe persecutions, she and a few followers,

including her husband who eventually left her,

emigrated in 1774 to New York City in the

American colonies. Within a few years, they had

established themselves near Albany, NY, first at a

wilderness site called Niskayuna (nowWatervliet)

and later at a permanent center not far away in New

Lebanon, NY. A nearby revival of “New Light”

Baptists was petering out, and Ann Lee’s fresh

message of salvation found willing converts.

Growth

Missionaries were soon sent from the new center

into four New England states. While enduring

much prejudice, violent opposition, and the

death of Ann Lee in 1784 at age 48, the Shakers

still managed to establish a total of 11 communi-

ties by 1793. Several strong and capable leaders

carried on her work, and by 1836, 10 additional

communities had been founded in Ohio, Ken-

tucky, Indiana, and western New York. Out of

a total of 23 Shaker communities, 18 endured for

an average of over 125 years. The Shakers reached

a peak population of 5,000–6,000 by ca. 1840.

Religious Practices

Religiously, the Shakers are noted for the following:

an emphasis on the female or maternal aspect of

God as manifested in Ann Lee; equality of leader-

ship roles for men and women; their “shaking”

behavior during worship including marches and

patterned gestures as well as spontaneous ecstasies

and speaking in tongues; celibacy and separation of

the sexes by mandating separate sleeping quarters,

dining tables, seating in worship, and entrances to

major buildings; pacifism; confession of sins; sepa-

ration from the “world’s people” in isolated rural

villages; the inspired creation of many new songs,

hymns, and mystical “spirit drawings” – especially

in the revival period known as “Mother’s Work”

(1837–1847). Members turned over all their money

and possessions to the community, following Acts

2:44–45 and 4:32–35 where the early Christians

“had all things in common.” Biblical support for

the female aspect of divinity is found in Genesis

Shakers 1645 S

1:27 and Rev.12:1 ff., while the elimination of

marriage is justified at Luke 20:34–35 and

supported by Jesus’ radical challenge to abandon

family ties at Matt. 10:35–37 and Luke 14:26 (and

similar Gospel parallels). While confession of sins

was a universal requirement and the loss of sexual-

ity, possessions, and familywas a standard sacrifice,

probably the dominant theme of Shaker religion has

been an upbeat one: love, always available from

God and always needed between humans –

a succinct principle that exemplifies the Shakers’

characteristic simplicity.

S

Psychological Features

Psychologically, the emergence of Several excep-

tional female leaders following Mother Ann

encouraged the gradual development of gender

quality for all members. The absolutes of celibacy

and separation of the sexes were tempered by the

Shakers’ enthusiastic worship, e.g., loud singing,

synchronized energetic marching and dancing, and

physical gestures in which both sexesmirrored each

other. During much of the nineteenth century,

young men and women would join in “union meet-

ings,” small, mid-week gatherings where the sexes

would sit in two rows opposite to each other and

converse, with an elder Shaker monitoring, on var-

ious topics of the day – an outlet of heterosexual

socializing that helped make the daily controlled

proximity of the sexes workable. Individualism

was downplayed while the importance of the com-

munity was stressed: cemeteries have just one large

gravestone marked “Shakers,” or small identical

markers recording only names and dates. When

whole families joined, they were separated into

men’s and women’s dwellings, and their children

reared communally. Shaker education of children

was often considered superior to local public

schools. Communities were organized into large,

separately sited “Families” for full members, nov-

ices, and inquirers, with a leadership hierarchy of

elders and eldresses and deacons and deaconesses.

Although previous family ties were severed, this

community organization provided a larger family,

in which all members were known as “brethren”

and “sisters,” while special leaders were termed

“Mother” and “Father.” In general, the austerities

of Shaker life were balanced by spiritual resources

and intuitive psychological sensitivity that enabled

their remarkably long and fruitful communal

existence.

Institutional Strengths

The Shakers’ well organized communal life

and industrious work ethic produced prosperous

farms, innovative crafts, impressive large build-

ings, excellent functionally designed chairs and

cabinetwork, a widely marketed variety of seeds

in standardized packets, and a wholesome, plen-

tiful diet – all of which made possible a unique

material culture that also expressed the Shakers’

active religious life, summarized in their motto:

“Hands to work and hearts to God.”

While the Shakers had their origins in

spontaneous ecstasies and confrontational testi-

monies, as their responses to being seized and

shaken by the sudden visitation of the Christ

spirit, their widespread expansion and long

endurance owe as much to the development,

after Ann Lee’s death, of rational designs for

their social organization, economic structure,

and formal worship – all of which served to

perpetuate, in less spontaneous forms, the orig-

inal spiritual message that was so liberating and

nourishing to so many.

Decline

After the Civil War (1861–1865), the Shaker

communities gradually shrank in size and num-

ber. Over the years, there had been sporadic chal-

lenges to their inner stability: the all-too-human

occasions of youth to rebel against older author-

ity, of trustees (who were delegated to conduct

business with the outside world) to embezzle

funds or invest unwisely, and of illicit lovers

and disillusioned apostates to leave the commu-

nity. But it was external economic and social

factors that caused accelerating declines

especially, in the number of new members, and

first the consolidation of dwindling communities

S 1646 Shakti

and then their closing, with some to reopen later

as museums. The growth of cities, industrialism,

and spreading rail networks reduced the market

for Shakers’ agricultural and handcrafted prod-

ucts, while also increasing the allure of “the

world.” New job opportunities, greater personal

freedoms, and the gradual rise of foster homes

and orphanages all contributed to the falloff in

new members, especially of distressed women

who had previously sought refuge with the

Shakers and of orphaned children who had been

brought to them. The proportion of male members

shrank, and farming done by hired non-Shakers

became common. Women came to dominate in

leadership roles, and the average longevity of

remaining members increased significantly, due

to a healthy lifestyle and the mutual support of

communal living. As times changed, so did many

aspects of the Shakers’ daily life and worship,

demonstrating their adaptiveness.

Historiography

Questions remain about how to interpret many

early accounts and about the speculation that the

deaths of Ann Lee’s four children at very early ages

had determined her negative view of sex (report-

edly,Mrs.Wardley had also promoted sexual absti-

nence). Besides thousands of the Shakers’ own

publications and manuscripts now in archives,

many non-Shakers have written about them; see

the bibliography for recommended authors. Aaron

Copeland’s 1944 music for Martha Graham’s

ballet, “Appalachian Spring,” incorporated the

now-famous tune, “Simple Gifts,” composed per-

haps in 1848 by Joseph Brackett of theAlfred,ME,

community, with words dating back at least to

1813. Recent television specials and musical

recordings continue to appreciate and publicize

aspects of Shaker life and make them available to

a wide and interested public.

See Also

▶ Female God Images

▶Gender Roles

Bibliography

Andrews, E. D. (1962). The gift to be simple: Songs,dances and rituals of the American Shakers. New York:

Dover. (Original work published J. J. Augustin,

New York, 1940).

Brewer, P. J. (1986). Shaker communities, Shaker lives.Hanover: University Press of New England.

Burns, A. S., & Burns, K. (1990). The Shakers: Handsto work, hearts to God. New York: Portland

House/Random House. (Original work published

Aperture Foundation, New York, 1987; based on

the film for public television with the same title,

1984).

Carr, [Sister] F. A. (1994). Growing up Shaker.Sabbathday Lake: The United Society of Shakers.

Chmielewski, W. E., Kern, L. J., & Klee-Hartzell, M.

(Eds.) (1993). Women in spiritual and communitariansocieties in the United States. Syracuse: Syracuse

University Press.

Desroche, H. (1971). The American Shakers: Fromneo-Christianity to presocialism. Amherst: University

of Massachusetts Press. (Original work published

1955).

Francis, R. (2000). Ann the word. London: Fourth Estate.

Lauber, J. (2009). Chosen faith, chosen land: The untoldstory of America’s 21st century Shakers. Camden:

Down East Books.

Melcher, M. F. (1960). The Shaker adventure.Cleveland: The Press of Western Reserve Univer-

sity (Original work published Princeton University

Press, 1941).

Miller, A. B., & Fuller, P. (Eds.). (1970). The best ofShaker cooking. New York: Macmillan.

Morse, F. (1980). The Shakers and the world’s people.New York: Dodd, Mead.

Sprigg, J. (1987). Shaker: Life, work and art. New York:

Stewart, Tabori & Chang.

Stein, S. J. (1992). The Shaker experience in America.New Haven: Yale University Press.

The Bible. New Revised Standard Version. (1989).

New York: Oxford University Press.

Wertkin, G. C. (1986). The four seasons of Shaker life.New York: Simon & Schuster.

Shakti

David A. Leeming

University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, USA

The Sanskrit for “power” or “energy,” Shakti

(sakti) in Indian religion is the energizing mate-

rial power of a given Hindu god, a power

Shamanic Healing 1647 S

personified as his wife, especially the wife of

Shiva. Often depicted in a state of sexual union,

the god and his shakti together represent the

Absolute, the god being nonactivated Eternity,

the goddess being activated Time. The Goddess,

Devi, is Shakti or “Universal Power.” As Prakrti,she is the shakti or female energy by which the

original Purusha, the primal male, becomes crea-

tion. As Lakshmi, she is the manifestation of the

divine energy associated with Vishnu. Shiva’s

shakti takes many forms – Uma, Durga, the terri-

fying Kali, and the motherly Parvati, for instance.

By extension, Sita is the Vishnu avatar Rama’s

shakti in the Ramayana, and Draupadi is the

shakti of the Pandavas in the Mahabharata.And by further extension, the Hindu wife is

a manifestation of her husband’s shakti. By still

further extension, shakti may be said to be the

spiritual equivalent of the Jungian anima (Latin

for psyche or soul) in which the anima is the

subconscious inner self of the male – his feminine

principle – and the related animus is the subcon-

scious inner self or masculine principle of

the female. The individual might be said to be

animated by the anima/animus as the god is

animated by his Shakti.

See Also

▶Anima and Animus

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

S

Bibliography

Jung, C. G. (1959). The archetypes of the collective uncon-scious (1934/1954). Princeton: Princeton University

Press.

Jung, C. G. (1973). Concerning the archetypes,with special reference to the anima concept,CW 9, 1 (pp. 54–72). Princeton: Princeton

University Press.

Leeming, D. A. (2005). The Oxford companion toworld mythology. New York: Oxford University

Press.

Leeming, D. A., & Leeming, M. (1994). Encyclopedia ofcreation myths. Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO. (Revised

as A dictionary of creation myths. New York: Oxford

University Press, 1994).

Shamanic Healing

Meg Bowles

Westchester Institute for Training in

Psychoanalysis and Psychotherapy,

New Fairfield, CT, USA

What Is Shamanism?

Shamanism is an ancient method of healing found

in many cultures that focuses upon the relief of

spiritual pain and suffering through interventions

in non-ordinary reality. Non-ordinary reality (see

Castaneda, who originally coined the term) can be

described as the dimension of the Cosmos that

exists outside of and parallel to the linear

time-space arena of ordinary awareness.What dis-

tinguishes the shaman from other healers is the

ecstatic flight or journey into non-ordinary reality

in order to contact his or her tutelary spirits for the

knowledge and healing needed for a specific

patient or community. The shamanic state of con-

sciousness which enables the shaman to see what

others do not is entered into and exited at will,

usually with the aid of repetitive drumming or

rattling. The drum is often seen as a spirit horse

whose sound allows the shaman to ride into the

Upper or Lower Worlds of the shamanic Cosmos.

It is the helping, compassionate spirits that the

shaman interacts with in these realms – the

power animals, teachers, and other wise beings –

who do the diagnosis as well as the healingwork in

partnership with the shaman. A master of linking

the ordinary with the non-ordinary worlds, the

shaman therefore functions as an intermediary or

bridge who also interprets and communicates the

meaning of what is experienced in these alternate

realities.

The resurgence of interest in shamanism and

shamanic healing that has been thriving for the

past few decades is evidence of a deepening

hunger to reconnect with the transcendent

dimensions of reality in a direct, revelatory way.

Ancient shamanic practices have been resurrected

and revitalized throughout the world as indigenous

people have become freer to practice their own

S 1648 Shamanic Healing

traditions openly (e.g., as in the former Soviet

Union) and have sought to recover the old ways

of their ancestors in order to heal themselves and

their communities. Feminine shamanic traditions

which possess more of an interpersonal orientation

that encourage and empower patients to become

active participants in their own healing are also

taking their rightful place of importance alongside

the more masculine, heroic shamanic traditions

(see Tedlock) where the patient adopts more of

a passive role. While some Westerners have been

drawn to study with indigenous shamans, many

more have been able to explore shamanism through

various training programs in what has become

known as “core” shamanism that have been offered

all over theworld through organizations such as the

Foundation for Shamanic Studies.

Core Shamanism

The body of work referred to as core shamanism

was originally synthesized and brought to

Westerners by the pioneering work of anthropol-

ogist Michael Harner. During the 1950s, Harner

conducted extensive fieldwork with the Jivaro

and Conibo people in South America and was

eventually initiated as a shaman. After further

research into many other shamanic practices

throughout the world, Harner began to synthesize

and distill the fundamental techniques that he

found in common across various traditions into

a universal, core practice for integration into

Western contemporary life. These techniques,

the primary one being the shamanic journey pro-

cess which enables one to enter into the charac-

teristic ecstatic, shamanic state of consciousness,

have proven to be accessible even for those who

have no prior training or conscious experience

with anything remotely shamanic.

Core shamanism is essentially a modern

spiritual practice free of specific religious or cul-

tural requirements. That said, the basic world view

embodied in both traditional and core shamanisms

is an animist one which perceives everything in the

Cosmos as being imbued with life essence or spirit,

including all members of the varied and wondrous

kingdoms that are part of the natural world.

Everything is alive and connected within an intri-

cate web or tapestry of energy, both in this physical

realm and in other parallel realities. In contrast to

a psychological perspective of spirits, where the

phenomenonmight be viewed as an externalization

of an unconscious, autonomous complex (Jung),

the shamanic experience of spirits is that they

have an innate intelligence and a reality of their

own that exists outside of the personal and collec-

tive psyche.

The Spiritual Origins of Illness

Shamans and practitioners of core shamanism see

the phenomenon of illness as a spiritual problem

resulting from either a loss of power, a loss of soul,

or an intrusion of an energy form which does not

belong in the patient, whichmay be localized some-

where in the energy body or, in the case of spirit

possession, systemic. A person suffering from soul

loss, for example, does not feel fully alive and

engaged with life. Symptoms of soul loss may

include experiences of chronic depression, dissoci-

ation, addiction, and unresolved grief, as well as

persistent physical illness. Judging by that list

many if not all of us suffer, or have suffered, from

some form of soul loss during the course of our

lives. There are a number of ways in which the lost

soul can spontaneously return to embodiment,

such as in a healing dream or even in a luminous

moment during analytic work. Sometimes, how-

ever, a shamanic intervention by another is needed.

Soul Retrieval

One of the most powerful core shamanic healing

practices engaged in today is that of soul retrieval,

a classic form of shamanic healing (Eliade 1972)

whichwas spontaneously rediscovered in a journey

by shamanic practitioner, author, and therapist

Sandra Ingerman during work with a client many

years ago. Soul retrieval is a healing ritual where

the shamanic practitioner, in partnershipwith his or

her tutelary spirits, journeys into non-ordinary real-

ity to search for the missing soul parts which are

ready to be returned to the patient. The soul parts

Shamanic Healing 1649 S

are located, interacted with, and finally “pulled” or

carried out of non-ordinary reality as the journey

ends, after which the practitioner restores them to

the patient by blowing their essence into the heart

and crown chakras of the patient’s body. The

energy contained in the returned soul essence is

often experienced and felt on a subtle yet palpable

level by the patient.

According to Ingerman, soul loss is a natural

response to unbearable trauma. Trauma triggers

a self-protective phenomenon consisting of the

splitting off of a part of one’s vital essence or

“soul,” which then literally flees the patient to

become stuck in a dimension of non-ordinary real-

ity where it then leads a parallel existence, but one

where the gifts and potentials of that soul part (as

well as the memories of the trauma) remain inac-

cessible and no longer incarnated in this world.

This view is not so different from that of an analyt-

ical psychologist, who might conceive of soul loss

as an archetypal defense of the personal spirit

(Kalsched 1996); however, an analytical psychol-

ogist might also perceive the phenomenon as

taking place in the inner world of the patient (see

self-care system), whereas according to Harner,

the practitioner of core shamanism observes the

evidence of soul loss empirically, in the parallel

universe known as non-ordinary reality.

S

Integration with Other HealingModalities

There is a growing interest with regard to integrat-

ing core shamanic healing practices with analytical

psychology (and other forms of psychotherapy) as

well as with other disciplines such asWestern med-

icine. Having been trained as a psychotherapist,

Ingerman sees work of therapy as having tremen-

dous value; however, her pragmatic view is that for

the necessary psychological working – through

process to progress, the patient’s soul must be

embodied and therefore in residence or “home” to

engage with the therapist – hence the need for the

shamanic approach to bring back the split-off soul

parts in order to restore wholeness to the patient.

Many analystswho have found themselvesworking

endlessly with a patient’s “false self” (Winnicott) as

they patiently hold a space for the vulnerable child

to appear in their consulting rooms might resonate

with Ingerman’s position. While the experience of

soul retrieval can be a powerful and transformative

process standing on its own or a complementary

practice to deepen the work of psychotherapy, it

does not provide a quick fix. As with any other

healing modality, there can be pitfalls, such as if

the egos of the patient and/or the practitioner get in

the way of the process. The work of facilitating and

integrating the return of soul into life can be ardu-

ous, complex, and humbling, as much as it can be

deeply rewarding.

Conclusion

Integrating the two disciplines of analytical

psychology and core shamanism in a way that

honors the power and essence of each practice

without falling into a diluted soup of New Age

meaninglessness presents a worthy challenge

going forward for all of us who seek wholeness

for ourselves and the patients with whom we work.

See Also

▶Healing

▶ Shamans and Shamanism

Bibliography

Castaneda, C. (1971). A separate reality. New York:

Simon and Schuster.

Cowan, T. (1996). Shamanism as a spiritual practice fordaily life. Freedom: Crossing Press.

Eliade, M. (1972). Shamanism: Archaic techniques ofecstasy. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Harner, M. (1980). The way of the shaman. San Francisco:Harper & Row.

Ingerman, S. (1991). Soul retrieval: Mending thefragmented self. San Francisco: Harper San Francisco.

Jung, C. (1920). The psychological foundations of belief

in spirits. In The collected works of C. G. Jung(2nd ed., Vol. 8, pp. 301–318). Princeton: Princeton

University Press, 1972.

Kalsched, D. (1996). The inner world of trauma.New York: Routledge.

Tedlock, B. (2005). The woman in the shaman’s body:Reclaiming the feminine in religion and medicine.New York: Bantam Dell.

S 1650 Shamans and Shamanism

The Foundation for Shamanic Studies. www.shamanism.org

The Society for Shamanic Practitioners. www.

shamansociety.org.

Walsh, R. (2007). The world of shamanism: New viewsof an ancient tradition. Woodbury: Llewellyn

Publications.

Walsh, R., & Grob, C. S. (2005). Higher wisdom.Interview with Michael Harner. Albany: State

University of New York Press.

Winnicott, D. W. (1960). Ego distortion in terms of true

and false self. In The maturational process and thefacilitating environment: Studies in the theory ofemotional development (pp. 140–152). New York:

International UP, 1965.

Shamans and Shamanism

Richard W. Voss

Department of Undergraduate Social Work,

West Chester University of Pennsylvania,

West Chester, PA, USA

Context for the Discussion: Shamansand Non-Ordinary Reality

Shamanism is a great mental and emotional adven-

ture, one in which the patient as well as the

shaman-healer are involved. Through his heroic

journey and efforts, the shaman helps his patients

transcend their normal, ordinary definition of real-

ity, including the definition of themselves as ill.

The shaman shows his patients that they are not

emotionally and spiritually alone in their struggles

against illness and death. The shaman shares his

special powers and convinces his patients, on

a deep level of consciousness, that another human

is willing to offer up his own self to help them. The

shaman’s self-sacrifice calls forth a commensurate

emotional commitment from his patients, a sense

of obligation to struggle alongside the shaman to

save one’s own self. Caring and curing go hand in

hand (Harner 1990: xviii).

The generic term “shaman” describes a wide

range of practices among indigenous people

wherein “helpers” or “spirits” are called upon to

help the patient asking the shaman for help. The

term is derived from the language of the Tungus

people of Siberia (Eliade 1964; Harner 1990) and

from the Chinese, sha men, as well as the ancient

Sanskrit sramana which is translated as “ascetic”

and from sramati as “he fatigues” (Hopkins

1918). The term describes the indigenous

practitioner who works with spirit helpers and

through whom the spirits “doctor” or treat the indi-

viduals that come for help and healing. Often the

metaphor of the “hollow bone or tube” is used to

describe the power of the shaman – as he or she is

one who is simply a tool or conduit for the helping

or healing process – the power for the healing

comes from something beyond the shaman –

often from some other world or realm. Generally

the shaman does not seek to become a shaman, but

the spirits choose him or her for this purpose, or the

individual inherits the “helpers” or “medicine”

from their family ancestors (Personal communica-

tion, 1999, 2001). JohnA.Grimnoted that “Among

tribal people the shaman is the person, male or

female, who experiences, absorbs, and communi-

cates a special mode of sustaining, healing power.

For most tribal peoples the vital rhythms of the

natural world are manifestations of a mysterious,

all-pervasive power presence” (see van der Leeuw

1938/1963; Grim 1983).

In the past other more pejorative terms were

used to describe these healers, such as “witch,”

“medicine man or woman,” “witch doctor,” and

“sorcerer,” so the use of the more generic term

“shaman” avoids such prejudicial overlays to this

healing tradition and is preferred (Harner 1990).

The shaman is distinguished from other kinds of

healers by his or her use of altered consciousness,

which Eliade called “ecstasy” (cited in Harner

1990). Harner notes that shamanism is the most

widespread and ancient methods or systems

of mind-body healing known to humanity (1990,

p. 40). Equally remarkable is the fact that the

assumptions and methods or processes of shaman-

ism are very similar across the various and distant

regions of the world (Harner 1990; Eliade 1964).

Years ago, one of my students showed me a video

tape of a spirit-calling ceremony conducted in

a remote indigenous community in Brazil – which

had many elements I had observed in traditional

Lakota spirit-calling ceremonies, such as the use of

earth in the “altar” as well as the use of six direc-

tions’ flags (the black, red, yellow, white, blue, and

green), tobacco offerings, and a darkened room

cleared of all furniture.

Shamans and Shamanism 1651 S

Harner noted that the shaman

operates in non-ordinary reality only a small por-

tion of his [or her] time and then only as needed to

perform shamanic tasks, for shamanism is a part-

time activity. Among the Jivaro, the Conibo, the

Eskimo, and most other primitive groups, the mas-

ter shaman is usually an active participant in the

economic, social, and even political affairs of the

community. The shaman moves back and forth

between the two realities deliberately and with

serious intention (1990, p. 46).

The shaman I met in a remote Amazonian

community was the president of his community

council and a teacher and also collected Brazil

nuts in the forest. When I first met him, his river-

boat was on its way to the market, heading away

from his village. When he learned that I had come

to interview him, he met me at the small village

grocery store where I was told to meet him – I was

amazed that he arrived sooner than I did, even

though he had been traveling in the opposite

direction. He was a highly respected political

leader of his community, was modestly dressed,

and wore a rosary around his neck. The interview

took place on the porch of the small building

which served as the local “grocery store.” Other

traditional “medicine men” or shaman I met often

worked tirelessly helping their communities, one

actually served as chairman of the tribe, served on

tribal council, and conducted healing ceremonies

whenever requested – pretty much at the request

of anyone seeking help and assistance (Personal

communication, 1999, 2001).

S

Shamans Do Not Operate in the Abstract

I think the best way to discuss chamanism/

shamanism is to describe it in concrete terms.

In 2004 I had the opportunity to conduct field

research in concert with the Amazon Center

for Environmental Education and Research

(ACEER) as part of a Faculty Development

Grant made possible by West Chester University

and the ACEER. As part of this project, I visited

a traditional indigenous community along the

Tambopata River in southeastern Peru. While

conducting this field research, I had the opportu-

nity to interview numerous individuals about the

healing and helping traditions of chamans/

shamans in the area. These interviews included

interviews with chaman, patients, community

leaders, and other healthcare professionals. As

part of this research, I asked a recognized chaman

if he would sing a healing song used in his cere-

monies. He told me to return later that evening to

his casita, not exactly answering my question.

Over the years I have learned to follow directions

literally, without analysis (which requires a shift

from my otherwise usual mode of study).

I returned to the little casita at nightfall where

he was resting in his hammock. I was invited to sit

in one of the adjoining hammocks where we

continued our conversation until he invited me

into his house.

The Entire Forest Was Dancing!

I was instructed to sit on the edge of his bed. He

rolled four tobacco cigarettes, each about 3 in.

long, and laid them aside. The chamen/shamen

stood in front of me. Then he poured rose water

over my head from a small bottle which dripped

over my face and back. The rose water had a very

pleasant fragrance. He then lit one of the ciga-

rettes and blew smoke on me and all around me.

He then took a small bunch of long leaves (called

a chakra) that were tied at the stem which formed

a handle; the leaf rattle was approximately 10 in.

in total length and about 6 in. wide. The chamen/

shamen then began striking the top of my head

with the chakra while he sang a very simple

melody in a very soft, subdued birdlike whistle,

formed by the air blown against the roof of the

mouth through the teeth, not a hollow whistle

blown through the lips. All the while the chamen/

shamen continuously struck the top of my head

gently with the chakra. The chamen/shamen’s

song did not have any recognizable words,

consisting of a very simple and subdued, yet shrill,

whistle. I recall thinking how simple and childlike

the tune was – it seemed like a very “happy” tune.

I recall feeling very relaxed and that I was “in good

hands.” There were no explanations given by

the chamen/shamen; the process was entirely

experiential. By this time I had closed my eyes,

S 1652 Shame and Depth Psychology

and I focused on the rustling sound of the dry leaves

of the chakra. Before I knew it, with each strike of

the chakra, I felt as if the entire forest had opened up

andwas dancing aroundme. It was as if the little leaf

rattle became the spokesman for the forest, and it

was as if I was hearing the entire forest singing and

dancing all around me, and I was part of it. It was

as if the chamen/shamen had brought the entire

vegetation of the Amazon into that little casita.

Shamanism and Psychology

John A. Grim noted a more universal implication

for the interest in shamanism, noting, “Shamanism

is not only characteristic of tribal peoples but also

is an ongoing and irreducible mode of experienc-

ing the sacred that is not limited to a particular

ethnic group. . . .” Elsewhere he noted that sha-

manism has a certain attraction for our times,

when themore sophisticated, ormore rationalized,

modes of religious life are often so weak that they

no longer communicate the power needed by con-

temporary man, whomust resolve a new and over-

whelming set of tensions in a creative manner”

(1983, p. 29). Shamanism is particularly of interest

to those interested in the intersection between

religion and psychology; J. A. Grim noted further

that “Themeaning of shamanism lies in the depths

of the human psyche, which is not yet fully known

to itself but is partially manifest in particular

human efforts to structure symbols as a way of

knowing” (1983, p. 31).

Conclusion

A discussion of shamans and shamanism

provides an important perspective on the

intersectionality of psychology, religion, and

ecstatic experience and focuses the clinician on

the role of “caring and healing” in the therapeutic

interaction which is not focused on clinical

detachment or objectivity, but rather on ecstatic

engagement, connectivity, and the subjectivity

of the healer with the patient where both encoun-

ter the non-ordinary reality and subsequent

psychological and spiritual transformation.

See Also

▶Eliade, Mircea

▶Healing

▶ Shamanic Healing

Bibliography

Eliade, M. (1964). Shamanism: Archaic techniques ofecstasy. Princeton: Princeton University Press

(Reprint, 2004).

Grim, J. A. (1983). The shaman: Patterns of religioushealing among the Ojibway Indians. Norman:

University of Oklahoma.

Harner, M. (1990). The way of the shaman. San Francisco:HarperSanFranciso.

Harvey, G. (Ed.). (2003). Shamanism. A reader. London:Routledge.

Hopkins, E. W. (1918). The history of religions. New York:

The Macmillan Company, Harvard Despository Brittle

Book (AH5ASTD). Retrieved from http://books.google.

com/books?id¼17sVAAAAYAAJ&dq¼history+of+

religions+hopkins&printsec¼frontcover&source¼bl&

ots¼Se1c0aD5Dj&sig¼LbTOq_AXwOvk3UFWg12r

RD60d2c&hl¼en&ei¼WeEvSvnGIpOqtgf2-pCLDA&

sa¼x&oi¼book_result&ct¼result&resnum¼1#PPP7,

M1. Accessed 10 June 2009.

Van der Leeuw, G. (1938/1963). Religion in essenceand manifestation. London: Allen & Unwin/Harper

Paperbacks.

Shame and Depth Psychology

Gerardo James de Jesus

Philadelphia, PA, USA

Shame

Shame can be defined simply as the feeling we

have when we evaluate our actions, feelings, or

behavior and conclude that what we have done

wrong makes us wrong. It encompasses the whole

of us; it generates a wish to hide, to disappear, or

even to die. Shame, as the deeper problem of the

self, means that one has suffered a loss of being, not

merely loss of status. Individuals suffering from

a shame-based complex have a characterological

style of identification with a given behavior due to

internalization. For example, when someone is

Shame and Depth Psychology 1653 S

S

called “an angry person” an emotion becomes the

core of his character or identity. He does not have

anger or depression; he is angry or depressed.

Similarly, shame-based people identify with this

affect-toned complex in a globalized way which

becomes characteristic of their behavior. People

with shame-based complexes guard against expos-

ing their inner selves to others but, more signifi-

cantly, will guard against exposing themselves to

themselves. The shamed affect is ignited upon

hearing a single word, observing a gesture by

another that is distorted and catastrophized, or by

just about anything that will trigger the complex,

creating a negative affect that is felt in a global

sense.

One way of understanding a shame-based

complex is by noting what shame-based persons

are not. Quoting from M. Scott Peck, John

Bradshaw notes that to be a non-shame-based

person “requires the willingness and the capacity

to suffer continual self-examination.” Such abil-

ity requires a good relationship with oneself. This

is precisely what no shame-based person has.

In fact, a toxically shame-based person has

an adversarial relationship with himself, often

compulsively seeking ways to avoid the

affect-toned shame-based feeling. It is this very

reason that he projects it away from himself onto

others. Other defensive mechanisms which the

ego uses to avoid feeling the shame affect

are repression, dissociation, distraction, or

ownership. This intersubjective work occurs on

an unconscious level; if he understood what he

was doing on a conscious level, he would have

learned to own it and become conscious of

his projections.

The following three points attempt

a description of the problem of shame emerging

both at an individual and a communal level. First,

a normal response of failure to an internalized

standard created by an authoritative source such

as family, society, or religious affiliation can

generate a shame-based complex that has

a globalized affect that engulfs one’s entire

being. Further, shame-based individuals make

no distinction between themselves and real and

imagined failings. So, often what they imagine to

be real is exaggerated.

Secondly, the inability to distinguish between

imagined failings and behavior that is not exagger-

ated is referred to as fusion. Fused feelings blur the

self, making it difficult to differentiate clearly.

What is cognated, or re-cognized, such as inner

features, feelings, memories, thoughts, images,

standards, and God concepts, are fused with outer

features, interpersonal associations such as church,

family life, society, and culture. Another way to

view it is to imagine a co-assembling of inner

feelings and thoughts, images, memories, bound

to outer shaming events associated with God,

church, or family. The church, an outer association

where acceptance and purpose is sought, can actu-

ally be a place where shame is internalized. Feel-

ings of anger, rage, self-contempt, comparisonwith

others, and meaninglessness are not relieved with

Church activities such as prayer, Bible reading, or

hearing homilies. Rather, life becomes a ritualized

routine without any connection to a goal or purpose

when what is heard is felt to be like shame. For

some who have left the church, the hearing of

a sermon can become fused with a feeling of

shame and the feeling reexperienced as memories

of childhood visits to the house of shame: the

church. The sense of “feeling lost” is not unusual

in a place where “being found” is preached.

Third, there is no one theory of shame that

allows professionals in the field to devise

a uniform treatment of the problem. A DSM diag-

nostic disorder of shame does not exist. Instead,

shame is observed as symptomatic of that which

stems from mood disorders or, some would argue,

evident in the behavior of personality disorders. It

would be helpful to define the state of shame by

compiling a list of a unique set of behaviors or a set

of stimuli that elicit the particular feeling, informing

pastoral psychotherapists on how to treat a patient.

What is evident is that those in Christian faith

communities who suffer from shame acquire it as

a by-product of their theological formation.

As persons of faith process psychological life

through theological presuppositions that have

helped guide and, at times, misguide them, rather

than dismiss the theology or the Christian faith,

the pastoral psychotherapist can help the patient

discern and rethink metaphors, symbols, and

stories that shaped much of the client’s identity

S 1654 Shame and Depth Psychology

in a way that is empowering and liberating. Theo-

logical concepts such as incarnation, forgiveness,

redemption, reconciliation, and unconditional

love can be reframed by rehearing the sacred

narratives in a new way. A healing methodology

of pastoral psychotherapy that reframes the

stories, myths, and narratives can be discovered

in depth psychology.

The pastoral psychotherapist trained in depth

psychology can serve as a primary relational

object for the patient’s transferences and

projections. His or her presence in the therapeutic

moment can help to form a healing imago in the

memory of the patient of non-shaming episodes.

The Christian psychotherapist can discover

a theological basis for this encounter in an

incarnational theology that is vicarious in its

expression, vicarious in the sense that the

Christian psychotherapist who utilizes a depth

approach to therapy can address shame by

speaking in a theological language familiar to

the patient. By re-presenting the humanity of

the Christ that embraced all people in the light

of their psychological formation, the Christian

psychotherapists non-shaming presence human-

izes the process by moving away from absolute

pronouncements of God’s will to a declaration

that embraces the mystery of the human. By

accepting what appears as unrelated phenomena

in feeling, thinking, and behavior, which, in

a more behavioral modification approach, would

have been avoided or minimized with absolute

biblical principals, the depth approach honors

that within the self and outside the self that

seeks to bring transformation, including deriving

meaning of the shame-based complex and its part

in psycho-spiritual renewal.

Depth Psychology

Jung’s theory of depth psychology is distinguished

by its emphasis on the unconscious as an objective

reality. By exerting specific pressures on our sub-

jective consciousness, it produces oppositional, at

times compensating, viewpoints that guide the pro-

cess of individuation. The unconscious does not

determine consciousness in a fixed way but

operates constantly in the background as a guide

to the process of healing and wholeness. To

observe this background is to learn how to own

the process of individuation. The patient in analysis

learns to hear and be conversant with the shame-

based complex when it rears its head. By capturing

projections, the patient remains conversantwith the

oppositional voices, embracing the affect rather

than avoiding, repressing, denying, or projecting.

Differentiation of internalized shame-based affect

from outer events is enjoined in the process. By

differentiating internalized voices, the patient

embraces what once felt oppositional and, in

doing so, discovers that what once felt like

a feeling to be avoided or projected can be viewed

as a key to understanding the self. From a Jungian

depth psychological point of view, transcendence

and transformation are possible as the oppositional

is now acceptable.

Depth psychology is much broader as

a methodology for addressing shame than are

Biblical ways of thinking as the source of

solving personal complexes and problems. Some

approaches to psychotherapy from a Christian per-

spective assume an anthropology that places the

spiritual life as a higher or initial life of the self

that is combined with a rational or mental self. By

appealing to this spiritual motivation, an appeal

that depth psychology also embraces, the cognitive

approach seeks to direct the patient towards

a Biblical way of thinking as the source of solving

problems. The assumption is that if one is spiritu-

ally oriented towards God’s principles and lives

“obediently” in accordance with these principles,

all else will follow. For some, this seems to work,

but for those unable to accept this principle of

spiritual obedience as a solution to all problems,

the therapy may not be effective. Consequently,

therapy for a non-Christian is not possible, as

a prerequisite for successful therapy is to embrace

the “truth” of God’s principles.

Although depth psychology is similar to

a Christian cognitive approach in its emphasis

upon the spiritual as a medium for transformation,

its universal approach to seeking what is common

in all humans and cultures differs from a Biblical

approach to counseling. In depth psychology, pre-

requisites like embracingBiblical principles are not

Shame and Depth Psychology 1655 S

S

necessary. It seeks to askwhat is it that is longed for

in all humans through the symptoms that are

expressed by all people. There is no fixed way of

being “Christian,” rather; to be Christian is an

invitation into away of seeing oneself in its relation

to the outer world through a Christ that is transcen-

dent. In the spirit of the Christ of the gospels, the

shame-based person learns to reconcile, embrace,

and accept all that feels oppositional in him. Rather

than seek to impose a conventional form ofwisdom

that is enculturated as a way of legitimatizing an

institution, a depth psychological model can be

woven into a theological anthropology that sees

the unconscious process as guided by a Spirit that

knows of the Christ, an archetypal reality Jung

called the Self. The Self is that within all humans

that acts as if it knewGod or Spirit. It includes both

the ego and the unconscious and is encountered

when the human need for transcendence is under-

stood in the psychotherapeutic moment.

The transcendent function is discovered in

a process called oppositional dialogue or active

imagination. The patient is empowered to hear

the “authoritative” voices that once determined

approval as a longing to be made whole. By plac-

ing oneself in an oppositional relationship with the

affect – as if it were alive – one learns to hear and

even speak to the affect, seeking meaning for its

long and painful manifestation in the life of the

shame-based person. Rather than be quick to purge

it or perceive it as a result of a “disobedient life,”

the process helps to reframe it as a summoning to

a more spiritual life. In this approach, “disobedient

acts” are less the focus of therapy, and learning to

hear what the “acts” and their symptoms mean is

a focus of the depth approach. One’s overall long-

ing is what is most essential. Ann Belford Ulanov

reminds us that “the encounter between Self and

transcendence presses for its own resolution,

towards what Jung called individuation.” The

push for transcendence can be manifested in

shaming behavior, and shaming behavior can be

conceived as manifesting the need for transcen-

dence. For a Christian psychotherapist practicing

within a Jungian theoretical framework (since as

mentioned, Christians tend to address personal

issues fromwithin their respective theological pre-

suppositions), the spirit of Christ can be spoken of

as the presence that reconciles, embraces, and

accepts what felt oppositional and shamed.

By defusing and differentiating the internalized

voices discussed above through this active imagi-

native approach, the patient learns how to capture

the unconscious projections. What is projected or

transferred is the feeling that is avoided, namely,

the affective shame-complex. Since passing blame

through scapegoating or demonizing is a common

transferential phenomenon of the unconscious, it

too is an archetypal reality called the shadow. The

shadow is that which disrupts and interrupts the

ego’s need to save face to the outer world. It is

the psychological clothing we wear in order to

survive an outer world that has shamed us. One

cannot act as if the shadowdoes not exist, for it will

manifest itself in projections. Consequently, com-

ing to terms with one’s shadow involves clearly

defusing and differentiating what is mine and what

belongs to the other. It defuses the internalized

images that are fused with the outer world and

helps the patient arrest the projections. As the

fusion of the inner and outer spheres created the

globalized sense of shame, embracing the shadow

and differentiating from the ego’s need to project

contributes to the conscious ownership of the self,

as it seeks to become whole.

In the case of a shaming theology, oppositional

dialogue seeks to have the patient converse with

inner feelings and voices that a shaming theology

avoids, since its commitment is the legitimizing of

an enculturated religious institution. Depth psy-

chology holds to the legitimization of the objective

psyche and its summons towards individuation.

A Christian doing psychotherapy from within

a Jungian theoretical model might say, “the spirit

blows where it wills,” not where and how, the

institution says it blows! This embracing of the

oppositional within as an authentic process of the

self is a way of learning about the “truth that sets

one free.”

See Also

▶Active Imagination

▶Complex

▶ Individuation

S 1656 Shame and Guilt

▶ Shadow

▶Transcendence

▶Transcendent Function

Bibliography

Chodorow, J., & Jung, C. G. (Eds.). (1997). Jung on activeimagination. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

De Jesus, G. J. (2007). The sabbath and the shadow: Aninterdisciplinary approach to the healing of shame.Anunpublished dissertation, The Claremont School of

Theology, Claremont.

Dittes, J. E. (1990). Analytical (Jungian) psychology and

pastoral care. In R. Hunter (Ed.), Dictionary of pastoralcare and counseling (pp. 29–33). Nashville: Abingdon.

Loftus, R. J. (1990). Depth psychology and religious

vocations. In R. L. Moore & M. Daniel (Eds.), Jungand Christianity in dialogue (pp. 208–221). New York:

Paulist Press.

McNish, J. L. (2004). Transforming shame: A pastoralresponse. Binghamton: Haworth Pastoral Press.

Ulanov, A. B. (1999). Religion and the spiritual in CarlJung. New York: Paulist Press.

Shame and Guilt

Jill L. McNish

Union Theological Seminary, Swedesboro,

NJ, USA

The Shame Affect

According to the influential affect theorist Sylvan

Tompkins (1963, p. 118), shame/humiliation is

one of the six innate negative affects. By the word

“affect,” Tompkins means “a physiological

mechanism, a firmware script,” that is dependent

on “chemical mediators that transmit messages

and on the organizing principle stored in

the subcortical brain as the affect program”

(Nathanson 1992, p. 149). “Shame,” according

to the oft-quoted definition of Tompkins,

. . .is the affect of indignity, transgression, and

alienation. Though terror speaks to life and death

and distress makes of the world a vale of tears, yet

shame strikes deepest into the heart of man. While

terror and distress hurt, they are wounds inflicted

from outside which penetrate the smooth surface of

the ego; but shame is felt as an inner torment,

a sickness of the soul. It does not matter whether

the humiliated on has been shamed by derisive

laughter or whether he mocks himself. In either

event he feels himself naked, defeated, alienated,

lacking in dignity or worth (Tompkins 1963,

p. 118).

The affect of shame manifests in a variety of

physiological ways including blushing, sweating,

dizziness, lowering or averting of the eyes, and

increased heart rate.

Shame, as distinguished from guilt (which affect

theorists understand to be a subpart of the shame/

humiliation affect), is about exposure and the expe-

rienced self. Guilt is remorse about acts believed to

have been wrongfully committed. Shame is about

the experienced wrongness of aspects of one’s very

being and is often, directly or indirectly, related to

the condition, the needs, the desires, limitations, and

suffering of the human body.

Guilt Distinguished from Shame

It is believed by affect theorists following Sylvan

Tompkins (1963) that guilt is subsumed under

the affect of shame. Since guilt involves acts

believed to have been wrongfully done or left

undone, whereas shame involves a sense of the

wrongness of the self regardless of acts or omis-

sions, guilt involves less experience of the self

than does shame. However, guilt and shame are

often fused, with guilt also involving a conscious

or unconscious fear of retaliation, or talion dread.

Feelings of guilt imply basic trust in one’s world,

its laws, rules, and taboos, and in the persons who

are the interpreters of these laws. It is generally

understood that guilt feelings develop during the

oedipal stage of life when culture’s laws are first

internalized through fear of the father.

Religions typically are among those societal

institutions that create rules, laws, and taboos

to which persons are expected to adhere. For

example, in Judeo-Christian religious structures,

the Ten Commandments set forth basic laws

which must be complied with. Most Christian

denominations provide mechanisms and rituals

for confessing one’s wrongful acts and omissions,

Sharia 1657 S

thus assuaging feelings of guilt and leading to

a sense of forgiveness and reconciliation. It has

sometimes been observed that in secular life psy-

chotherapy provides opportunity for “confession.”

S

Implications of Shame

Contemporary psychology understands the affect

of shame as being necessary to protect individual

boundaries of privacy and to ensure individuals’

social adaptation. Furthermore, psychological

theorists following the groundbreaking study of

Helen Lynd (1958) see experiences of the affect

of shame as providing access to the deepest pos-

sible insight into personal identity, since shame is

viewed as the affect closest to the experienced

self. In her 1971 work Shame and Guilt in Neuro-sis, Helen Block Lewis persuasively argued from

empirical clinical studies that real psychological

healing cannot occur without express analysis of

shame issues. However, it is axiomatic that for

some individuals shame is the overarching and

deeply engrained habitual mode of reacting to

others. Large degrees of shame, inappropriately

or obsessively fixed, can lead to profound depres-

sion and other mental illness. Defenses to the

experience of shame include social withdrawal,

isolation, addictions, depression, violent acting

out, abuse of power, self-righteousness, blaming

and projection, shamelessness (a power defense to

shame), and perfectionism.

It has been argued that shame is archetypal, as

is evidenced in the myth of Adam and Eve’s fall

and expulsion from the Garden of Eden. It has

likewise been asserted that the enduring power of

the narratives of the Christian Gospel derives

from the shame that is explicit and implicit

in Jesus’ birth, life, ministry, and crucifixion,

as well as the shameful circumstances of many

of the individuals to whom he ministered

(see McNish 2004).

See Also

▶Affect

▶Archetype

▶Crucifixion

▶Depression

▶ Fall, The

▶ Jesus

▶Myth

▶Oedipus Myth

▶ Power

▶ Projection

▶ Psychotherapy

▶Taboo

Bibliography

Lewis, H. B. (1971). Shame and guilt in neurosis.New York: International Universities Press.

Lynd, H. (1958). On shame and the search for identity.London: Routledge.

McNish, J. (2004). Transforming shame. Binghamton:

Haworth Press.

Nathanson, D. (Ed.). (1992). Shame and pride: Affect, sexand the birth of self (p. 149). NewYork:W.W. Norton.

Tompkins, S. (1963). Affect, imagery and consciousness(The negative affects, Vol. 2, p. 118). New York:

Springer.

Sharia

Amani Fairak

Heythrop College, University of London,

London, UK

Sharia, or Islamic Law, is a set of principles

implemented in the Islamic community. Sharia

comes from the Arabic word Shara’a which

means to enforce a code of conduct in order to

facilitate a way of life. Islamic Law is integrated

into almost all aspects of life, from relationships,

education, and law to economics and politics.

Islam proposes four descending criteria to

which Islamic society or individuals can refer as

an ideal model for social policies. Sharia has

certain sources from which it derives its authority

in Islamic society and characteristics that give it

credibility and authenticity amongMuslims. Sha-

ria is divided into two major sources and nine

sub-sources. The first two sources are the Quran

S 1658 Sharia

and the Hadith, which are believed to be directly

or indirectly divinely inspired. The sub-sources

are mainly based on scholastic interpretation and

judgments.

Sources of Sharia

1. Quran: Muslims believe it to be the literal

word of God.

2. Hadith: the teachings of the Prophet

Mohammed.

3. Ijma’a: the consensus or the collective

agreement of Muslim scholars.

4. Qiyas: the standardization of any issue

against Quran and Hadith based on Ijma’a.

5. Istihsan: it comes from the Arabic word

Istah’sana, or to prefer something over

other possibilities of decisions.

6. Masaleh Morsalah (the Common Good):

a jurisprudential agreement can be Islamically

approved if it brings about common good for

the Islamic community or the public.

7. Sadd al-Dhara’i (the standardization of

appropriate means and ends): it is to block

any means that might cause social disruption

even if the ends can be noble. This also

means that any means that might bring

about a common good should be Islamically

facilitated.

8. Al Orf (conventions): it comes from Arafa in

Arabic, which means an acceptable manner

of doing something. It is the social conven-

tion or custom in any given Islamic society

that may contribute to change in Islamic

Law.

9. Math’hab al-Sahabi (the teachings of the

Prophet’s companions): it is to use the

teachings of the Prophet’s companions as

a raw model in everyday life if there is no

direct text from the Quran or Hadith or the

previous Islamic Laws.

10. Sharia man Qablana (Pre-Islamic Laws): if

there is no known source from a companion,

Muslims can follow the laws of the previous

messages like Christianity and Judaism as

long as they do not conflict with the main

sources of the Quran and Hadith.

11. Istis’hab (continuity): the presumption of

continuation of a certain status is to remain

as is until it can be changed or refuted by

evidence.

Characteristics of Sharia

1. Divine law: Muslims believe that the Quran is

the third and final literal message that God has

sent to humankind, after al Taurah (Torah) and

al Injeel (The later Bible).

2. Long-term and short-term policy of reinforce-

ments: the Quran speaks of promises and con-

sequences for the short and long term. The

mention of heaven and hell are emphasized

throughout Quran. Muslims believe that

every action has a reaction that can be either

rewarded or disciplined in this life (al-Donia)

or the afterlife (al A’khirah).

3. Universality: since theQuran is the lastmessage

fromGod, its message is universal to all human-

kind in contrast to the previous messages of

Jesus and Moses and other prophets whose

messages were exclusive to their people.

4. Comprehensiveness: as the last message, the

Quran discusses every aspect of human life on

every level, personally, socially, politically,

spiritually, scientifically, and educationally.

Therefore, Muslims believe that the Quran is

a divine law that is open to reinterpretation

and so applicable at any time anywhere.

Commentary

Several psychologists and sociologists of religion

have distinguished between the focus of Islam and

Western psychology. Islam tends to view religion

as the core of the individual’s life, while psychol-

ogy tends to view religion as one aspect of the

individual’s life. Social psychology, therefore,

may suggest that abiding by Sharia Law is to

confirm the identity of the individual Muslim in

society. To follow certain codes of conduct, to

adhere to specific policies of discipline, or to at

least accept such a lifestyle aim at sustaining the

religious institution and ensuring its survival.

Shekhinah 1659 S

Islam, as a social system and establishment,

introduces the term umma or nation to indicate

the importance of a “unified Islamic community.”

This community is governed by particular poli-

cies in order to fulfill certain needs and to meet

specific goals. Sociology may explain this con-

cept as follows:

. . .a cultural and ideological territory in which no

Muslim would find himself alien regardless of

political or geographical diversities. In one sense,

it is comparable to the notion of ‘Western World’

abundantly used to define a cultural and ideological

territory today (Ebrahimi 1996).

Ummah works as “. . .a common framework in

which temporal association of different groups

sharing the Islamic values can be maintained”

where the goal and the strategy in cultivating the

concept of umma is already recommended in the

Quran.

See Also

▶ Islam

▶Qur’an

Bibliography

Ebrahimi, M. H. (1996). Islamic city: Quest for urbancultural identity in the Muslim world. London:

University College London.

S

Shekhinah

Mark Popovsky

Department of Pastoral Care, Weill Medical

College of Cornell, New York Presbyterian

Hospital – Chaplaincy, New York, NY, USA

In Rabbinic Literature

In early rabbinic texts such as the Talmud, the

term Shekhinah (lit. “dwelling”) is used as one of

many Hebrew names for God. Deriving from the

verb meaning “to dwell,” this particular divine

appellation suggests imminent divine manifesta-

tion in a specific place or at a specific time. For

example, the Shekhinah is said to rest at the head

of a sick person’s bed, to appear when ten men

gather for prayer, or to rest between a righteous

man and his wife. Though this is the only

commonly used Hebrew name for God that is

grammatically feminine, in Talmudic and con-

temporaneous sources, overt feminine images

are rarely associated with it. In most instances,

the term Shekhinah could be replaced with other

Hebrew names for God such as “Master of the

Universe” or “The Holy One Blesses Be He”

without any consequent change in the passage’s

meaning.

In Medieval Texts

A primary concern of many medieval Jewish

philosophers from the post-Talmudic period

such as Saadya Gaon, Judah Ha-Levi, and

Moses Maimonides was to preclude any interpre-

tation of scriptural passages which might suggest

divine anthropomorphization. Revelation and

prophecy were especially problematic phenom-

ena for these philosophers because they presume

that God communicates in human language.

Consequently, among these philosophers, the

Shekhinah was often understood not as another

name for God but rather as a divinely created

separate entity. The Shekhinah became the divine

intermediary that would appear to prophets in

visions; for God himself does not speak. The

Shekhinah is the entity that reflects God’s pres-

ence in the world and that interacts with human

beings because God’s ultimate transcendence

makes direct human-divine contact impossible.

The concept of the Shekhinah evolved further

in the writing of the Kabbalists (Jewish mystics)

from the twelfth century on. Kabbalistic thought

posits that a profound unity of the divine once

existed but was severed because of human sin.

With this rupture, the masculine and feminine

principles of the divine were separated and

remain alienated from each other to this day.

The Shekhinah becomes the symbol of the femi-

nine aspect of the godhead, the element of the

S 1660 Shema

divine closest to the created world and most

directly in contact with human beings. According

to the Kabbalists, it is the duty of each individual

to work to unite the male and female halves of

God by observing the laws of the Torah and

living a holy life. Human actions affect the

divine, either promoting or hindering progress

towards its reunion. Redeeming the Shekhinah

from its exile from the remainder of the godhead

becomes a primary motivation for behavior in

Kabbalistic teachings.

It is in the Kabbalistic literature generally and

in the Zohar most prominently that feminine and

sometimes even erotic imagery is first associated

with the Shekhinah. The Shekhinah is often

depicted as a queen or a bride and serves as

a foil to the traditional patriarchal images of

a transcendent deity. It is not uncommon in

Kabalistic texts to find imagery portraying the

reunion of the Shekhinah with the remainder

of the godhead as sexual intercourse. Some

Kabbalists would attempt to visualize such divine

coupling when performing religious duties in

order to remain aware of the broader theological

implications of their righteous acts.

Contemporary Analysis

Reflecting the status of women in the premodern

period, the Shekhinah is often described in

Kabbalistic texts as beautiful and radiant but pas-

sive and dependant on the deeds of men for

redemption. Some scholars suggest that the pop-

ularity of the Shekhinah as a gendered represen-

tation of God may have arisen out of the same

psychological and theological needs for divine

intimacy and accessibility which popularized

the Cult of the Virgin Mary among contempora-

neous Christians. A number of modern feminists

have argued that Jewish women should reclaim

the image of the Shekhinah as a counterbalance to

the manymasculine images of the divine found in

scripture and Jewish liturgy. Some Jewish pasto-

ral counselors have reported positive results

exploring feminine images of the Shekhinah

with women who have suffered trauma and are

alienated from more traditional divine imagery.

See Also

▶ Female God Images

▶God

▶God Image

▶ Judaism and Psychology

▶Kabbalah

▶Talmud

Bibliography

Novick, L. (2008). On the wings of Shekhinah:Rediscovering Judaism’s divine feminine. Wheaton:

Quest Books.

Scholem, G. (1995). Major trends in Jewish mysticism.New York: Schocken Books.

Shema

Lynn Somerstein

Institute for Expressive Analysis, New York,

NY, USA

Shema Israel, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad –

Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.

This prayer is recited in the morning and after-

noon prayers and on the death bed. The word

“shema” means listen, or understand, indicating

that one is to turn inward and feel God, since God

cannot be visualized. “God is one” is a unifying

principle.

The word “Lord” is used to replace the name

of God, which cannot be said.

Eloheinu means “our God.”

Ehad means “one.”

This short phrase captures monotheism and

identifies the Jew saying it as a dedicated person

of God and a member of the Jewish people – it is

a statement of belief and of identity. It is an

affirmation of Judaism and a declaration of

monotheism. It unifies the self as it declares that

the individual self belongs with a particular

group. This unifying sound of the Shema can

serve to hold the individual personality and

make it feel safe and connected.

Shi‘ite Islam 1661 S

See Also

▶God

▶ Judaism and Psychology

▶ Prayer

Bibliography

Wigoder, G. (Ed.). (1974). Encyclopedic dictionary ofJudaica (p. 548). New York: Leon Amiel.

Shi‘ite Islam

Liyakat Takim

Department of Religious Studies,

McMaster University, Hamilton, ON, Canada

S

Historically, the term Shi‘a refers to the partisans

of ‘Ali b. Abi Talib, the cousin and son-in-law of

Muhammad. The early Shi‘is claimed that ‘Ali

was the only legitimate successor to the Prophet

Muhammad having been explicitly designated by

him at Ghadir Khum.

To understand the psychology of Shi‘ism, it is

important to comprehend certain historical

events. With the coming of ‘Ali to power in 656

Shi‘ism emerged as an effective religiopolitical

movement. Although unable to join him in battle,

the Shi‘is also supported Husayn, the son of ‘Ali,

in his uprising against the Caliph Yazid in 681.

The massacre of Husayn and his forces at Karbala

then was an important milestone in Shi‘i history,

as it affirmed notions of injustices endured by the

progeny of the Prophet and exacerbated a passion

for martyrdom. The “martyrdom complex” has

generated the demonstration of grief and passion

for the 12 Imams that Shi‘is revere (Fig. 1).

An important feature in Shi‘ism is weeping for

the Imams for it is believed that they were all

poisoned or martyred on the battlefield. Weeping

for the Imam also reinforces his soteriological

function for it is believed that even a tear shed

in the memory of the sufferings of an Imam will

result in him exercising his intercessory powers.

By participating in the sorrow of the family of the

Prophet, the ahl al-bayt, the sins of the faithful

are obliterated. The importance of weeping can

also be seen from the belief that weeping reenacts

the cosmic drama. According to some Shi‘i tra-

ditions, the heavens and earth wept for the blood

of Husayn. As a matter of fact, the whole of

God’s creation cried for Husayn.

Shi‘ite faithful also congregate in local assem-

bly halls to hear repeated affirmation of the his-

torical injustices endured by the progeny of the

Prophet. The majalis (pl. of majlis) are lamenta-

tion assemblies where the stories of the martyrs of

Karbala are recited for the evocation of grief.

Narratives associated with the Imams are often

heard in the majlis. In addition, their virtues,

miracles, and valor are recounted.

The Significance of Flagellation

An important ritual that often accompanies the

outpouring of grief is that of flagellation. In

Shi‘ism, flagellation is a composite term that

includes the use of swords and knives to cut the

head (tatbir), the use of chains (zanjeer), as well

as striking of the chest. Tatbir is the most violent

of these acts and is practiced by only a small

portion of the Shi‘i community.

Together with other rituals, flagellation is

important as it helps induce a state of altered

awareness in which ordinary restraints of pru-

dence are removed. The flagellant loses not only

his sense of self-protection but also his sense of

separateness from the Imam as the flagellations

generate a mood of identification with sacred

Shi‘i figures. The flagellant breaks the boundary

between himself and his fellow flagellants and

even between himself and the model he seeks to

imitate.

Flagellation performs different functions. For

many flagellants, the induced physical sensations

help in the attainment of spiritual states. Blows to

the body stimulate identification with the blows

inflicted on Husayn and allow the historical tra-

dition not only to be intellectually apprehended

but also emotionally and physically experienced.

Shedding blood is seen as the pilgrim’s way of

Shi‘ite Islam, Fig. 1 Husayn Shi‘a Mosque in Karbala, Iraq; pilgrims commemorating the martyrdom of Husayn ibn

Ali, grandson of Muhammad (Public Domain http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Kerbela_Hussein_Moschee.jpg)

S 1662 Shi‘ite Islam

demonstrating grief for Husayn’s suffering and

identification with the mortal wounds of the

Imam. Symbolically, it is also his way of stating

that had I been in Karbala, I would have protected

the Imam with my blood.

Connected to the passion and emotions inher-

ent in the Shi‘i psyche is the ta‘ziya, or expressionof condolence or mourning over the martyrdom

of Husayn. The ta‘ziyawas established soon after

the martyrdom of Husayn when his son, the

fourth Imam, Zayn al-‘Abidin (d. 713), recounted

the sufferings of his father. Later on, under the

Buyids (945–1055), official ceremonies were

organized to mark Husayn’s martyrdom. Subse-

quently, the ta‘ziya has assumed different forms

as various Shi‘i groups have expressed their

devotion to Husayn in a myriad of culturally

conditioned forms. In the Indo-Pakistani subcon-

tinent, for example, ta‘ziya refers to a replica of

the tomb of Husayn that is constructed, paraded

in processions, and then kept in special sanctuar-

ies within the compound of the mosque. In Iran,

the same term signifies passion plays that depict

the events in Karbala. In Lebanon, ta‘ziya refers

to a gathering to mark Husayn’s martyrdom.

Other rituals that are often enacted in the

month of Muharram (when Husayn was

martyred) include passion plays, which attained

their full expression in Iran during the Safavid

dynasty. The plays reenact the events of Karbala

and confront the issues of martyrdom, interces-

sion, and the pivotal role of the Imams in the lives

of the Shi‘is. Passion plays are often held after

a procession passes through the town. The pro-

cessions often highlight political and social griev-

ances and represent antigovernment protests. It is

because of this factor that some Sunni regimes

have tried to stop the processions.

Powerful symbols (called shabih) accompany

the processions and passion plays. Especially

in the Indo-Pakistani community, specially

designed flags (called ‘alams) and biers are

paraded to remind the crowd of the suffering

that Husayn had to endure. Jhula (cradles) are

Shi‘ite Islam 1663 S

paraded in processions to remind the faithful of

the innocent youthfulness of ‘Ali Asghar, an

infant son of Husayn who was also killed in

Karbala. A horse, popularly called dhu’l-jinah,

representing Husayn’s horse in Karbala, is a focal

point in some Muharram procession. As it is

paraded among the crowd, the horse triggers an

outburst of grief and initiates wailing. Like the

other rituals performed in the shrine complex, the

purpose of the shabih is to encourage weeping

and engender a sense of commitment and devo-

tion to the Imams. Through the symbols, the Shi‘i

is able to identify with the Imams and the suffer-

ing they endured.

S

Shrine Visitation in Shi‘ism

Shi‘is also believe in the special charisma of the

Imams. The sanctity and authority that are asso-

ciated with the Imams are transferred to the

places that contain their bodies as the spirituality

of the Imams is believed to be embodied in the

space they have sacralized. Thus, pilgrimage to

the shrines of the Imams has become significant

as it allows for a spiritual encounter with sacred

figures.

The presence of the Imam at the shrine is

interwoven with his potentia, his power to assist

the pilgrims. The potentia of the Imam mani-

fests itself in various forms, from the healing

of the sick, alleviating calamities afflicting

the people, to the restoration of their socio-

political rights. Thus, notions of pilgrimage

and intercession are pervasive in the Shi‘i

psyche.

Visitation to the shrine of the Imam is also

connected to the use of a whole range of para-

phernalia associated with the Imam, his shrine,

and related material objects. It is in this context

that we can comprehend the importance of holy

objects. An object becomes holy when it mani-

fests or acts as a medium with the sacred. In

a sense, the divine reveals itself through holy

objects, which have expressive power as vehicles

of supernatural meaning and are an important

means to the attainment of personal holiness.

Holy objects offer salvific opportunities because

the presence of the Imam can be experienced by

objects that come into contact with the shrine.

Objects help construct the physical presence

of the Imam and extend his sanctity beyond the

shrine. In this way, these vehicles anthropomor-

phize the sanctity of the Imam. In popular Shi‘i

culture, tying a sick person to the shrine is

believed to be therapeutic. When it is not possible

to bring him to the shrine, then bringing home

a thread that has been tied to the shrine is believed

to be an equally effective method to cure an

ailment. Such objects recreate the presence of

the Imam, extending the possibility of attaining

his blessings and curative powers even without

performing the pilgrimage at the shrine. The

Imam acts through the objects just as he acts

through his physical presence. At the same time,

objects extend the praesentia and potentia of

the Imam beyond the shrine complex, allowing

distant Shi‘is to experience the Imam’s curative

and other miraculous powers.

Another important element in the Shi‘i psyche

is that of waiting for the expected Messiah. Since

they realized the futility of armed revolts against

the political authority, the Imams, starting with

Ja’far al-Sadiq (d. 765), taught the doctrine of

dissimulation (taqiyya) rather than jihad. Hence-

forth, Shi‘is were to conceive of jihad in terms of

keeping their faith intact and paying allegiance to

the Imam rather than staging armed revolts

against political authorities. Jihad was declared

to be in abeyance until the time of the Mahdi,

the twelfth Imam and promised Messiah. It is

believed that the twelfth Imam was born in 870

CE and is currently in a state of occultation. He is

expected to establish the kingdom of justice and

equality and to eliminate injustice and tyranny.

Thus, praying for the appearance of the Messiah

and postponement of any rebellion against the

political regimes is another important element in

the Shi‘i psyche.

See Also

▶Grief Counseling

▶ Jihad

▶Muhammad

S 1664 Shinto

▶ Patience in Sunni Muslim Worldviews

▶ Pilgrimage

▶Ritual

▶Violence and Religion

▶Waiting

▶Women in Shi’ism

Bibliography

al-Mufid, M. (1981). Kitab al-Irshad (trans: Howard, I.).

London: Balagha & Muhammadi Trust.

Ayoub, M. (1978). Redemptive suffering in Islam.New York: Mouton.

Jafri, S. (1978). The origins and early development ofShi‘ite Islam. London: Longman.

Pinault, D. (1992). The Shiites. New York: St. Martin’s

Press.

Pinault, D. (2001a). Horse of Karbala: Muslim devotionallife in India. New York: Palgrave.

Pinault, D. (2001b). Self-mortification rituals in the Shi‘i

and Christian traditions. In L. Clark (Ed.), The Shi‘iteheritage: Essays on classical and modern traditions.Binghamton: Global.

Schubel, V. (1993). Religious performance in contem-porary Islam: Shi‘i devotional rituals in SouthAsia. Columbia: University of South Carolina

Press.

Takim, L. (2004). Charismatic appeal or communitas?

Visitation to the shrines of the Imams. Journal ofRitual Studies, 18(2), 106–120.

Shinto

Robert S. Ellwood

University of Southern California, Los Angeles,

CA, USA

The Nature of Shinto

The word “Shinto” can be translated as “TheWay

of the Gods” and refers to the traditional religion

of Japan. Shinto has roots in the prehistoric

past of Japan before the introduction of Bud-

dhism, together with Chinese forms of writing

and culture, around the sixth century CE.

“Shinto” then appeared as a term to differentiate

the worship of the traditional kami, or gods, from

“Butsudo,” “The Way of the Buddha.” The two

faiths became deeply intertwined in the Middle

Ages, when Shinto shrines were often closely

associated with Buddhist temples, the deities of

the former regarded as guardians, students, or

even alternative indigenous expressions of the

imported Buddhas and bodhisattvas. But during

the modernizing and increasingly nationalistic

Meiji era (1868–1912), Shinto and Buddhism

were separated by the government. Shinto

became in effect a state religion. Extreme nation-

alists favored Shinto, regarding it as the authentic

Japanese faith, its deities being ancestors or

divine companions of the imperial house. After

the end of World War II in 1945, Shinto was

separated from the state. Its some 80,000 shrines

were placed under local control, and apart from

a few controversial relics of the past, such as the

Yasukuni Shrine, dedicated to Japanese war

dead, the religion went its own way.

Shinto, however, continues in what many

consider to be its true nature, a religion centered

on the patronal deities of particular places and

communities. Most Shinto shrines are ujigami

shrines, that is, shrines of the patronal deity of

a particular community, extended family, place,

or occasionally class of persons, such as a certain

trade. The kami (or it may be a family or group of

kami) is either unique to that shrine or is

a mythological figure of broader background

essentially in the same local role. These places

of worship are maintained by that community,

and their matsuri or festivals are celebrations

reaffirming traditional bonds.

Shinto shrines are easily recognizable by their

distinctive torii or gate, with two upright pillars

and one or two large crossbars, through which

one passes to enter the shrine precincts, as though

moving from one world to another, from the

pollution of everyday life to a realm of sacred

purity. The shrine itself will typically have an

outer porch, bearing such symbols of kami pres-

ence as a mirror, drums, and hanging gohei orzigzag strips of paper. Behind them stands an

eight-legged table for offerings. Finally steep

steps rise up to massive doors, very seldom

opened, concealing the honden or inner sanctum

where the shintai, or token of the divine presence,

is reverently kept.

Shinto 1665 S

Shinto Worship

Shinto worship typically commences with

a stately, highly ritualized offering of food (typ-

ically rice, salt, vegetables, fruits, seafood, and

rice wine), followed by the chant-like reading of

a norito or prayer and the reception by worship-

pers of a sip of the rice wine as a sort of commu-

nion. At major community festivals, worship is

followed by colorful, celebrative events, ranging

from sacred dance and sumo wrestling to proces-

sions, fairs, and traditional horse or boat races.

This last part of the festival, which may go on all

day to end with fireworks in the evening, is far

from solemn, often having more the atmosphere

of Mardi Gras or Carnival in Latin countries.

In any case, themain annualmatsuri is an impor-

tant solidifier of community identity; its preparation

takes months, and it usually involves special, jeal-

ously maintained customs distinctive to that place.

Shinto is fundamentally grounded in archaic

agriculture, and most festivals are related to the

agricultural year: seedtime, the growing season,

and harvest. New Year, the time of renewal in this

highly “cosmic” religion, is also very important.

Persons frequently visit shrines at other times

as well to pray, customarily approaching the

shrine porch, clapping hands twice as it were to

attract the deity’s attention, then bowing the head

for a few moments.

S

Main Themes of Shinto

Five main themes can be thought of as character-

izing Shinto:

1. The importance of the purity versus impurity

concept. Shrines, and persons taking part in

their rites, must be kept free of contamination

by death, disease, or blood. Kami, together

with their abodes – which are usually set in

green park like spaces as far as possible –

bespeak the purity of pristine nature as over

against the pollution so often afflicting the city

and human life.

2. Tradition. Shinto strives rigorously to main-

tain traditional practices extending back to the

mists of prehistory. For many Japanese,

buffeted by the immense and unsettling

changes that have affected their country in

recent centuries, it is undoubtedly reassuring

that one segment of national life changes little

and connects them to ancient roots.

3. Matsuri or festival. Shinto fully recognizes the

value of “sacred time” that affirms community,

permits joyous and even ribald behavior, and

is like a release from the tensions of a highly

structured, achievement-oriented society.

4. Pluralism. It must always be borne in mind that

Shinto is only a part of the Japanese spiritual

spectrum; there is alsoBuddhism and (while it is

not a religion in the strict sense in Japan) Con-

fucian morality, still extremely important in

attitudes to family, work, and society. Most

Japanese have some connection to all three,

having an affiliation with both a traditional fam-

ily shrine and Buddhist temple, while affirming

Confucian ethics. Shinto is typically thought to

affirm the joys and relationships of this world,

while Buddhism has to do with ultimate meta-

physical questions and life after death. Thus,

marriages are frequently celebrated in Shinto

shrines, and funerals (which, having to do with

death, would pollute a Shinto shrine) are

conducted in Buddhist temples.

In this regard it should be pointed out that

membership figures for Shinto are virtually

meaningless; while few Japanese would think

of themselves as “a Shintoist” in the western

sense of belonging exclusively to one religion,

most in fact are likely to visit shrines and par-

ticipate in Shinto festivals, whatever exactly

that may mean in terms of commitment.

5. Polytheism. Shinto, with its many thousands

of finite kami, seems to be the only thoroughly

polytheistic religion in a major advanced

society today.

Shinto and Psychological Themes

All of these points are of great psychological

interest. Psychologists know that issues of purity

and pollution can be very real to countless people,

that the place of tradition as over against other

forces is the subject of vehement debate both in

S 1666 Shiva

society and within individuals, that the need for

celebrative release in a world of tension must

somehow be dealt with, and that we need to find

ways to live with integrity in a highly pluralistic

society. In all these matters, undoubtedly there is

much to be learned from the Shinto experience.

Polytheism is an especially fascinating case,

because it is a challenge to the monotheistic or

monistic direction in which most of the world’s

other religions have gone in the last 2,000 years.

The theologian Paul Tillich once pointed out that the

difference between monotheism and polytheism is

amatter not just of quantity, of oneGod versusmore

than one, but also of quality. Polytheism involves

a different way of seeing the sacred world, not as all

centered in one divine power and person, but as

diffuse and diverse. The polytheist perceives sepa-

rate spirits, finite butwith distinctive personalities, in

this sacred grove and that waterfall, over this town

and that, for love and for war. Modern Shinto apol-

ogists have argued that this is important and that

Shinto is the most democratic of religions because it

holds the universe runs by processes of divine con-

flict and consensus, rather than by a single autocratic

will. Some psychologists, from William James in

The PluralisticUniverse to post-Jungians like James

Hillman in several works, have perceived modern

western society to have become psychologically

polytheistic in all but name and have urged us

to come creatively to terms with that vision.

Neo-pagans around the world have also lately been

paying renewed attention to Shinto.

The psychological significance of Shinto for

many Japanese also lies in its symbolic relation to

primary social identities and to nature. Both are

very important in Japanese consciousness. In this

society, anomie and insecurity can be felt very

acutely when the support of a family or peer

group is lacking. Families, communities, trades,

and businesses have their patronal kami and

shrines and collective worship events that rein-

force bonding. Shinto has been called a religion

of the particular; rather than universal themes, it

emphasizes sacredness in particular places and

groups so strengthens attachment to significant

locations and people.

Shinto moreover consorts well with the

Japanese love of natural beauty. It has been spoken

of as a “natural religion” in another, more psycho-

logical sense as well: as religion in harmony with

the “natural” cycles and social structures of human

life, unlike faiths that challenge the merely “natu-

ral” on the basis of transcendent revelation. But

inspired by Shinto, as well as forms of Buddhism

such as Zen, the Japanese appreciate finding the

sacred in the world and human life as it is when it is

rightly perceived.

Shinto, then, remains an ancient religion with

contemporary relevance. It is important for

understanding Japan and also perhaps ourselves.

See Also

▶Buddhism

▶ James, William

▶ Polytheism

▶Ritual

Bibliography

Breen, J., & Teeuwen, M. (Eds.). (2000). Shinto in history.Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.

Ellwood, R. (2008). Introducing Japanese religion.New York: Routledge.

James, W. (1909). A pluralistic universe. New York:

Longmans, Green.

Jillman, J. (1976). Re-visioning psychology. New York:

Harper & Row.

Kasulis, T. (2004). Shinto: The way home. Honolulu:

University of Hawaii Press.

Nelson, J. K. (2000). Enduring identities: The guise ofShinto in contemporary Japan. Honolulu: Universityof Hawaii Press.

Philippi, D. L. (Trans.) (1969). Kojiki. Tokyo: Universityof Tokyo Press.

Shiva

Lee W. Bailey

Department of Philosophy and Religion, Ithaca

College, Ithaca, NY, USA

Shiva is one of the major Hindu gods, typically

ranked with Brahma, the Creator, and Vishnu, the

Shiva 1667 S

S

Sustainer of the universe. Brahma and Vishnu

arrived in India with the Aryan invaders from the

northwest around 2000 BCE, bringing the Sanskrit

language, horses, and iron weapons. Shiva was an

indigenous deity who was absorbed by the larger

culture over centuries. Brahmanic caste society did

its best to prevent mingling of Aryan blood with

indigenous dark-skinned Dravidian peoples,

excluded by caste rules from intermarriage, eating

together, and funerals. But this effort was slowly,

partly undermined by centuries of mingling. Gan-

dhi eventually refused to attend weddings unless

they were intercaste. Aryan ancient legends and

rituals (Vedas) and later philosophical explorations

(Upanishads) combine conservative social cus-

toms such as caste and yogic meditative sexual

abstinence with highly refined cosmic specula-

tions. Aryan gods such as Vishnu represent the

saving spirit of sustaining life on earth, formal

rituals, and the social order of the priestly caste

system. The indigenous Dravidian peoples of

India, including the Tamil people, were pushed to

the south. Their primordial gods, such as Shiva and

Kali, represent a more archaic type of shamanic

divinity that embraces both the creative and

destructive extremes of existence, embracing

ecstatic methods of experiencing divinity, both

fertility and death, ascetic self-control and wild

song and dance, fed by mind-altering plants. Over

time both Aryan and Dravidic major gods and

goddesseswere accepted across India, next to thou-

sands of local deities (Storl 2004, pp. 173–189).

Many Aryans see Shiva’s lingam–yoni altars andmany Dravidians embrace meditation.

When a worshiper of Shiva enters a Shiva

temple, a typical ritual is for him/her to take in

flowers, incense, and a coconut. The priest takes

the coconut and smashes it on a hard surface,

spilling the milk for Shiva to drink. This symbol-

izes the smashing of the worshiper’s ego in our

skulls, thus sacrificing its narrow instincts to the

much greater transcendent, numinous presence of

the Great Shiva Mahadeva (great god) (Storl

2004, p. 1). This is a ritual that Carl Jung would

see as the ego serving the self.

Shiva is a multifaceted composite divinity that

has absorbed sometimes opposing aspects over

the centuries and from various regions of India.

In theMahabharata text, he is portrayed as invin-cible might and terror, as well as honor, bril-

liance, and delight (Sharma 1988). As an

archetypal image of divinity, Shiva has absorbed

elements from various historical periods’ reli-

gious traditions.

Shamanic Elements

Ancient shamanistic cultures provided much of

Shiva’s roots – spirit flights where he encounters

supernatural beings, elemental spirits, nature

spirits, the souls of the dead, and night visits to

cremation grounds that take the devotee into the

dark unconscious and death images. Thus, he is

called the old hunter, wild, insane, carrier of the

skull, trickster, drum rider, and the black one. He

is envisioned as a ganja-smoking, trance-dancing

horned god, lord of the animals, and guardian of

souls. He inspires many naked (air-clad) wander-ing mystics covered with ash and meditating in

the wilderness, as Shiva does on his Himalayan

home Mt. Kailash. He has a third eye, normally

closed, but, when opened, is able to send devas-

tating rays of fire to destroy demons, as he did the

body, but not the spirit of Kama, god of desire.

Shaivites’ foreheads are marked by three hori-

zontal lines of white ash to indicate his three

eyes and many other trinities, such as heaven,

earth, and underworld (Storl 2004, pp. 86–92).

His son, elephant-headed Ganesha, likely has

roots in Stone Age culture, when big-game

hunters were awed by these huge, powerful ani-

mals. There are many Paleolithic cave paintings

of elephants (Storl 2004, pp. 157–164). Shiva is

a teacher of Tantric paths to cosmic bliss, teach-

ing couples eternal love and a pathway to enlight-

enment. Tantric traditions are not ascetic, but

celebrate the discovery of the Ultimate Mystery

in the world and its energies. As Storl (2004,

p. 210) says, “Love, not renunciation, frees the

soul! Everything is divine and worthy of wor-

ship.” Food is a gift of a god; music, art, and

poetry are divine. Every woman is the goddess;

sensual pleasure need not be a hindrance to sal-

vation (moksha) but gifts of Shiva’s Shakti. This

is not to welcome impure or forced relations, but

S 1668 Shiva

to see that love overcomes the rigidity of the ego,

letting the energies of Shakti take lovers out of

their minds to the self (Shiva). Miranda Shaw

researched Tantra in Tibet, where it had been

absorbed and transformed by Buddhists, and

after undergoing strict purification rites, she

concluded that Tantric sex is “holy bliss” (Shaw

1994, p. 189).

Matrilineal Elements

Matrilineal agricultural societies later gave Shiva

the Great Goddess (Devi) and his wife Parvati,

a river goddess who is one with him as Shaktienergy. Goddess societies gave Shiva the fertil-

izing phallic lingam–yoni altar, earth-crawling

serpents, the fertilizing bull mount (Nandi),whose horns decorate a Neolithic sanctuary in

Catal Huyuk, and the divine feminine energizing

power of Shakti.

Patrilineal Aryan Elements

Then, beginning around 2,000 BCE, the more

puritanical patrilineal Aryan sages identified

Shiva with their all-devouring fire god Agni,

their intoxicating drink soma, and the howling

storm god Rudra, who leads a parade of the

dead, ghosts, and spirits. Brahmans have contrib-

uted to Shiva’s more restrained, transcendent

spirituality. Many devotees who have overcome

demons of egotism wear necklaces of Rudra’s

tears (Rudraksha), strings of shriveled nuts. Sit-

ting in serene yogic meditation, Shiva is called

Shankara (Peaceful One), an image of dispas-

sionate, calm presence. He channels the Ganges

River through his head that flows down to Bena-

res and washes the sins of the living and the ashes

of the dead. His blue neck came from the Vedic

tradition of creation, when the gods were

churning the cosmic ocean of milk with mythic

Mt. Meru. A poison came up, but Shiva drank it,

showing his power to overcome evil or the power

of meditation (like later psychotherapy) to

bring up shadows from the deep unconscious

and neutralize them.

Shiva is most commonly represented

abstractly in the widespread stone lingam (male

organ) atop a dish-like yoni (female organ). Wor-

shippers pour milk or honey on it, then add

flowers. This represents his role as the power of

reproducing life. The lingam is imagined to

become hot and so needs cooling liquid poured

over it. His statues may represent him seated in

calm meditation or whirling in ecstatic dancing.

He may carry a trident as a weapon, indicating

the syllable OM, meaning infinity. He wears

a crescent new moon on his head, symbolizing

the cycles of time, for the Eternal is beyond

time.

Shiva often wears a cobra wrapped around his

neck, for his wisdom conquers dangerous animal

instincts. Southern India has many jungles popu-

lated with cobras. Women ritually, carefully

approach trained cobras in baskets and touch

them with a flower to gain fertility from Shiva.

He may wear a garland of skulls, indicating that

his Being embraces death. He is shown seated on

a tiger skin that represents his conquest of lust.

He may smear his body with ashes (bhasma)and inhabit cremation grounds, thus embracing

death’s lessons. He has matted hair, rolled into

swinging ropes or wound up atop his head. His

abode is Mount Kailash, in the Himalayans,

where the glaciers have for centuries melted

into rivers below (until global warming melts

them). This sacred mountain is seen as the axis

of the world. Pilgrims walk around it, for it is too

sacred to climb.

Shiva holds a small double-headed drum

(damaru), especially when dancing. He reveres

the city of Varanasi (Benares), the holy city

where pilgrims immerse themselves in the Gan-

ges River to purify themselves, and corpses are

cremated. Nandi the bull is Shiva’s mount, indi-

cating that he is protector of Dharma, the law that

regulates and upholds the universe – he is known

as Lord of the Animals.

Shiva is both an ascetic, sitting in yogic

isolation, and a householder, married to the

goddess Parvati, the divine Mother, and Shakti,

divine energy. Their elephant-headed son

Ganesha is worshipped as Remover of Obsta-

cles, all over India. Their other son, Kartikeya is

Shiva 1669 S

vanquisher of demons and savior of the earth

(Storl 2004).

Shiva, Fig. 1 Shiva as lord of the dance, Nataraja (Cour-

tesy of Los Angeles County Museum of Art. http://en.

wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Shiva_as_the_Lord_of_Dance_

LACMA_edit.jpg)

Conflict

The conflict between the Aryan invaders and the

indigenous people is reflected in the conflict

between the gods. Shiva’s narratives are mostly

in the Purana texts. In the Brahmanda Purana,

some Aryan priests in a forest saw Shiva dancing

erotically, and their wives were excited by him.

So the angry sages demanded that he let his

lingam fall off. So he did, and all the virile powers

in the world stopped. The priests were alarmed

and went to Brahma, who realized that this was

Shiva and that “He alone creates all creatures by

his own energy.” So Brahma told the sages to go

around India and make lingam–yoni altars to

Shiva. They did, and when he returned with

his powers, they begged his forgiveness and he

graciously praised their self-control practices

(O’Flaherty 1975, pp. 141–148). Although this

may be told from the Shiva perspective, it shows

that the competing religions came to terms.

S

Nataraja

As Nataraja, Shiva sculptures show him dancing

the cycle of creation and destruction, with hair

swirling and the shamanic drum of creation,

surrounded by a circle of the cosmic round of

seasons and planets. The shamanic drum, the

“shaman’s horse,” generates a “hypnotic regres-

sion,” with the heartbeat, opening depths of soul.

His foot crushes the demon of ignorance

(Muyalaka). As Storl says, “Here, in the center

of our being, he, who is our own true Self, dances

the joy of being, as well as the dance of doom that

turns ego, greed, hate, false pride, and jealousy

into pure ash” (2004, pp. 141–145) (Fig. 1).

Wolf-Dieter Storl is a psychologically astute

Shiva scholar. He says, agreeing with Jung,

“Many a would-be saint has been undone by

their rage. Before any spiritual progress is possi-

ble, the repressed needs and desires must be lived

out and exhausted.” Freud called Indian Shakti

libido that cannot be simply repressed (Storl

2004, pp. 214–220). Psychotherapy is hardly

available to many Shaivites, and so they live out

the unconscious in their social situations, rather

than talking it out with a therapist. This can

enable some shady behavior, such as India’s

“Thuggees” and bandits that lurk about in Shiva’s

shadow. But positive energy from meditative

reflection is a part of Shiva’s tradition also. The

illusions of ego are not easily shed, but Shiva’s

tradition of being called “God of Gods,” which is

not uncommon for other deities as well, points the

ego to self, which awakens compassion, justice,

and ethics. Practice of Kundalini, which blends

earthly with spiritual energies, awakens this.

Kundalini

The Yogic and Tantric Kundalini serpent power

is a strong tradition of raising the image of the

primordial serpent energy up the spine through

S 1670 Sin

the body’s chakras, from the lowest intestinal exit

through to the highest cosmic release from the

skull. The rootMuladhara Chakra is about earth-iness; the next up, the Svadhisthana Chakra, at

the genitals, is about fire and sexuality; the

Manipura Chakra, at the digestive tract, is abouthunger and greed; the Anahata Chakra, at

the heart, is about love and imagination; the

Vishuddha Chakra, at throat level, is about mys-

tical insight; the Ajna Chakra, between the eyes,

is about higher consciousness; and the Sahasrara

Chakra, at the crown of the head, is the focus of

release into cosmic oneness, where all opposi-

tions and forms melt into ultimate reality, the

ground of all Being (Storl 2004, pp. 222–227).

Why waste time at the lower end of the spine

when the blissful highest awakening of the self

beckons above? If we pass through each level

with purity and without causing problems,

we are not repressing, but are experiencing the

holiness of each level. This system blends and

moves the psyche through the lower to higher

elements of Indian religion, instead of trying

to jump over psychological issues to higher

consciousness.

See Also

▶Animal Spirits

▶Hinduism

▶ Jungian Self

▶Nonduality

▶ Sarasvati

▶Tantrism

▶Trickster

Bibliography

O’Flaherty, W. (1975). Hindu myths. Baltimore: Penguin.

Sharma, R. K. (1988). Elements of poetry in theMahabharata. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

Shaw, M. (1994). Passionate enlightenment: Women intantric Buddhism. Princeton: Princeton University

Press.

Shiva. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shiva.

Storl, W.-D. (2004). Shiva: the wild god of power andecstasy. Rochester: Inner Traditions.

Sin

Morgan Stebbins

Faculty of the New York C.G. Jung Foundation,

New York, NY, USA

The concept of sin can be thought of as a type of

error. This can be an error according to either

divine or social standards. Furthermore, the con-

cept of sin is active in both religious and secular

determinations of group allegiance, human falli-

bility, suffering, and the cure of suffering. Having

said that, the dynamics and repercussions of sin

are quite different depending on whether the sin

is conceived of as transgressing secular law or

divine order. Since there is no sin that is good, it is

related to evil. Evil can be seen as relative harm

(good for me, bad for you), as distance from the

divine (St. Augustine and the privatio bonum) or

as an absolute and archetypal aspect of the con-

struction of reality.

It may clarify the concept of sin to describe it as

a more differentiated and active form of a sense of

the taboo that can be seen in relationship with

confession, heaven, and hell. Since no significant

religious or secular traditions propose a worldview

inwhich humanity is in a state of perfection, sin can

be seen as a fairly universal concept although one

with incredible variation. Not all religions use

a concept of sin in a narrow sense, but it does

appear that all religions and indeed all individuals

have a way of identifying and dealing with prob-

lems, errors, or situations that appear to be beyond

the scope of local logic. Local logic (so-called

because sensible patterns of thought are only com-

prehensible within a shared emotional, cultural,

and metaphysical frame) easily identifies mistakes

and can chart the course of their correction.

For experiences that supercede this capacity,

metaphysics of some kind enters the fray. Meta-

physics in this context covers the conceptualization

of all nonrational modes, including experiences of

love, death, birth, sin, or anything that humans have

the capacity to conceptualize but not satisfactorily

explain. That is, experiences which are in some

way transpersonal are also beyond the normal

Sin 1671 S

S

problem-solving mechanisms of the mind. Not

only is the apperception of some types of experi-

ences such as birth, death, and aging beyond the

consciousmind’s capacity according to psycholog-

ical theory, evolutionary psychology has shown

that there are not any conscious cognition modules

for processing them.

Large-scale forms of transpersonal thinking

can also be fruitfully described as religions or

political ideologies, whereas small-scale forms

are called personal projections. Projection is

here meant in the broadest and most neutral

form: the subject’s assumptions about reality are

constantly being refined and tested by social

interactions and so are in some sense projections.

However, if personal projections become too

detached from social networks of meaning, the

subject may be identified by the society as

psychotic. This can happen even locally, as

many people report having neighbors who are

“completely crazy” (see Horwitz 2004). To

further complicate the picture, even individuals

who identify as fully secular imagine the trans-

personal aspects of sin in a highly uniform and

predictable way that is functionally similar to the

various religious modes (Boyer 2002).

Sin is typically defined by dictionaries in two

ways: on the one hand, it is an offense against

God, and on the other, it is something highly

reprehensible but otherwise secular (Miriam

Webster Dictionary). To the religious and secular

aspects, we will add psychological views in the

following discussion. However, from within

the structure of religious experience, an offense

against God carries definite consequences and

demands solutions which are only offered by

expert technicians (priests) validated by the

religious hierarchy. Thus, as previously stated,

we can think of sin as an error or transgression.

To whom or what, and what the consequences

and solution are, varies by tradition and culture,

but in any case, the systems are closed and sin is

seen as in some way evil.

All of the major religious systems employ

a category of sin. Other types of religious or

supernatural traditions such as the Greek pan-

theon or many ancestor or spirit-based traditions

have a way to account for actions which anger the

supernatural beings and usually need some kind

of specialized intervention. It is instructive that

the primary Hebrew words for sin are het, mean-

ing something that has gone astray or off the path,

and aveira, or transgression (There are at least 20

Hebrew words that convey variations of the

meaning of sin!). What goes astray is yetzer, or

the human inclinations which must be channeled

by the law. The cure for het is found in adherenceto the law (in Orthodox and Conservative Juda-

ism, the law or Halakha – meaning the way of

walking, or path – is comprised of 248 positive

and 365 negative mitzvoth) and the expiation of

guilt during the celebration of Yom Kippur. The

yetzer hara is the evil inclination which would

appear to be a conceptual cognate of original sin

except that it is balanced by yetzer ha-tov, or the

good inclination. This is strongly paralleled (in

contradiction to the doctrines of St. Augustine) in

the Christian New Testament by Rom. 5:12–19.

Psychologically speaking, original sin can be trans-

lated as an acknowledgment of feeling estranged or

alienated from the law of one’s psychic dominant.

Spirituality, within this psychological model,

depends upon discovering and submitting to a law

that comes from a nonconscious aspect of our-

selves. In this view, spirituality is not dependent

upon social norms or emotional states, but rather

upon acting and thinking in ways compatible with

the psychological structure that each person comes

to discover.

The concept and dynamics of Sin have

been gradually differentiated throughout the

Hebrew Bible into the New Testament, reaching

a crescendo of complexity in the Catholic

scheme. The latter includes sins ignorance as

well as deliberate action, venal and mortal sins

(the mortal seven sins of pride, covetousness,

lust, anger, gluttony, envy, and sloth are held to

be fatal to spiritual progress), sins of animosity to

God, and finally the state of original sin which is

not dependent upon an action (The Catholic

Encyclopedia; also cf. Genesis 3, as developed

originally by St. Augustine but refuted by the

monk Pelagius). Sins of commission are expiated

through a 5-step process of confession, whereas

original sin is only transformed through the mys-

tery of the Eucharist. Original sin, although an

S 1672 Sin

unpopular concept in many circles, can be seen

psychologically as an intuition that something

highly charged needs attention in the very foun-

dation of the human condition and as such has

parallels even in the Buddhist tradition.

Buddhism is usually portrayed as having no

concept of sin. While it is true that in most forms

of Buddhism there is no metaphysical divinity, in

practice there are many conceptions of different

Buddhas which are beyond space, time, and

causality, making them functionally identical

with divine beings. Also, the concept of karma,

while not implicating a judgmental higher being,

is nevertheless a system of punishment and

reward for misdeeds (or errors) both of omission

and commission. This is further differentiated

into a large array of behavioral precepts not

unlike the mitzvoth or Catholic list of sins

(Nirvana Sutra and spread around the Pali Canon,

see Nakamura 1980). Furthermore, Buddhist texts

outline the three poisons or hindrances to the real-

ization of one’s Buddha nature: anger, greed, and

ignorance (Watson 2001). The most potent is igno-

rance, seen as the root of all suffering. This is the

original state ofmind of all humans and is described

very specifically as ignorance of the ontological

truth of the emptiness of human nature. All suffer-

ing, and to put it another way, all sinfulness, is

related to this ignorance. Suffering is not the same

as pain, and neither Buddhism nor psychology

would promise to eliminate the kind of discomfort

that comes from making hard choices or what Jung

called conflicts of duty. Ratherwhat can be changed

is neurotic suffering, or to put it the other way

around, neurotic suffering is often the avoidance

of the authentic struggle implied by integrative

growth.

The Muslim Qur´an describes also describes

sin (like the Jewish and Buddhist traditions) using

the error and guidance model (rather than the fall

and salvation model). Sura 1:5 describes God

sending a succession of prophets to lead the faith-

ful back to the straight path. Sin is thus a kind of

distraction correctable by following the examples

of the prophets and of course the great prophet,

Muhammad.

In all of these descriptions, we see a common

human experience of something being wrong,

and sin locates the problem in the relationship

between the personal subject and some transper-

sonal aspect. Sin moves fully to the psychological

realm if conceived of as the description of an

experience which leads away from the dominant

(and usually unconscious) value in a given

personality. Thus, sin, radically seen psycholog-

ically as a symptom or symbol, also gives shape

to a change of attitude which closes the gap

between the personal subject and his or her

highest value (leaving aside, for the moment,

whether that value is conscious, unconscious,

ideological, or individual). In other words, sin is

the recognition of a projection that is now ready

for integration, as well as containing, in itself, as

the direction (in symbolic form) of the integrative

process.

We can see that this recontextualizing

completely changes the symptom into a complex

signifier of psychological progression. An illus-

tration of the flatness of the concept of sin

when seen from a predetermined perspective is

contained in the following vignette: President

Calvin Coolidge, seeking guidance, attended

a sermon on sin. Upon returning, his wife asked

what the preacher had said about it. The President

shrugged and answered, “He was against it.”

Instead, the psychological dynamics of sin have

a double quality, like the original sin of Adam

and Eve being seen as both the cause of expulsion

from the Garden as well as the beginning of some

correction. The experience of a fall or expulsion

can be seen as the first step in moving away from

a relationship based on assumption and fusion

and toward a more nuanced and conscious posi-

tion directed by the very symbol that had been

called sin.

An example is found in the treatment of alco-

holism. As soon as the subject becomes aware

that alcohol has been having a negative effect, the

projection on the substance is already beginning

to change. However, rather than merely avoiding

the concrete usage of alcohol, the cure is found in

investigating what exactly was the change in

personality that occurred when drinking was

engaged (whether this is an increased level of

social comfort, an interest in others, relaxation,

or even aggression). It is this very change in

Skinner, Burrhus Frederic 1673 S

S

consciousness that the psyche as a whole is press-

ing for an awareness of, and experience shows

that it will not be satisfied (rather like a jealous

god) until this change is accomplished. From the

neutral, amoral side of the psyche, there is no

preference for just how this is done. However,

from the side of personal consciousness, it makes

all the difference whether the change takes place

through practice and engagement or through

drinking.

This double description is not far from

a Gnostic view in which the beginning of the

path toward gnosis is found in filth, sin, decay,

and the experience of alienation (Jonas 2001).

Medieval alchemy, as well, locates the initiation

of the opus in the experiential feces of the human

condition, and for Jung the deep analytic process

begins with the cast-off and despised parts of the

personal psyche, the shadow (Jung 1979).

In addition to the religious, secular, and

psychological aspects, two others should be men-

tioned in order to highlight the multiple valences

of this concept. Evolutionary anthropology has

shown convincingly that religion in general and

the embedded concept of sin specifically enable

the identification of trusted cohorts, allow room

for the problem of decoupled scenario building

(called imagination in other contexts) and pro-

vide the economic incentives for a priestly class.

From the perspective of a Lacanian critique of the

subject (in many ways not different from the

Buddhist; see above), the conceptual error is

found in the very idea of wholeness or healing

(Lacan 1982). Wholeness is thus seen, like the

Freudian interpretation of religion in general, as

an illusion (Freud 1989). Instead the subject is

constituted at the deepest level by a lack of being

which is only painfully exacerbated by collusive

and ideological strategies of regaining any

concept of wholeness. These strategies actually

open the wound through the foreclosing of the

natural flow of language.

Both of these latter approaches enable us to

ask of sin: what is sin for in the dynamics of

the subject? This question allows one to trans-

late from the dogma of a religious tradition

to an experiential appreciation of the concept

of sin.

See Also

▶Buddhism

▶Christianity

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶ Islam

▶ Judaism and Psychology

Bibliography

Boyer, P. (2002). Religion explained. New York: Basic

Books.

Freud, S. (1989). The future of an illusion. New York:

W. W. Norton.

Horwitz, A. L. (2004). Creating mental illness. Chicago:University of Chicago.

Jonas, H. (2001). The Gnostic religion. Boston: Beacon.Jung, C. G. (1979).Aion, researches into the phenomenology

of the self. Princeton: Princeton University Press.Lacan, J. (1982). Ecrits. New York: W. W. Norton.

Merriam Webster Dictionary.Nakamura, H. (1980). Indian Buddhism. Tokyo: Motilal

Banarsidass Publ.

The Catholic Encyclopedia. (1908). New York: Robert

Appleton Company.

Watson, B. (Trans.) (2001). The essential lotus: Selectionsfrom the lotus sutra. New York: Columbia

University Press.

Skinner, Burrhus Frederic

Gilbert Todd Vance

Department of Psychology, Virginia

Commonwealth University, Roanoke, VA, USA

Burrhus Frederic Skinner (1904–1990) is known

as the pioneer of radical behaviorism. He was

an avowed atheist as an adult, and his ideas and

methods are not generally associated with religion.

However, Skinner’s work clearly shows that he

was exposed to and influenced by religion and

religious ideas. In his autobiography, Skinner

describes the influence his Presbyterian Sunday

School teacher had on his early love for learning

and writing. He also recounts having a “mystical

experience” as an adolescent and losing his belief

in God after he did not receive additional “signs” to

confirm and build on this experience.

S 1674 Smith, Joseph

A central idea of traditional Presbyterianism is

that of predestination, the belief that an omnipo-

tent and omniscient God has determined the fate

of the universe from creation until the end of

time. This theme is explicitly discussed and

contrasted to the idea of free will in Skinner’s

novel, Walden Two. Skinner’s radical behavior-

ism posits that all behavior is determined, not

free. In this way, the determinism of radical

behaviorism is similar to the religious idea of

predestination. While he does not explicitly

acknowledge such in his autobiography, it is

possible and even likely that the ideas and

arguments put forth in Walden Two were

influenced by Skinner’s early exposure to the

Presbyterian faith.

See Also

▶God

Bibliography

Skinner, B. F. (1948/2005). Walden two. Indianapolis:Hackett.

Skinner, B. F. (2008). An autobiography. Retrieved from

http://ww2.lafayette.edu/�allanr/autobio.html. Accessed

27 Jan 2008.

Smith, Joseph

Paul Larson

The Chicago School of Professional

Psychology, Chicago, IL, USA

Joseph Smith (1805–1844) was the founder

of Mormonism. He was only 14 and living

with his parents in Palmyra, New York, when

he became absorbed with finding out which of

the various religions was the true one. The whole

region was known as the “burned-over” region

because of the very active evangelization by

preachers, a period known as the Second Great

Awakening of religion in America. After a period

of fervent prayer in a forest grove near his home

in 1820, he received a theophany, or divine man-

ifestation, where he was told that none of the

current religions were true. This is known as the

First Vision. Three years later he received

another visitation, this time from an angel called

Moroni. He was instructed where to look for

some plates which he was to recover and then

translate the contents with the aid of devices

known as the Urim and Thummim. The resulting

book was published as the Book of Mormon. It

claims to be the record of several waves of

ancient Hebrew peoples who came to the New

World by boat and the civilizations which devel-

oped from them over centuries.

From this and several other revelations, he was

instructed to found a church which was to be

a new dispensation of the Gospel with full author-

ity of priesthood to perform sacraments and teach

the true religion. In 1830 he and several others

including some family members founded the

Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

(LDS), also commonly known as Mormons. The

reception to this new proclamation was not gen-

erally favorable. Many thought him possessed of

the Devil; others just thought he was deluded.

Even from an early point in the history of the

movement, word surfaced of his association

with magical practices such as use of divining

rods for finding buried treasure or lost objects

(Brodie 1971; Quinn 1998). Though later

attempts to sanitize his biography have dismissed

these claims, there is good evidence for some

involvement in folk magic traditions.

Despite critics, the LDS Church grew and so

did opposition. He moved his flock to Kirtland,

Ohio, after a former Campbelite (Disciples of

Christ) preacher, Sidney Rigdon, converted

along with many of his congregation. It was

here that the first temple was constructed. Tem-

ples are buildings for special rites apart from the

regular meeting houses. Persecution of the

church continued as many Christians found the

fundamental claim of authenticity of the Book of

Mormon as a supplementary scripture to the Bible

to be unacceptable. Additional practices and

beliefs articulated by Smith as Prophet, Seer,

and Revelator of the new Church were also at

Smith, Joseph 1675 S

S

odds with orthodox Christian teachings. He

rejected all previous creeds, Ecumenical Church

Councils, and other sources of authoritative

teachings held by many Christians. In addition

to the Book of Mormon, he began compiling his

revelations in a book now known as the Doctrineand Covenants. A third new scriptural book, the

Pearl of Great Price, contains books whose

authorship is claimed to be Abraham and

Moses. These are claimed to have been translated

from papyri found with a mummy which came

into Smith’s possession. As a result of continued

challenges, he moved the church to Indepen-

dence, Missouri, building a temple there and

proclaiming it to be the center of Zion.

From an early period, Smith supported aggres-

sive evangelization of others. Missionaries were

sent to various parts of the United States and

began traveling to Europe, bringing in many con-

verts, mostly from northern European countries.

Smith moved the church to Missouri and, then

after further persecution, to a city he founded on

the Mississippi River in Illinois, named Nauvoo.

Here, he felt, he and his followers could be

secure by building a place where they could be

concentrated and thereby hold political control.

He founded the Nauvoo Legion, a militia, to

guarantee protection for his followers. However,

opposition continued and mounted. By this time

the Mormon doctrine of polygamy had become

widely known and the source of much additional

anger from the surrounding community and the

American public. Finally, in an outbreak of

violence, he declared martial law. He and his

brother were then taken on criminal charges of

treason to the jail in Carthage, Illinois. On June

24, 1844, a mob seized control of the jail and

killed both Joseph Smith and his brother

Hyrum. Several other followers who were with

him were wounded but survived.

His death precipitated a struggle for succes-

sion of the church. The largest faction favored the

election of Brigham Young, who was then

a leader of the Quorum of Twelve Apostles, the

major body of leadership of the church directly

under the President and his counselors. Another

faction supported his son, Joseph Smith III. This

became known as the Reorganized Church of

Jesus Christ of LDS. Young decided to move

the flock deep into the far west of the United

States to avoid further persecution through isola-

tion and is now known as the Community of

Christ. In the winter of 1846, the largest body

moved across the river and camped in Iowa, at

a place now known as Winter Quarters. From

there they migrated across the plains and on

July 24, 1847 entered the valley of the Great

Salt Lake in what is now Utah. There Young

proclaimed that “this is the place” where they

could settle and find a new community.

Smith’s legacy is established as a founder of

a major religious movement, including both the

dominant LDS Church based in Utah and several

offshoots. The movement was burdened for many

years by the doctrine of polygamy, which has been

abandoned by all but a few fundamentalist spin-offs.

The LDS Church in Utah is one of the most rapidly

growing religions and is perhaps the leading exam-

ple of “restorationist” Christianity, which rejects the

bulk of the history of the church as clouded by

apostasy and claims that one ormoremodern proph-

ets have restored the true religion. Brodie’s (1971)

biography was the first scholarly work which dif-

fered from the Church’s official hagiography; it

stimulated controversy which still reverberates

today. Regardless of howone conceives of the status

of the Book of Mormon or the religion founded by

Smith, it is certainly clear that he had a prodigious

capacity to formulate a new theological vision and

attract followers to that vision.

See Also

▶Christianity

▶Mormonism

Bibliography

Brodie, F. M. (1971). No man knows my history: The lifeof Joseph Smith. New York: Knopf.

Brook, J. L. (1994). The refiner’s fire: The making ofMormon cosmology 1644–1844. New York: Cam-

bridge University Press.

Quinn, D. M. (1998). Early Mormonism and the magicworld view. Salt Lake City: Signature.

S 1676 Socrates’ Daimonion

Socrates’ Daimonion

David Berman

Department of Philosophy, Trinity College,

Dublin, Ireland

Probably the fullest description of Socrates’

daimonion is in Plato’s Apology 31c, where

Socrates says:

I have a divine sign [daimonion] from the god

which. . . began when I was a child. It is a voice,

and whenever it speaks it turns me away from

something I am about to do, but it never turns me

towards anything. This is what has prevented me

from taking part in public affairs, and I think it was

quite right to prevent me. Be sure, gentlemen of the

jury, I should have died long ago otherwise.

One reason that Socrates’ daimonion is impor-

tant is because in Republic 496, Socrates suggeststhat it enabled him to become a true philosopher.

This is puzzling but is made even more so by the

fact that the daimonion does not offer any reasons,

but only deters from this or that action. And yet

notwithstanding, Socrates, the great rationalist,

submits to it. The problem then is squaring

Socrates’ overriding commitment to having rea-

sons and his willingness to follow religiously his

daimonion.

The Sources

We have two primary sources for the daimonion,

the writings of Plato and those of Xenophon,

another contemporary follower of Socrates. The

data that we need to work from are Plato’s

Apology 31c (as quoted above), also 40 and 41,

Euthyphro 3b, Alcibiades 1, 103, Euthydemus

272, Phaedrus 242, Theaetetus 151b, Republic

496; Theages 128–30, and probably HippiasMajor 304 (accepting Reeve’s proposal in

Smith and Woodruff 2000, pp. 31–33). The

sources from Xenophon are his Memorabilia,I.1.1–9; and 3.5; also IV. 8.1 and 8.5; also

Banquet viii.5; and Socrates’ Defence 5 and 13.

On the whole, there is considerable coherence

and consistency in these sources. Probably the

biggest textual problem is the dialogue called

Theages, which of all the Platonic dialogues

contain the most material on the daimonion. The

problem is that in it Socrates says that his

daimonion was the dominant element in what he

taught his followers. Here Socrates the rational

moralist seems to give way to Socrates the man

magically possessed by his daimonion, which he

says “has absolute power in my dealings with

those who associate with me” (129). But since it

is agreed by present-day Plato scholars that the

Theages is not by Plato, we can put its evidence to

one side in this entry.

Here, then, is what we learn about Socrates’

daimonion:

1. It is a divine sign that Socrates had since

childhood and which always turns him

away from something, never directly towards

anything (Ap. 31).

2. Specifically, it stops him: (1) in mid-speech

(Ap. 40); (2) from leaving the changing room

at the bath house (Euth.); (3) from crossing

a river to return to Athens (Phaed.); (4) from

initially befriending Alcibiades (Alc.) and

from initially associating with Antisthenes

(Xen, Banq.); (5) from accepting back stu-

dents that have left him (Theat.); (6) from

going into politics (which he believed saved

his life) Ap. 40 and also other professions

(7) such as becoming a Sophist (Hippias

Major); and (8) from twice worrying about

or preparing for his defence at his trial

(Memorablia 148 and 491).

3. It frequently came to him and sometimes in

small things; Ap. 40.

4. It was the source of one of the three accusa-

tions made against him at his trial, namely,

that he introduced new divine things; Euth.,

Ap. 31; Memo 1.

5. He believes that it was responsible for his

becoming a true philosopher; Rep. 496.

6. In Rep. 496 he also says that it was unique or

rare.

7. It seems to compel acquiescence; for

Socrates always, as far as we know, obeys it.

8. It gives no reason, although this might be

qualified by the evidence of the Phaedrus,where Socrates says that “just as I was about

to cross the river, the familiar divine sign

came to me” and adds “I thought I heard

Socrates’ Daimonion 1677 S

a voice coming from this very spot, forbid-

ding me to leave until I made atonement for

some offense to the gods.” – which could be

taken as the reason for the sign, although

hardly a sufficient, justified reason.

9. Unlike the usual divinational signs, such as

thunder, birds of omen, and sacrificial vic-

tims, Socrates’ daimonion is not publicly

observable. And although he describes it as

a voice (in Ap. 31 and Def.), all his other

references to it are as a sign. However, here

again the evidence of Phaedrus might also

seem to go against this, since Socrates does

talk of a voice speaking to him from “this

very spot,” although he says that it seemed to

be, or he thought it was, a voice speaking to

him.

10. In the Phaedrus passage, the sign is preceded

by Socrates feeling uneasy.

11. When Socrates describes his daimonion at

his trial (in Ap.31 and Def.), and especially

its prescience, it provokes an angry response

from his judges.

S

Interpretations

This, then, is the hard or hardish evidence. The

question is: what does it tell us about Socrates’

daimonion?

1. Perhaps the most widespread view, recently

expressed by Gosling, is that “The voice of

the daimonion is pretty clearly what we would

call the voice of cautious conscience” (1997,

p. 17). This fits with its subjective character

and with Socrates’ concern with what is right.

But the interpretation seems belied by what

Socrates says in Rep. 496 that it is unique or

rare, for then Socrates would be saying that

that he was unique in having a cautious con-

science. Gosling characterization also seems

at odds with the outbreak of anger from the

judges, which strongly suggests that they

thought that Socrates was making an outland-

ish claim. Seeing the daimonion as a moral

manifestation also does not fit the appearance

of the sign in the Euthydemus, where it stops

Socrates from leaving the bath house.

2. Another widely held interpretation is that the

daimonion was essentially an indirect mani-

festation of Socrates’ rationality. Among the

proponents of this view is Martha Nussbaum,

who speaks of the daimonion as “an ironic

way of alluding to the supreme authority of

dissuasive reason and elenctic argument” (see

Smith and Woodruff 2000, pp. 32–33). What

is attractive about this view and those like it is

that if it were right, we would then have a way

of dealing with the problem mentioned at the

beginning of this article. For then there would

be no fundamental conflict between Socrates’

rationality and his daimonion. But this sugges-

tion, like Gosling’s interpretation, does not fit

the evidence of the Euthydemus, or (comfort-

ably) most of the other appearances of the

daimonion.

3. A variation on (2), which also draws

somewhat on (1), is that the daimonion is

rational but that its conscious rational opera-

tions have become instinctive or intuitive by

long use in the service of virtue. This seems

to be Montaigne’s proposal that Socrates’

daimonion was “a certain impulse of the will

that came to him without awaiting the advice

of his reason” (p. 35). But, though attractive, it

also suffers from the difficulties of (1) and (2).

4. A more searching suggestion, although prima

facie less attractive, is made by Nietzsche in

his important “The Case of Socrates.” This is

that the daimonion, which Nietzsche describes

as an “auditory hallucination,” was an indica-

tion that Socrates was suffering from mental

illness. I think this is essentially right, but it

needs to be honed in important ways. Most

importantly, it needs to be observed that not

all mental illnesses are bad. Socrates himself

is especially clear about this in the Phaedrus

244–5, where he speaks of the valuable things

that have come frommadness (mania). Also, it

is not clear, despite Nietzsche’ description,

that the daimonion was a psychotic symptom.

For unlike the classic psychotics, such as

Schreber, Socrates does not believe he was

hearing voices that brought him into direct

contact with other persons or agents. What

all the evidence (with the possible exception

S 1678 Socrates’ Daimonion

of Phaedrus) suggests is that he was

experiencing (subjective) signs or urgings.

Hence, if Socrates was suffering from

a mental illness, it is probably closer to

a neurotic rather than a psychotic illness.

And there is evidence that it did resemble an

important neurosis, namely, obsessional neu-

rosis, now also described as obsessive com-

pulsive disorder or OCD, a condition most

famously described by Freud in the seven-

teenth of the Introductory Lectures on Psycho-

analysis and the case of the Rat man.

The most important evidence pointing to the

daimonion as a form of obsessional neurosis is

that:

1. It compels but without giving a reason;

and yet the sufferer feels that it must be

obeyed.

2. That those subject to such compulsions often

try to rationalize them after the fact, which is

what Socrates does.

3. As the obsessional neurotic very frequently

believes that he, or his condition, is virtually

unique, so did Socrates.

4. Having this condition gives the sufferer

a sense of his importance even grandeur. Of

course, in one way this does not fit with Plato’s

picture of the modest Socrates. But this was

not how the judges at his trial reacted to his

account of his daimonion. It created clamor,

since it suggested that he had a special relation

with a god.

5. In the Phaedrus it goes with or is preceded by

uneasiness or anxiety. Obsessional neurosis is

also frequently found in people obsessed with

morality (as, e.g., Zola) which was also

Socrates’ case.

6. It also very often takes a religious form, most

famously shown in Luther and Bunyan.

Of course, in proposing that Socrates’

daimonion should be seen as a form of good

obsessional madness, I am not claiming that it

perfectly fits. Thus, we do not know that Socrates

found his daimonion oppressive or unwanted. But

then, it isn’t clear what his attitude to it was or

whether it was consistent over the many years

that he had it. That he believed it divine and

obeyed it does not prove that he liked having it.

Another likely objection to this interpretation is

that it is crudely reductionistic. In fact, this need

not be the case, if we bear in mind Socrates’

judgement in the Phaedrus that the most valuable

things have come from good madness. For then,

it is not religion that is being reduced to

psychology, but psychology that is being raised

to religion. And given Socrates’ extraordinary

accomplishments – i.e., becoming arguably

THE exemplary wise man, even perhaps the

noblest human being in history, and, through his

crucial impact on Plato, the guiding spirit of

western philosophy – we have little or no reason

to regard anything which was distinctive of him

as MERELY psychological or bad psychopathol-

ogy. Nor, bearing this in mind, should we even

exclude the possibility that the daimonion

was what Socrates thought it to be, namely,

a supernatural sign from a god. Seeing the

daimonion as some form of good madness

does not exclude that. Indeed, if anything the

extraordinary character of Socrates’ achieve-

ments seems to call for some such an extraordi-

nary, paranormal explanation. The daimonion as

good or divine psychopathology also offers a way

of reconciling the conflict between Socrates

daimonion and his rationalism: in short, that it

provided the necessary safety net or veto

for Socrates’ commitment to reason and rational

justification, preventing him from becoming

a rational tyrant as well as encouraging his ratio-

nalism by the tendency that obsessionals have

for finding reasons for their compulsions or –

perhaps we should say in Socrates’ case – his

repulsions.

Of course, one thing that needs to be men-

tioned, as lying behind Socrates’ unique accom-

plishments and between the plausibility of the

supernatural interpretation and the psychopatho-

logical interpretations, was the apparent ability

of his daimonic repulsions to be unerringly,

providentially right.

See Also

▶Daimonic

▶ Plato and Religion

Solution-Focused Counseling 1679 S

Bibliography

Freud, S. (1986). Introductory lectures on psychoanalysis.

In Standard edition of Freud, Vol. xv. London:

The Hogarth Press.

Gosling, A. (1997). Socrates: Philosophy’s martyr.London: Phoenix.

Montaigne, M. (2003). The complete works (trans: Frame,

D.M.). London: Everyman.

Nietzsche, F. (1962). Twilight of the idols. In The portableNietzsche (trans: Kaufmann, W.). New York: Viking

Press.

Plato. (1997). Complete works (J. M. Cooper, Ed.).

Indianapolis: Hackett.

Smith, N., & Woodruff, P. (Eds.). (2000). Reason andreligion in socratic philosophy. Oxford, UK: OxfordUniversity Press.

Xenophon. (1992). The Memorablia, Banquet andSocrates’s Defence (Vol. 168) (The first translated by

E. C. Marchant, the other two by O. J. Todd). Loeb

Classical Library. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University

Press.

Solution-Focused Counseling

William D. Roozeboom

Fuller Theological Seminary, Pasadena,

CA, USA

S

Solution-Focused Therapy/Counseling, or Solution-

FocusedBrief Therapy as it is sometimes referred, is

one of the postmodern psychotherapeutic methodol-

ogies which developed out of a critique of the

traditional approaches to psychotherapy. The impe-

tus of the critique was that traditional models

of psychotherapy take an overly hierarchical

and pathologizing approach, based on biased

presuppositions and worldviews. Thus, traditional

approaches of psychotherapy focus predominately

on identifying the cause of problems (interpreted by

an objective observing expert) while the solution-

focused approach believes that knowing about the

problem is no longer necessary, and in fact, can be

limiting in many cases (Walter and Peller 1992).

Moreover, the client, not the therapist, is actually

the expert on his or her experience and determines

what is problematic as well as what will be helpful.

In short, the emphasis is on solution building rather

than problem solving wherein solutions are

constructed via describing the problem, establishing

goals, exploring exceptions, and noting client

strengths and resources.

Solution-Focused Therapy (SFT) was

developed by Steve de Shazer (1940–2005), Insoo

Kim Berg (1934–2007), and their colleagues at the

Brief Therapy Center in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

This group was influenced by the findings in

cybernetics (Bateson), the Milan Strategic Family

Therapy approach, the Mental Research Institute

(MRI) in Palo Alto, California, and Milton

Erickson’s theory of untapped potentiality in

persons. Each of these approaches, along with

SFT, began to ask different kinds of questions and

created new ways of thinking about persons and

psychotherapy.

In what follows, we will explore these

differences and how they make SFT popular and

unique by unpacking three areas: (1) the

philosophical underpinnings, (2) the key elements

of the theory, and (3) the key elements of practice.

Following this,wewill bring SFT into conversation

with spirituality and religion and then close with

future directions of this approach.

Philosophical Underpinnings

In order to discuss the specific elements of SFT,

one needs to locate it within a larger, more gen-

eral paradigm of thought. As stated previously,

SFT is one of the postmodern approaches to

psychotherapy, based on particular philosophical

orientations. Providing an exhaustive description

of the distinctive features of all postmodern

approaches to psychotherapy is somewhat

contradictory given the philosophical underpin-

nings and is beyond the scope of this entry, but

this term does highlight a major paradigm

shift which occurred throughout all realms of

intellectual pursuit in the late 1970s/early1980s.

This shift was based on the work of

Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault, Jean-Francois

Lyotard, and Ludwig Wittgenstein, among others

(Tarragona 2008). Each of these thinkers was

instrumental in numerous ways building postmo-

dernity as a critically liberative and deconstruc-

tive critique of the nature and sources of

S 1680 Solution-Focused Counseling

knowledge. In other words, universal givens,

pure objectivity, and authoritative meta-narratives

were no longer assumed to be true, rather

a hermeneutic of suspicion examining underlying

premises and power dynamics became a necessary

prerequisite for any hope of constructing, not

finding, truth.

More importantly for psychology and religion,

this work introduced new emphases in psycho-

therapy and the study and understanding of

human experience. Postmodern critique has

highlighted the biases and limitations of positivist

epistemology and embraces constructivism and

social constructionism – meaning reality is not

“out there” to be discovered but is constructed

socially through language. In this paradigm,

meaning making, particularly the continual

co-constructed meaning, that persons give events

and experiences, not scientific or empirical data,

is what shapes identity and reality (Anderson

2006). Moreover, a postmodern understanding

views pure objectivity as impossible because

persons are already-always looking at the world

through a lens shaped by one’s social location –

culture, gender, race, socioeconomic status, and

so on. As a result, a new appreciation for differ-

ence and particularity emerged in the postmod-

ern era, with an emphasis on the local knowledge

and expertise of the “other” rather than a pathol-

ogizing of that which is “other”. And this new

appreciation led to more liberative, strength

enhancing, and collaborative approaches to

psychotherapy.

Key Elements of Theory: Assumptionsand Concepts

Solution Building, Not Problem Solving

SFT, unlike traditional forms of therapy, believes

that one does not need to understand the problem

in order to alleviate it and that the solution may

not even be related to the problem (de Shazer

1988). In fact, according to this approach,

a problem-solving mentality has a detrimental

effect on the client and therapist, as this often

limits the vision of exceptions and possible

solutions.

Exceptions

A solution-focused approach believes that no

problem occurs all the time and that there will

inevitably be “exceptions” when the problem

either is not a problem or is less of a problem

(de Shazer 1988; O’Hanlon and Weiner-Davis

1989). There will always be a moment, an

event, or an experience wherein the problem is

not impacting a person’s life or is less severe, and

these offer a glimpse into the person/client’s

strengths, abilities, and resources. To create

such moments, the client must be building solu-

tions to the problem, and thus the therapist points

this out and asks important questions about how

this is accomplished. For example, a therapist

might ask, “Are there times when you don’thave this problem?” “What is different at those

times?” “How does that make a difference to

you?”“What will make it possible for more ofthat to happen?” (Lipchik 2002).

Change as Already-Always

In the solution-focused approach, change is

viewed as already-always occurring – even

before the client enters therapy for the first time.

De Shazer notes the fact that a person who seeks

therapy reveals that change is already occurring

by the simple fact of their entrance into therapy

(de Shazer 1988). Furthermore, the therapist

realizes that a client’s situation is always in flux,

but often change goes unnoticed (O’Hanlon and

Weiner-Davis 1989).

The Beginner’s Mind

The beginner’s mind is a mind-set or stance of

working with persons based on a Zen phrase:

“In the beginner’s mind there are many possi-

bilities; in the expert’s mind there are few”

(O’Hanlon and Weiner-Davis 1989, p. 8).

What this mind-set illustrates is that the

therapist must clear himself or herself of

preconceived views and solutions and be

open to learning from the local knowledge of

the client. Such a “decentered” stance allows

the therapist to assist the client in finding

solutions that fit their particular interpretive

framework and worldview (Gehart and Tuttle

2003).

Solution-Focused Counseling 1681 S

Present and Future Focus

Solution-focused therapists ask mostly present-

and future-oriented questions based on the belief

that finding lasting solutions is best done by

focusing on what is already working well and

how the client would like their life to be, rather

than focusing on the past and origins of the

problem (Dolan 2012). Once a goal or solution

is established, it can be carried into the future to

strengthen it.

Key Elements of Practice: Skillsand Techniques

Formula First Session Task

The formula first session task is a theoretical

orientation and technique of practice simulta-

neously. De Shazer developed this method as

a way of reorienting the focus on solutions and

what was working rather than on problems and

what was going wrong. It provides an opportunity

for clients to notice otherwise unseen strengths,

abilities, resources, and solutions. As the initial

session wrapped up, de Shazer would say some-

thing like:

Between now and next time we meet, I would

like you to observe, so that you can describe to

me next time, what happens in your (pick one:

family, life, marriage, relationship, etc.) that

you want to continue to have happen (de Shazer

and Molnar 1984).

S

The Miracle Question

The miracle question is probably the most rec-

ognized aspect of the solution-focused approach.

It is used as an assessment tool, a goal-setting

strategy, and an intervention technique (Gehart

and Tuttle 2003). In this technique a client is

asked to describe what their life, relationships,

family, sense of self, etc. would be like if

the problem was no longer around. De Shazer

would often set the stage for this question

explaining that he was going to ask

a somewhat bizarre question that required the

imagination but hoped the client would play

along. Following this, he would say something

like:

Suppose that one night, while you were asleep,

there was a miracle and this problem was solved.

But because this happened while you were

asleep, you did not realize that this miracle

occurred. . .what would be the first sign that will

make you notice that something is different? What

would be the first thing that you would do that you

don’t normally do?

Scaling Questions

Scaling questions refer to the use of a 10-point

scale to measure status and change. Therapists

ask clients to give themselves a score as a way

of assessing where they are in relation to

the problem. Take depression, for example,

a therapist would say, “On a scale of 1 to 10,with 10 representing a place where depression is

no longer a problem and 1 representing depres-

sion as extremely problematic, what is yourrelationship with depression today?” The client

would then offer a number (let’s say 4), and the

therapist would follow with, “What would need

to happen between now and the next time we

meet, for it to go from a 4 to a 5?”

Exception Questions

Earlier it was noted that no problem is all

encompassing; thus there will always be times

or experiences that do not fit with the understand-

ing of the problem, and solution-focused

therapists ask questions to unearth these excep-

tions. Such questions invite clients to reflect on

times or experiences when the problem either was

not a problem or was less of a problem and are

important because they reveal past solutions,

strengths, and resources. Another method of

discovering exceptions is to use coping-type

questions. For example, when working with

clients in extremely challenging scenarios,

a therapist might simply ask, “How have you

managed to carry on?” or “How have you

prevented things from becoming worse?”(Dolan 2012).

Compliments and Feedback

Compliments and feedback (a method similar to

collaborative therapists Harry Goolishian and

Tom Anderson’s reflecting teams) provide the

therapist an opportunity to highlight and validate

S 1682 Solution-Focused Counseling

clients’ strengths and resources by noting what

they are already doing well. It also offers an

opportunity for the therapist to communicate

that he or she has been listening and knows how

challenging the problem is for the client (Dolan

2012). Often times, but not always, the

compliment and feedback occur after the thera-

pist has taken a short “consultation break”

towards the end of the therapy session. This is

a brief break wherein the therapist leaves the

room to reflect and then returns with feedback,

emphasizing the strengths and progress of the

client.

Reflecting Theologically

The literature connecting SFT and spirituality

and/or religion is sparse, yet not without poten-

tial. Earlier it was noted that a solution-focused

approach uses a Zen “beginner’s mind-set,” but

there is much more to reflect theologically in this

approach – particularly from a Judeo-Christian

perspective.

First, the solution-focused approach has an

ethic of neighbor love, which highly respects

and values persons. A person seeking care is

not seen as a deficient “patient” in need of an

expert’s diagnosis and treatment plan, but is

seen a valuable human being, with strengths,

resources, and goals that contribute meaningfully

to the therapeutic process. Second, there is an

empowering and liberative impetus for persons

who have been subjugated/pathologized by the

dominate norms of traditional psychotherapy.

This stance echoes themes from the prophetic

writings and liberation theology. Additionally,

Jesus modeled a deconstructive and prophetic

critical lens for the dominant norms of society,

as he often taught saying, “You have heard that it

was said. . .but I say” (see The Sermon on the

Mount, Matt. 5–8; Caputo 2007). Third, Kornfeld

(1998) uses the theological concept, discernment,

to describe the solution-focused approach.

She illustrates how both the therapist and client

are looking [discerning] where change is already

happening and thus re-/training themselves to

notice and be open to the presence and activity

of God. Finally, the solution-focused approach is

hope filled and future oriented and thus teleolog-

ical (Lester 1995). There is a spirit of anticipation

in the possibilities of a God who is beyond us

and out in front of us calling humanity towards

greater healing, restoration, liberation, and

reconciliation.

A couple of theological critiques arise, which

must also be noted. The first critique is in relation

to the view of human sinfulness and limitation

and the reality of systemic evil. In other words,

what are the limitations of human potential and

possibility, or of solution building, in light of

human sin and vulnerability? A second critique

is that of extreme relativism, as a Judeo-Christian

worldview asserts that not all truth claims are

equally valid or authoritative. Thus, the question

becomes how does one navigate competing

norms? I believe such questions, and others, are

best offered and not simply answered, as a way of

highlighting the tensions and inviting construc-

tive solution building.

Future Directions

Solution-Focused Therapy is one of most popular

and widely used forms of psychotherapeutic

practice in the world (Trepper et al. 2006). This

is likely due to its brief, collaborative, and

empowering model, which makes it popular and

applicable to a wide variety of situations. Trepper

et al. (2006) highlight such uses as follows: fam-

ily therapy (Campbell 1999; McCollum and

Trepper 2001), couples therapy (e.g., Hoyt and

Berg 1998; Murray and Murray 2004), domestic

violence (Lipchik and Kubicki 1996), sexual

abuse (Dolan 1991), substance abuse (Berg and

Miller 1992; de Shazer and Isebaert 2003), and

schizophrenia (Eakes et al. 1997). Additionally,

the solution-focused approach has been utilized

by social service agencies (Pichot and Dolan

2003), educational settings (Franklin and Streeter

2004; Rhodes and Ajmal 1995), and business

systems (Berg and Cauffman 2002). SFT is also

undergoing new emphases of research to evaluate

its effectiveness including microanalysis of

language within session, the role of emotions,

Solution-Focused Counseling 1683 S

brain imaging, and qualitative approaches

(Trepper et al. 2006). It seems likely that, like

the theory itself, the solution-focused approach

will continue into an expansive future ripe with

potentialities and possibilities.

See Also

▶Existential Psychotherapy

▶Narrative Therapy

▶ Pastoral Psychotherapy and Pastoral

Counseling

▶ Postmodernism

▶ Psychology

▶ Psychotherapy

S

Bibliography

Anderson, H. (2006). A postmodern umbrella: Language

and knowledge as relational and generative, and inher-

ently transforming. In H. Anderson & D. Gehart

(Eds.), Collaborative therapy: Relationships andconversations that make a difference (pp. 7–20).

New York: Routledge.

Berg, I. K., & Cauffman, L. (2002). Solution focused

corporate coaching. Lernende Organisation, J€anner/Februar, 1–5.

Berg, I. K., & De Jong, P. (2002). Interviewing forsolutions (2nd ed.). Pacific Grove: Brooks/Cole.

Berg, I. K., & Miller, S. D. (1992). Working with theproblem drinker: A solution-focused approach.New York: Norton.

Campbell, J. (1999). Crafting the ‘tap on the shoulder’:

A compliment template for solution-focused therapy.

American Journal of Family Therapy, 27, 35–47.Caputo, J. D. (2007). What would Jesus deconstruct? The

good news of postmodernism for the church. GrandRapids: Baker.

de Shazer, S. (1985). Keys to solution in brief therapy.New York: W. W. Norton & Co.

de Shazer, S. (1988). Clues: Investigating solutions inbrief therapy. New York: W. W. Norton & Co.

de Shazer, S., & Isebaert, L. (2003). The Bruges

model: A solution-focused approach to problem

drinking. Journal of Family Psychotherapy, 14,43–52.

de Shazer, S., & Molnar, A. (1984). Four useful

interventions in brief family therapy. Journal ofMarital and Family Therapy, 10(3), 297–304.

Dolan, Y. (1991). Resolving sexual abuse: Solution-focused therapy and Ericksonian hypnosis for survi-vors. New York: Norton.

Dolan, Y. (2012). What is solution-focused therapy? Insti-

tute for Solution-Focused Therapy. Retrieved from

http://solutionfocused.net/solutionfocusedtherapy.html.

Accessed 2 May 2012.

Eakes, G., Walsh, S., Markowski, M., Cain, H., &

Swanson, M. (1997). Family-centered brief solution-

focused therapy with chronic schizophrenia: A pilot

study. Journal of Family Therapy, 19, 145–158.Franklin, C., & Streeter, C. L. (2004). Solution-focused

alternatives for education: An outcome evaluation ofGarza High School. Report available from the author

and at http://www.utexas.edu/ssw/faculty/franklin.

Gehart, D. R., & Tuttle, A. R. (2003). Theory-based treat-ment planning for marriage and family therapists:Integrating theory and practice. Belmont: Brooks/

Cole.

Hoyt, M. F., & Berg, I. K. (1998). Solution-focused couple

therapy: Helping clients construct self-fulfilling reali-

ties. In F. M. Dattilio (Ed.), Case studies in couple andfamily therapy: Systemic and cognitive perspectives(pp. 203–232). New York: Guilford Press.

Kornfeld, M. (1998). Cultivating wholeness: A guide tocare and counseling in faith communities. New York:

Continuum.

Lester, A. D. (1995). Hope in pastoral care andcounseling. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press.

Lipchik, E. (2002). Beyond technique in solution-focusedtherapy. New York: Guilford Press.

Lipchik, E., & Kubicki, A. D. (1996). Solution-focused

domestic violence views: Bridges toward a new reality

in couples therapy. In S. D. Miller, M. A. Hubble, &

B. L. Duncan (Eds.), Handbook ofsolution-focusedbrief therapy (pp. 65–99). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

McCollum, E. E., & Trepper, T. S. (2001).Creating familysolutions for substance abuse. New York: Haworth

Press.

Murray, C. E., & Murray, T. L. (2004). Solution-focused

premarital counseling: Helping couples build a vision

for their marriage. Journal of Marital and FamilyTherapy, 30, 349–358.

O’Hanlon, W. H., & Weiner-Davis, M. (1989). In searchof solutions: A new direction in psychotherapy.New York: W. W. Norton & Co.

Pichot, T., & Dolan, Y. (2003). Solution-focused brieftherapy: Its effective use in agency settings.New York: Haworth Press.

Rhodes, J., & Ajmal, Y. (1995). Solution focused thinkingin schools. London: BT Press.

Tarragona, M. (2008). Postmodern/poststructuralist

therapies. In J. L. Lebow (Ed.), Twenty-first centurypsychotherapies: Contemporary approaches to theoryand practice (pp. 167–205). Hoboken: Wiley.

Trepper, T. S., Dolan, Y., McCollum, E. E., & Nelson, T.

(2006). Steve de Shazer and the future of solution-

focused therapy. Journal of Marital and FamilyTherapy, 32(2), 133–139.

Walter, J. L., & Peller, J. E. (1992). Becomingsolution-focused in brief therapy. New York:

Brunner/Mazel.

S 1684 Song of Songs

Song of Songs

Ingeborg del Rosario

Emmaus Center, Quezon City, Philippines

The Song of Songs, also known as the Canticles

of Solomon, is a collection of lyrical love poetry

belonging to theWisdom literature of the Hebrew

Scriptures or the Old Testament of Christian

Scriptures. The Song’s title, the Song of Songs,

is in the style of the superlative, similar to other

Scriptural references as “the Lord of lords,”

“the God of gods,” and “the Holy of holies.”

While the Song has neither evident moral or

ethical teaching nor any mention of God and is

highly charged with passion and desire, deeply

sensual and earthy in nature, by this designation,

the Song is upheld as the Song above and beyond

all songs, the godliest and holiest, and the greatest

of all songs. Within Jewish and Christian tradi-

tions, from as early as Rabbi Aqiba (c. 100 CE)

and Origen of Alexandria (c. 240 CE), Gregory of

Nyssa and Bernard of Clairvaux, to the mystics

Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, the Song is

most commonly read and interpreted as an alle-

gorical expression of God’s agape, the divine

passionate love for Israel, the chosen people,

and later of Christ’s intimate love for his Bride,

for the individual soul, and for his Church. At the

same time, while providing an analogue with

which to speak of the intensity of divine love,

a faithful reading of the Song, which alternates

between three voices, a woman, her male lover,

and a female chorus, needs also to recognize its

particular nature as a secular, erotic love poem.

From its onset, the Song is eloquent with vivid

metaphor and pulsating imagery that playfully

express without inhibition or constraint the

human experience of sexual yearning, desire,

and fulfillment:

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!

(Song 1:2).

Oftentimes, the challenge lies in being able to

hold together these two ways of reading the Song.

Spiritual growth and closeness to the divine do

not entail a shunning of the authentic human

capacity to be sensual and sexual, to know

pleasure, and to experience the urgings of desire

and the delight of its satisfaction. Development

and maturity in the spiritual life does not

mean a forsaking of what is innately human,

a relinquishment of our embodied nature.

Disembodiment deprives and alienates, rather

than nourishes and ennobles, the human spirit.

The religious patient in therapy might have

profound sexual shame, guilt, and inhibition

around speaking of and referring to the body,

sexual sensations, and feelings because of

imbibed religious beliefs that have dichotomized

and alienated the life of the spirit from felt and

sensed human reality. Deep shame can hinder the

knowing and trusting of the body’s inherent

goodness and worth, beauty, loveliness, and

desirability. Spiritualization as a defense often

serves to protect this patient from intense anxiety

around being in the body and from experiencing

powerful feelings and palpable sensations as well

as from having to face and work through internal

conflicts around religious beliefs, guilt from the

association of the body and pleasure with evil,

and sexual shame. Rigid, obsessive attitudes and

compulsive behaviors might develop to support

and consolidate a defensive spiritualized wish for

self-lessness and accompanying disembodiment.

Patients might also struggle with repression or

dissociation around experiences of relational inti-

macy and sexuality especially if there is some

history of sexual trauma, abuse, or trauma to the

body. The fear and terror of reawakening or

reliving these traumatic experiences can keep

patients numb and disconnected from their

bodies, unable to feel and, consequently, unable

to feel real and in themselves. On the other hand,

there are patients whomust deal with promiscuity

or with sexual addictions and compulsive

behaviors that also struggle with a form of this

dichotomy between body and spirit. For these

patients, there can be an obsessive, insatiable

desire for the thrill and pleasure involved in

these encounters, a longing that is dissociated

from the human reality of the embodied love

object and their potential for a mutually intimate

relationship.

Sophia 1685 S

S

A radical experience of the divine as well as an

authentic movement towards wholeness and inte-

gration involves and presumes an immersion in

one’s body and a growing awareness of the live-

liness of its senses, a consciousness of one’s

sexual nature and robust capacity for mutuality

and intimacy. The Song expresses sheer joy in the

sensual: fragrant scents and aromas, the taste of

sweetness and spice, the roundness of the belly,

curve of the cheeks and color of the lips, the

radiant ruddiness of the lover and the growing

excitement that accompanies the sound of his

approach, the heart-piercing desperation and

frustration around his leave-taking, and the exhil-

aration of desire and of being desired:

How fair and pleasant you are, O loved one, delec-

table maiden! You are stately as a palm tree, and

your breasts are like its clusters. I say I will climb

the palm tree and lay hold of its branches. Oh, may

your breasts be like clusters of the vine and the

scent of your breath like apples (Song 7:6–8).

The Song touches on deeply human struggles:

to take in and receive such profuse admiration of

oneself and one’s body, to risk physical touch and

emotional connection that opens one to vulnera-

bility and the possibility of painful rejection, to

experience deep neediness and desperation for

love along with the angst that comes with loneli-

ness and abandonment, and to deal with familial

and cultural stereotypes that affect and distort

issues of body image and physical self-care. The

Song also provides a vital way of being with and

in the body through which the world is known and

experienced: allowing the mutuality of sexual

desire and delight, palpable affection, and play-

fulness; acknowledging that the human and com-

munal journeys involve comings and goings,

searching and finding, finding and losing, want

and woo, intimacy that can be left bereft, need

and satisfaction, lack and deprivation, assurance

and insecurity, the yearning to touch and be

touched, to hold and be held, wounding by love,

and fulfillment in love; and recognizing that these

same dimensions are reflected in the spiritual

journey and in each one’s sacred relationship

with the Divine.

The Song calls to a lived consciousness and

embrace of the human-divine capacity for

passion, yearning, and oneness that is both singu-

larly embodied and spirited, allowing each to be

deeply moved and affected by the other, that is,

empowering, vitalizing, and transformative, as

audacious and bold as the woman of the Song

demanding her lover to

Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon

your arm, for love is strong as death, passion fierce

as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging

flame (Song 8:6).

See Also

▶Affect

▶Bible

▶Body and Spirituality

▶ John of the Cross

▶Religion and Mental and Physical Health

▶ Sex and Religion

▶ Shame and Guilt

▶Teresa of Avila

▶Trauma

Bibliography

Bergant, D. (1998). Song of songs: The love poetry ofscripture. New York: New City Press.

The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version. (1989).New York: Oxford University Press.

Trible, P. (1978). God and the rhetoric of sexuality.Philadelphia: Fortress Press.

Sophia

Annabelle Nelson

The WHEEL Council, Flagstaff, AZ, USA

Origins

Sophia is derived from the Greek word

sophizesthai (Cady et al. 1986) or one who is

wise. Her name also comes from the Greek word

sophos (Cady et al. 1986) or to be of the same kind.

An interpretation of this definition is that Sophia is

S 1686 Sophia

contained in all of life; each life form is of the same

kind as Sophia. Matthews (1991) describes Sophia

as a warrior, dressed in camouflage haunting his-

tory. Similarly Schaup (1997) describes Sophia as

a red thread who can be traced throughout the

history of human experience.

Sophia has been defined as a deity, goddess,

creator, and archetype. She is referred to many

entities: a Middle Eastern goddess, the “she”

listed in the Book of Proverbs, the creator in the

Gnostic gospels, a symbol of God in matter in

Eastern Orthodox theology, the primordial Jung-

ian archetype of all matter and life in Jungian

thought, and synonymous with Prajnaparamita,

the mother of all Buddhas. Sophia is the spiritual

force which formed the material world, and as

such her spiritual energy is in each form of

creation. Because of this, Sophia can be

a conduit from the material world to the spiritual

essence in each life form.

Goddess

As a Middle Eastern goddess, Sophia’s name is

associated with Barbelo (Ann and Imel 1993) who

is the mother of all the angels, as well as Jehovah’s

mother. There is an entity called Sophia Prunikos

(Ann and Imel 1993) or the fallen half of Sophia

whowas thrown out of heaven and became a whore

on earth. She experienced the dark side of the

human condition, integrated this, and then returned

to heaven as an aeon. In another form Pistis Sophia

(Davidson 1967) was the serpent who tempted Eve.

Pistis is translated as faith. As a deity, Sophia

embraces all of life without moralistic judgments.

Creator

Sophia was also named as the creator in the

Gnostic gospels in the Nag Hammadi scrolls

(Eliade 1987). The name for the gnostics comes

from the Greek word gignoskein (Eliade 1987)

meaning to know. In the scrolls Sophia is

described as a self-generating, emergent force

that rippled into existence to begin creation.

This story has similar features to the structure of

the Jewish kabbalah, where wisdom is hokhmah(Seghi 1995) and is the first manifestation of the

unknowable divine energy.

The Gnostic gospels with Sophia as creator are

related to Plato’s Timaeus (Conford 1959).

Speaking through Timaeus, Plato described

creation as beginning with “one” or the world

soul, termed Sophia by the Gnostics, and then

subdividing exponentially. In all its varied

forms, all matter and life still contained a piece

of the world soul, Sophia.

In the Nag Hammadi, Sophia is beyond the

opposites that define reality and becomes

a paradox that unites.

I am the knowledge of my inquiry

and the finding of those who seek after me,

and the command of those who ask for me

and the power of the powers in my knowledge

of the angels who have been sent at my word

and of the gods in their seasons by my counsel

and of spirits of every man who exists in me

(Bonheim 1997, p. 216).

Old Testament

Cady et al. (1986) say that the “she” in The Book

of Proverbs, Wisdom, and Baruch was Sophia.

The following quotes exemplify Cady’s point

(Catholic Family Edition of the Holy Bible 1953):

For wisdom is more active than all active things;

and reacheth everywhere by reason for her purity

(Wisdom, Chapter 7, vs. 24).

For she is more beautiful than the sun, and

above all the order of the stars being compared

with the light, she is found before it (Wisdom,

Chapter 7, vs. 29).

Learn where is wisdom, where is strength, where

is understanding; that thoumayst know also where is

length of days and life, where is the light of eyes and

peace (Baruch, Chapter 3, vs. 14).

Receive my instruction, and not money, choose

knowledge rather than gold, for my fruit is better than

gold and the precious stone and my blossoms than

choice silver (Proverbs, Chapter 8, vs. 10 and 11).

Religious Contests

A Russian orthodox mystic, Vladimir Soloviev

(1978), created a theology called Sophiology in

Sophia 1687 S

an attempt to resacralize nature. Bulgakov

(1993), one of Soloviev disciples, makes the

point that Sophia is unspeakable and unknowable

but she is where the “creaturely world is united

with the divine world in divine Sophia” (p. 17).

Sophiology teaches that the way to become

spiritual is through the material world.

In Tibetan Buddhism, Sophia is Prajnaparamita,

the Mother of all Buddhas (Macy 1991). Prajna is

profound cognition and Paramita is translated as

perfect or gone beyond.

Freed from the dichotomies which oppose earth to

sky, flesh to spirit, the feminine appears here

clothed in light and space, as that pregnant zero

point where the illusion of ego is lost, and the

world, no longer feared or fled, is reentered with

compassion (Macy 1991, p. 107).

Paramita personifies the Buddhist concept of

“dependent co-arising.” All sentient and insentient

life arises from the same energy, consistent with

sophos, to be of the same kind. Paramita or Sophia

symbolizes the possibility of transforming the

humanmind to sense the interconnection of all life.

Sophianic scholars such as Thomas

Schipflinger (1998) and Susan Schaup (1997)

conclude that the ecstatic visionary experiences

of Hildegard von Bingen and Jacob Boehme were

of Sophia. Arne Naess (1992) coined the word

Ecosophy to create a philosophy of aligning

human life to ecological equilibrium.

S

Archetype

Marie-Louise von Franz, a Jungian therapist, calls

Sophia the self-knowing primordial cause or the

energy from “the archetypal world after whose

likeness this sensible world was made” (von Franz

1985, p. 155f). She also says that Sophia is the

fundamental archetype or the blueprint of the mate-

rial, sensible world (von Franz 1996). Woodman

andDickinson (1996) believe that humans are at the

brink of a paradigm shift moving into a state where

the spiritual self is the locus of development and

interconnectedness will mark consciousness, or the

paradigm contained in the archetype, Sophia. The

search for wisdom, then, is contained in this quote:

“To become like Adam and unite with the inner

Sophia and become androgynous” (Eliade 1987,

p. 13). Sophia transcends religious, racial, tribal,

national, and even species differences as part of

creation and becomes a method of gaining wisdom

of merging human consciousness with the world

soul contained in all life.

See Also

▶Archetype

▶Buddhism

▶Eliade, Mircea

▶ Female God Images

▶Gnosticism

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶ Prajna

Bibliography

Ann, M., & Imel, D. M. (1993). Goddesses in worldmythology. Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO.

Bonheim, J. (1997). Goddess, celebration in art andliterature. New York: Street Productions & Welcome

Enterprises.

Bulgakov, S. (1993). Sophia: Wisdom of God. Hudson:Lindisfurne Press.

Cady, S., Ronanad, M., & Taussig, H. (1986). Sophia: Thefuture of feminist spirituality. San Francisco: Harper &

Row.

Catholic Family Edition of the Holy Bible. (1953).

New York: John. J. Crawley.

Conford, F. M. (1959). Plato: Timaeus. New York:

Macmillan.

Davidson, G. (1967). A dictionary of angels includingfallen angels. New York: Free Press.

Eliade, M. (1987). The encyclopedia of religion.New York: Macmillan.

Macy, J. (1991). World as lover, world as self. Berkeley:Parallax Press.

Matthews, C. (1991). Sophia, Goddess of wisdom: Thedivine feminine from the black goddess to theworld-soul. London: HarperCollins.

Naess, A. (1992). Deep ecology and ultimate premises.

Society andNature, II (September/December), 108–110.

Schaup, S. (1997). Aspects of the divine feminine, past andpresent. York Beach: Weiser.

Schipflinger, T. (1998). Sophia-Maria, a holistic view ofcreation. York Beach: Weiser.

Seghi, L. F. (1995). Glimpsing the moon, the feminine

principle in Kabbalah. In E. Hoffman (Ed.), Openingthe inner gates: New paths in Kabbalah andpsychology. Boston: Shambhala.

S 1688 Soteriology

Soloviev, V. (1978). Sophia. Lausanne: L’Age d’Homme.

Von Franz, M.-L. (1985). Aurora consurgens. Princeton:Princeton University Press.

Von Franz, M.-L. (1996). The interpretation of fairy tales.Boston: Shambhala.

Woodman, M., & Dickson, E. (1996). Dancing in theflames: The dark goddess in the transformation ofconsciousness. Boston: Shambhala.

Soteriology

Emily Stetler

Department of Theology, Mount St. Mary’s

University, Emmitsburg, MD, USA

Soteriology is the branch of theology dealing

with the study of salvation. The term comes

from the Greek soterion, “salvation,” and is also

related to soter, “savior.”

Soteriology relates to several other branches

of theology in that it asks who is saved, by whom,

from what, and by what means. It asks, as well,

what the end goal of this salvation is. In

Christianity, soteriology is inextricably linked

with Christology, for both fields centralize the

significance of Christ as savior. Christian

soteriology, then, developed vis-a-vis the process

of defining doctrinally who Jesus is and what his

life, death, and resurrection mean for humankind.

While it is outside the scope of this article to

give a comprehensive overview of Christological

developments, we may examine two Christolog-

ical concerns of the early church that are

immediately relevant to soteriology: that Christ

must be fully God and that he must be fully

human.

The issue of Christ’s divinity came to the fore

in the early fourth century, when the priest

Arius of Alexandria insisted that the Son, Jesus,

was not coeternal with the Father but was created

by him. Jesus was the first of all creation, but

created, nonetheless. He was, Arius claimed,

homoousious with the Father – of similar sub-

stance. Would Arius’ position have been

accepted, the soteriological implication would

have been that the world’s Savior would have

been only an instrument of God and, thus, one

who did not necessarily himself passionately

desire the world’s salvation.

While the Council of Nicaea condemned

Arianism in 325 by declaring the Son to be

homoousious – of the same substance – with the

Father, another soteriological challenge soon

arose. Apollinaris of Laodicea described Christ

as being fully human insofar as his body was

concerned; his divinity, however, took the place

of a human soul. In this instance, Christ would

not be truly human; he would simply be the

divine Logos enfleshed in a human body.

Soteriologically, Jesus the Savior would be, in

the Apollinarian view, one with the Father who

desires the world’s salvation but unable to be

identified with the humans whom he saves.

The Council of Chalcedon in 381 condemned

Apollinaris and his teaching. Christian soteriol-

ogy, then, insists that the savior be one with both

the God who saves and the people whom he saves.

Certainly, Christianity is unique in being

defined by its savior, but there are savior figures

in other religions, too. For instance, some sects

of Buddhism see a bodhisattva as helping to

bring about salvation. In Pure Land Buddhism,

devotees believe that the Dharmakara

bodhisattva (also known as the Amitabha Bud-

dha) works to help them enter the perfect land of

bliss.

Soteriology, though, deals not only with the

soter, the savior figure, but also addresses what

salvation means. In Christian theology, salvation

classically means salvation from sin and forHeaven. Among and within Christian denomina-

tions, however, this statement of salvation

still leads to disparate understandings. Western

churches traditionally have taught that Christ

redeems humankind from personal and original

sin; Eastern churches, however, have no doctrine

of original sin. Likewise, salvation to Heaven

classically means, in the West, that humans can

hope to experience the beatific vision, seeing

God face-to-face in the afterlife. In the East,

Heaven has been construed differently; the

emphasis has been on Christ bridging the gap

between humankind and God so that, through

Christ’s saving work, the human experiences

theosis, a divinization by which he or she

Soteriology 1689 S

participates in the divine life of the godhead.

Heaven, then, is the fulfillment of Athanasius’

axiom that God [Christ] became human so that

humans may become [by adoption, not by nature]

God.

Like Eastern Orthodoxy, Islam has no doctrine

of original sin, so Muslim soteriology focuses on

salvation for Heaven. This is accomplished

primarily through faith, although some sects of

Islam also emphasize adherence to the law and

the need for purgation of sin.

In both Buddhism and Hinduism, salvation

entails liberation from the illusions of this world.

In Hinduism, it is primarily ignorance from which

one must be saved, and so the process of salvation

is a process of becoming aware of the illusoriness

of the world, the transience of all things, and the

self as an extension of Brahman. According to

Buddhism, the person escapes suffering through

freeing himself or herself from desires and false

attachments to the world and the self.

Increasingly across faith traditions in the late

twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, soteriol-

ogy has come to be understood as having

ramifications in this world as well as in the

afterlife. Liberation theologies emphasize that

salvation is not salvation from sin alone but also

from structures of oppression and violence. Faith

communities have become more socially engaged

to promote human flourishing in this life.

S

Commentary

In Christianity, soteriology has an undisputable

relationship with sin, especially in the Western

churches. From a psychological perspective, then,

soteriology presupposes a state of guilt, the state in

which an individual feels he or she has committed

a violation of moral law. While guilt can be

a positive impetus for change, it can also fester

and lead to anxiety, depression, and despair.

Freud understands guilt as a state of

disjunction between the ego and the superego.

More relevant, though, is the notion of existential

guilt, associated with Søren Kierkegaard, among

others. Kierkegaard denies a concept of original

sin that implies that humans cannot resist sinning.

Rather, he suggests that humans are free, and in

the face of this freedom, they experience anxiety

(and, to be sure, this anxiety does incline a person

to sin). It is through wrestling with this anxiety

that the person becomes authentically human;

failure to do so furthers guilt. Ultimately, the

person who does not engage his or her anxiety

will fall into despair. Salvation in Kierkegaard’s

paradigm entails recognizing oneself as a sinner,

culpable in one’s own right, and acknowledging

the need for Christ.

See Also

▶Amita Buddha

▶Anxiety

▶Atonement

▶Bodhisattva

▶Buddhism

▶Christ

▶Christianity

▶Confession

▶Existentialism

▶ Fall, The

▶Heaven and Hell

▶ Jesus

▶Kierkegaard, Søren

▶Liberation Theology

▶Original Sin

Bibliography

Athanasius, S. (1980). Against the Arians. In H. Wace

(Ed.), Nicene and post-Nicene fathers of the Christianchurch (St. Athanasius, Vol. 4, pp. 306–447). Grand

Rapids: William. B Eerdmans Publishing Company.

Aulen, G. (1986). Christus victor. New York: Collier.

Kierkegaard, S. (1980). The concept of anxiety (R. Thomte,

Ed.). Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Malkovsky, B. (2001). The role of divine grace in thesoteriology of Saṃkaracarya. Boston: Brill.

Mitchell, D. (2008). Buddhism. Oxford, UK: Oxford

University Press.

Norris, R., Jr. (Ed.). (1980). The Christologicalcontroversy. Philadelphia: Fortress Press.

Rambachan, A. (2006). The Advaita worldview. Albany:State University of New York Press.

Ricoeur, P. (1967). The symbolism of evil. Boston:

Beacon.

S 1690 Soul in the World

Soul in the World

Lee W. Bailey

Department of Philosophy and Religion,

Ithaca College, Ithaca, NY, USA

The separation of psychology from religion is

a modern philosophical argument that went

a long way toward solidifying the “internal” psy-

chological ego that interacts with the “external”

world. It took off with Rene Descartes. Ancient

indigenous religions believed the world to be full

of spirits and divinities that interacted with

humans. This was the importance of the biblical

first commandment: “You shall have no other

gods before me” (Exodus 20:2). This assumes

that there are other gods around, but they are not

to be honored; this is called henotheism, the early

step toward Hebrew monotheism, which took

centuries to achieve. Monotheism teaches that

humans are first of all creations of the one God,

neither related to other spirits nor independent

souls. But Descartes solidified the concept of

the subject versus objects.

Descartes (1596–1650), the “Father of

Modern Philosophy,” argued that human minds

are not children of God, but have autonomous

subjective, internal psyches, led by the conscious

ego. This was encapsulated in his famous saying:

“I think, therefore I exist [cogito ergo sum]”

(Descartes 2011). He proclaimed, not “I am

a creature participating in earth’s existential

energy fields, therefore I exist,” or other options.

This is the origin of the modern philosophy of

the ego/subject standing independently from

God and from the “objective, external” world,

explainable by natural laws and mathematical

principles. Thus emerged the modern onset of

the separation of psychology and religion.

As science developed, the metaphysical claim

that human souls are not creations of God, but

have independent psyches in a world of separate

objects, made the development of science and

industry easier, since their advocates did not

have to respect any inherent spiritual or ethical

guidelines toward nature. This left the world free

for humans to dominate and exploit. As the

powerful idea of the “neutral, soulless objective,

external” world developed increasingly effective

knowledge and technologies, this idea looked

good at first, freeing humans to exploit nature

to solve human problems. Since monotheism

rejected ancient nature spirits, nature was for

the first time a neutral, “objective” realm, and

Descartes’ “I think” defined the conscious ego.

In theory, that is.

Psychology developed the theory of “projec-

tion” beginning with Feuerbach in the 1840s and

finalized by Freud around 1900. The theory of

projection became a powerful argument against

lingering religion, claiming that God was

“nothing but” a subjective content that was inap-

propriately “projected” from subjects into the

objective heavens. This showed how far psychol-

ogy had accepted the Cartesian separation and

helped reinforce it. Religion began a slow decline

in industrial cultures, since God had become

mainly a matter of personal experience. Mean-

while, the machine world of industry fascinated

people with its speeding trains and mass-

production industries and sometimes saw its

smoky pollution as a sign of “progress.”

Most psychology as subjectness has not

challenged its own worldview. But some, such

as Ralph Metzner, say: “The environmental

disconnection of modern psychology is indeed

a conspiracy . . . . To keep human nature as dis-

tant, different, and disengaged from nature as

possible” (Metzner 1999, p. viii). This disconnec-

tion is now being seen as a defense, part of the

subject/object metaphysics that is fading.

Subject/Object Metaphysics in Decline

Industrial society’s premise of the subject/

object dualism has always had problems. The

nineteenth-century air pollution in coal-burning

towns like London was almost as awful as the

coal miners’ “black lung” from inhaled coal

dust. Now pollution and ecology are problems

on a vast scale – for example, global warming

from excessive CO2-filled smoke, overfishing the

oceans, clear-cutting forests, and fighting for

Soul in the World 1691 S

increasingly scarce resources such as forest and

water – because people feel no ethical obligation

to respect the “objective” world. Better to escape

the ugly polluted industrial realm for a vacation in

the peaceful countryside. But slowly this barrier

between inner and outer worlds is disintegrating.

Now we know that, at a deep level, we exist not

essentially as subjects/egos, but existentially as

parts of important fields such as atmosphere,

temperature, and electromagnetism.

The combination of the population explosion and

the effectiveness of machine technologies to pro-

duce mass quantities of artificial products has led to

growing problems of ecology, such as pollution – air

pollution, water pollution, mountains of trash on

land and islands of floating trash in the oceans,

species extinctions, and chemicals producing unan-

ticipated results. Serious ailments such as cancer

from nuclear leaks are showing that the isolation

of subjects from the objective world is not a useful

metaphysical paradigm. Psychology is no longer

taken for granted by all as just as the metaphoric

“in here” nor nature merely “out there.” And nature

is not just neutral “things” since we interact with

themat deep, often unconscious levels, from inhaled

gases to polluted water.Western religion, which has

been relegated to just a private matter separate from

nature, is increasingly being questioned. Even

“unreligious” people now speak of “spirituality” as

experiences of sacredness, in the soul and in nature,as distinct from conventional religions of “the book”

(Elkins 1998).

S

Soul in the World Reviving

Becoming conscious of experiences of soul in the

world is taking a long time. But there are many

sources. The Romantic artists of the nineteenth

century began to oppose the rise of industrialism

with books such as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

(1818) that pictured the tragic consequences of

seeing the human body as a collection of separate

parts that a mad scientist could assemble like

a machine and, by some unexplained process,

bring to life. This expresses fears of the soul-less

“objective” materialistic factory-like machine

model for humanity.

The revival of feeling soul in the world rejects

the harsh industrial exploitation and ravaging of

nature and activates another way of knowing.

Emerson said: “The earth laughs in flowers”

(VanMatre andWeiler 1983, p. 9). Thoreau inten-

tionally lived close to nature at Walden Pond.

Countless others, notably artists, celebrated soul

in the world. Walt Whitman said: “Now I see the

secret of the making of the best persons. It is to

grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the

earth” (Van Matre and Weiler 1983, p. 12). John

Muir said: “This grand show is eternal. . . Eternalsunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn. . .” (Van

Matre and Weiler 1983, p. 13). Muir’s psycholog-

ical experience of nature was religious; he saw

soul in the world. He roamed the California moun-

tains and persuaded President Teddy Roosevelt to

establish National Parks to preserve islands of

undisturbed nature, such as Yosemite Valley.

These are places to experience soul in nature’s

beauty and majesty. Robert Service, “Bard of the

Yukon,” wrote: “Have you seen God in His splen-

dors, heard the text that nature renders? (you’ll

never hear it in the family pew.)” (Van Matre

and Weiler 1983, p. 20).

Soul in the world requires a rejection of ego’s

literalist, materialistic, and purely practical

readings of nature. It needs to include an intui-

tive, imaginative symbolic perception. Modern

art rejected the “realistic” art of classical tradi-

tion and forced viewers to see art and thus life

symbolically, deeper into the soul, not literally.

For example, Picasso’s painting Guernica is

a symbolic cry against the first bombing of

civilians in Spain. Aerial bombing treats its

victims like objects out of sight, out of mind.

Andy Warhol’s Campbell soup can is a portrait

of the industrialization of food into commercial

objects. Now, while bombing civilians has

become too common, the rise of the health

food movement and protests against industrial

pollution has increased, and not just in yogurt

and granola. People are striving to preserve

nature’s soul in healthy organic food and pre-

vent pollution of natural water, land, and air.

Why? Not just for the health of humans and

nature, but because such movements immerse

soul in the world’s field energies, not egos

S 1692 Soul in the World

standing against theoretical objects. This is

partly unconscious, but it is emerging into

collective consciousness.

The quest to reawaken soul in the world takes

psyche out of logical ego into nonliteral, poetic,

paradoxical soul languages to help express the

new/old consciousness of the depths of soul in

the world, spoken often in paradox. Gaston

Bachelard wrote: “The falcon is always at the

summit of the mountain, crying: “I am the

White of the Night, the Red of the Yellow””

(Bachelard 1948, p. 46). Look sensitively for

the subtle, paradoxical, unexpected tones, deeper

than the surface of the world deeper than the

shadow of meaning in the literalism of science.

Indigenous cultures have always experienced

soul in the world, as ancestors reborn in nature,

spirits, and divinities in nature. One Hopi says

that we should live in harmony with the world

because “We are all of one human life, human

world. We’re also involved in the animal world,

and the plant world, and the cosmos” (Trimble

1986, p. 89). In his initiation into African man-

hood, Malidoma Some, after a hot, sweaty day

embracing a tree, ego-subject dissolved as he saw

face-to-face an image of the soul of the world:

I thought I was dead . . . . When I looked once more

at the yila [tree], I became aware that it was not

a tree at all . . . . My body felt like it was floating. . . .When I looked again, she had lifted her veil, reveal-

ing an unearthly face. She was green, light green.

Even her eyes were green, though very small and

luminescent. She was smiling and her teeth were the

color of violet and had light emanating from them

. . . . She was green from the inside out . . . this greenwas the expression of immeasurable love . . . .

We exploded into each other in a cosmic contact

that sent us floating adrift in the ether in countless

intertwined forms . . . . She placed her lips close to

my left ear and she spoke so softly and tenderly to

me that nothing escaped my attention. I cried abun-

dantly the whole time. . . . because every word pro-

duced an indescribable sensation of nostalgia and

longing in me. . . . The power of nature exists in its

silence. . . . Human language has access only to the

shadow of meaning (Some 1994, pp. 220–222).

Take me out of ego and let me hear the loving,

luminescent green goddess. Embrace theworld and

feel how it already embraces you. Knowledge

needs to incorporate soul’s caring. “Green” has

become a metaphor for nonpolluting ecological

caring about nature. This caring about green is an

important spiritual step away from the separation of

subject and object.

The post-Jungian archetypal psychologist

James Hillman wrote about Anima Mundi, “Soul

in the World.” For him psychology has failed its

healing task by attending only to what we

imagine as a completely enclosed internal psyche

and repressing our soul in the world, trapped

as we are in the Cartesian dualism. But he

breaks free:

I can no longer distinguish clearly between . . . .psychopathology of self and psychopathology of

world . . . . to place neurosis and psychopathology

solely in personal reality is a delusional repression

of what is actually, realistically, being experienced

. . . . The world is inundating me with its

unalleviated suffering (Hillman 1992, pp. 93, 99).

When we ignore the suffering of the natural

and cultural world, we are blind to the way it

affects our own souls. Looking at the world’s

psyche, its feeling embraces us is a new way of

seeing:

Hence, to call a business “paranoid” means to

examine the way it presents itself in defensive

postures. . . its delusional relations between its

product and the speaking about its product, often

necessitating gross distortions of the meanings of

such words a good, honest, truth, healthy,

etc. (Hillman 1992, p. 104).

To accept the definition of our egos as “con-

sumers” who compulsively mob stores for “holi-

day” sales, trampling each other in a pushy, me-

first grab-all materialistic rush, is a pathological

example of the denial of the collective interaction

of world and personal psyches:

To call consumption “manic” refers to instantane-

ity of satisfaction, rapid disposal, intolerance for

interruption. . . the euphoria of buying without pay-ing (credit cards). . . . To call agriculture “addic-

tive” refers to its obsession with ever-higher yields,

necessitating ever more chemical energizers (fer-

tilizers) and mass killers (pesticides, herbicides) at

the expense of other life forms and to the exhaus-

tion of agriculture’s earthen body (Hillman 1992,

pp. 104–105).

The psychopathology of repressing soul in

the world has reached a dangerous extreme –

paranoid, manic, and addictive. This is a sick

Soul: A Depth Psychological Approach 1693 S

situation, yearning for re-enchantment of soul-in-

the world with psychological and spiritual empa-

thy for the “out there” that is not really “out

there” or “environment.” We are in it, and it is

in us, as a deeper, holistic world, and our lives

depend on its health. It is demanding a different,

non-Cartesian psychology of the oneness of exis-

tence, just below the psychopathological denial

of soul in the world. We even need to stop saying

“subject” and “object,” stop thinking of the world

as a machine, and let imagination and empathy

shape more thinking. But this re-enchantment of

the world is another article.

See Also

▶Animal Spirits

▶Animism

▶Anthropomorphism

▶Archetypal Cultural Psychology

▶Green Man

▶ Intersubjectivity

▶Muir, John, and Spirituality

▶ Participatory Spirituality

▶ Projection

▶ Projection and Han Fortmann

▶Re-Enchantment

▶ Sacred Mountains

▶ Spiritual Ecology

S

Bibliography

Bachelard, G. (1948). La Terra et les Reveries du Repos.Paris: Librairie Jose Corti.

Descartes, R. (2011). Meditations on first philosophy.Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

Elkins, D. (1998). Beyond religion. Wheaton: Quest.

Feuerbach, L. (1841). The essence of Christianity.New York: Harper & Row.

Freud, S. (1974). The psychopathology of everyday life. In

J. Strachey (Ed.), The standard edition of the completepsychological works of Sigmund Freud (Vol. 6,

pp. 258–259). London: Hogarth (Original work

published 1901).

Hillman, J. (1992). AnimaMundi. In J. Hillman (Ed.), Thethought of the heart and the soul of the world(pp. 90–130). Putnam: Spring.

Metzner, R. (1999). Green psychology. Rochester: ParkStreet.

Shelley, M. (1818). Frankenstein. Retrieved from http://

www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/84.

Some, M. (1994). Of water and the spirit. New York:

Penguin.

Trimble, S. (Ed.). (1986). Our voices, our land: words bythe Indian people of the Southwest. Flagstone:

Northland.

Van Matre, S., & Weiler, B. (Eds.). (1983). The earthspeaks. Warrenville: Institute for Earth Education.

Soul: A Depth PsychologicalApproach

Lionel Corbett

Pacifica Graduate Institute, Carpinteria,

CA, USA

It has become very fashionable for depth psychol-

ogists to speak of the soul, although there is great

variation in the way they use this word. Tradi-

tionally, the word “soul” refers to a suprasensory

reality, an ultimate principle, a divine essence, or

an energy that is essential for organic life, but

depth psychologists have appropriated the word

as a way of distinguishing themselves from other

schools of psychology. Some writers use the

word “soul” to deliberately imply an overlap

between psychology and spirituality or to imply

depth of experience or a romantic sensibility. For

the psychotherapist, the main importance of this

word is that it distinguishes between everyday

ego concerns and deeper levels of meaning.

The word soul is also a useful term for that

mysterious, often uncanny sense of presence

familiar to all psychotherapists that occasionally

pervades the therapy room.

According to Bettelheim (1983), Freud used

the term “die Seele,” not in its religious sense but

metaphorically, to indicate our common human-

ity or as the seat of human identity and unique-

ness. Bettelheim believed that Freud used this

word for its psychological impact and to evoke

mythological and humanistic resonances in the

reader. Bettelheim suggested that Freud was

aware of the spiritual nature of his work, but

this awareness was ignored by his translators,

and the word “soul” was deliberately excised or

S 1694 Soul: A Depth Psychological Approach

mistranslated as “mind” to make Freud’s work

more acceptable to the scientific community.

This, even though Freud thought that psychoana-

lysts could be “secular ministers of souls.”

Jung’s writing consistently emphasized the

soul rather than the mind or the brain. In 1933,

in the heyday of behaviorist attempts to rid psy-

chology of words with a religious connotation, he

suggested that the recovery of the soul is an

essential task for us. Although he insisted on the

reality of the soul as a principle in its own right,

he used the term in various ways. Sometimes

“soul” was used as if it were synonymous with

the whole psyche, which for Jung is an irreduc-

ible realm in its own right. Because the psyche

creates the reality in which we live, his ontolog-

ical position is what he calls esse in anima, or

being in the soul, meaning that our experience of

the world is a combination of its material reality

and the way the psyche or the soul imagines or

fantasizes about it (Jung 1971). This is an

intermediate position between purely materialis-

tic or spiritual perspectives – esse in re or esse in

intellectu.Jung also uses the term soul as if it were a kind

of psychological organ which produces images

and symbols which act as a bridge between

consciousness and the unconscious. When we

dream, or when we have a numinous experience,

transpersonal levels of the psyche interact with

human levels of consciousness. In this sense, the

soul is that which allows us to link with spirit and

perceive the sacred –what we know about the spirit

comes by means of the soul. The soul casts the

experience of spirit into emotions and images that

are transmitted into personal awareness and into

the body, a process known as the ego-Self axis.

Jung used the term “soul figures” to refer to

a female figure in a man’s dream (the anima) or

a male figure in a woman’s dream (the animus).

These parts of the psyche are particularly uncon-

scious to the dreamer, more “other” than same-

sex figures in a dream, so they bridge to deeper

levels of the psyche. Today, we are reluctant to

attribute specific gender qualities to the soul,

because these often repeat gender stereotypes.

What remains important is the soul’s function of

linkage to the unconscious.

Hillman (1975) wrote of the soul as “a per-

spective rather than a substance, a viewpoint

rather than a thing itself.” He points out that the

soul is a way of talking about something that

cannot be fully articulated. The soul refers to

our capacity for imagination, reflection, fantasy,

and “that unknown human factor which makes

meaning possible, turns events into experiences,

is communicated in love and has a religious con-

cern” (Hillman 1972). Hillman is fond of Keats’s

(1958) notion that the world is a “vale of

soul-making,” although he uses this term in

a somewhat different sense than Keats did. Depth

psychologists understand “soul-making” to mean

the development of interiority, achieved by

processing our experience psychologically, by

casting our experience into words and images,

and by seeing our situation metaphorically rather

than literally, perhaps with a mythic sensibility.

Arguably, however, it is the soul itself that allows

us to do these things. If the soul is an a priori,

supraordinate principle, we cannot “make” soul;

to do so would imply something beyond the soul

that is doing the making. It is more likely that the

soul makes us, or makes us human. Our problem is

to contact the soul amidst everyday life, whose

activities, if understood properly, are a bridge to

the soul, which makes the world and the body

necessary.

Hillman makes much of the distinction

between soul and spirit. He suggests that the

soul is deep, moist, and dark, while the spirit

is fiery, light, impersonal, and ascending. This

distinction may be carried too far, since at times

the soul can also soar and feel dry, so it is arbi-

trary to attribute these qualities to spirit alone, not

to mention the fact that there are many descent or

earth-based spiritualities. But Hillman (1987)

makes this distinction so that we do not

confuse (soul-centered) psychotherapy with spiri-

tual disciplines such as meditation, which aim at

self-transcendence. For him, spirit prefers clarity

and order and is often aloof or imageless, whereas

soul is about experiencing the soup of daily life,

natural urges, memories, the imagination, fanta-

sies, suffering, and relationships, much of which

the spirit considers unimportant. Since only the

soul but not the spirit suffers psychopathology,

Soul: A Depth Psychological Approach 1695 S

S

the soul is the proper province and the root meta-

phor of psychotherapy. For Hillman, it is important

to distinguish soul and spirit when we are trying to

understand the soul’s own logic, its suffering, fan-

tasies, and fears, which is a different project than

a metaphysical approach to spirit and its ultimates.

While he is correct to point out the danger to

the psychotherapist of excessively spiritualizing

human concerns, it is also true that the soul has

spiritual needs. When we think of soul and spirit as

transpersonal processes or qualities, it is overly

dualistic to separate them completely. Without

actually conflating them, we can think of the soul

as an extension of spirit into the body, soul as the

way we subjectively experience spirit, or spirit

inducing what we call soulful experience.

Other writers in this tradition use the term soul

when referring to the deepest subjectivity of the

individual, especially to emotionally important

experiences. “Soul” is often used synonymously

with powerful emotion, especially among

psychotherapists with a strong thinking function

for whom emotions are numinous. Because

emotion is the effect of the archetype in the

body, and the archetype is a spiritual principle,

soulful emotions such as love, hatred, terror,

sadness, and joy are spiritually important to the

psychotherapist.

As Jung (1969) puts it, the psyche contains

a divine power, or the psyche is a metaphysical

principle in its own right. The problem of dualism

arises here, of how this essence interacts with the

body, or how the body acts as an organ of the

soul, which is a preferable attitude to traditional

ideas that the soul is trapped in the body. For

psychotherapeutic purposes, one can bracket

this problem, which does not arise in the consult-

ing room. Here one can think of soul and body as

two aspects of the same reality, experienced

differently because of the limitations of our

perceptual apparatus, emanations of the same

source expressing itself on a gradient of different

levels of density.

In his seminal work on the soul, which is now

rarely acknowledged, Christou (1976) points out

that the proper field of psychotherapy is subjec-

tive experience, which is not the same as the

brain, the body, or the mind. The soul is the

experiencing subject, not the mind or the body

that is experienced. Just as there is a difference

between a physical object and our sense data

about it, so there is a distinction between states

of mind such as willing, perceiving, and thinking

and our experience of these states of mind, what

we do with them and what they mean to us sub-

jectively. The language of reason and sense per-

ception may vitiate the experience of soul, which

is a reality of its own. Just as the body and mind

develop in their own ways, so “the soul has its

own developmental processes leading to psychic

maturity and psychic plenitude” (Christou 1976,

p. 37).

For Christou, there is a difference between

ordinary states of mind and deeply meaningful

experiences, which are the province of the soul.

Mind is the name we give to ideas and thought,

but soul is the name we give to our ability to

transform these ideas in our imagination. Mind,

body, and emotions are sources of psychologicalexperience, but they are not the experience itself –

to fail to make this distinction is to confuse

different levels. Our imagination elaborates our

bodily states and our feelings, and the result is

much more than simple conceptual understand-

ing of an original experience. “Soul” therefore

implies not just intellectual or aesthetic under-

standing of an experience but our gut-level

relationship to it, its effects on us, and the ethical

demands of the experience on the personality.We

participate in soulful experience; we do not just

impartially observe it.

The soul cannot be thought of conceptually,

because it is that which witnesses thought going

on; it is the matrix within which mental life

happens. In spite of the claims of cognitive-

behavioral approaches, behavior and ideas are

of a different order than the order of the soul.

There is a distinction between a science of the

mind and the reality of the soul, which is not just

about behavior. The realm of soul is the realm

of meaning that is discovered when we look

into ourselves, when we are inspired or deeply

affected by music, art, ritual, relationship, nature,

love, or beauty, whatever really matters to us.

Mainstream psychology rejects the language

of the soul because it seems too religious.

S 1696 Sound

The soul is impossible to study using empirical

criteria; it needs its own methods of study.

Dreams and spiritual experiences have no ratio-

nal explanation, or they have their own rationale –

they defy the inductive scientific approach

because they produce something new and impos-

sible to replicate, so they are anathema to posi-

tivistic approaches.

Theword psychotherapymeans attending to the

soul, and the word psychopathology means the

suffering of the soul. If the therapist does not

work at the level of the soul, by default we work

only with the ego, the sense of personal identity,

and with the personal unconscious. But soul is the

larger context of experience, so that the ego’s atti-

tudemay bemistaken from the point of view of the

soul. Therefore, psychotherapy that only supports

adaptation to the environment may produce

a “cure” that ignores the values of the soul. Accord-

ingly, Christou suggests that the “proof of psycho-

therapeutic cures takes the form of ‘testimony,’

a ‘witness,’ rather than that of logical conclusions

or empirical observations of an objective event”

(Christou 1976, p. 3).

See Also

▶Anima and Animus

▶Depth Psychology and Spirituality

▶Dreams

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶ James, William

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav, and Religion

▶ Psychotherapy

Bibliography

Bettelheim, B. (1983). Freud and man’s soul. New York:

Knopf.

Christou, E. (1976). The logos of the soul. Zurich: SpringPublications.

Gibson,K., Lathrop,D.,&Stern, E.M. (1986).Carl Jung andsoul psychology (pp. 29–35). New York: Haworth Press.

Hillman, J. (1972). The myth of analysis (p. 23). Evanston:Northwestern University Press.

Hillman, J. (1975). Re-visioning psychology. New York:

Harper & Row.

Hillman, J. (1987). Peaks and vales. In J. Hillman (Ed.),

Puer papers. Dallas: Spring Publications.

Hillman, J. (1989). Soul and spirit. In T. Moore (Ed.),

A blue fire (p. 122). New York: Harper & Row.

Jung, C. G. (1933). Modern man in search of a soul.New York: Harcourt, Brace & World.

Jung, C. G. (1969).Psychology and religion. The collectedworks of C. G. Jung (Vol. 11) (Hull, R. F. C. Trans.).Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1971). Psychological types. The collectedworks of C. G. Jung (Vol. 6) (Hull, R. F. C. Trans.).Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Keats, J. (1958). Epistles: To my brother George. In

D. Bush (Ed.), Selected poems and letters. Boston:Harcourt Brace.

Sound

Laurence de Rosen

Paris, France

Sound is scientifically defined as any vibratory

disturbance in the pressure and density of

a medium (solid, liquid, or gas) that stimulates

the sense of hearing. It measures the ability to

vibrate. Creation myths of a number of ancient

religions – African, Australian, Polynesian, Tahi-

tian, Hawaiian, and Japanese – reflect the belief

that matter is formed and life begins through

God’s sounds and tones. In Hinduism, the impor-

tance of sound, and particularly of chant, is firmly

rooted in the belief that sound vibration is the

basic nature of the universe, Nada Brahman:

“Sound is God.” The Sanskrit language is essen-

tially a 3,000-year-old science of sound. For the

Greek philosopher Pythagoras, “A stone is frozen

music, frozen sound.” Hermetic principles tell us

the universe is nothing than more an endless

number of vibrations and rhythms.

Ancient ideas that sound and vibrations

represent the fundamental nature of reality are

reflected in the theories of modern particles phys-

ics and quantum mechanics.

Most objects, from subatomic particles to

planets, have one or more frequencies at which

they vibrate. Sound is widely used in modern

science (notably in medicine, as in MRI and

other technologies) in its resonance meaning,

Spectrum of Pastoral Counseling 1697 S

literally, resound for diagnosis and healing.When

a sound wave strikes an object, if there is a match

between the frequency of the wave and the frequen-

cies inherent in the object, the object begins to

vibrate (creating resonance). The same phenomenon

applies at the symbolic level in psychology. The verb

“vibrate” means “move, swing to, and fro,” which is

precisely the description Jung gave of the transcen-

dent function, “the psychic function that facilitates

a transition from one attitude to another.”

The word persona is made up of two Latin

syllables: per, which means “through,” and

sonare, the verb for “sound.” Together they

mean “sounding through, through sound,” an

allusion to the hole in the mask worn by actors

in ancient times, through which the voice was

sounding, moving through.

In psychology, sound is a bridge between Spirit

and matter. Through the vibrating energy that is

sound, the invisible world can touch this physical

plane. In a number of practices (ancient Egypt,

Kabala, Sufism, and Buddhism), it is believed that

the chanting of particular vowel sounds has the

ability to connect the chanter with the energies of

the Divine and with the mystery of healing.

S

See Also

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶Mantra

▶Music and Religion

▶Music Thanatology

▶ Prayer

▶Transference

Bibliography

Aczel, A. (1999). God’s equation: Einstein, relativity andthe expanding universe. New York: Random House.

Emoto, M. (2004). The hidden messages in water.Hillsboro: Beyond Words Publishing.

Goldman, J. (1992). Healing sounds, the power ofharmonics. Rochester: Healing Arts Press.

Lieberman, F. (1999). Spirit into sound, the magic ofmusic. San Francisco: Grateful Dead Books.

Sacred Sound and Social Change. (1992). Liturgical musicin Jewish and Christian experience. Notre Dame:

University of Notre Dame Press.

Spectrum of Pastoral Counseling

Kristen Leslie

Eden Theological Seminary, St. Louis, MO, USA

Pastoral counseling, a specialized form of

pastoral or spiritual care, is a structured form of

caringministry which is accountable to and reflects

the particular commitments of religious communi-

ties through skilled representatives of those

communities. Practiced by both ordained religious

professionals and lay representatives of religious

communities, pastoral counseling can be under-

stood as either one function of a larger healing

practice of a congregation or more formally with

clinically trained pastoral counselors who use con-

tractual agreements and charge fees. (For more on

this, see websites for The American Association of

Pastoral Counselors –www.aapc.org – and the

American Association of Christian Counselors –

www.aacc.net). Largely a Western Christian prac-

tice, the discipline has grown globally to include

Judaism, Islam, and other religious traditions that

see healing as thework of the religious professional

(Friedman 2001; Kobeisy 2004). Central to the

work of pastoral counseling is the integration of

theological understandings and commitments to

therapeutic resources in order to facilitate healing

and growth. Because religious traditions under-

stand the importance and manner of integrating

theology and therapeutic resources in different

ways, pastoral counseling can best be understood

on a spectrum of theological and methodological

commitments. This essay will provide an overview

of the spectrum of pastoral counseling, using the

framework of premodern,modern, and postmodern

approaches to knowledge (Doehring 2006).

Starting with the foundational work of Seward

Hiltner (1949), we will explore modernist

approaches to pastoral counseling. From there we

will examine two responses to this modernist

emphasis on healing and growth: premodern cri-

tiques as found in the work of Christian counseling

and postmodern critiques as found in pastoral

counseling influenced by liberation themes,

poststructuralism, and intercultural contributions.

S 1698 Spectrum of Pastoral Counseling

Modern Approaches

American Liberal Protestants influenced by

a post WW II renaissance in pastoral psychology

(and hence pastoral care and counseling) look to

the pioneering work of four formative pastoral

theologians who represent a strong modernist

approach to integrating theology and psycholog-

ical resources in pastoral counseling (Holifield

1983). Seward Hiltner (1949) drew on social

and cultural anthropology as he emphasized

eductive counseling, or a drawing out of concerns

and problem-solving resources of the counselee.

Carroll Wise (1951) based his work on personal-

ist theology and dynamic psychology, as he

emphasized the goal of insight. Paul Johnson

(1953), strongly influenced by philosophical per-

sonalism and the work of Harry Stack Sullivan,

advocated a “responsive counseling.” Wayne

Oates (1974) worked within the free-church tra-

dition as he argued against pastoral dogmatism

and in favor of responsiveness to the counselee’s

concerns. These pastoral counselors understood

the human as an autonomous self, while they

draw upon rational and empirical methods of

inquiry (biblical critical methods, psychological

and medical knowledge, and the social sciences)

to help careseekers heal and grow.

All four of these formative figures engaged

the eductive and nondirective client-centered

counseling approach of Carl Rogers (1951).

Their work reflected Roger’s notion of liberal

optimism about human nature and his commit-

ments to self-actualization as the goal of growth

and healing. Rogerian client-centered counseling

was popular with religious liberals because it

appealed to an optimistic image of the self as

capable of growth and change. This reflected the

growing sense in Protestant liberalism that

openness to the future was a prime mark of the

Christian faith. As well, Roger’s notion that

conventional social expectations inhibited the

true self was reflected in the distaste many

liberals held for moralistic legalism. Roger’s

client-centered model of counseling exerted

a normative influence on American Protestant

pastoral counselors of the period because it was

a counseling model that could be taught in an

already crowded seminary curriculum (Holifield

1983).

Theologically Protestant pastoral counselors

of this formative period were significantly

influenced by the work of Paul Tillich and his

correlational model, which allowed them to relate

psychological concepts to theological traditions.

Carroll Wise asserted that Tillich “provided the

pastoral psychologist with a theological method

for translating the power of the gospel into the

idiom of the twentieth century thought, namely

a psychological way of thinking” (Holifield 1983,

p. 303). By acknowledging that clinical therapeu-

tic practices provided both the language and the

inspiration for his understanding of grace, Tillich

provided a theological method for pastoral coun-

selors and scholars to bridge the disciplines. In an

era represented by theologically neoorthodox

commitments to isolating theology from the

secular disciplines of psychotherapy and medi-

cine, Hiltner and others picked up on Tillich’s

work to discern the meaning of the “Christian

context” for psychotherapy and counseling.

Pastoral counselors reflecting modernist

approaches to healing and growth engage the

Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament in

ways that utilize a modern historical-critical

biblical method of interpreting the texts and

the doctrines of the faith traditions. As such, the

pastoral counselor looks for the disclosive power

of the text rather than an inductive approach that

calls the careseeker to accept or adjust to set

interpretations of the Scriptures (as practiced in

Biblical counseling). Pastoral counselors follow-

ing this modern approach consider the Bible both

authoritative in faith and life and understand it to

hold symbolic meaning for a careseeker. The

relevance of a biblical text is determined both

by its interpretation and the light it brings to

a human situation. The use of the bible and its

insights are always considered in light of good

counseling principles. Hiltner was clear that

referring to scriptures during counseling did not

justify moralizing with biblical legalism; he

made a clear distinction between moral clarifica-

tion and moral coercion. The American Associa-

tion of Pastoral Counselors (AAPC) (www.aapc.

org) and the College of Pastoral Supervision and

Spectrum of Pastoral Counseling 1699 S

Psychotherapy (CPSP) (www.pastoralreport.

com/) serve as membership, training, and

credentialing guilds for pastoral psychotherapists

and counselors in both the modernist and post-

modernist approaches.

S

Premodern Approaches

Christian counseling, a premodern approach to

pastoral counseling, is an inductive mode of

counseling in which both the counselor and the

counselee directly engage biblical and doctrinal

resources that are understood to be true in

all times and places. It draws on a “biblically

based, Spirit-directed, and empirically validated

model that invites Christ into the healing process

to meet the deepest needs of individuals and

families” (Clinton and Ohlschlager 2002, p. 37).

For Christian counseling, full reciprocity

between Christian and psychological resources

is not expected and, for some, dismissed. Pastoral

counseling in this premodern form can function

as the application of biblical and theological

resources to inform a faithful use of secular

psychological wisdom. When social sciences

are integrated into the practice of care, it is done

in ways that preserve the integrity of conserving

theological or biblical perspectives. The Bible is

often used both in assessment and treatment of

persons, as well as defining the goals and

procedures for change. Unlike a postmodern

approach, mutuality in the counseling relation-

ship is not stressed. Identifying problems

and experiencing acceptance happen in the guise

of confessing ones sins and experiencing forgive-

ness. Person-center, nondirective, Rogerian notions

of counseling and the centrality of the immanence

of God (rather than a transcendent notion) are cri-

tiqued as a “New Age marketplace” approach to

spirituality that neither recognizes sin, calls for sac-

rifice, or confesses the need for change in the form

of redemption (Collins 2007). Christian counseling

emphasizes the need for personal change that comes

in response to a transforming life experience in

which “God touches, heals, and reshapes the

deepest recesses of heart and soul” (p. 34). Relying

on a legalistic biblical hermeneutic, it is a rational,

problem-centered, behavior-oriented approach.

Counseling techniques are considered effective

and moral when they are consistent with biblical

texts. Effective tools of counseling include the read-

ing of Scriptures, prayer in the counseling session,

“gentle confrontation with Christian truths,” and

encouraging counselees to become involved in

faith communities. The Christian Counseling and

Educational Foundation (CCEF) (www.ccef.org)

and the American Association of Christian Coun-

selors (AACC) (www.aacc.net) serve as accrediting

guilds for Christian and Biblical counselors.

Christian counseling is best understood in

three related “evangelical ministry movements.”

Nouthetic or Biblical counseling, identified in the

works of Jay Adams (1986) and David Powlison

(2010), understands the Bible as the “textbook for

counseling” and serves as the ultimate source for

discernment and interpretation of other sources.

While Adams holds that the Bible is the exclusive

source for understanding the human condition

and its redemption (healing), Powlison rejects

the split between spiritual and psychological

concerns, recognizing that some nonbiblical

sources can be informative as they challenge

and inform us about the human experience. For

both, Biblical counseling is a form of “Christian

psychology.” Ultimately, any extrabiblical sources

are strictly subordinate and secondary to

a conserving biblical interpretation of the human

condition. Critiques of Biblical counseling claim

that it disregards the complexity of the Bible and

the freedom of the human spirit, is too focused on

a confrontational style of dealing with sin and

behavioral change, and gives insufficient attention

to human grief (Anderson 2005).

An Integrationistmodel ofChristian counseling,

best identified in the works of Gary Collins (2007),

works to integrate “biblical theology” and the psy-

chosocial sciences into a unified counseling model.

While biblical knowledge has primacy, integra-

tionists hold that God permits us to learn through

methods of scientific investigation. These discov-

ered (empirical) truths must always be consistent

with, and tested against, the norm of “revealed

biblical truth.” Some Christian counselors find

integrationism to be invalid and pernicious because

it imports corrupting and under-examined

S 1700 Spectrum of Pastoral Counseling

psychological theories into the church (Clinton and

Ohlschlager 2002, p. 41).

A Community model of Christian counseling,

championed by the work of Lawrence (“Larry”)

Crabb (1975), is centered in the daily life of the

church and focuses on the notion that counseling

needs to be situated in church communities, where

the work of healing “soul wounds” happens within

small Christian groups, or among “spiritual

friends.” Crabb understands spiritual direction

encompassing all that is legitimately done in psy-

chotherapy, seeing the “battle between flesh and

the Spirit” at the root of all organically caused

psychological disorders (Clinton and Ohlschlager

2002). Some in the Christian counselingmovement

critique Crabb’s notion of spiritual friends and

community healing as devaluing the significance

of the trained Christian counselor. In putting this

forward, the Community model bridges the com-

mitments of premodern Christian counseling and

modern Rogerian-influenced modes of pastoral

counseling.

Postmodern Approaches

A postmodern approach to pastoral counseling

reflects three overlapping influences: liberation

themes, poststructuralist interpretations of real-

ity, and intercultural/multicultural analysis. Lib-

eration themes of resistance and solidarity, power

analysis, internalization of oppressive systems,

and relational justice had a transformative effect

on the work of pastoral counselors who moved

from understanding the person as an autonomous

self to one who lives in a network of connections,

or a “living human web” (Miller-McLemore

1996). Those connections included both the

historical community in which the person devel-

oped their identity and forces that exerted

power from oppressive and controlling systems.

African American pastoral theologians like

Edward Wimberly (2006) recognize that pastoral

counseling liberates by empowering and strate-

gizing in the face of oppressive systems. He

asserts that the most important role of pastoral

counseling with African Americans is “to liberate

(them) from the negative images, identities, and

stories into which they have been recruited, and

to accompany them in discerning how best to

make use of their resulting personal and political

agency and efficacy” (p. 11.) Nancy Gorsuch

(2001) proposes a feminist model of counseling

that decenters the counselor and privileges the

careseeker’s knowledge and experience, defini-

tion of the problem, and identification of the

resolution, before turning to the knowledge and

experience of the counselor. Carroll Watkins Ali

(1999) draws on contributions from womanist

theologians and African American psychologists

as she recognizes the limits of a clinical pastoral

model for the communitarian context alive in

many African American communities. Joretta

Marshall (1997) presents a model of pastoral

counseling with lesbian partners that nurtures cov-

enantal relationships built on the transformative

values of love, justice, and mutuality. Like other

pastoral theologians influenced by liberative

themes, Marshall calls for prophetic and priestly

counseling practices aimed at transforming oppres-

sive systems that cause suffering.

Like those influenced by liberation themes

of resistance and solidarity, postmodern pastoral

counselors are influenced by poststructuralist

understandings of knowledge and the self.

For these pastoral counselors, Scripture provides

just one of many truths and that truth is mediated

through its disclosive and liberating power to the

careseeker. Narrative counseling theory, based

on poststructuralist philosophies, recognizes the

notion of the self as socially constructed. For

Christie Cozad Neuger (2001), the interpretation

of reality is reality and as such is socially

constructed. “Realities. . .are organized and

maintained by stories that are personal, familial,

and cultural. Thus, a major part of the work of

narrative counseling is to help people generate

new language and new interpretive lenses and

thus create new realities” (p. 232). This narrative

approach provides a liberating promise because

just as our lives are socially constructed, so too

can they be reconstructed.

Intercultural and multicultural analysis in pas-

toral counseling arises from a particular aware-

ness of the global dimension of the asymmetry of

political and economic power associated with

Spectrum of Pastoral Counseling 1701 S

racial and cultural difference. Emmanuel Lartey

(2003) suggests three interdependent principles

inherent in intercultural care: contextuality of

multiple influences on identity, multiple perspec-

tives on knowledge, and authentic participation

made possible by attention to the voices silenced

by those in power. Lartey’s work represents

a widening of the pastoral counseling lens to

include theories and practices from around the

globe. Pastoral counseling with a global lens

requires multiple perspectives and an acceptance

of ambiguities that exist when multiple truths

coexist.

See Also

▶Bible

▶Biblical Psychology

▶Calvinism

▶Depth Psychology and Spirituality

▶Evangelical

▶ Faith

▶ Fundamentalism

▶Grace

▶Hermeneutics

▶ Pastoral Counseling

▶ Postmodernism

▶ Psychology of Religion

▶ Psychotherapy and Religion

▶Religion

▶Religious

▶Theodicy

▶Twelve Steps

S

Bibliography

Adams, J. E. (1986). Competent to counsel: Introductionto nouthetic counseling. Grand Rapids: Zondervan

Publishing House.

Anderson, H. (2005). The Bible and pastoral care. In P.

Ballard & S. R. Holmes (Eds.), The Bible in pastoralpractice: Readings in the place and function of scrip-ture in the church (pp. 195–211). Grand Rapids:

Eerdmans.

Clinton, T., & Ohlschlager, G. (Eds.). (2002). CompetentChristian counseling: Foundations and practice ofcompassionate soul care (Vol. 1). Colorado Springs:

WaterBrook Press.

Collins, G. (2007). Christian counseling: A comprehensiveguide (3rd rev. ed.). Nashville: Thomas Nelson.

Crabb, L. J., Jr. (1975). Basic principles of biblicalcounseling. Grand Rapids: Zondervan Publishing

House.

Doehring, C. (2006). The practice of pastoral care:A postmodern approach. Louisville: Westminster

John Knox Press.

Friedman, D. A. (Ed.). (2001). Jewish pastoralcare: A practical handbook from traditional andcontemporary sources. Woodstock: Jewish Lights

Publication.

Gorsuch, N. (2001). Introducing feminist pastoral careand counseling. Cleveland: Pilgrim Press.

Hiltner, S. (1949). Pastoral counseling. New York:

Abingdon-Cokesbury Press.

Holifield, E. B. (1983). A history of pastoral care inAmerica: From salvation to self-realization.Nashville: Abingdon.

Hunter, R. J., & Ramsay, N. J. (Eds.). (2005). Dictionaryof pastoral care and counseling (expanded ed.).Nashville: Abingdon Press.

Johnson, P. (1953). Psychology of pastoral care.Nashville: Abingdon.

Kobeisy, A. N. (2004). Counseling American Muslims:Understanding the faith and helping the people.Westport: Praeger.

Lartey, E. Y. (2003). In living color: An interculturalapproach to pastoral care and counseling (2nd ed.).

London: Jessica Kingsley.

Marshall, J. (1997). Counseling lesbian partners.Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press.

Miller-McLemore, B. J. (1996). The living human web:

Pastoral theology at the turn of the century. In J. S.

Moessner (Ed.), Through the eyes of women: Insightsfor pastoral care (pp. 9–26). Minneapolis: Fortress

Press.

Neuger, C. C. (2001). Counseling women: A narrativepastoral approach. Minneapolis: Fortress Press.

Oates, W. (1974). Protestant pastoral counseling.Philadelphia: Westminster Press.

Powlison, D. (2010). The Biblical counselingmovement: History and context. Greensboro: New

Growth Press.

Ramsay, N. J. (2005). A time of ferment and

redefinition. In R. J. Hunter & N. J. Ramsay

(Eds.), Dictionary of pastoral care and counseling(exp. ed.) (pp. 1349–1369). Nashville: Abingdon

Press.

Rogers, C. (1951). Client-centered therapy. Boston:

Houghton-Mifflin.

Watkins Ali, C. A. (1999). Survival and liberation: Pas-toral theology in African American context. St. Louis:Chalice Press.

Wimberly, E. P. (2006). African American pastoral careand counseling: The politics of oppression andempowerment. Cleveland: Pilgrim Press.

Wise, C. (1951). Pastoral counseling: Its theory andpractice. New York: Harper and Brothers.

S 1702 Spectrum of Religions

Spectrum of Religions

Lee W. Bailey

Department of Philosophy and Religion,

Ithaca College, Ithaca, NY, USA

The spectrum of religions can be approached

by various themes, such as the traditionalist/mod-

erate/progressive theme: (1) whether a major reli-

gion seeks to maintain a historically traditional

approach, (2) is moderately adaptive to its cul-

tural context, or (3) seeks to adapt more fully to

current cultural movements. These have psycho-

logical as well as regional, historical, and theo-

logical roots. Global archetypal themes, such as

family, gender roles, and death, appear in many

ways.

Traditional

Religions whose goal is to maintain traditional

practices strive to stay rooted in various elements

of past principles. Psychologically, this may

provide a sense of rightness, security, identity, sta-

bility, social order, family history, moral order, and

survival, as in gender roles or land ownership.

Change is difficult, perhaps threatening. Since reli-

gions often make social order and psychological

identity a matter sanctioned by ultimate reality,

they seem to be fixed and immovable.

Indigenous nations are guided by ancient

traditions such as clan and tribal social organiza-

tions, gender roles, and ancestral veneration.

The presence of sacred spirits is felt in the world

and the sky. Traditional rituals are maintained, such

as drumming, dancing, and gods and goddesses,

such as Chronos andMother Earth. Haudenosaunee

(Iroquois) nations keep to Long House political

structures whereby clan mothers choose male

chiefs, who relate to the outside world. Some tradi-

tional first nation people do not believe in teaching

nonnatives their traditions, since they feel that their

land was stolen and do not want their culture stolen

as well. Arctic peoples strive to maintain their tra-

ditional longboat sea hunts and honor ocean

goddess such as Inuit Sedna of the sea creatures.

Caribbean religions keep traditional rituals such as

Spiritism orVoudon alivewith drumming, dancing,

and possession by spirits during ritual dances.

Chinese folk religions maintain ancient shen

gods and goddesses, such as Mazu (Mother

Ancestor), who rescues drowning sailors. Chi-

nese New Year is a major celebration including

family reunions, ancestor veneration at family

graves, and dragon parades with firecrackers to

scare off threatening spirits. Confucianism is usu-

ally called not a religion, but a philosophy for

social order, yet its texts revere the “Mandate

of Heaven.” Confucian tradition still teaches

a preference for male babies and patriarchal

society. Taoism teaches the ancient dynamic

energy Qi (chi), incorporating the Yin/Yang

energy pair of opposites in relation, such as

dark/light, female/male, and traditional arts.

Pilgrimages to ancient Taoist or Buddhist tem-

ples and Chinese mountain shrines are popular.

Hindu traditionalists learn spiritual traditions

from gurus and priests. They celebrate holidays

such as Holi, when raucous crowds throw

brightly colored powder on each other as they

process to temple celebrations. Belief in karma

and reincarnation is widespread across Asia.

The seemingly sacred Hindu caste system lingers

among traditionalists, even though it is now

officially illegal. Thousands of gods and god-

desses and their temples fill India, but the greatest

gods are Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. Goddesses

include Kali, goddess of life/death, and Durga,

a fierce warrior who rides a tiger. Ascetics reject

conventions and retreat to the forests or beg in

cities.

Buddhist traditionalists vary by country, support

celibate monks and nuns who educate their chil-

dren, and celebrate holy days such as Buddha’s

birthday. Indonesians have little model Spirit

Houses, where they believe indigenous spirits and

ancestor spirits live and are fed to assure peace.

Tibetanmonasteries and refugees strive tomaintain

monastic traditions. Avalokiteshvara, the Buddha

of compassion, is a popular Tibetan form of

Buddha. The Chinese chant and burn incense in

Buddhist Amita-fo Pure Land Buddhist temples.

Chinese Chan Buddhism is the mystical branch

Spectrum of Religions 1703 S

S

that spread to Japan and became Zen. The goddess

of Mercy Guanyin is a syncretic blend of the Bud-

dhist Avalokiteshvara and ancient goddesses.

In Japan, Zen Buddhists maintain their elegant

temples and monasteries with model gardens of

harmony with the spirits throughout the cosmos.

Monks seek to drop the bottom out of the mind

and experience the Buddha mind throughout

existence by practicing the rigorous Zen medita-

tion, koan riddles, and chanting sutras. Ancient

indigenous Japanese Shinto belief in kami nature

spirits continues, as in the blessing of the rice

before planting. Mountain pilgrimages may

include standing under cold waterfalls.

Most Jews now live in Brooklyn, New York,

and Israel. Jewish traditionalists include the mys-

tical Hassidim and pious Orthodox, who empha-

size strict adherence to Torah laws, and later

interpretations, such as male leadership and reli-

gious education, gender separation, kosher diets,

nineteenth-century dress in black suits and beards

for men, modest dress for women, strict Shabbat

rules, arranged marriages, and rituals such as

YomKippur NewYear cleansing practices. Israel

is the protected Holy Land.

In Christianity, traditionalist Eastern Orthodox

believers practice worship with ancient ritual

chanting. They venerate medieval-style icon paint-

ings and have a hierarchical, bearded male priest-

hood. Priestsmarry andBishops come fromcelibate

monastic lives. Traditionalist Roman Catholics cel-

ebrate ritual masses in Latin, with a celibate male

priesthood, centered in the Vatican in Rome, where

the Pope leads the hierarchical global church.

Strongly Catholic countries, such as Italy, Spain,

and southernGermany, are nowbeing outnumbered

by former colonies such as South America, Asia,

and Africa. They oppose modern birth control,

abortion, and many women’s rights. Protestant

Fundamentalists are usually independent “free

church” or nonhierarchical churches, like the US

Southern Baptists. The Bible is the primary author-

ity for faith, read literally. The Protestant belief in

the priesthood of all believers reduces clerical

authority. Evangelical traditionalists promote belief

in creationism against evolution and have other

conflicts between science and biblical literalism.

Episcopalians and Lutherans retain bishops and

formal liturgies, but most Protestant worship is

simplified and communal, rather than formal and

hierarchical, and married men are preferred for

traditional ministry and leadership.

Muslims are most traditional in Arab

countries, centered on Mecca in Saudi Arabia,

where the annual Hajj pilgrimage attracts mil-

lions of fervent believers. Traditions such as

reverence for the Qu’ran are kept, such as saying

the key belief in only one God Allah and that

Muhammed is His one Messenger, daily bowing

prayer facing Mecca five times a day. Loyalty to

family and clan are very important. Men prefer

beards and women are generally required to dress

modestly, sometime totally covered.

Moderate

Moderation of traditional practices often comes

from cultural mixing, due to today’s globaliza-

tion of cultures. Moderate religious practices

among indigenous peoples include interacting

with and teaching nonindigenous people native

ways, such as respect for nature. Some Native

Americans have Indian gift shops selling beads

or Hopi Kachina dolls, hosting public powwows,

native museums, and gambling casinos. Chinese

dragon boat races in the Duanwu Festival origi-

nating in China have become a popular event

worldwide. Some indigenous people move to

industrial cities for jobs, such as ethnic grocery

stores or restaurants. New Orleans has become

the home of moderate Caribbean Voudon tradi-

tions, with a temple, a museum, and the sale of

love potions.

Somemoderate Hindus adopt English customs

and education and revere leaders such as Gandhi,

who led an influential nonviolent resistance

against British imperialism. He rejected industri-

alism and promoted handmade clothing. Some

Hindus emigrate to other countries and build

Hindu temples. Yoga has become a popular

practice in the West, although sometimes more

fitness-oriented than spiritual.

Buddhist programs in foreign countries build

temples and monasteries for immigrants, usually

using native languages. They often translate

S 1704 Spectrum of Religions

religious literature, such as Buddhist books and

DVDs. Moderate leaders may work with new

local converts to establish publishing houses to

distribute their books and artifacts. Americans

become Buddhists and influence the US culture

with meditation and new forms of spirituality.

Moderate Jews have founded Reform, Conser-

vative, and Reconstructionist branches. Most

support the Israeli State, speak some Hebrew,

and celebrate traditional holidays such as Rosh

Hashanah and Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, while living

otherwise largely Western lives. Women in these

traditions have increasingly become rabbis.

Moderates in the Roman Catholic Church like

the ritual and symbols, although they may ignore

some rules, many practice contraception. Women

have gained increasing leadership roles in many

churches. Mass was often celebrated in modern

times in local languages, but in 2007 PopeBenedict

XVI restored Latin to the Mass. Moderate Protes-

tants, the “mainstream” denominations, continue

a rather traditional worship, with a new informal

dress code. Many have supported civil rights for

minorities. Modern large “megachurches” such as

the large Lakewood Church in Houston, TX, have

spread a conservative gospel withmodern architec-

ture, nontraditional music, television, and often

a “prosperity gospel.”

Turkey is a rather moderate Muslim country,

where one can see many large mosques, and

women dressed in many ways, mostly modestly,

but some in youthful modern clothes, many in

very modest modern clothes, and some in fully

black robes with only their eyes showing. Many

moderate Muslims have emigrated West and

assimilated somewhat into Western culture. In

parts of Brooklyn, one can see Muslims in

traditional dress walking down the same streets

as Orthodox Jews.

Progressive

Progressive believers offer spiritual support for

making changes in their societies. Progressive

indigenous peoples focus on the struggle for

political and economic equality. They often

stand strongly for the protection of the earth’s

ecological health, against industrial society’s

destructive exploitations. Southwestern US

Indians say: “You look at that mountain, that

mountain has a spirit, that mountain has holiness”

(Trimble 1986, p. 27). They may seek to regain

tribal lands lost in past wars of conquest. They

may create new ceremonies and resources for

rebuilding their communities. Kwanzaa is an

African-American celebration since 1966 that

focuses on seven principles (Nguzo Saba in

Swahili): Umoja (Unity), Kujichagulia (Self-

Determination), Ujima (Collective Work and

Responsibility), Ujamaa (Cooperative Econom-

ics), Nia (Purpose), Kuumba (Creativity), and

Imani (Faith) (Karenga).Progressive Chinese are increasingly traveling

and getting higher education abroad. They are

rapidly absorbing industrial culture at home. Chi-

nese Amita-fo Buddhism is gaining ground at

home, as well as the Daoist mystical traditions

of Lao Tse’s Dao de Ching, some with women

priests (Johnson 2010).

Progressive Hindus often promote Gandhi’s

principles: the harmony among all religions, rejec-

tion of the caste system, untouchability, and non-

violent resistance. Women are also gaining power,

as expressed by Guru Mata Amritanandamayi

(2002), a leader for women’s liberation. She

ordains women as priests, in opposition to Brahmin

tradition. She is considered a divine mother by

many of her followers worldwide. Progressive

Hindus also emphasize the urgency of restoring

the earth’s ecological balance. One group hugged

trees so they would not be cut down to make sports

equipment (Hinduism and Ecology).

Progressive Buddhists have created the

“Engaged Buddhism” movement that works to

change oppressive social structures. Work for edu-

cation, health, environment, and social justice

for the poor is now considered an important part

of Buddhism, expanding from monastic and

meditative traditions (Queen & King 1996). The

Zen monk Thich Nhat Hanh (1987) emphasizes

“Interbeing,” the full relatedness of all existence

at the foundation, the Buddha Nature. His precepts

include “Do not accumulate wealth while millions

are hungry,” and “Do not live with a vocation that

his harmful to humans and nature.” Similarly, the

Spectrum of Religions 1705 S

S

Dalai Lama (2011) spreads Buddhism worldwide

with teachings on the dangers of the population and

environmental consciousness, consumerism, and

religious intolerance. He supports the growing

number of women Buddhist leaders, such as

Tsultrim Allione (2000). He urges compassion,

increased democracy, and, in a new book, the

theme of going Beyond Religion: Ethics for

a Whole World.Progressive Jews encourage the ordination of

women into the rabbinate, such as Sally Priesand,

in 1972 the first US woman rabbi. Progressive

synagogues now call girls to the Torah in a Bat

Mitzvah. Prayers are becoming gender-neutral,

and the birth of a daughter is celebrated.

Women celebrate their own Passover Seders.

Yeshivat Maharat is the first school to train

women to be Jewish leaders (Umansky). Rabbi

Michael Lerner (2005), editor of Tikkunmagazine,

advocates a rewriting of the TenCommandments as

the Ten Commitments. Rethinking “Thou shall not

steal,” he writes “. . .I will support a fairer redistri-

bution of the wealth of the planet so that everyone

has material well-being. . .” Secular Humanistic

Judaism celebrates Jewish customs and holidays,

but without belief in God.

Progressive Christians are represented by

Matthew Fox, the priest who was expelled from

the Catholic Church for advocating feminism, and

Episcopal Bishop John Spong, who challenges

fundamentalist and mainstream churches alike

(Spong 1998). Most progressive churches support

African-American concerns. Most have welcomed

women clergy. Some Catholic women have been

ordained illegally (Roman). Some progressive

Protestant churches have embraced rights for gay

and lesbian believers. Sexuality is increasingly

discussed openly in feminist circles. Some progres-

sive Christians have supported ecological spiritual-

ity and global warming awareness. Many are

ecumenical, engaging in shared services and pro-

grams with other churches. Others are active in

interfaith movements to bring together various

world religions. World Religions college courses

are common. Pastoral Counseling and Spiritual

Guidance, blending psychology and religion, are

spreading worldwide. Goddess spirituality is an

expanding area of feminist theology.

Most Muslim countries are experiencing

struggles between traditional leaders who control

most of the wealth and the masses who are press-

ing for democracy, using the Internet, sometimes

protesting forcefully, as in the 2011 “Arab

Spring.” Progressive Sufi mystics have strong

traditions of chanting, meditation, and the dra-

matic Whirling Dervishes. The International Sufi

movement supports creative interfaith spiritual

practices (International). Debates continue over

conflicts between the progressive Universal

Islamic Declaration of Human Rights (Islamic)

and traditional Muslim Sharia law (Salem 1981).

The spectrum of religions shows that religions

are always changing. Today, rapid growth in

global communication and travel, education, and

immigration are bringing together stimulating

psychological and spiritual forces at a rapid pace.

See Also

▶Creation Spirituality

▶Goddess Spirituality

▶Guanyin

▶Roman Catholic Women Priests

▶ Sacred Mountains

▶ Sexuality and Religion: Feminist Views

▶ Spiritual Care

▶ Spiritual Ecology

Bibliography

Allione, T. (2000).Women of wisdom. Ithaca: Snow Lion.

Amritanandamayi, M. (2002). The awakening of universalmotherhood: an address to a global peace initiative ofwomen religious and spiritual leaders. Geneva.

Hanh, T. N. (1987). Interbeing. Berkeley: Parallax Press.

Hinduism and ecology. Retrieved from http://hollys7.tripod.

com/religionandecology/id4.html. Accessed 1 Apr 2012.

International Sufi Movement. Retrieved from http://www.

sufimovement.org. Accessed 2 Apr 2012.

Islamic Council, London. (1999). Universal IslamicDeclaration of Human Rights. Retrieved from http://

www.alhewar.com/ISLAMDECL.html. Accessed 1

Sept 2012.

Johnson, I. (2010, November 5). The rise of the Tao. NewYork Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/

2010/11/07/magazine/07religion-t.html. Accessed 2

Apr 2012.

S 1706 Spielrein, Sabina

Karenga, M. (n.d.). The official Kwanza website.

Retrieved from http://www.officialkwanzaawebsite.

org/NguzoSaba.shtml. Accessed 1 Sept 2012.

Lama, D. (2011). Beyond religion: an ethics for a wholeworld. New York: Houghton Mifflin.

Lerner, M. (2005, 11 October). Tikkun Magazine.Retrieved from http://www.tikkun.org. Accessed 2

Apr 2012.

Mahatma Gandhi. (n.d.). Retrieved from http://www.

mkgandhi.org. Accessed 2 April 2012.

Queen, C., & King, S. (Eds.). (1996). Engaged Buddhism.New York: Albany State University Press.

Roman Catholic Women Priests. (2012). Retrieved from

romancatholicwomenpriests.org. Accessed 1 Sept

2012.

Salem, A. (1981). Universal Islamic Declaration of

Human Rights. The International Journal of HumanRights. doi:10.1080/13642989808406750.

Spong, J. (1998). Why Christianity must change or die.San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco.

Trimble, S. (Ed.). (1986). Our voices, our land. Flagstaff:Northland Press.

Spielrein, Sabina

Felicity Kelcourse

Doctor of Ministry Program, Christian

Theological Seminary, Indianapolis, IN, USA

Sabina Spielrein (1885–1942) was a first-

generation psychoanalytic pioneer whose col-

lected works, available in German since 1987,

have only recently been rediscovered by

English-speaking scholars. Spielrein’s original

contributions at the dawn of psychoanalytic

thinking, as typified by her papers “Destruction

as a Cause of Coming into Being” (1912/1987)

and “The Origins of the Words Mama and Papa”

(1922/1987), deserve to reemerge from the heavy

shadows of the Freud/Jung legacy to be studied and

appreciated in their own right. Spielrein published

over 30 papers during her lifetime, served as

Piaget’s analyst, and helped to establish psycho-

analysis in her nativeRussia. The origins ofFreud’s

“death instinct,” Jung’s “anima,” and Klein’s the-

ories about the infant’s experience of the breast

have all been linked to Spielrein’s prior contribu-

tions. The correlations Spielrein identified between

evolutionary biology and psychoanalytic thinking,

resisted by her contemporaries, prefigure the work

of Bowlby and Bateson (Launer 2011). Her contri-

butions to psycholinguistics and psychoanalytic

theories of human development as applied to

early childhood clearly precede those of Melanie

Klein (1882–1960) and Anna Freud (1895–1982).

Spielrein was also influential as an early

psychoanalytic patient. What Anna O (Bertha

Pappenheim) and Dora were for Freud, founda-

tional cases for the practice of psychoanalysis,

Spielrein was for analytical (Jungian) psychol-

ogy. Arriving as an inpatient at the Burgholzli

in 1904, where Jung had been working since 1900

under the direction of Bleuler, hers was the first

case Jung attempted to treat using Freud’s psy-

choanalytic method. The treatment was both

a success and a disaster: a success because

Spielrein went on to train as a psychiatrist, pub-

lishing articles in German, French, and Russian,

and a disaster because she was in some respects

betrayed by both Jung and Freud. What Jung and

Freud learned, and what subsequent analysts can

glean from her treatment, informs understandings

of therapeutic transformation, individuation,

boundaries, and frame identified as best practices

today.

Spielrein was the firstborn daughter of

a well-to-do Jewish couple living in

Rostov-on-Don, near the eastern shores of the

Black Sea. Her parents’ arranged marriage was

apparently never happy. Her mother, Eva

Lublinsky, trained as a dentist and was the daugh-

ter and granddaughter of respected rabbis. Both

Sabina’s mother and her maternal grandfather

had first loves who were Christians before mar-

rying within their faith. Sabina’s father, Nikolai,

originally from Warsaw, prospered as an animal

feeds dealer, but Sabina’s mother repeatedly

provoked him to rage and threats of suicide with

lavish spending and affairs. When Sabina was

admitted to the Burgholzli hospital at the age of

19, marital strife and humiliating corporal pun-

ishment inflicted by both father and mother were

cited as causes for what we would now consider

posttraumatic stress.

Sabina was sent away from her family to live

with relatives in Warsaw at age 5, perhaps

because her parents already recognized her

Spielrein, Sabina 1707 S

S

signs of disturbance. Sabina later returned to live

with her parents and three brothers and was edu-

cated at home until she entered the gymnasium.

A second daughter, Emilia, was born when

Sabina was 10. Fluent in German and French as

well as Russian, Sabina studied biblical Hebrew

to read the Bible in the original. She studied piano

and voice as a child and composition as an adult.

In keeping with the Hassidic rabbis on her

mother’s side of the family, she had a mystical

bent, believing that an angel spoke to her in

German, telling her that she was destined for

great things.

With encouragement from her father, she

aspired to be a doctor, while her mother wished

her to remain ignorant in sexual matters. Despite

academic success, she developed symptoms

including depression, nervous tics, and psycho-

somatic ailments. Her mental health worsened at

the age of 16 when Emilia, age 6, suddenly died

from typhoid fever. Sabina then withdrew from

friends and family, becoming increasingly agi-

tated. When her mood failed to improve, her

mother and physician uncle took her to Switzer-

land for treatment. At 10:30 p.m. on the night of

August 17, 1904, she arrived at the mental hospi-

tal made famous by August Forel and Eugene

Bleuler, respected throughout Europe, the

Burgholzli.

Spielrein’s case, diagnosed as hysteria, was

assigned to the 29-year-old Carl Jung who, hav-

ing been encouraged by Bleuler to read Freud’s

Interpretation of Dreams, attempted to treat

Spielrein using Freud’s then-novel psychoana-

lytic method, despite his personal reservations

about the sexual etiology of mental illness. Jung

had been conducting association experiments

since 1901 and proceeded to “analyze” Spielrein

during episodic sessions, sometimes lasting

3 hours at a time, during which he attempted to

understand her “complexes.” Spielrein’s initial

disruptive behavior, eliciting negative attention

by provoking staff, responded positively to

treatment despite, with occasional setbacks

when Dr. Jung was not available.

The Burgholzli at that time was a true

“asylum,” in the sense that patients whose mental

illnesses were either hereditary or induced by

abuse were to be treated with kindness and

respect. Every patient capable of contributing

through work was given a task. Both patients

and staff were expected to attend psychoedu-

cational sessions designed to help them under-

stand the nature of mental illness. As Spielrein

recovered, she assisted Jung in his ongoing

association experiment research. By April 1905,

only 8 months after being admitted as an

inpatient, she began to attend medical lectures

at the University while still living at the hospital.

On June 1, 1905, she was discharged and lived

independently in Zurich while continuing her

medical studies. In May 1908, she passed her

preliminary medical examination, and in 1911,

her qualifying psychiatric medical dissertation,€Uber den psychologischen Inhalt eines Falles

von Schizophrenie (On the Psychological Con-

tent of a Case of Schizophrenia) was accepted,

using the term “schizophrenia” recently minted

by Bleuler.

Spielrein’s successful recovery demonstrated

the value of the psychoanalytic method. But the

disaster that followed was to have a profound

effect on both Spielrein and Jung, altering the

course of psychoanalytic history. As early as

September 25, 1905, after Spielrein had been

discharged but was still seeing Jung on an outpa-

tient basis, Jung prepared a “Report on Miss

Spielrein to Professor Freud in Vienna, delivered

to Mrs. Spielrein for use if the occasion arises.”

The report begins as a standard case summary but

concludes: “During treatment the patient had the

misfortune to fall in love with me. She raves on to

her mother about her love in an ostentatious man-

ner, and a secret perverse enjoyment of her

mother’s dismay seems to play a not inconsider-

able part. Now in this distressing situation the

mother wants to place her elsewhere for treat-

ment, with which I am naturally in agreement”

(Covington & Wharton 2003, p. 106). Jung’s

1905 report was apparently never sent to Freud

(though Spielrein would eventually meet Freud in

Vienna).

Sabina remained in Zurich through 1911 to

pursue her medical studies and continued to see

Jung, first as patient, then as research assistant,

becoming, in the course of completing her

S 1708 Spielrein, Sabina

psychiatric dissertation under his supervision, the

first of his many “muses,” later to be succeeded

by Maria Molzer and Toni Wolfe. Through the

intensity of their work and his own emotional

vulnerability, it seems possible that the “poetry”

Spielrein wrote of in her journal included an

affair (Carotenuto 1982). Clearly Jung, a fully

qualified psychiatrist 10 years her senior, had

a moral obligation to Spielrein to maintain appro-

priate professional boundaries with his former

patient. But it is significant that Jung did not

truly embark on his own self-analysis until after

Spielrein left Zurich for Vienna (via Munich) in

1911. Jung’s own woundedness included the hos-

pitalization of his mother when he was three.

During her absence Jung the toddler depended

on a dark-haired caregiver and developed what

he called a distrust of women (Jung 1961, p. 8).

Today this would be considered an insecure

attachment style compromising trust and monog-

amy in adulthood. Moreover, as Jung confessed

to Freud “. . . my veneration for you has some-

thing of the character of a ‘religious’ crush . . .

I still feel it is disgusting and ridiculous because

of its undeniable erotic overtones. This abomina-

ble feeling comes from the fact that as a boy I was

the victim of a sexual assault by a man I once

worshipped” (49J, 10/28/1907). Like Spielrein,

Jung’s childhood was overshadowed by parental

conflict, attachment injuries, and sexual abuse.

As yet unanalyzed regarding his own

woundedness, the intensity of his analytic work

with Spielrein, coupled with grueling demands at

the Burgholzli, meant that Jung was increasingly

unable to contain the flights of nondirected think-

ing that were to become Symbols of Transforma-tion (Jung 1956).

From the beginnings of the Freud/Jung

correspondence in April 1906, until Spielrein

left Zurich in 1911, Jung’s attempts to cope

with the intense countertransference he devel-

oped using Freud’s psychoanalytic method

resulted in requests for supervision. Jung men-

tioned her case to Freud in his fourth letter,

“disguising” the case by stating that the unnamed

patient had an older brother: “First trauma

between third and fourth year. Saw her father

spanking her older brother on the bare

bottom. . .couldn’t help thinking afterwards that

she had defecated on her father’s hand” (Freud &

Jung 1974, 4J 10/23/1906). From this report and

Jung’s history, we can infer the interlocking

nature of his countertransference to Spielrein,

who had also experienced preoedipal trauma

and abuse of a sexually invasive nature. Jung’s

therapeutic work and subsequent boundary trans-

gressions with Spielrein served to precipitate his

own period of “creative illness” from 1913 to

1919, following his break with Freud. In moral

terms, Jung’s psychological vulnerability at

this stage in his career does not excuse his “use”

of Spielrein, or Toni Wolfe and others, in

transgressing therapeutic boundaries. These are

the potential perils of intense countertransference

that have served to establish the emphasis on the

“temenos,” the inviolate container required for

therapeutic transformation that is the norm for

Jungian analysts today.

In recent years Spielrein has gained notoriety,

if inadequate recognition, through the publication

of Kerr’s A Most Dangerous Method and a 2011

film directed by David Cronenberg that relies

heavily on his text. Kerr recognized the pivotal

role Spielrein played in the Freud/Jung corre-

spondence and subsequent falling out. What is

only now being acknowledged is the significance

of Spielrein’s own original work. She is justly

credited with contributing to Jung’s understand-

ing of Jung’s anima/animus “syzygy” as the

bridge between the individual ego and the trans-

personal self (Bettelheim 1983). Clearly the

paper she delivered to Freud’s Wednesday

Psychoanalytic group first named the “death

instinct” theme was later taken up by Freud

(1920) and others. But these facts do not exhaust

the originality of her work. John Launer, a British

psychiatrist, asserts in Sex Versus Survival: TheStory of Sabina Spielrein: Her Life, Her Ideas,

Her Genius (2011) that her work is the most

significant for the way it anticipated contempo-

rary efforts to link psychoanalytic theory with

evolutionary biology, as represented in the work

of Bowlby on attachment theory and Bateson’s

Steps Towards an Ecology of Mind.

Despite the condescending tone of the letters

that Freud and Jung exchanged about her,

Spielrein, Sabina 1709 S

S

Freud cited her work 4 times and Jung 16 times in

Symbols of Transformation alone. Spielrein

continued to correspond with Jung until 1918,

referencing the mystical and ambiguous Siegfried

symbol they shared, and she corresponded with

Freud until 1923. She not only attempted to bridge

the differences between the two through her own

understanding of symbols, but according to Launer,

she was ahead of her time through attempting to

provide a biological basis for psychoanalytic think-

ing. This was a theoretical vein that both Freud and

Jung resisted, thereby foreshadowing the efforts of

subsequent theorists.

Like Rosalind Franklin (1920–1958), another

Jewish female intellectual who had her under-

standing of the DNA double helix formation

pirated by Watson and Crick (Sayre 1975), Jung

is credited with the anima/animus concept that

developed in the context of his relationship with

Spielrein, and Freud claimed the “death instinct”

that first appeared in Spielrein’s Destructionpaper. Similarly, Melanie Klein is known for

her psychoanalytic work on representations of

the breast in infancy, which may well have

been influenced by Spielrein’s paper “The Origin

and Development of Spoken Speech” delivered at

the 6th International Psychoanalytic Conference

in Spielrein (1920) that Klein attended. Kerr

notes that “the talk was striking in its attempt to

integrate Freud’s notion of a primary autistic

stage in infancy ruled by the pleasure principle

with the findings of developmental psychology.”

Anticipating Winnicott’s understanding of tran-

sitional phenomena (1953), Spielrein noted that

“spoken speech arises in an intermediate zone

between the pleasure and reality principles”

(Kerr 1993, p. 493).

Following the 1920 conference, Spielrein

moved to Geneva, delegated to the Institute

Rousseau as an evangelist for psychoanalysis.

She conducted a “didactic” analysis with Piaget,

which, according to him, did not take. In 1924 she

moved to Moscow, establishing early childhood

care based on psychodynamic principles, and

then returned to her birth place where, following

the rise of Stalin banishing psychoanalysis, she

was killed with her two daughters when the Nazis

invaded Rostov-on-Don for the second time.

Too idealistic to believe that Germans who

spoke the language of her angel could be

butchers, she resisted those who urged her to

flee, and so her life was cut short at the age of

57. Had not Aldo Carotenuto discovered her dia-

ries stored in the building that was formerly the

Rousseau Institute in Geneva and published A

Secret Symmetry: Sabina Spielrein Between

Jung and Freud, Spielrein’s work might well

have remained forgotten. But it is now high

time to appreciate Spielrein’s pioneering efforts

in their own right, not Spielrein between Freud

and Jung, but Spielrein beyond Freud and Jung

(Launer 2011; Kelcourse et al. 2012).

See Also

▶Countertransference

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav, and Feminism

▶ Psychoanalysis

▶Religion, Sexuality, and Psychoanalysis

▶ Shakti

Bibliography

Bateson, G. (1972/2000). Steps towards an ecology ofmind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Bettelheim, B. (1983). Skandal in der Psychofamilie: C.G.

Jung und seine Anima [Scandal in the psychoanalytic

family: C. G. Jung and his anima]. Tagesanzeiger,Z€urich, 43, 19–44.

Carotenuto, A. (1982). A secret symmetry: Sabina Spielreinbetween Jung and Freud. New York: Pantheon.

Covington, C., & Wharton, B. (Eds.). (2003). SabinaSpielrein: Forgotten pioneer of psychoanalysis.New York: Brunner-Routledge.

Cronenberg, D. (Director). (2011). A dangerous method[Film]. Berlin: Lago Film.

Freud, S. (1920). Beyond the pleasure principle (trans:

Strachey, J.). In The standard edition of the completepsychological works of Sigmund Freud (Vol. 18).

London: Hogarth.

Freud, S., & Jung, C. G. (1974). The Freud/Jung letters(W. McGuire, Ed. & trans: Hull, R. F. C., &Manheim,

R.). Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1956). The collected works of C. G. Jung:Symbols of transformation (trans: Hull, R. F. C.;

Vol. 5). Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1961). Memories, dreams and reflections.New York: Vintage/Random House.

S 1710 Spirit Writing

Kelcourse, F., Cooper-White, P., & Noth, I.

(2012, November 16). Presentation to psychology,culture, and religion group. American Academy of

Religion Annual Conference, Chicago.

Kerr, J. (1993). A most dangerous method: The story ofJung, Freud, and Sabina Spielrein. New York:

Random House.

Launer, J. (2011). Sex versus survival: The story of SabinaSpielrein:Her life, her ideas, her genius. NewYork:Lulu.

McGuire, W. (Ed.). (1974/1979). The Freud/Jung letters.Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Sayre, A. (1975). Rosalind Franklin and DNA. New York:

Norton.

Spielrein, S. (1911/1987). €Uber den psychologischen

Inhalt eines Falles von Schizophrenie (dementia

praecox) [On the psychological content of a case of

schizophrenia]. In Jahrbuch f€ur psychoanalytischeund psychopathologische Forschungen, S€amtlicheSchriften (Vol. 3, Band 1) (pp. 329–400).

Freiburg i. Br., Germany: Kore.

Spielrein, S. (1912/1987). Die Destruktion als Ursache des

Werdens [Destruction as the cause of becoming].

In Jahrbuch f€ur psychoanalytische und psychopatho-logische Forschungen, S€amtliche Schriften(Vol. 4, Band 1). (pp. 465–503). Freiburg i. Br., Ger-

many: Kore.

Spielrein, S. (1922/1987). Die Entstehung der kindlichen

Worte Papa und Mama [The origin of the childish

words papa and mama]. Imago, S€amtliche Schriften(Vol. 8). (pp 345–67). Freiburg i. Br., Germany: Kore.

Spielrein, S. (1920). Zur Frage der Entstehung und

Entwicklung der Lautsprache. InternationaleZeitschrift fur €artzliche Psychoanalyse, 6:401.

Spirit Writing

Mark Greene

Counselling and Psychotherapy, Mercury Pier

Publishing, Hong Kong Special Administrative

Region of the People’s Republic of China,

North Point, Hong Kong

Spirit writing is a popular form of divination used

in Taoist temples and folk shrines located princi-

pally in Taiwan, Malaysia, Singapore, Hong Kong,

and Mainland China. The Chinese name for this

traditional method is fuji (扶). The fuji diviner usesa stick to conveymessages from a god or a spirit by

drawing Chinese words in a tray of sand or on

a table. Once the character has been identified,

a second person transcribes it for later study so

that the drawing area can be swept clean to make

way for the next word. Although the guiding force

behind the stick’s movements is thought to be the

god or spirit, the diviner participates in the process

to the extent that he must be deemed deserving of

the post by virtue of his good character. Spirit

writers generally appear to be in a mild trance and

do not often show signs of overt spirit possession.

See Also

▶Chinese Religions

▶Taoism

▶Wong Tai Sin

Bibliography

Lang, G., & Ragvald, L. (1993). The rise of a refugee God:Hong Kong’s Wong Tai Sin. Oxford, UK: Oxford

University Press.

Lang, G., & Ragvald, L. (1998). Spirit writing and the

development of Chinese cults. Sociology of Religion,59(4), 309–328.

Spiritism

Alexander (Alejandro) V. Gonzalez

Strayer University, Piscataway, NJ, USA

“Spiritism” is the creation of the French educator

HyppolyteLeonDenizardRivail (1804–1869),who

went under the alias of AllanKardec for his Spiritist

writings. Spiritism incorporates the archaic medi-

umistic methods of American “Occult Spiritual-

ism” of the Fox sisters but is more Christian than

the American. Spiritism also incorporates reincar-

nation. Spiritism spread from France to Cuba and

Brazil, where in some instances it blended with

Cuban and Brazilian African traditions.

Kardecan Spiritism

From the United States, Modern American “Spiri-

tualism” traveled to Europe in the mid-nineteenth

Spiritism 1711 S

S

century, where it became especially popular with

the professional classes. In England Sir Arthur

Conan Doyle later codified Spiritualism in two

volumes thatwere published in 1926 asTheHistory

of Spiritualism. In his work Doyle made only slight

mention of a phenomenon derived from Spiritual-

ism, known as Spiritism, that continued to be dis-

tinctly popular in France. Doyle only dedicated

about five pages to Spiritism in his work. To this

day Spiritism is more widely known in countries

where Romance languages are spoken, especially

Cuba and Brazil, whereas Spiritualism is more

popular in the English-speaking world.

In 1800s France Rivail had codified Spiritism

and distinguished it from Spiritualism. These Spir-

itist writings were written under the pseudonym of

Allan Kardec, a name Rivail believed to be that of

a previous Druid incarnation. Kardec never

claimed to be a medium or to have the ability to

communicate with the spirits. It was on the basis of

conversations with and observation of mediums

that he elaborated Spiritist doctrine. Kardec wrote

a series of books in which he expounded Spiritist

doctrine. Although not a medium, Kardec claimed

that it was superior Spirits who guided him to write

The Spirits’ Book and that it was their work.

Kardecan Spiritism is specifically Christ-

based. Jesus Christ is upheld as the role model

for spiritual perfection and God is seen as the

telos. In Spiritism, the spirit is endowed with

free will. However, a spirit receives a mission

from God and submits to the law of constant

progress. It is this notion of reincarnation as con-

stant spiritual progress that takes the spirit

through various lifetimes on its way to moral

perfection, which is the desired goal. Reincarna-

tion is thus viewed as progressive and one is

never reincarnated into a lower life form. Com-

parable to Hindu karma, Spiritism believes in the

law of cause and effect; thus, the human spiritual

condition in any given lifetime, be it happy or

unfortunate, is predicated on actions taken in

previous lifetimes. Spiritual progress or evolution

is made possible through Christian charity, and

charity, followed by wisdom, is one of the two

premier Spiritist virtues. As Christ-based, Spirit-

ism holds Jesus Christ as the most elevated Spirit

and spirit guide. He is seen as the highest example

of an incarnated spirit. Indeed, Spiritist doctrine

teaches that Jesus was sent by God to show

humanity the way toward spiritual perfection.

Spiritism views itself as pure and basic Christian-

ity that is untainted by organized religion. In

keeping with this notion, Spiritism utilizes Chris-

tian prayers such as “The Our Father” and bor-

rows sayings from the Gospels, but these are

interpreted in a Spiritist context as teachings

related to the attainment of moral perfection and

the personal quest for a higher reincarnation.

Spiritism is a syncretic blend of ancient medium-

istic communication with spirits, Christianity,

and reincarnation.

In his books Kardec specifically differentiates

between “Spiritualism” and what he now calls

“Spiritism,” because for him not all Spiritualists

believe in the reincarnation of spirits or that

spirits exist and that they can communicate with

the material world. Most importantly, for Kardec

there is God, who is the Primary Mover and the

Supreme Intelligence who generates all things

including the spiritual and the material; but

there are also the Spirits who perfect themselves

in the astral plane and through reincarnation;

these Spirits can both communicate with the liv-

ing and interfere in their lives.

Kardec also believed that there is intelligent life

on other planets that is more intellectually and

morally advanced than we. Spiritism envisions

Earth as a place of atonement. In Kardecan cos-

mology the Spirits communicate throughmediums.

Mediums are individuals who have the sensitivity

to be able to hear, see spirits, or have these spirits

communicate with them through various means

such as trance, possession, and automatic writing.

But Spiritism does not believe in supernatural ele-

ments such as miracles. Spiritism believes in an

invisible, or nonmaterial, yet natural, plane, where

the spirits abide. Spiritism holds that communica-

tion is possible between both the material and

nonmaterial planes. Indeed, the natural world

encompasses both material and nonmaterial planes

and both planes are subject to experimentation on

the basis of natural laws. For Spiritism, what we

call the human body is comprised of the soul, or

spirit, which is responsible for our thoughts, will,

and moral sense and the material body that permits

S 1712 Spiritism

the spirit to abide in the material world. Beside the

material and the spiritual, there is an intermediate

body designated by Kardec as the perispirit,which is a term he adapted from the botanical

“perisperm.” As Kardec states in answer to his

self-posed question 93 in The Spirits’ Book,concerning whether spirits have an outer covering:

The spirit is enveloped in a substance which would

appear to you asmere vapor, but which, nevertheless,

appears very gross to us, though it is sufficiently

vaporous to allow the spirit to float in the atmo-

sphere, and to transport himself through space at

pleasure. As the germ of a fruit is surrounded by

the perisperm so the spirit, properly so called, is

surrounded by an envelope which, by analogy, may

be designated as the perispirit (Kardec 1996, p. 92).

It is this perispirit that allows spirits to

manifest themselves in the material world. The

perispirit is drawn from the particular world the

spirit is in. A spirit manifesting in different

worlds may appear differently as the perispirit“material” of the world the spirit finds itself in

determines the apparition. This quasi-material

substance is what permits the spirit to appear

and communicate with us through rappings,

movement of furniture, etc., in our material

world. Kardecan seances were practiced through-

out France and then Cuba and Brazil.

In Cuba and Brazil, like in Europe, Spiritism

first became very popular with white upper class

women who would often engage in seances and

Spiritist masses. In Brazil and Cuba, especially for

practitioners of African religions, Spiritist beliefs

in reincarnation and the ability to communicate

with the dead resonated with ancient indigenous

African beliefs in ancestor spirits. Due to historical

exigency, certain Afro-New World religions such

as Cuban Lukumi (Santeria) and Brazilian

Umbanda and Candomble, while discarding the

philosophical underpinnings, adapted certain ele-

ments from Kardecan Spiritism. These Kardecan

Spiritist elements came to be adapted in

a roundabout manner. For example, the arrival of

Spiritism in Cuba coincides, as it did in Brazil,

with the demise of the egungun cults. “Egungun”is a Yoruba word that means skeleton and is often

shortened to “egun,” or bone; either word gener-

ally refers to the deceased, such as an ancestor.

The egungun were needed for various rituals

including the indispensable funerary rituals having

to do with appeasement of a newly diseased prac-

titioner’s egun, or spirit.

By the 1880s egungun cults in the Americas

were generally on the decline, for various reasons.

For example, 1880 saw the outlawing of slavery in

Cuba, but not the legalization of Afro-Cuban reli-

gions. Because of their trappings, that included

a public display featuring full body costume and

maniacal shouting, egungun cults such as the Oro

and the Egungun secret societies were especially

feared and had been specifically outlawed. Also, the

relatively minimal influx of egun technicians from

Africa into Cuba and Brazil that the slave trade had

supplied, and now the lack of willing apprentices

required to continue egungun cults, resulted in

a major problem for Afro-Cuban and Brazilian

religions. Additionally, improperly carrying out an

egungun ritual could result in the death of the tech-

nician and all present witnessing the event. Seeing

that it was socially acceptable for white women to

become possessed by a spirit and that Kardecan

Spiritism had much structurally in common with

West African religious beliefs relative to egungun

practices, Lukumis (as did Afro-Brazilian religious

practitioners) adopted these Kardecan practices

with the conscious twofold understanding that it

could meet and supplant the need left by the demise

of the egungun cults and additionally serve as one

more instance of dissimulation of West African

ritual under the guise of dominant cultural practices.

Also, priests were now freed from reliance on the

specialized services of egungun cults.

Today there are Spiritist societies in both Can-

ada and theUnited States, mostwith roots in Brazil.

Spiritism continues to be very important in both

Brazil and Cuba. It continues both as a freestanding

system of beliefs and as a structure for communi-

cating with spirit ancestors in the context of Afro-

New World practices. For example, there is

a Cuban saying illustrating this idea that states

that “All Santeros are Spiritists, but not all Spiritists

are Santeros,” or “Todos santeros son espiritistas,

pero no todos espiritistas son santeros.” Spiritists

also often practice Catholicism and/or one or more

Afro-New World religions. Besides its adaptation

by some Afro-New World religions, Spiritism as

Spiritual Care 1713 S

such has the largest population of believers any-

where in Brazil. In 2010 director Wagner de

Assis’s Brazilian filmAstral City: A Spiritual Jour-ney was released. Said to be the most expensive

Brazilian film ever produced, it is based on the

renowned Brazilian medium Francisco “Chico”

de Paula Candido Xavier’s Spiritist book, Nosso

Lar, “Our Home,” and supposedly relates the

after-death experiences of a physician who was

channeled by Chico Xavier (Xavier 2000). This

film has helped to familiarize non-Brazilian

audiences with Spiritism.

Allan Kardec is buried in Paris at Cimetiere du

Pere Lachaise. The French inscription on his

tomb states, “To be born, die, again be reborn,

and so progress unceasingly, such is the law,”

a distillation of Spiritist doctrine. Kardec’s

grave is a pilgrimage site for practitioners of

Spiritism and West African diaspora religions.

Spiritism is psychologically appealing because

of its belief in moral improvement, reincarnation,

mediums, and healing. Spiritism provides psychi-

cal comfort derived from the possibility of commu-

nicating with recently deceased family members

and helps stave off the fear of one’s death. Because

it is couched in Christian language and has moral

improvement as a goal, Spiritism also dispenses

with the fear of impropriety or nefariousness

often attached in the West to practices involving

communication with spirits. Brazil alone has more

than twenty million practitioners of Kardecan

Spiritism.

S

See Also

▶African Diaspora Religions

▶Occultism

▶ Spiritualism

▶Yoruban Religion in Cuba

Bibliography

Britten, E. (1870/2003). Modern American spiritualism.New York: Kessinger Publishing, LLC.

Britten, E. (1884). Nineteenth century miracles: Spiritsand their work in every country on earth. New York:

William Britten.

Canizares, R. (1999). Cuban Santeria: Walking with thenight. Rochester: Destiny Books.

Dodson, J. E. (2008). Sacred spaces and religious tradi-tions in oriente Cuba. Albuquerque: University of

New Mexico Press.

Doyle, A. (1926). The history of spiritualism. New York:

G.H. Doran, Co.

For an extensive bibliography of spiritualism and spirit-

ism, with many links to free online texts, see: http://

onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/webbin/book/browse?

type¼lcsubc&key¼Table%2dmoving%20%28Spiri-

tualism%29&c¼x.

Gual, C. C. (2004). Collection of selected prayers: Devo-tion manual: A spiritualist prayer guide. New York:

iUniverse.

Kardec, A. (1866/1987). The gospel according to spiritism(trans: Duncan, J. A.). London: The Headquarters

Publishing.

Kardec, A. (1866/2010). The genesis, the miracles, andthe predictions according to spiritism (trans: Colville,

W. J.). N.p.: Legatus Editora.

Kardec, A. (1874/1970). The book on mediums (trans:

Wood, E. A.). York Beach: Samuel Weiser.

Kardec, A. (1878/2008). Heaven and hell (trans: Kimble,

D. W., & Saiz, M. M.). Brasilia: International Spiritist

Council.

Kardec, A. (1884/1996). The spirits’ book (trans:

Blackwell, A.). Rio de Janeiro: Federacao Espırita

Brasileira.

Xavier, F. C. (2000). Nosso Lar. Phoenix: Allan Kardec

Educational Society.

Spiritual Care

Norvene Vest1, Rose Slavkovsky2 and

Liz Budd Ellmann2

1Mythology, Pacifica Graduate Institute,

Carpinteria, CA, USA2Spiritual Directors International, Bellevue,

WA, USA

Spiritual care is based on the assumption that

each human being bears a longing for relationship

with that which is “more than” human, or to

paraphrase philosopher Blaise Pascal, each

human is born with a God-shaped vacuum, for

which fulfillment the heart longs (Pascal 1993,

p. 45). Care consists of attentive listening to the

heart of the conversation, in a formal or informal

setting, two persons face to face, or group

conversation. And the heart is found in the

S 1714 Spiritual Care

spiritual significance, the deep meaning of life

emerging from a person’s speech and nonverbal

communication.

Although Christians generally identify the

presence as the Holy Spirit, non-Christians and

those with a nonpersonal notion of the sacred

may also experience longing for deeper meaning

in life, as for example, archetypal psychologist

James Hillman’s invitation “to see with the

eyes of the soul, the soul of things” (Hillman

1975, p. 201).

In the more evangelical Christian denomina-

tions, the connection with God/Spirit is viewed

as a one-step process, completed in a once-only

response to the question, “Do you accept Jesus

Christ as your Lord?” But more mystical and litur-

gical Christian traditions understand an ongoing

spiritual life, a lifelong process of growth and

change, as in any meaningful relationship. Thus

ongoing spiritual care becomes helpful to name

shifts in experience or explore new practices that

intensify the spiritual dimension of life.

Relationships of Spiritual Care andPsychotherapy

Psychotherapy and spiritual care share the aims of

helping a person move toward inner freedom and

wholeness. While spiritual care relates this task to

the quality of a relationship with God, psychology

might call it a move beyond the relatively narrow

claims of the ego toward the greater wholeness

offered by self. To speak of Christian spirituality

specifically is to acknowledge a meeting point

between Christian revelation and human psychol-

ogy (Bouyer 1982, p. ix). Dogma plays a role, but

spirituality has to do primarily with living a life that

is experientially meaningful. The concern for

wholeness is particularly characteristic of C.G.

Jung’s psychology. Both spiritual care and psy-

chology aim to identify blockages that prevent

inner movement and offer practices to dissolve

such blockages.

The Jungian process of active imagination

begins with awareness of an emotional distur-

bance that signals a need to rebalance the psyche.

The parallel in spiritual formation is a periodic

need to reexamine basic assumptions that have

ceased to be health-giving.

The second step in active imagination is using

the arts to release unconscious content, with the

ego consenting to engage disagreeable materials.

In spiritual care, the seeker is encouraged to look

honestly at life, remembering one’s past with

fresh eyes, accepting suffering and shock at

betrayal, as well as awareness of beauty in self

and other.

The third step in active imagination is bringing

one’s opposite positions together, as in Jung’s

transcendent function (Jung 1970, pp. 67–91).

Here Jung acknowledges the ongoing presence

of the unknown, which bears great gifts for

those who dare its presence. This is not dissimilar

to the moment in spiritual care of surrender to

being “spun around” (epistrephein) or convertedto a new way of being by God (Thomas 1997).

Classic Resources for ChristianSpiritual Care

Over time, many approaches to spiritual depth

and prayer have developed as streams of Chris-

tian spirituality. Themes from Hebrew scripture

include covenant, exodus, and the fidelity of God;

Christian scripture themes include love, joy, and

peace. Other approaches are liturgical, including

regular daily periods of prayer rooted in

the Psalms (Benedictine); nature-based, discov-

ering the presence of God in the created world

(Franciscan); ritual prayer, honoring the sacred in

daily life (Celtic); and imaginative interaction

with Gospel events (Ignatian) (Vest and Vest

2007). Each of these forms of prayer, study, and

reflection helps deepen spiritual life. All include

support for the poor and needy, both locally and

worldwide.

The Carmelite approach to spirituality offers

generations of attentiveness to constant lived

prayer, which reveals a typical pattern of prayer

including “basically three stages. . . the purgative,

illuminative, and unitive” (Burrows 1980, p. 15)

in a process that unfolds repeatedly in a lifetime.

Purgation refers to the inner work of what is

called “detachment,” or weaning oneself from

Spiritual Care 1715 S

S

excessive attachments, what psychology might

call obsessions. This is not a harsh asceticism,

rather eliminating things that interfere with

loving God and being receptive to God’s love.

Illumination is a deepened joy in the presence of

God and seeing the world with God’s eyes. Physi-

cal perceptions seem strangely heightened, and one

may feel that one has found the secret of the world.

Finally comes unionwith God, which sixteenth-

century Carmelite Teresa of Avila observes is sim-

ply “making my will one with the will of God”

(St. Teresa 1946, p. 13). One is so immersed in

one’s sacred origin as to feel no separation.

Although maturation to this stage requires patience

and faithfulness, “it cannot be brought about

through either spiritual ambition or self-

domination, but only by an un-self-regarding

response to the love of God” (Jones et al. 1986,

p. 370). Ultimately, union with God is a gift from

God.

Mystic Evelyn Underhill suggests the addition

of two other stages to the Carmelite approach to

spirituality (Underhill 2010, p. 109). Before

purgation, she adds the experience of the thrilling

“touch of God.” This may feel wondrous but can

also feel like failure or loss, such as an alcoholic

“hitting bottom” that hopefully precipitates

a move toward “reform.”

Underhill also adds a stage of the “dark night

of the soul” between illumination and union that

may feel like depression but is primarily an

anguished loss of awareness of God’s presence

and care (John of the Cross 1945, p. xiii).

The dark night is perhaps a reminder that this

process is not solely a matter of “executive will.”

While persons in spiritual care may not

experience any of these traditions or stages in

the sequence stated, nor perhaps at all, spiritual

guides are trained to be well acquainted with

a range of experiences so that they can offer

guidance, encouraging seekers that they are not

alone.

Spiritual Care and the Person

One ancient and contemporary articulation of

spiritual care comes in the relationship between

a seeker and a spiritual director, a process known

as spiritual direction, spiritual companionship,

spiritual accompaniment, and spiritual guidance.

The language of spiritual direction comes from

the Christian tradition, yet spiritual companion-

ship has emerged in many contexts using

language specific to particular cultural and

spiritual traditions. It is a ministry of accompa-

nying one person on a spiritual journey and focus-

ing attention to the movement of God in the

seeker’s life by engaging in deep listening. In

response to growing interest, Spiritual Directors

International (SDI), a registered nonprofit char-

ity, was formed in 1989.

From that small beginning, SDI has today

grown to a membership of over 6,000 persons of

many faiths (including Buddhist, Jewish, Islamic,

and pagan) and in all inhabited continents

(Africa, Asia, Australia-Oceania, Europe, North

and South America) (view spiritual director

demographics). Members of SDI constitute

a global learning community of people who

share a common concern, passion, and commit-

ment to the art and contemplative practice of

spiritual care through the ministry and service

of spiritual direction. The purpose of the learning

community is to foster the transformation of indi-

viduals, organizations, and societies in light of

the holy.

Spiritual care and spiritual formation live in

the heart of spiritual direction. Trappist monk

Thomas Merton is reported to have said that

spiritual direction is fundamentally about lead-

ing a person to see and obey God/Spirit in the

depths of the soul. Additional descriptions

pertaining to spiritual direction in the Bud-

dhist, Christian, Islamic, Jewish, and Taoist

spiritual traditions may be accessed on the

SDI website, www.sdiworld.org. Contact infor-

mation for individuals who currently offer this

form of spiritual care can be obtained online

using the Seek and Find Guide: A WorldwideResource Guide of Available Spiritual

Directors.

To assist seekers in locating a spiritual director

befitting of his or her particular needs and spiri-

tual context, SDI offers interview questions

aimed at determining the compatibility of

S 1716 Spiritual Care

a particular spiritual director. These questions

include:

1. What enrichment, spiritual formation, and

theological education do you have in spiritual

direction?

2. What is your personal experience tending your

own prayer, meditation, and contemplative

life?

3. What is your experience as a spiritual direc-

tor? How many years? In what environments?

What are you most interested in spiritually?

4. How do you continue your education and super-

vision for your spiritual direction ministry?

5. What ethical guidelines do you abide by, such

as those published by Spiritual Directors

International? Have you ever been accused or

convicted of misconduct?

6. What type of engagement agreement will we

establish to clarify roles and responsibilities in

our spiritual direction relationship, such as

samples provided to members of Spiritual

Directors International?

7. How often will we meet, and for how long?

8. Is there a cost associated with your spiritual

direction ministry?

For some, the best way to start looking for

personalized spiritual care and a spiritual director

is to experience a retreat that includes spiritual

direction. Spiritual Directors International main-

tains a list of retreat centers that offer spiritual

direction in a variety of traditions.

To support people seeking spiritual direction

and spiritual directors, SDI publishes the Seekand Find Guide, Listen: A Seeker’s Resource

for Spiritual Direction, Presence: An Interna-

tional Journal of Spiritual Direction, and Whatto Expect in Spiritual Direction, a series of

materials designed for those inquiring about spir-

itual direction. Included in the What to Expectseries is the booklet What to Expect in Christian

Spiritual Direction and separate articles that

examine Buddhist, Islamic, Jewish, and interfaith

spiritual direction.

For those interested in pursuing spiritual care

by offering spiritual direction, an online listing of

available enrichment, formation, and training

programs is accessible to the public on SDI’s

website.

Spiritual care can be very helpful to a person’s

unique spiritual journey. Taking into consider-

ation one’s personality and temperament, spiri-

tual direction assists reflection on how to pray,

ongoing or unfolding spiritual practices, and the

stages of spiritual development in one’s life.

Spiritual care nourishes the spiritual aspect of

being human, enabling service with authenticity

and a grateful heart.

See Also

▶Active Imagination

▶Christian Mysticism

▶ Faith Development Theory

▶God Image

▶Hillman, James

▶Meditation

▶ Prayer

▶Religious Experience

▶ Soul: A Depth Psychological Approach

▶ Spiritual Direction

Bibliography

Bouyer, L. (1982). A history of Christian spirituality:The spirituality of the New Testament and the fathers(Vol. 1). New York: Seabury Press.

Burrows, R. (1980). Guidelines for mystical prayer.Denville: Dimension Books.

Hillman, J. (1975). Re-visioning psychology. New York:

Harper & Row.

John of the Cross. (1945). The ascent of Mount Carmel

(Vol. 3). In E. A. Peers (Ed. & trans), The completeworks of John of the Cross (3 Vols.). Westminster:

Newman.

Jones, C., Wainwright, G., & Yarnold, E. (Eds.). (1986).

The study of spirituality. NewYork: Oxford University

Press.

Jung, C. G. (1970). The transcendent function. In

G. Adler & R. F. C. Hull (Ed. & trans), Thecollected works of C. G. Jung: Structure anddynamics of the psyche (Vol. 8). Princeton:

Princeton University Press.

Pascal, B. (1993). Pensees (trans: Krailsheimer, A. J.).

London: Penguin.

Spiritual Directors International. Retrieved from www.

sdiworld.org

Teresa of Jesus. (1946). Foundations. In E. A. Peers (Ed. &

trans), The complete works of Teresa of Jesus (3 Vols.).New York: Sheed and Ward.

Spiritual Direction 1717 S

Thomas, D. B. (1997). What is monasticism? Hereford:

Lecture at Belmont Abbey.

Underhill, R. (2010).Mysticism: A study in the nature anddevelopment of spiritual consciousness. Retrieved

from www.ChakraHealingSounds.com.

Vest, N., & Vest, D. (2007). Streams of Christian spiritu-ality [DVD]. http://thresholdshop.com.

Spiritual Direction

Kenneth L. Nolen

Salinas Valley Memorial Healthcare System,

Salinas, CA, USA

S

Spiritual direction is the process of one person

accompanying another person or persons on their

spiritual journey, a journey that emphasizes

a growing closer to God, the Holy, or a Higher

Power. However, each spiritual director tends to

have a modified or different definition of spiritual

direction germane to his or her context, background,

and experience. Currently spiritual direction is

experiencing a rebirth or resurgence in Christianity,

and other faith traditions are discovering or

rediscovering spiritual direction as well.

Spiritual direction consists of a director

and a directee, or directees in group spiritual

direction, that are in a process of seeking out the

operation and direction of God, the Divine, or the

Holy in the directee’s life. Although, modern

spiritual direction has its root in Catholic and

Anglican faith traditions, all Christian faith

groups do not universally accept spiritual direc-

tion as a valid ministry or expression of faith.

Many Evangelical and Pentecostal denomina-

tions believe that Christ is the mediator between

humankind and God and that the Holy Spirit is

the only spiritual guide needed. They fear that

using another person as a director is allowing

that person to come between the directee and

God. In addition, spiritual direction is not

a uniquely Christian phenomenon. Witch doctors

or shamans perform the role of spiritual guide in

primitive cultures and many instances of spiritual

guides may be found among eastern traditions.

The ascetics of Buddhism, the sages of China,

and the soul guides of Sufism, with the guru in

Hinduism being the closest to the Judeo-Christian

concept of a spiritual director, are examples of

other spiritual guides or directors.

Although spiritual direction may examine and

highlight many issues of life, spiritual direction is

not the same as its relative of psychotherapy.While

an individual may need and use a combination of

psychotherapy and spiritual direction, spiritual

direction, although at times overlapping the bound-

aries of psychotherapy, is a different and distinct

helping discipline. Spiritual directors use many of

the same techniques such as active listening,

compassion, and reflective open-ended questions

that psychotherapy practitioners use, but spiritual

direction encompasses a differing agenda and

stated result.

Commentary

Spiritual direction and psychotherapy have many

similarities but they are fundamentally different

in content and intent. Psychotherapy focuses

on emotional and mental dimensions such as

thoughts, feelings, and moods, while spiritual

direction focuses more precisely and specifically

on spiritual issues such as prayer and the relation-

ship to God and God’s direction and work

directly in the life of an individual. The intent of

psychotherapy is not to facilitate the growth of

persons in their relationship with the Divine, the

Holy, or God. Modern psychology is valuable in

that it gives hope that individuals can really grow

and change. It helps to keep individuals moving

in life and relationships, but psychology cannot

assist in finding the direction that the directee’s

growth and change should take to facilitate their

spirituality. Another major difference between

psychotherapy and spiritual direction is that in

spiritual direction, the director must be willing

to be known in his or her vulnerability and limi-

tations as a child of God, while the psychothera-

pist remains safely spiritually and many times

emotionally unknown to his or her client.

However, it is important to understand that spir-

itual as used in spiritual direction is not the guid-

ance of a person’s spiritual activities alone nor is it

S 1718 Spiritual Ecology

particularly directive in nature. The spiritual direc-

tor is not like a dentist who cares for a patient’s

teeth or a barber who cares for an individual’s hair.

A spiritual director is concerned with the whole

person including those issues of life that affect an

individual’s relationship with God and others.

Spiritual direction spiritualizes all aspects and

activities of the spiritual person’s life, but modern

spiritual directors do not give answers to their

directees nor do they discipline them in the classic

image of a master teacher and his or her learner.

Spiritual direction and psychotherapy differ in

the degree of training and certification required.

Therapists must graduate from an approved

and accredited graduate program to meet state

requirements for licensure. There are no educa-

tional or licensure requirements for one to

become a spiritual director. Although spiritual

directors may be ordained clergy holding

advanced graduate degrees, they may also be

laypersons or individuals who are spiritual direc-

tors as evidenced by others seeking them out for

spiritual direction.

An effective and experienced spiritual director

will acquire and use tools from the other helping

disciplines as well as attending formation and

certification programs for spiritual directors to

contribute to acquiring the necessary skills

that will contribute to their ministry of spiritual

direction. Many of the same active listening and

reflective skills used in psychotherapy will aid the

spiritual director in hearing God’s voice in all of

the day-to-day noise experienced by the directee.

See Also

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav, and Religion

▶ Pastoral Counseling

▶ Psychotherapy

▶ Psychotherapy and Religion

▶Religion and Mental and Physical Health

Bibliography

Bakke, J. A. (2000). Holy invitations: Exploring spiritualdirection. Grand Rapids: Baker Book House.

Bakke, J. A. (2001, April 23). Making space for God:

What spiritual direction is, and why evangelicals are

increasingly attracted to it. Christianity Today, 88–90.Demarest, B. (2003). Soulguide: Following Jesus as

spiritual director. Colorado Springs: NavPress.

Dougherty, R. M. (1995). Group spiritual direction:Community for discernment. New York: Paulist Press.

Edwards, T. (1980). Spiritual friend: Reclaiming the giftof spiritual direction. New York: Paulist Press.

Ganje-Fling, M. A., & McCarthy, P. R. (1991).

A comparative analysis of spiritual direction and

psychotherapy. Journal of Psychology & Theology, 19,103–117.

Guenther, M. (1992). Holy listening, the art of spiritualdirection. Cambridge, MA: Cowley Publications.

Jones, A. (1982). Exploring spiritual direction. Boston:Cowley Publications, (Reprint, 1999).

Jones, W. P. (2002). The art of spiritual direction: Givingand receiving spiritual guidance. Nashville: Upper

Room Books.

Leech, K. (2001). Soul friend: Spiritual direction in themodern World (Rev. ed.). Harrisburg: Morehouse.

May, G. G. (1992). Care of mind/care of spirit:A psychiatrist explores spiritual direction. New York:

HarperCollins.

Merton, T. (1960). Spiritual direction and meditation.Collegeville: Liturgical Press.

Moon, G. W., & Benner, D. G. (2004). Spiritual directionand the care of souls: A guide to Christian approachesand practices. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press.

Ochs, C., & Olitzky, K. M. (1997). Jewish spiritualguidance: Finding our way to God. San Francisco:

Jossey-Bass.

Ruffing, J. K. (2000). Spiritual direction: Beyond thebeginnings. New York: Paulist Press.

Stone, H.W. (1986). Spiritual direction and pastoral counsel-

ing. Journal of Pastoral Counseling, 21(1), 60–76.Vest, N. (Ed.). (2000). Still listening: New horizons in

spiritual direction. Harrisburg: Morehouse.

Spiritual Ecology

Leslie E. Sponsel

Department of Anthropology, University of

Hawai‘i, Honolulu, HI, USA

We can hear it in water, in wood, and even in stone.

We are earth of this earth, and we are bone of its

bone.

This is a prayer I sing, for we have forgotten this

and so

The earth is perishing

(Barbara Deming in John Seed, 1988, ThinkingLike a Mountain).

Spiritual Ecology 1719 S

S

Spiritual ecology is a major shift from religions

that ignore nature into a growing sense that we

participate in nature, realizing and feeling that

we do not stand against nature, but are part of it.

We do not have dominion over nature, but we

depend on it – for air, water, earth, food, and the

entire system of life given by the Great Mystery

that created all its wonders. It is spiritual when we

think at the ontological level, seeing ultimate

reality as the ground of being that underlies all

existence, and is far grander than our systems of

thought. It is psychological when we feel that

reality, “thinking like a mountain,” feeling the

awesome wonder in 150 billion galaxies, the

majesty of the blue oceans, the delicate balance

of life systems, and the gift of consciousness to

think about and feel ourselves part of life on

Earth. It is ethical when we strive to let this

spiritual and psychological awakening stimulate

efforts to stop dirty energy, air and water pollu-

tion, and industrialism’s destructive domination

of nature.

Secular approaches since the first Earth Day in

1970 have proven insufficient to resolve the

growing ecocrises, from the local to the global

levels – growing numbers of floods and rising

seas related to global warming. In recent decades,

an additional approach has been growing expo-

nentially: spiritual ecology. It may be defined as

a complex, diverse, and dynamic arena at the

interfaces of religions and spiritualities on the

one hand and on the other environments, ecolo-

gies, and environmentalisms with intellectual,

spiritual, and practical components. Note that

each of these subjects is plural reflecting the

vastness, variety, and variability of spiritual

ecology (Sponsel 2012).

While for some persons spiritual ecology is

only an interesting academic pursuit, for others it

is a sacred subject touching their deepest con-

cerns, emotions, commitments, and aspirations.

Even though usually they do not advertise it,

ultimately many environmentalists and conserva-

tionists are, to some degree in various ways,

spiritual ecologists as well. Usually, they have

been profoundly moved by some kind of

epiphany or awesome experiences in nature

(Wilson 1984).

Ecopsychology, like spiritual ecology, shifts

the focus to inner development in relation to

nature, instead of economic development, the

latter often at the expense of the health of ecosys-

tems, human beings, society, and future genera-

tions. For those pursuing spiritual ecology, nature

is a grand cathedral of communal beings rather

than an unlimited warehouse of mere objects to

exploit for profit and greed (Coleman 2006;Macy

and Johnstone 2012).

Elsewhere other designations for this arenamay

be used, although a narrower pursuit is usually

involved: earth spirituality, earth mysticism,

ecomysticism, ecopsychology, ecospirituality,

ecotheology, green religion, green spirituality,

nature mysticism, nature religion, nature spiritual-

ity, religion and ecology, religion and nature, reli-

gious environmentalism, and religious naturalism.

The magnitude, complexity, diversity, and dyna-

mism of spiritual ecology, as well as its great inter-

est and promise, can be appreciated by exploring

the websites of the Forum on Religion and Ecology

at Yale University and The Encyclopedia of

Religion and Nature (Gottlieb 2006a; Taylor

2010). The Forum advocates the Earth Charter:

For millennia the world’s religious, spiritual and

ethical traditions have provided ethical grounding

for the shaping of various cultures throughout the

world. From the indigenous traditions to the Axial

age religions arising in the last 3,000 years, humans

have oriented themselves to the mystery of exis-

tence, to relations with other humans, and to nature

itself (Forum on Religion and Ecology).

The many roots of spiritual ecology are deep,

extending back at least some 30,000 years ago to

cave paintings of the Upper Paleolithic in France.

The most recent interpretation of this prehistoric

art is that it reflects shamanic spirit possession. It

is one expression of Animism as a belief in

multiple spiritual beings and forces in nature,

which is by far the oldest and most widespread

of all religions. Variants of it are manifest among

many indigenous people such asWinona LaDuke

and adherents to variants of Paganism such as

Starhawk and Graham Harvey. The roots of

spiritual ecology also include historical pioneers

of many centuries ago like the Buddha as well as

Saint Francis of Assisi. Francis was known for

taming a wolf that had been killing animals and

S 1720 Spiritual Ecology

people in an Italian village. He spoke to the wolf,

who laid down at his feet. Then the people fed

him regularly and he no longer caused them

harm (Francis). Among the best-known Ameri-

can pioneers in spiritual ecology are Henry David

Thoreau and John Muir in the nineteenth century

and Rachel Carson and Aldo Leopold in the early

twentieth century. These and many other individ-

uals have laid the foundation for the vital rethink-

ing, revisioning, and refeeling of the place of

humans in nature that is necessary for restoring

some modicum of ecosanity in the future

(Kinsley 1995; Sponsel 2012; Taylor 2010).

Lynn White, Jr., ignited heated controversy

when he basically blamed the environmental

crisis on the application of the prevalent interpre-

tation of selected passages in the Bible regarding

human domination and the use of nature (Spring

and Spring 1974). Various responses to his thesis

by Christian theologians and others in turn gener-

ated the field of ecotheology, which remains an

important component of spiritual ecology to this

day. However, this has been transcended by

the cosmic spiritual ecology of Pierre Teilhard

de Chardin, Thomas Berry, and Matthew Fox

(Bauman et al. 2011; Kinsley 1995; Tucker 2003).

Several outstanding scholars have in various

ways further developed the intellectual scope,

aims, and substance of contemporary spiritual

ecology since the 1990s, especially Steven C.

Rockefeller, Mary Evelyn Tucker, John A.

Grim, Bron Taylor, and Roger S. Gottlieb.

Rockefeller was the principal organizer of the

historic interfaith conference Spirit and Nature

and the resulting book that he coedited with

the same title and the PBS film. Tucker and

Grim co-organized a series of many books and

conferences and established an interdisciplinary

graduate program on Religion and Ecology at

Yale University. Bron Taylor is editor-in-chief

of The Encyclopedia of Religion and Nature;

founder of the International Society for the

Study of Religion, Nature and Culture; and editor

of its Journal for the Study of Religion, Nature

and Culture. He developed the Religion and

Nature graduate program at the University of

Florida. Gottlieb (2006a, b) authored and edited

several major surveys of religion and ecology.

In world religions, pioneering contributions

have been made by Seyyed Hossein Nasr in the

study of Islam and ecology, Stephanie Kaza on

Buddhist environmental ethics, and Satish

Kumar, a Jain. Thanks to these and other authors,

by now there is substantial literature on each of

the world religions and ecology.

Some of the most well-known pioneers

beyond academia include ecopoets and essayists

Edward Abbey, W.S. Merwin, and Gary

Snyder (Felstiner 2009). The Green Patriarch

Bartholomew I of the Christian Eastern Orthodox

Church is an influential environmental leader.

Christopher McCleod’s Sacred Land Film Pro-

ject documents sacred sites of Native Americans

and others throughout the world, seen on PBS.

Marten Palmer heads the Alliance for Religions

and Conservation (ARC) in association with the

World Wildlife Fund. ARC has hundreds of pro-

jects working with about a dozen world religions

in numerous countries to conserve biodiversity

in relation to sacred places. Rev. Sally G.

Bingham’s Interfaith Power and Light Project

has mobilized thousands of religious organiza-

tions in the USA to promote energy efficiency

and conservation (Gottlieb 2006a; Sponsel 2012).

The Norwegian philosopher Arne Naess

developed “Deep Ecology” to transcend treating

only the superficial symptoms of the environmen-

tal crisis and instead identify and pursue the

underlying causes and ultimate solutions. Princi-

ples of deep ecology encompass ecocentrism

with an emphasis on the psychological feeling

for the intrinsic values of nature (Dregson and

Devall 2008).

Spiritual can involve mysticism, rituals,

ceremonies, and sacred sites and landscapes.

The locus of the spirituality may reside in the

individual person and/or in supernatural beings

and/or forces in nature, depending on one’s belief

system and experience. The spiritual is often one

of the most important catalysts for environmental

activism. Julia Butterfly Hill was psychologically

stimulated by a car crash to deepen her life’s

commitments to higher spiritual values. So she

sat high up on a California Redwood tree for 738

days to protest loggers clear-cutting those trees

(Spring and Manousos 2007) (Fig. 1).

Spiritual Ecology,Fig. 1 Medicine Lake

below the sacredMt. Shasta

in California (Photo

courtesy of the author)

Spiritual Ecology 1721 S

S

Ecopsychology overlaps with spiritual

ecology as well as deep ecology (Buzzell and

Chalquist 2009; Louv 2005). Its working premise

is that the health of humans and nature are

interconnected and interdependent. The corollary

is that restoring human well-being is dependent

on restoring the well-being of nature. Such

principles have been explored by many

ecopsychologists such as pioneers RalphMetzner

and Theodore Roszak (Metzner 1999). Joanna

Macy runs workshops to help people cope

psychologically with their concern about the

degradation of nature and to empower them to

engage in effective environmental activism

(Macy and Johnstone 2012).

David Cameron’s record-breaking 2009

mythic movie Avatar captivated a worldwide

audience by depicting the contrast between

a psychologically cruel, alienated, militaristic,

and imperialistic society obsessed with greedy

materialism and massively destructive technol-

ogy, attacking an extraterrestrial indigenous

society for a symbolic mineral. By contrast, the

indigenous people shared the highest values of

spiritual ecology, such as a profound psycholog-

ical sensitivity to interconnected plants and ani-

mals. They bowed, sang, and worshiped around

a wondrous goddess tree whose branches glowed

with light and could resurrect the dead.

Even atheists can be spiritual ecologists, such

as philosopher Donald Crosby, who finds sacred-

ness to be inherent in nature itself. Some scien-

tists who are also theologians find convergences

through spiritual ecology. For example, Alister

McGrath, with a doctorate in molecular biology

and another in divinity from Oxford University,

is reworking aspects of natural theology

(McGrath 2002). Although not inevitable, the

potential danger of militant atheism can be seen

in what has been happening with the desacraliza-

tion and corresponding ecocide of Tibet accompa-

nying themilitary invasion and colonial occupation

by the communist regime from China since the

second half of the twentieth century (Sponsel

2012).

Spiritual ecology has generated three types

of unprecedented collaboration: among and

within religions, between religion and science,

and among the natural sciences, social sciences,

and humanities (e.g., Carroll and Warner 1998).

Examples of this collaboration include the Forum

on Religion and Ecology, Canadian Forum on

Religion and Ecology, and European Forum for

the Study of Religion and Ecology. Beyond aca-

demia there is the National Religious Partnership

for the Environment in the United States, com-

posed of both Christian and Jewish organizations

(Gottlieb 2006a).

S 1722 Spiritual Ecology

There is a revolution in developing a new

spiritual and ecological psychology stimulated by

many factors, such as the shocking effects of

global climate change and the Internet (Bourne

2008; Hartman 1999; Sponsel 2012; Taylor 2010).

There are, however, major obstacles

confronting spiritual ecology. It challenges the

interests of the powerful establishment and the

inertia of the status quo. Spiritual ecology is anti-

thetical to people myopically pursuing scientism or

Marxism. Fanatical religious conservatives and

extremists fear and even dismiss spiritual ecology

as incompatible, even a reversion to Paganism

(Gottlieb 2006a; Sponsel 2012; Taylor 2010).

Reactionary politics can revert to the most incred-

ible denial and evasion of ecological responsibility

in the name of vested interests, such as dirty energy.

The urgent problem of overpopulation that keeps

overwhelming technological advances, such as

cleaner automobiles, is a great challenge to the

conservative religions that oppose birth control.

The psychology behind this exaggerated sense of

purity in some religions and transcendence of

nature must be faced.

As a revolution in consciousness, spiritual ecol-

ogy may be quiet, nonviolent, and decentralized,

but it has far-reaching ramifications. If its acceler-

ating momentum and other trends continue, then it

has the potential to transform the place of humans

in nature and thereby restore a far greater degree of

ecosanity. This transformation engages the inner

being as well as outer world; hence, it has psycho-

logical and spiritual as well as ecological and polit-

ical dimensions. The main question is whether or

not all of this will prove enough and soon enough to

avoid a global catastrophe, when human environ-

mental impact reaches some unknown critical

threshold or tipping point.

See Also

▶Animal Spirits

▶Animism

▶Buddhism and Ecology

▶Celtic Spirituality

▶Creation Spirituality

▶Ecology and Christianity

▶Green Man

▶ Indigenous Religions

▶ Jewish Tradition and the Environment

▶Muir, John, and Spirituality

▶ Participatory Spirituality

▶Re-Enchantment

▶ Sacred Space

▶ Soul in the World

Bibliography

Bauman, W. A., Bohannon, R. R., & O’Brien, K. J. (Eds.).

(2011). Grounding religion: A field guide to the studyof religion and ecology. New York: Routledge.

Bourne, E. J. (2008). Global shift: How a new worldviewis transforming humanity. Oakland: New Harbinger

Publications.

Buzzell, L., & Chalquist, C. (Eds.). (2009). Ecotherapy:Healing with nature in mind. San Francisco: Sierra

Club Books.

Carroll, J. E., & Warner, K. (Eds.). (1998). Ecology andreligion: Scientists speak. Quincy: Franciscan Press.

Coleman, M. (2006). Awake in the wild: Mindfulness innature as a path of self-discovery. Novato: NewWorld

Library.

Deming, B. (1988). Spirit of love. In J. Seed, J. Macy,

P. Fleming, & A. Naess (Eds.), Thinking likea mountain: Towards a council of all beings. GabriolaIsland: New Society Publishers.

Dregson, A., & Devall, B. (Eds.). (2008). The ecology ofwisdom:Writings byArneNaess. Berkeley:Counterpoint.

Felstiner, J. (2009). Can poetry save the earth? A fieldguide to nature poems. New Haven: Yale University

Press.

Forum on Religion and Ecology. Retrieved from http://

fore.research.yale.edu/publications/projects. Accessed

25 Aug 2012.

Francis of Assisi. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/

wiki/Francis_of_Assisi. Accessed 25 Aug 2012.

Gottlieb, R. S. (2006a). A greener faith: Religiousenvironmentalism and our planet’s future.New York: Oxford University Press.

Gottlieb, R. S. (Ed.). (2006b). Oxford handbook ofreligion and ecology. New York: Oxford University

Press.

Hartman, T. (1999). The last hours of ancient sunlight:Waking up to personal and global transformation.New York: Three Rivers Press.

Julia Butterfly Hill. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.

org/wiki/Julia_Butterfly_Hill. Accessed 25 Aug 2012.

Kinsley, D. (1995). Ecology and religion: Ecologicalspirituality in cross-cultural perspective. Upper

Saddle River: Prentice-Hall.

Louv, R. (2005). Last child in the woods: Saving ourchildren from nature-deficit disorder. Chapel Hill:

Algonquin Books.

Spiritual Emergence 1723 S

Macy, J., & Johnstone, C. (2012). Active hope: How toface the mess we’re in without going crazy. Novato:New World Library. Retrieved from http://www.

joannamacy.net. Accessed 9 July 2012.

McGrath, A. (2002). The reenchantment of nature: Thedenial of religion and the ecological crisis. New York:

Doubleday/Galilee.

Metzner, R. (1999). Green psychology: Transforming ourrelationship to the earth. Rochester: Park Street Press.Retrieved from http://www.greenearthfound.org/.

Accessed 9 July 2012.

Nasr, S. H. (1997).Man and nature: The spiritual crisis ofmodern man. Chicago: ABC International Group.

Sponsel, L. E. (2012). Spiritual ecology: A quietrevolution. Santa Barbara: Praeger. Retrieved from

http://www.spiritualecology.info. Accessed 9 July

2012.

Spring, C., & Manousos, A. (Eds.). (2007). EarthLight:Spiritual wisdom for an ecological age. San Francisco:Friends Bulletin. Retrieved from http://www.earth-

light.org. Accessed 9 July 2012.

Spring, D., & Spring, E. (Eds.). (1974). Ecology andreligion in history. New York: Harper & Row.

Taylor, B. (2010).Dark green religion: Nature spiritualityand the planetary future. Berkeley: University of

California Press. Retrieved from http://www.

brontaylor.com. Accessed 9 July 2012.

Tucker, M. E. (with Berling, J. A.). (2003). Worldlywonder: Religions enter their ecological phase.Chicago: Open Court Publishing. Retrieved from

http://fore.research.yale.edu. Accessed 9 July 2012.

Wilson, E. O. (1984). Biophilia: The human bond withother species. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University

Press.

Spiritual Emergence

Hillary S. Webb

Goddard College, Portsmouth, NH, USA

S

The term “spiritual emergence” was coined by

Dr. Stanislav Grof and his wife Christina Grof,

two leaders in the field of transpersonal theory, as

a way of referring to breakdowns of meaning that

lead to transformative growth and greater psycho-

spiritual health on the part of the individual. It is, as

the Grofs describe it, “the movement of an individ-

ual to a more expanded way of being that involves

enhanced emotional and psychosomatic health,

greater freedom of personal choices, and a sense

of deeper connectionwith other people, nature, and

the cosmos” (Grof and Grof 1990, p. 34). The term

spiritual emergence is often used in conjunction

with “spiritual emergency” (also coined by the

Grofs), a term used to describe a crisis state in

which the process of growth and change stimulated

by this “emergence” becomes so overwhelming

and unmanageable that the individual is unable to

gracefully return to day-to-day functioning.

From Breakdown to Breakthrough

The concept of the “spiritual emergence” is not

a new one. The belief in the need to induce states

of consciousness in which the individual experi-

ences an oftentimes frightening psycho-spiritual

breakdown of meaning in order to achieve an even-

tual breakthrough into higher functioning is the

sine qua non of many shamanic and mystical tradi-

tions around the world. Within these systems of

thought, spiritual seekers are encouraged to disen-

gage themselves from their ordinary state of con-

sciousness through practices such as meditation,

fasting, the ingestion of psychoactive substances,

ecstatic ritual, and so on. Here, the teacher (“guru”)

and community play a fundamental role in helping

the individual move through the process gracefully

and in a way that helps assure successful integra-

tion and transformation.

In contrast, Western psychological paradigms

have historically tended to take a pathologizing

approach to any mental state that deviates from

what is considered “normalcy.” The terms “spiri-

tual emergence” and “spiritual emergency” came

about as a response to what the Grofs and others

considered to be a failure in the mainstream West-

ern mental health system to distinguish between

psycho-spiritual healing crises and actual psycho-

pathologies. They attribute much of Western

psychology’s inability to see the positive value in

transpersonal crises as the result of a superficial and

inadequate model of the psyche used by clinicians

and academicians, one that is limited to “postnatal

biography” and the Freudian individual uncon-

scious. Because conventional psychology is often

unable and/or unwilling to distinguish between

a spiritual breakthrough and a psychological break-

down, individuals going through these experiences

are often misdiagnosed.

S 1724 Spiritual Emergence

Says Oscar Miro-Quesada, humanistic psy-

chologist and Peruvian shaman,

As a clinician myself, I have found that about

seventy percent of all socio-psychotic states are

spiritual emergencies. The other thirty percent are

psychopathological illnesses. But in the rest of

these cases, if you help the client or the patient

interpret his or her experience as a spiritual awak-

ening rather than a sickness, they find purpose and

meaning in the experience, rather than condemna-

tion by societal norms (Webb 2004, p. 13).

Identification and Diagnosis

Misdiagnosis is understandable, as many of the

symptoms of spiritual emergence/emergency man-

ifest in ways that are similar to those of chronic

psychosis. Symptoms may include disorientation,

disassociation, difficulty in communicating, and

visual and/or auditory hallucinations. An individ-

ual may be disturbed by physical feelings and

emotions that are seemingly unconnected to

anything. Some experience feelings of pressure,

claustrophobia, oppression, tightness, restlessness,

struggle, and even a sense of losing all reference

points towards the self (Grof and Grof 1990).

Individuals experiencing such episodes may feel

that their sense of identity is breaking down, that

their old values no longer hold true, and that the

very ground beneath their personal realities is

radically shifting. In many cases, new realms of

mystical and spiritual experience enter their lives

suddenly and dramatically, resulting in fear and

confusion. They may feel tremendous anxiety;

have difficulty coping with their daily lives, jobs,

and relationships; and may even fear for their own

sanity (Grof and Grof 1989, back cover).

Within the spectrum of crisis, there are various

levels of emergency, which range frommild disori-

entation and fragmentation to a state in which one

undergoes a complete loss of connection to ordinary

reality. A spiritual emergence/emergency can occur

on its own, or it can co-occur with conventionally

diagnosed mental disorders that may, in fact, con-

stitute pathology. In order to help clinicians identify

some of the characteristic features of a spiritual

emergence/emergency, the Grofs compiled what

they had observed to be ten “varieties of spiritual

emergency” (Grof and Grof 1990), many of which

are named according to the features that they share

with emergences/emergencies foundwithin various

spiritual systems. These include “the shamanic cri-

sis,” “the awakening of kundalini,” “episodes of

unitive (nondual) consciousness” (also referred to

as “peak experiences”), “psychological renewal

through return to the center” (also referred to as

“psychological renewal through the central arche-

type”), “the crisis of psychic opening,” “past-life

experiences,” “communications with spirit guides,”

“near-death experiences,” “experiences of close

encounters with UFOs,” and “possession states”

(Grof and Grof 1989).

Influence on the Field of Psychology

The Grofs’ contribution to the field of psychology

has been considerable. In his early studies of

LSD and its effects on the psyche, Stanislav Grof

constructed a theoretical framework for pre- and

perinatal psychology, which mapped early fetal

and neonatal experiences, eventually developing

into an in-depth cartography of the human

psyche. This presented a new perspective on

the healing, transformation, and the evolutionary

potential of the human psyche, thus challenging

psychiatry’s perspective on states typically seen

as psychoses. In 1991, the Grofs’ organization,

the Spiritual Emergence Network, petitioned the

then-in-development DSM-IV to create a new

diagnostic classification that would address issues

that involve religio-spiritual content, arguing that

such a category would increase the accuracy of

diagnostic assessments in cases where religious

and/or spiritual issues are involved. The proposal

was eventually accepted. Current versions of

DSM-IV now include a diagnostic category of

“Religious or Spiritual Problems.” This change to

the DSM-IV is considered to be evidence of an

important and necessary shift in the mental health

profession’s view of religion and spirituality as

essential aspects of the human experience. The

concepts of “spiritual emergence” and “spiritual

emergency” have likewise become key compo-

nents in transpersonal psychology, a field that

Spiritualism 1725 S

considers the spiritual dimensions of human

experience.

See Also

▶ Spiritual Direction

▶Transpersonal Psychology

Bibliography

Grof, S., & Grof, C. (1989). Spiritual emergency: Whenpersonal transformation becomes a crisis. New York:

Tarcher/Putnam.

Grof, C., & Grof, S. (1990). The stormy searchfor the self: A guide to personal growth throughtransformational crisis. New York: Tarcher/

Perigee.

Webb, H. S. (2004). Traveling between the worlds:Conversations with contemporary shamans.Charlottesville: Hampton Roads Publishing.

Spiritualism

Nicholas Grant Boeving

Rice University, Houston, TX, USA

S

Broadly defined, spiritualism is a philosophical

orientation that embraces extrasensory episte-

mologies, an all-knowing infinite God, and the

immortality of the soul. With the mid-nine-

teenth-century flowering of interest in the

occult, however, the word came to signify

a largely unchurched religion which espoused

not only belief in life after death but in the

ability of mediums to communicate with the

departed.

Most authorities agree that the movement first

began in the mid-1840s in Hydesville, New York,

with the Fox sisters’ widely publicized seances

which attracted the attention of thousands.

Mental phenomena associated with the move-

ment include clairaudience, clairvoyance, and

telepathy, while physical manifestations such as

levitation, psychokinesis, table rapping, and any

purported supernatural visitations, such as

ghosts, are also included.

Thewritings of Emanuel Swedenborg and Franz

Mesmer – although themselves, not spiritualists –

informedmuch of themovement’s thought. Largely

a phenomenon of the upper and middle classes,

spiritualism relied on periodicals and trance lectures

for dissemination. Lacking both administrative and

canonical cohesion and plagued by the constant

ousting of frauds, starting in the mid-1920s, mem-

bership drastically declined. Although still extent

today – both independently and as absorbed by

various syncretic movements – it was never to

enjoy such widespread devotion again.

Commentary

The modern spiritualist movement arose at

a particularly turbulent time, the various scientific

and technological revolutions of the age calling into

question the very meaning-making matrices of the

Occident. A novel resolution to the cognitive disso-

nance pervasive in Victorian culture, spiritualism

was a way to fuse both faith and faith in science,

although efforts to prove its tenets using the latter’s

methodologies were met resoundingly with failure.

See Also

▶God

▶ Spiritual Direction

▶ Spiritual Emergence

Bibliography

Brandon, R. (1983). The spiritualists: The passion for theoccult in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.New York: Alfred A. Knopf.

Davenport, R. B. (1888). The death-blow to spiritualism.New York: G.W. Dillingham.

Deveney, J. P., Rosemont, F., & Randolph, P. B. (1996). Anineteenth-century black American spiritualist,Rosicrucian, and sex magician. Albany: State

University of New York Press.

Doyle, A. C. (1926). The history of spiritualism (Vols. 1& 2).

New York: G.H. Doran.

S 1726 Star of David

Star of David

Paul Cantz1, Kalman J. Kaplan2 and

Matthew B. Schwartz3

1Department of Psychiatry, University of Illinois

at Chicago College ofMedicine and Adler School

of Professional Psychology, Chicago, IL, USA2Departments of Psychiatry and Medical

Education, University of Illinois in Chicago,

Chicago, IL, USA3Department of History, Wayne State University,

Detroit, MI, USA

Star of David, Fig. 1 The Star of David (This figure

is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution

2.0 Generic license. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:

Star_of_David.svg)

The Star of David (in Hebrew Magen David,literally the “Shield of David”) competes with

the menorah (seven-branched candelabra) as the

most iconic and recognizable symbol in Judaism.

Although the exact origins of this hexagrammic

six-pointed star (one triangle inverted over

another) remain an open question, scholars gen-

erally agree that it does not trace its roots back to

the shape or design of King David’s actual shield

(Fig. 1).

The original psychological potency of the Star

of David, as with numerous geometric figures

found cross-culturally in the ancient world, rests

in the widespread belief in the protective

powers that it possessed. This idea was chiefly

popularized by medieval Jewish mystics, though

most likely shares genetic roots with the more

ancient five-sided pentagrammic variant some-

times referred to as the “Seal of Solomon.”

In antiquity, for example, the Pythagorean Pen-

tagram was a well-known symbol representing

the agencies of knowledge and understanding.

We later find the double-triangle hexagrammic

figure frequently appearing in seventeenth-

century alchemical literature as a symbol

representing harmony between the antagonistic

elements of fire and water.

So closely linked were these two symbols that

between the years 1300 and 1700, they were used

interchangeably until the Star of David eventu-

ally gained prominence. The Seal of Solomon

was ascribed magical powers by Jews and

Gentiles alike and was believed to have been

a magical signet ring possessed by King Solomon

himself. Although the Jewish Talmud (Talmud

1989–1999, Git˙. 68a) briefly makes mention of

this ring, in Arabic traditions we find embellish-

ments that describe the ring imparting Solomon

the power to command demons, genies, and even

communicate with animals. Islamic folklore fur-

ther describes Solomon’s ring being inscribed

with “The Greatest Name of God” which was

unknown to anyone else and represented the

source of the aforementioned mythical powers.

One of the earliest undisputed uses of the Star

of David (c. third century CE) on a Jewish

tombstone has been located in Taranto, Apulia,

in Southern Italy – a city that possessed a sizable

Jewish population that had been noted for their

Kabbalistic scholarship. The six-pointed star was

likewise commonly featured on notarial signs in

Spain, France, Denmark, and Germany in the

tenth and eleventh centuries. It appeared in

Jewish synagogues and was even ornamentally

employed in many Byzantine and medieval

churches, such as the cathedrals of Brandenburg

and Stendal and on the Marktkirche at Hannover

(Singer and Adler 1912, p. 252).

The H˙asidei Ashkenaz of the twelfth-century

Eastern Europe are commonly credited with

Star of David 1727 S

S

producing the oldest textual mention of the Shield

of David in which they provided an explanation of

the magical “alphabet of the angel” “Metatron”;

however, it was here that the mystical 72 Names of

God were engraved in and around this protective

shield along with the name MKBY, thought to

represent a magical homage to the Hasmonean

Zealot JudahMaccabee. In other texts of the geonic

period, the name of the angel Taftafiyyah – one of

the more magical names of Metatron – was added

to the 72 holy names, and subsequently it was an

amulet in the form of a hexagram with this one

name that became one of the most widespread

protective charms of the period. These hexagrams,

however, rarely were drawn with simple lines but

rather were composed of an elaborate combination

of these various written names. Although there can

be little doubt that themanner inwhich these names

were patterned to form the star carried significance,

efforts at deciphering their meaning have been

elusive. Casanowicz (1916), for instance, was of

the opinion that the Shield of David, while

representing a “medley of names of God and

angels, some of them ‘wonderful and fearful’,”

they nevertheless defy “. . . rational philological

and etymological explanation, written forward

and backward and crosswise in all possible permu-

tations and transpositions of letters” (Casanowicz

1916, pp. 156–157).

The mystical themes attributed to the Star of

David indicate the psychological intersection

between the religious symbolism, the protective

qualities, and metaphysical attributes ascribed to

the emblem. Some Kabbalists thought that the six

points signified God’s absolute rule over the uni-

verse in all six directions: north, south, east, west,

up, and down. They also believed that the

triangles represented humanity’s inherent and

paradoxical dual nature – good and evil, physical

and spiritual – and through the balancing of these

forces, the star could be used as protection against

evil spirits (Wolf 1999).

The earliest known piece of Jewish esoteri-

cism Sefer Yetzirah (“Book of Creation”) –

a book of Jewish mysticism that predates the

Zohar (the primary source of Jewish mysticism) –

observes that the overlapping, interlocking trian-

gles actually create six smaller triangles and is

ultimately composed of a 12 (dodecagram) sides.

Accordingly, these 12 sides are likened to the

Jewish people, representing the 12 tribes of Israel

as well as other esoteric meanings that cohere

around the number 12 (Kaplan 1997). The struc-

ture of the star, with two overlapping triangles,may

also represent the reciprocal, covenantal relation-

ship between the Jewish people and God. The

triangle pointing “up” symbolizes our good deeds

which go up to heaven and then activate a flow of

goodness back down to the world, symbolized by

the triangle pointing down. In a similar vein, the

triangle that points upward symbolizes God, while

the star that points downward represents mankind

(Sperling and Simon 1984, p. 73a).

Another Kabbalistic idea that carried mystical

currency in the Middle Ages, particularly

amongst those who practice Lurianic Kabbalah,

is that a six-pointed star receives form and

substance from its solid center. This inner core

(yesod) represents the spiritual dimension,

surrounded by the six building blocks of the uni-

verse: Chesed (Kindness), Gevurah (Severity),

Tiferet (Harmony), Netzach (Perseverance), Hod(Splendor), Yesod (Foundation), and Malchut

(Royalty) (Oegema 1996).

Apart from appearing in mystical Kabbalistic

manuscripts, in 1354 the Jewish community of

Prague was the first to use the Star of David as its

official symbol (Frankel and Teutsch 1992,

p. 161). It wasn’t until the seventeenth century

that we find the Star of David emerging as

a prominent emblem in Muslim and Christian

countries being used an in-group marker amongst

its Jewish inhabitants (Trachtenberg 1979). Then

the Star of David became an architectural fixture

and decorative ornament in European syna-

gogues, Jewish literature, and Jewish artwork.

Unlike the mystics of the Middle Ages, however,

the Jewish communities of this period did not

seem to invest a great amount of religious

significance into the star.

Modern Era

In more modern times, the Star of David has been

used as both a symbol of persecution and of

God

Universe

Humanbeing

Redemption

Cre

atio

n

Revelation

Star of David, Fig. 2 The Star of Redemption – Franz

Rosenzweig (This figure is licensed under the Creative

Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license. http://en.

wikipedia.org/wiki/File:TheStarOfRedemptionEng.svg)

S 1728 Star of David

redemption. In 1897 Theodore Herzl, likely

because of its religiously neutral connotations,

chose the Star of David to be adopted as the

Zionist Nationalist symbol in the First Zionist

Congress held in Basel, Switzerland. This

redemptive motif was substantially amplified in

Franz Rosenzweig’s (1912) seminal work, TheStar of Redemption, where he employed the Star

of David to frame his philosophy of Judaism.

Each half of the star, according to Rosenzweig,

was composed of two conceptual “triads,” which,

in concert, form the foundation of Jewish belief:

Creation, Revelation, and Redemption; God,

Israel, and World.

However, beginning in 1939, after the

Germans invaded Poland, a shift occurred and

the Nazis progressively required Jews to identify

themselves in public by affixing a badge of the

Star of David with the word Jude (German for

“Jew”) printed onto their clothing. This was,

of course, a throwback to the common practice

of forcing Jews to visibly identify themselves

in public, such as in Portugal where a red Star

of David was used an identifier in the Middle

Ages (Piponnier and Mane 1997, p. 137)

(Fig.2).

Following the fall of the Third Reich, the Star

of David quickly reclaimed its positive,

redemptive symbolism, figuring prominently on

the flag of Israel shortly after the founding of the

country in 1948. Gershon Scholem (1972), in his

erudite treatise on the history of the Star of David,

has made a compelling case that the mystical

overlay of the Star of David has been negated in

modern times by the self-defining redemptive

symbolism of this emblem driven by the Holo-

caust and the founding of the modern State of

Israel. The Star of David, Scholem contended,

pivoted from a symbol of exclusion to a symbol

of redemption, not in a strictly messianic context,

but in a nationalistic, existential manner that

characterizes the resilient nature and renewed

bond of faith between God, the Jewish people,

and the land of Israel.

See Also

▶David

▶Esotericism and Psychology

▶ Folk Magic

▶ Judaism and Psychology

▶Kabbalah

▶ Symbol

Bibliography

Casanowicz, I. M. (1916). Jewish amulets in the United

States National Museum. Journal of the AmericanOriental Society, 36, 154–167.

Frankel, E., & Teutsch, B. P. (1992). The encyclopedia ofJewish symbols. Northvale: Jason Aronson.

Kaplan, A. (1997). Sefer Yetzirah: The book of creation intheory and practice. San Francisco: Weiser.

Oegema, G. S. (1996). Realms of Judaism: The historyof the Shield of David, the birth of a symbol. Bern:Peter Lang.

Piponnier, F., & Mane, P. (1997). Dress in the MiddleAges. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Rosenzweig, F. (1912). Der Stern der Erlosung [The starof redemption] (trans: Hallo, W., 1971). New York:

Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

Scholem, G. (1972). The star of David: History ofa symbol: The messianic idea in Judaism (p. 266).

New York: Schocken.

Singer, I., & Adler, C. (1912). The Jewish encyclopedia(Vol. 8). New York: Funk and Wagnalls.

Sperling, H., & Simon, M. (Eds.). (1984). The Zohar(5 vols). London: Soncino.

Stern, Karl 1729 S

Star of David. (1974). Encyclopedia judaica (2nd ed.,

Vol. 13, pp. 336–339). Jerusalem, Israel: Keter

Publishing House.

The Talmud [The Babylonian Talmud]: The SteinsaltzEdition. (1989–1999). New York: Random House.

Trachtenberg, J. (1979). Jewish magic andsuperstition: A study in folk religion. New York:

Antheneum.

Wolf, L. (1999). Practical Kabbalah: A guide to Jewishwisdom to everyday life. Random House Digital.

New York: Three Rivers Press.

Stern, Karl

Daniel Burston

Department of Psychology, Duquesne

University, Pittsburgh, PA, USA

S

Karl Stern (1906–1975) was born in Bavaria to an

assimilated Jewish family and received little

formal religious education. After a profoundly

alienating experience at his BarMitzvah, he repu-

diated belief in God and became a Marxist and

a Zionist. Stern studied medicine and neuropsy-

chiatry in Munich, Berlin, and Frankfurt and

underwent a somewhat unorthodox analytic

training with a practitioner who blended Freudian

and Jungian perspectives but leaned strongly

toward a belief in “Spirit.” During this period,

he briefly immersed himself in Orthodox

Jewish observance but meanwhile cultivated

close friendships with ardent Christians, who

seemed to understand his religious longings

even better than his own relatives. In 1936,

Stern and his family fled from Germany to Lon-

don, where he continued his neuropsychiatric

work. Two years later, he arrived in Montreal

(via New York). After much study and reflection,

in 1943, he finally converted to Roman Catholi-

cism (Stern 1951).

Stern’s first book, The Pillar of Fire, was

published in 1951 and gives a vivid account of

his childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood

and the various experiences and events that led to

his eventual conversion, including his close

friendships with Jacques Maritain and Dorothy

Day. Like his younger contemporary, Cardinal

Jean-Marie (Aaron) Lustiger, Stern was unable

to understand why most Jews – including many

old friends – regarded him as a traitor, a recurrent

theme in the literature by “Hebrew Catholics.”

Coming as it did on the eve of the Holocaust,

Stern’s pain and perplexity on this score seem

quite odd or disingenuous to most Jews, since

he was quite open about his proselytizing agenda.

But regardless of how his actions were experi-

enced and interpreted by his former friends, it is

important to note that together with other con-

verts like Edith Stein, Israel Eugenio Zolli, and

Aaron Lustiger, Karl Stern worked diligently to

overcome anti-Semitism in the Church.

In any case, The Pillar of Fire won the

Christopher Award, became an international

best seller, and is full of illuminating reflections

on the political-religious complexion of different

Jewish denominations, the differences between

Catholic and Nazi anti-Semitism, and of different

currents within Nazism, Marxism, and

psychoanalysis. In his next book, The Third Rev-

olution: A Study of Psychiatry and Religion

(1954), Stern explored the relationship between

psychoanalysis and religion, arguing that the two

are completely compatible. In his third book, The

Flight From Woman (1965), Stern explored

the pitfalls of (male-centered) enlightenment

rationalism, with the premium it places on

abstract and discursive intellect, to the detriment

of empathy and intuition, which he deemed to be

women’s ways of knowing and engaging with the

world. Unlike Freud, who stressed Oedipal con-

flicts between fathers and sons, Stern argued for

the primacy of the maternal imago and argued

that much of Western misogyny – which shows

up in philosophers like Descartes, Schopenhauer,

Kierkegaard, and Sartre – was rooted in the expe-

rience of early maternal deprivation, anticipating

the insights and attitudes of attachment theory

and some recent feminist theorists who are not

in the Catholic orbit.

Like Erich Fromm and Erik Erikson, who

were also raised in German-Jewish households,

Stern was a psychoanalyst who became a public

intellectual. Like them, albeit in different ways,

he addressed the relationship between science

and religion, issues of gender identity, and the

S 1730 Stigmata

nature of religious experience. Stern is well

known in Catholic circles as a formative influ-

ence on psychoanalyst Paul Vitz, whose writings

on psychoanalysis and faith are deeply influenced

by Stern. Though he wrote from the perspective

of a psychoanalytically oriented clinician, Stern’s

books are informed by a deep knowledge of his-

tory, philosophy, and sociology and attest to the

yearning for transcendence that persists in the

midst of our secular society.

See Also

▶Conversion

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

Bibliography

Fromm, E. (1951, April 15). A modern search for faith:

The pillar of fire, by Karl Stern. New York HeraldTribune Review of Books.

Graef, H. (1955). The scholar and the cross. London:Longmans & Green.

Klein, C. (1983). The new spirit among Jewish converts.

Jewish Christian Relations, 16, 1.Neuhaus, D. (1988). Jewish conversion to the Catholic

church. Pastoral Psychology, 37, 1.Pigozzi, C., & Rouart, J. -M. (2007, August 15). Le

Cardinal Lustiger: Un Destin Exceptionnel D’Ombre

Et De Lumiere. Paris Match.Simon, S. (2001). Crossing town: Montreal in translation.

Presentation at the MLA annual meeting in New

Orleans.

Simon, S. (2004). A. M. Klein et Karl Stern:

Le scandale de la conversion. Etudes Francaises,3(37), 53–67.

Stern, K. (1951). The pillar of fire. New York: Harcourt

Brace.

Stern, K. (1954). The third revolution: A study ofpsychiatry and religion. New York: Harcourt

Brace.

Stern, K. (1955). Some spiritual aspects of psychotherapy.

In F. J. Braceland (Ed.), Faith, reason and modernpsychiatry; sources for a synthesis (pp. 125–140).

Oxford: P. J. Kenedy.

Stern, K. (1965). The flight from woman. New York:

Farrar Straus & Giroux.

Syrkin, M. (1951, July 7). From Jerusalem to Rome: The

pillar of fire by Karl Stern. The Nation.Zolli, I. E. (1954). Before the dawn. New York: Sheed &

Ward.

Stigmata

Charlene P. E. Burns

Department of Philosophy & Religious Studies,

University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, Eau Claire,

WI, USA

Introduction

From the Greek meaning “to prick; to burn in

marks; brand” (Perschbacher 2004). In the ancient

Greco-Roman world, stigmata were the brand

marks inflicted on slaves by their owners. The

term is todaymost often associatedwith Christian-

ity and refers to physical wounds, similar to those

inflicted on Jesus of Nazareth during his crucifix-

ion, that appear spontaneously on the body of

a believer. The first use of the term in connection

with Jesus appears in the New Testament, where

the apostle Paul refers to his scars from injuries

inflicted during imprisonment as “the marks of

Jesus branded on my body” (Galatians 6:17);

most scholars take his meaning to be that the

scars mark him as belonging to Jesus the way

a brand marks a slave. This is the sense given to

the term in writings of early Christian theologians

like Jerome and Augustine. Paul Orosius, a

fifth-century Spanish theologian, first used it in

reference to the actual wounds inflicted on Jesus.

In the thirteenth century an Italian monk, Br. Elias

of Assisi, first used the word to refer to spontane-

ously appearing wounds marking the body of

Francis of Assisi (Schmucki 1991).

Historical Background

A few unsubstantiated instances of stigmata have

been reported among Muslims in the form of

wounds suffered by Muhammad during his

efforts to spread Islam, and at least one Jewish

case involving a young man who felt an intense

identification with Jesus, but the phenomenon

has historically been found overwhelmingly

among Catholic Christians (Copelan 1975). The

spontaneous appearance of wounds perceived to

Stigmata 1731 S

S

duplicate those experienced by Jesus is not

reported in historical documents before the

thirteenth century. There is some disagreement

over whether the first witnessed case was that of

a British man, Stephen Langton (1222), or the

Italian monk, Francis of Assisi (1224). Since

that time, the phenomenon has proliferated. Three

to 500 cases have been reported, with peak activity

in the nineteenth (20 documented cases) and twen-

tieth centuries (perhaps 100 or more claims). The

most famous twentieth-century cases were Therese

Neumann (1898–1962) andPadre Pio (1887–1968).

The majority have been Italian Roman Catholic

women who experienced significant trauma

(physical or mental) prior to the first appearance of

the stigmata. Sixty-two stigmatics have received

beatification or canonization by the Catholic

Church, although the official position of theVatican

has been that only St. Francis’ case is of clearly

supernatural origin (Alonso-Fernandez 1985;

Carroll 1987; Albright 2002).

Generally, stigmatics experience pain and

bleeding intermittently from wounds in the

hands or wrists, feet, and one side. Not all

experience the same number and type of wounds,

not all wounds bleed, and not all are visible; the

so-called invisible stigmata cause pain in the

hands, feet, and side without the development of

wounds or scaring. Appearance of stigmata tends

to be periodic, manifesting at times associated

with Christ’s Passion (on Fridays or during

Lent), on church feast days, or when receiving

Holy Communion. Many report a drastic

reduction in the need and desire for food, with

some claiming to ingest nothing but communion

wafers after the onset of the phenomenon.

Religious Interpretations

For many devoutly religious people, the stigmata

are a sign of sainthood granted to very spiritual

men and women as a sign of God’s grace. They

are miraculous manifestations of divine love and

a foreshadowing of the goal of faith-union with

God. For the stigmatic, the experience is

intensely humbling and painful. In some cases,

individuals report having prayed to share Christ’s

suffering or spending long hours in meditation on

the crucifixion before onset. St. Catherine of

Siena (1347–1380) was very highly revered dur-

ing her lifetime but prayed that the wounds be

invisible so that she could continue to function as

an influential figure in papal and Italian politics.

She was so highly regarded that her head has been

preserved in a reliquary which is kept on the altar

of her church to this day.

Given the reverence accorded the phenome-

non among religious individuals, it is puzzling

that there are no records of stigmatization before

the thirteenth century. One possible explanation

leads us toward psychology and has to do with the

fact that Christians did not commonly depict

Christ’s bodily suffering in art during the first

one thousand or so years of the faith. The cross

without Christ’s body had become a symbol of

the faith during Constantine’s (272–337 CE)

reign. In the early centuries, when Jesus’ body

was depicted, it was clothed in a shroud and

usually without explicit signs of torture. From

the ninth century forward, the body appears

more and more often either naked or clothed

only in a loin cloth, and with the twelfth century

we see an upturn in graphic depictions of blood

and suffering. By the late Middle Ages, the

representation of Christ in excruciating pain

becomes the norm (Illich 1987).

Scientific Interpretations

The first attempt to explain stigmata scientifically

is found in Alfred Maury’s La Magie et

l’astrologie dans l’antiquite et dans le moyenage (1863). With the advent of scientific investi-

gation during the nineteenth century, a discern-

able shift in status “from saint to patient” has

transpired (Albright 2002). Growing caution

regarding the phenomenon is illustrated in the

fact that only one stigmatic living in the last two

centuries (Padre Pio canonized in 2002) has

been declared a saint by the Catholic Church.

The church hierarchy’s prudence regarding

stigmata is a function of the difficult questions

raised by scientific investigation of religious

phenomena. Medically, the wounds are often

S 1732 Stigmata

labeled psychogenic purpura or autoerythrocyte

sensitization syndrome, which involves easy

bruising that spreads to adjacent tissues and

causes pain. This condition may be due to auto-

immune sensitization or to purely psychogenic

causes. Because stigmatics are most often

devoutly religious and their wounds mimic

those of Christ, the tendency among medical

professionals is to attribute the condition to

psychological factors.

In some cases, the wounds appear to have

been self-inflicted. Wovoka (1856–1932),

the Paiute leader of the second-wave Native

American Ghost Dance movement, had a

vision of God during a solar eclipse in 1889

after which he preached a message of

impending resurrection of the ancestors and

end of white rule. He also exhibited the

stigmata, which are thought to have been

self-inflicted in order to more closely identify

his message with Christ. Clearly fraudulent

cases have occurred often, with wounds and

bleeding caused by everything from self-injury

to using makeup or the concealing vials of red

food coloring and animal or human blood

beneath layers of false skin (Krippner 2002).

Faking of the wounds was substantiated in the

case of Magdalena de la Cruz (1487–1560),

a Spanish nun. Whereas Wovoka may have

inflicted the wounds to achieve ideological

goals, stigmatics like Magdalena may suffer

from what is now called factitious disorder

(sometimes called Munchausen syndrome),

the intentional production of medical symp-

toms. These sufferers have no discernable

external incentives, like political or monetary

gain, apparently needing to assume the “sick”

role for its own sake (DSM-IV 2000,

pp. 471–475).

Psychological Interpretation

Stigmatics have, since the mid-nineteenth

century, most often been diagnosed with

hysteria or hysterical conversion – somatoform

disorder in today’s terms (DSM-IV 2000,

p. 445 or pp. 451–452). In this condition,

recurrent clinically significant physical symp-

toms cannot be explained by a diagnosable

medical condition or as resulting from sub-

stances or intentional infliction. Pierre Janet

(1859–1947) first noted that hysterics tend

to be easily hypnotized, and Karl Jaspers

(1883–1969) discovered that stigmata-like

wounds could be induced through hypnotic

suggestion (Albright 2002). The classic Freud-

ian explanation is that stigmata arise due to

sexual and aggressive urges originating in

childhood (for an interesting Kleinian interpre-

tation, see Carroll 1987).

Freudian interpretations have been criticized

based on the fact that many stigmatics suffered

significant physical and/or psychological trauma

just prior to the first onset. One argument is that

post-traumatic stress disorder (DSM-IV 2000,

p. 309.81) may be more accurately descriptive.

Therese Neumann, for example, suffered

a debilitating back injury when putting out a fire

at a neighbor’s home when she was 20 years old.

Her physical condition deteriorated into

temporary blindness, left-sided paralysis, inabil-

ity to speak normally, and lack of appetite.

She was bedridden for 6 years, during which

time she suffered a seizure and developed

infected bed sores. Her condition dramatically

and spontaneously improved on the day her

namesake, Therese of Lisieux, was canonized.

Soon afterward she had a vision of Jesus and

developed an open wound on her left side,

followed by bloody tears and wounds on her

hands and feet. She claimed to have ingested

nothing but communion wafers for the next

36 years and experienced the stigmata after

entering a trance-like state nearly every Friday

through Sunday for the rest of her life. In

Albright’s analysis, Neumann suffered post-

traumatic stress symptoms expressed in dissocia-

tive self-mutilation (Albright 2002). It must be

said, however, that even if science can identify

underlying psychological mechanisms at work

in the lives of stigmatics, the sufferer’s faith

that this is a spiritual experience is not thereby

disproved. “The fact that an idea satisfies

a wish does not mean that the idea is false”

(Fromm 1950).

Stone Circles 1733 S

See Also

▶Christianity

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶ Islam

▶ Jesus

S

Bibliography

Albright, M. (2002). The stigmata: The psychological

and ethical message of the posttraumatic sufferer.

Psychoanalysis and Contemporary Thought, 25(3),329–358.

Alonso-Fernandez, F. (1985). Estampas de estigmatizados

contemporaneos en el campo de la mıstica.

Psicopatologia, 5(3), 279–292.American Psychiatric Association. (2000). Diagnostic

and statistical manual of mental disorders (4th ed.).

Washington, DC: Author.

Carroll, M. P. (1987). Heaven-sent wounds: A Kleinian

view of the stigmata in the catholic mystical

tradition. The Journal of Psychoanalytic Anthropology,10(1), 17–38.

Copelan, R. (1975). Stigmata-passion and punishment:

A modern case history. Journal of the AmericanSociety of Psychosomatic Dentistry and Medicine,22(3), 85–90.

Early, L. F., & Lifschutz, J. E. (1974). A case of stigmata.

Archives of General Psychiatry, 30, 197–200.Fromm, E. (1950). Psychoanalysis and religion.

New Haven: Yale University Press.

Horton, W. (1924). The origin and psychological function

of religion according to Pierre Janet. The AmericanJournal of Psychiatry, 35(1), 16–52.

Illich, I. (1987). Hospitality and pain. Paper presented

at McCormick Theological Seminary, Chicago.

Unpublished paper.

Krippner, S. (2002). Stigmatic phenomena: An alleged

case in Brazil. Journal of Scientific Exploration,16(2), 207–224.

Littlewood, R., & Bartocci, G. (2005). Religious

stigmata, magnetic fluids and conversion hysteria:

one survival of ‘vital force’ theories in scientific

medicine? Transcultural Psychiatry, 42(4),596–609.

Maury, A. (1863/1978). La Magie et l’astrologie dansl’antiquite et dans le moyen age. Paris, France.

Perschbacher, W. J. (2004). The new analytical Greeklexicon. Peabody: Hendrickson Publishing.

Schmucki, O. (1991). The stigmata of St. Francis of Assisi:A critical investigation in the light of thirteenth cen-tury sources (trans: Connors, C.F.). St. Bonaventure:Franciscan Institute.

The Bible. New Revised Standard Version.Thomas, F. (1946). The mystery of Konnersreuth.

Chicago: Rev. F. Thomas.

Stone Circles

Susan Easton

San Francisco, CA, USA

Stone Circles: Mysterious Skeletons ofStone-Age Culture

Stone circles are ancient purpose-built rock struc-

tures found all over the world. Their origins and

uses are a source of continuing research and

debate. The number of standing stones in

a circle can range from 4 to 60. Some stone

circles are concentric. Some are elliptical or

oval. Others are recumbent, in which a single

stone is laid flat between the highest two upright

pillars. The elements of stone circles and stone

monuments include a variety of terms including

dolmen, cairn, menhir, tumuli, barrow, cromlech,

and center stone (Stone Circles of the Gambia).

Symbolically they can have many meanings,

including the broad Jungian theory of the man-

dala, an archetypal image of psychological divin-

ity, and the archetypal Self that regulates and

balances the various archetypal dynamics (Jung

1959). This appears in many ways, such as refer-

ence to stars, the afterlife, and divinities.

The term “henge” refers to Neolithic circular

or oval earthworks identified by a ring bank with

an interior ditch. Henges sometimes have incor-

porated stone circles as a part of the earthwork.

The study of the origin of stone circles has been

somewhat aided by the science of radiocarbon

dating; however, the results are often inconclu-

sive. People who built stone circles in the Neo-

lithic era left no written source materials, but

legends survive. More reliable dating parameters

have been deduced by sifting through what

ancient cultures have left behind as clues and by

looking into the heavens.

Stonehenge as an Icon

The stone circle on the Salisbury Plain, Stone-

henge, is arguably the world’s best known.

Stone Circles,Fig. 1 Stonehenge on July

30, 2007 (Photo by

garethwiscombe. Courtesy

Creative Commons 2.0

Generic License. http://en.

wikipedia.org/wiki/File:

Stonehenge2007_07_30.

jpg)

S 1734 Stone Circles

It began as a henge around 3100 BCE, was then

abandoned, and remained untouched for nearly

1,000 years. Construction resumed in 2150 BCE

when 82 bluestones from the Preseli Mountains,

over 200 miles away in southwest Wales, were

brought to the site. These stones weigh 4 t each.

Their transport apparently included dragging the

stones overland and rafting them on various

connecting rivers. In the third building stage of

Stonehenge, circa 2000 BCE, the Sarsen stones,

boulders of silicified sandstone, arrived. The larg-

est of these stones weighed 50 t and were moved

25 miles overland using sledges and ropes. The

final stage took place in 1500 BCE when 60

additional bluestones, a general term for dolerite

rock slabs, were used to complete the circle. Only

43 of the original bluestones remain (Fig. 1).

The Builders of Stonehenge

The official Stonehenge visitor’s brochure refers

to the builders as “a prehistoric culture now lost

to us.” DNA analysis suggests that modern Homo

sapiens arrived in Britain at least 25,000 years

ago, some of whom came across a land bridge

which then existed between what is now the far

southeast coast of Britain and the European

continent. Maritime migrations also added to

the mix of residents in Britain during the era of

stone circle building. The first known writings

about Stonehenge are from the twelfth century

by Henry of Huntingdon and Geoffrey of

Monmouth. In one British legend, King Arthur

asks his court magician Merlin who built Stone-

henge. Merlin says that giants moved the great

stones from Wales (Wace, 14th century). There

are those who believe that sophisticated civiliza-

tions with technological skills existed before

12000 BCE, when geologists indicate that

a meteor impact changed the face of the earth

and its survivors. In truth, the identity of the

builders may never be known.

Why Stonehenge Was Built

Excavations have revealed cremated human

bones in some of the chalk mortar fillings at

Stonehenge, but it is not thought to be

a cemetery as such. The chalk fillings were likely

the result of cremations held amid religious cer-

emonies and then put to both practical andmemo-

rial use. Some archaeologists believe Stonehenge

was constructed as a burial monument for a very

important person, based on the amount of

Stone Circles 1735 S

dedicated work and coordination required to

move and assemble the monolithic stones.

Between the late nineteenth and mid-twentieth

centuries, three British astronomers, Sir Norman

Lockyer (1909), Gerald Hawkins (1965), and

Alexander Thom (1971), each argued that Stone-

henge and other ancient monuments were aligned

to follow the motions of the sun, moon, planets,

and constellations and validated the study of

archaeoastronomy. Recently two more theories

on Stonehenge have emerged. One posits that

Stonehenge and other stone circles and monu-

ments were part of an early navigational system

for travelers on land and at sea. Building on the

concept of ley lines, introduced by amateur

archaeologist Alfred Watkins and others spent

decades researching stone circles as early navi-

gational tools (David and Davidson 1925/1988).

Travelers could have used dead reckoning from

one stone circle to another as Neolithic road maps

along the coastlines of Scotland, Ireland, Wales,

Cornwall, France, and Spain and into the interior

of Britain (Davidson, Davidson & Davidson).

S

Peace and Reconciliation in Stone

Another theory is that stone circles were part of

a vast planetary geo-energy network. The Stone-

henge Riverside Project (SRP) (University of

Sheffield) proposes that Stonehenge was as

a tribal unification project, bringing together the

previously separated tribes and cultures from the

east and west sides of the land mass. These

groups, which had warred over religious beliefs

and territorial claims, formed an alliance and

built Stonehenge as a symbol of peace and

reconciliation. The large standing stones, it is

suggested, each represented the various clans

that had battled until the end of the Stone Age

(Society for the study of peace, conflict and

violence).

Other Worship and Belief Systems

Geomancy, lithomancy, and litholatry are terms

used to describe the act of giving special powers

to stones or to the worship of them as symbolic

representations of one or more deities. Stone cir-

cles are the rough-hewn ancestors of religious

icons, which evolved into the status of saints.

They are reflected in great cathedrals to modest

chapels to the headstones placed above graves.

Standing stones infuse religious history and

practice. Comparisons of diverse Neolithic cul-

tures suggest that these peoples’ beliefs often

depended upon their agricultural sophistication

driven by various climates and growing seasons.

Psychology was based on ecology, infused with

spiritual beliefs. The earth was revered and

feared, and the gods were seen in the stars.

Understanding these celestial movements – used

to predict planting and harvesting – was crucial to

everyday life and survival. Exhortations to

“higher powers” are, arguably, the basis of all

religions that followed this era in human history

(Eliade 1958).

Psychologists and theologians have reached

a consensus that the urge to build sacred struc-

tures seems to be embedded in the human psyche.

We still mark historical events, and the passing of

people, with standing stones, metal monuments,

and gravestones.

Studies on primitive religion concur that

burials and community ceremonies were widely

practiced in all early societies. A strong belief in

the afterlife linked to the cosmos is a common

thread in many primitive religions and accounts

for the astronomical placements of stone circles

(Eliade 1958). Twice a year, at the solstice and

equinox, heavenly light beams focus through key

portals for as few as 7 min. These may have

meant to lead the spirits of the departed to the

life beyond. Paul Sebillot detailed various stone

circle and large rock cultural myths and practices

in France. These included marriage ceremonies,

supplications for wealth and health, and love and

fertility rites (Sebillot 1902). D. L. Ashliman, of

the University of Pittsburgh, has compiled an

online collection of Stone Monument Legends

(Ashliman 1996-2012).

Aubrey Burl asserted that Stonehenge was

a temple. Using the findings of the archaeoas-

tronomers, Burl suggests that such sites would

have been presided over by a group of astronomer

S 1736 Stone Circles

priests. These holy leaders would have led their

cohorts through the cycle of rituals that the stone

circles were designed to teach and keep alive

down through future generations. These priests

would have read the heavens to announce plant-

ing and harvesting cycles, holding rituals to

invoke good weather, good harvests, health, and

safety from invasions (Burl 2005a, b, c).

All circles have centers. Many of them are

highly symbolic. These are places where the

faithful assemble to observe common beliefs.

Circles represent the cyclical nature of life and

the seasons, of marriage (the exchanging of

rings), of birth, and death. Walking in circles

around sacred places is a common practice in

many faiths. From ancient Labyrinths in Chris-

tian sites to Islam’s meteorite shrine, the Kaaba,

in Mecca, these monuments are circled by the

faithful to show religious devotion. Jung saw

such circular rituals psychologically as sacred

mandalas, pointing to the central sacredness

(Jung 1959).

Contemporary Pagans, Wiccans and Druids,

see their right to worship at Stonehenge to be

sacred to their belief systems. Stonehenge has

become a legal religious battleground, as these

faith factions ask for tolerance and equal access.

In Sacred Architecture Humphrey and Vitebsky

(2005) note that “humans attempt to bring them-

selves closer to the divine by creating a special

space to hold a powerful and precious contact.”

The prevalence of stone circles seems to under-

score this principle.

Stone Circles Around the World

Beyond the 1,000 standing stone circles in the

British Isles, countless other mysterious stone

monuments circle the world. At Carnac, France,

pre-Celtic societies raised at least 3,000 Neolithic

standing stones between 3300 and 4500 BCE. Leg-

end holds that one set of the standing monoliths

was made when a league of Roman soldiers

were turned to stone by Merlin, the omnipresent

mythical magician (Briard). The lines of stones

corresponded with the changes of the seasons,

according to the archaeoastronomers. Nabta Playa

in the Egyptian Nubian Desert dates from the fifth

millennium BCE and has alignments to astronom-

ical points (Wendorf and Malville 2001).

In Japan, ceremonial stone circles first

appeared at the beginning of Jomon era (14000

BCE). They continued to be built through 300

BCE. They were positioned near mountain loca-

tions that allowed viewing of the star Polaris.

During the equinox and solstice, they served as

astronomical calendars. Like many other stone

circles, they were often the site of religious cere-

monies and social gatherings. The Lo Ah Tsai

Circle in the northern part of the Lamma Islands,

China, was built 4,100 years ago. In China’s

Shanxi Province, the Fau Lau Stone Circle, on

Lantau Island, was identified as a late Neolithic

structure in 1980. There is evidence that it was

used as a ritual site. Chinese archaeologists also

claim to have discovered the world’s earliest

observatory in Shanxi Province. It dates back to

45,000 years ago (Megalith).

Gobekli Tepe Rewrites History

A new discovery in the 1980s has challenged the

preeminence of sites such as Stonehenge and has

shifted much attention to this very ancient huge

site (long misinterpreted as medieval) located in

modern Turkey. Gobekli Tepe is a series of cir-

cular rings and T-shaped monoliths decorated

with animal carvings. It was constructed some

11,500 years ago, or about 6,500 years before

Stonehenge. It has 30 acres of pillars, 150 in all,

weighing between 7 and 10 t each. The temple of

hunter-gatherers living nearby reveals many

bones of wild animals (Fig. 2).

Klaus Schmidt has studied Gobekli Tepe for

decades. He sees it as the world’s first temple,

a place of worship built by hunter-gatherers.

Schmidt and others assert that erecting Gobekli

Tepe laid the groundwork for creating more com-

plex Neolithic societies. Gobekli is astounding

for it changes major theories of the development

of civilization. It is complex and was built prior to

the development of pottery, metallurgy, agricul-

ture, and writing. Apparently it was the social

organization behind its construction required

Stone Circles,Fig. 2 Gobekli Tepe,

Sanlıurfa, 2011 (Photo by

Teomancimit. Courtesy

Creative Commons

ShareAlike 3.0 License.

http://en.wikipedia.org/

wiki/Gobekli_Tepe)

Stone Circles 1737 S

that led to these later Neolithic innovations

(Curry 2008; Gobleki Tepe; Scham 2008).

The many uncovered stone monuments, recent

theories about Stonehenge, and the discoveries at

Gobekli Tepe still hold secrets that deepen our

understanding of ancient history and intrigue

archaeologists, psychologists, and theologians

alike. It seems clear that the sacredness that they

perceived around them and in the heavens led to

these archaic cultures’ intense, difficult determi-

nation to build such large monuments.

S

See Also

▶Astrology

▶ Indigenous Religions

▶ Jungian Self

▶Labyrinth

▶Mandala

▶ Participation Mystique

▶ Soul in the World

Bibliography

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html#s. Accessed 7 Sept 2012.

Bennett, C. (1996). In search of the sacred: Anthropologyand the study of religion. London: Cassell.

Briard, J. (1997/2007). The megaliths of Brittany (trans:

Perre, J.-P.). Paris: Editions Jean-Paul Gisserot.

Burl, A. (2005a). Prehistoric astronomy and ritual.Buckinghamshire: Shire.

Burl, A. (2005b). Prehistoric stone circles.Buckinghamshire: Shire.

Burl, A. (2005c). A guide to the stone circles of Britain,Ireland and Brittany. New Haven: Yale University

Press.

Corio, L. N., & Corio, D. (2003). Megaliths: The ancientstone monuments of England and Wales. London:

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Curry, A. (2008). Gobekli Tepe: World’s oldest temple?

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David, I., & Davidson, P. (1925/1988). The old straighttrack. London: Abacus/Little Brown.

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Navigation in the neolithic. International Journal ofNautical Archaeology, 39(2), 433–435.

Eliade, M. (1958). Patterns in comparative religion.New York: Sheed and Ward.

Gibson, A., & Simpson, D. (Eds.). (1998). Prehistoricritual and religion. London: Sutton.

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B6bekli_Tepe. Accessed 7 Sept 2012.

Hardy, C. (2011). The sacred network: Megaliths,cathedrals, ley lines and the power of sharedconsciousness. Rochester: Inner Traditions.

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and west, models of the cosmos. NewYork: Barnes and

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Interactive Map of Megalithic Monuments in Europe.

Retrieved from http://www.megalithic.co.uk.

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Plenum.

Story as Scripture, Therapy, Ritual

Kelly Murphy Mason

Psychotherapy & Spirituality Institute,

New York, NY, USA

Storytelling is known to be a primal human activ-

ity, a ritualized interaction between teller and

listener that wove the fabric of earliest societies;

yet our contemporary conceptualizations of sto-

rytelling have, like our societies themselves,

grown considerably more complex and sophisti-

cated. The postmodern impulse has had far-

reaching implication across such disciplines as

literary criticism, psychology, and religious stud-

ies, especially in developing greater awareness of

the ways in which the collected stories that are

constitutive of history could themselves be con-

sidered discrete constructions. Increased appreci-

ation for narrative calls for an interdisciplinary

approach that makes literature, psychotherapy,

and religion more mutually informative in this

era. Because humans are by nature storytellers,

constructivist investigations into storytelling can

reveal something significant about the various

meanings ascribed to the human condition.

Constructivist approaches regard endlessly

proliferating narratives as proof positive of the

human need for meaning-making (Saleeby 1994).

Many people’s understanding of themselves and

their larger culture has been shaped by the stories

that get told frequently enough to become folklore.

Even where meaning appears to be lacking – in

needless suffering, for instance, or mass destruc-

tion – meaning has been devised through and

derived from the stories people told to one another.

The Epic of Gilgamesh, believed to contain

the oldest written narratives in history, had

Story as Scripture, Therapy, Ritual 1739 S

S

Sumerian origins dating to the third millennium

BCE, predating the Homeric epics. “It is an old

story,” the epigraph declares, “but one that can

still be told. . .” In fact, its ancient account of

a cataclysmic flood is later retold in the Book of

Genesis with the version of the story famously

featuring Noah. Across cultures, stories have

attempted to describe not only how the world

had been created but also how it had been

reconstituted. Like Greek mythology, Sumerian

mythology proffered explanations about what

exactly separated the human from the godly, the

mortal from the immortal, imbuing humans with

ever greater self-consciousness.

Even as humans developed a deeper apprecia-

tion for the extent to which they were subject to

circumstances such as earthly finitude, they also

tried to exert individual agency within those con-

fines. The struggle inherent in this dual reality

gave rise to tension that created the story dynamic,

one that poses questions about whether people are

autonomous creations or relationally defined, self-

determining, or simply the pawns of fate. By the

fourth century BCE, Aristotle had already recog-

nized that stories tended to conform to certain

poetic expectations in their imitations of reality.

He catalogued three distinct genres emerging: the

epic, the comic, and the tragic, with the tragic

becoming the most developed dramatically.

Tragedy extends a kind of cautionary tale. The

didactic functions of story find their expression

not only in tragedies but also in fables and

parables. Stories seem to be educative in the

sense that they are generally perceived as some-

how providing a moral (Coles 1989). Those

stories that give us our most memorable moral

instruction come to comprise a kind of sacred

scripture. The scripture presumes a moral universe

that requires human participation. The scripture

also presumes an arc of action that is purposeful.

As narrative-based faiths, Jewish and Christian

religious traditions maintain a profound historical

sensibility that asks believers to consider them-

selves players in a larger story, namely, in God’s

plan for the salvation of the world.

Although psychotherapy challenged the

Judeo-Christian emphasis on the collective expe-

rience of a shared reality by privileging instead

the role of the individual’s inner life, it left

unchallenged in the West a fundamentally narra-

tive epistemology. In the early twentieth century,

Freud introduced the modality of psychoanalysis

through case histories recounting the life stories

of his analysands. As the psychological disci-

plines developed, they framed case histories

with a degree of clinical certainty that frequently

risked an overdetermined presentation of past

events standing in causal relation to present

difficulties (Polkinghorne 1988).

Yet as constructivist approaches such as nar-

rative therapy suggest, persons struggling with

significant problems frequently have problematic

life scripts (Roberts 1999). They may have

unconsciously concluded that serious troubles

have been scripted for them; their troubled

reenactments begin to take on a ritualistically

repetitious quality that leads them to play

caricatured roles in their own lives. Such persons

can operate with the assumption of a tragic

outcome unchanged in the face of a changing

cast of characters in various stages of their life.

They live to tell their tales but again and again.

The more regularly these persons tell their tragic

tales, the more powerfully they get reinforced as

a personal reality.

Storytelling tends not to be an indifferent act.

Rather, it evokes certain emotional states for pur-

posive and persuasive effects (Ochberg 1996).

Generally, narratives create an internal logic that

must be preserved, often at the cost of curtailing

scope and perspective. Stories establish what is and

what is not relevant to a given course of action.

They determine what knowledge is essential to

right understanding.

This essentialism helps to explain why so

many of the world’s religious communities have

established which stories will get told and retold

in ritual settings by sealing a canon (Schussler

1994). Yet there is a twofold danger in this

sealing: first, as stories grow old, they get told

so grossly out of context as to be at times almost

unintelligible and so are no longer heard in the

same spirit as they were originally, and second,

newer stories set in familiar contexts that would

communicate the proper spirit in intelligible

contexts may never be granted a hearing. In the

S 1740 Story as Scripture, Therapy, Ritual

Christian testament, the Pauline commandment

to preserve the spirit and not the letter of religious

teachings underscores the importance of appreci-

ating the spirit of story, investigating whether

it is sufficiently edifying to merit inclusion in

the scripture. Presumably, the scripture offers

healing stories that provide people a hopeful

glimpse of possible resolutions to their own

storied circumstance.

Sometimes sharing life stories provides

persons in similar situations the promise of

reparative experience by allowing positive

identification with others. In recent decades,

Alcoholics Anonymous and other Twelve-Step

programs have basically provided recovering

members the chance to construct a conversion

narrative which they then testify to on a regular

basis (Kurtz and Ketcham 1992). Members make

important corrections in what would otherwise be

tales of woe by confessing all their past errors.

With the Twelve Steps providing their narrative

framework, they learn a new genre of life story

that involves being both psychologically and

spiritually restored, the ultimate ends of recovery

being sanity and serenity.

The potential of storytelling as therapeutic

technique lies in its ability not only to provide

people with an open hearing and cathartic release

but also to cultivate their awareness of the

narrative structures they use to organize their

existence. People can be encouraged to become

simultaneously author and protagonist in their

own stories, carefully crafting intersections of

meaning around central themes that can be col-

lected in a coherent self-narrative (Peacock and

Holland 1993). They can become the authorities

on their lives as they are lived, recognizing the

power of their ability to make choices in the

present tense, shaping a storyline as it progresses.

Psychotherapy is usually a narrative undertak-

ing, with persons telling their therapists the

stories they want heard. The therapists have

greater latitude in the interpretation of those

stories if they recognize them as idiosyncratic

constructions as opposed to objective factual

accounts. Constructivist approaches resemble

cognitive approaches in their exploration of the

assumed contexts, perceived motives, causal

connections, and characterological attributions

that are then enlisted as narrative strategies

(Mishler 1995). Recognizing the story as

a strategy enables therapists to reframe situations

so that alternate narrations become possible.

These revisions frequently become far more

serviceable than the original versions in the

therapeutic process.

Narrative therapists listen for stories that have

been and that have not yet been told. They

challenge the unitary truth posited in a dominant

narrative by highlighting the exceptional instance

when a problem-saturated story has minimized or

excluded a unique outcome which can only be

accounted for in a broader narrative framework,

one that does not require the narrator to subjugate

such realities for the sake of an overall expedi-

ency or intended effect (White and Epston 1990).

Instead of overidentifying with the problems

memorialized in the story, the narrator is free

to externalize the problematic story in order to

investigate its narrative logic more thoroughly

and modifying it accordingly. In this manner, the

narrator achieves a degree of liberation through

both narrative competency and self-mastery.

If such liberation is not possible, the narrator

becomes stuck in the story and options suddenly

seem to narrow. Lacking a sense of authority, the

narrator is no longer able to make meaning in and

through the story. Should the interests of the story

as artifact start to supercede the uses of it as life

script and should the story enlist the teller for its

ends instead of the opposite thing occurring, the

story itself become inviolate in the imagination

and a rigid fundamentalism results. It is the letter

and not the spirit that triumphs as a mode of

instruction and ultimately becomes a method of

indoctrination. Because stories deal with ani-

mated individuals interacting, they generally rep-

resent complicated formulae that generate more

questions than they answer (Bruner 2002). What

makes stories useful is their ability to state prob-

lems in terms that establish clear analogies.

Story conventions themselves provide people

a set of concepts that might otherwise be

unavailable. Aristotle recognized that plots turn

on both reversals and recognitions, reversals

being primarily external occurrences and

Story as Scripture, Therapy, Ritual 1741 S

recognitions being primarily internal ones. The

majority of modern literary work does not have

an epic sweep; it betrays less fascination with

a series of large-scale external events occurring in

a certain sequence, being more preoccupied with

the machinations of inner processing by characters

themselves. Point of view now figures prominently

and decisively. To an extent it never was before,

Western literature has become psychologically

minded. It has become an unmistakably humanist

endeavor.

This humanist orientation does not mean

that literature overlooks the sacred dimension

altogether. Rather, modern articulation of the

sacred tends to be grounded in a particular

perspective rather than in disembodied omni-

science. As contemporary sensibilities empower

them as storytellers, people become more fully

engaged not only as author/protagonists but

also as listeners. They research scriptures and

question canons. Testing the spirit of stories,

they begin to expect texts to be inspiring as well

as inspired. Some old stories may no longer be

told with any conviction, while some may need to

be told in novel ways. Others in the canon

stubbornly resist revision. Other old stories

survive because they still invite the kind of

participation that elicits personal identification

and renewal on the part of their listeners.

Such stories have gained credibility by being

capacious; they enable connections to continue

to be made today.

S

Commentary

The need for story is evident in young children,

just as it was in earliest societies. Children, like

the cultures they inhabit, exhibit preference for

certain stories by urging that they be retold.

Childish efforts to learn a story by heart, to have

memorized it in its entirety through ritual repeti-

tion, imply a desire for mastery, a developmental

drive to parse story grammar and discern the

range of narrative elements at play. Some con-

structivists have posited that narrative is the

primary mode humans have for giving the larger

world coherence. Without narrative, humans

might have difficulty locating themselves in any

recognizable context or gaining any sense of

direction.

Recognizing stories as fabrications rather than

artifacts, people become co-creators capable of

restorying their lives in meaningful ways. The

decisions people make about how they will

regard and meet life circumstance enable them

to choose with intention the sort of story they will

participate in, be it scriptural or secular, conven-

tional or exceptional. They then tell stories that

merit their assent and create a significant sense of

community. Like psychotherapy itself, storytell-

ing has long been considered as a shamanic prac-

tice, a method of channeling numinous energies

in the service of human concerns and the greater

good. With narrative awareness, constructivists

intimate, people can communicate stories that

express a conscious desire to heal themselves

and their storied world.

See Also

▶Biblical Narratives Versus Greek Myths

▶Communal and Personal Identity

▶Epiphany

▶ Fundamentalism

▶Meaning of Human Existence

▶Monomyth

▶Narrative Therapy

▶ Persona

▶ Purpose in Life

▶Ritual

▶Twelve Steps

Bibliography

Anon. (1970). Gilgamesh: A verse narrative (trans:

Mason, H.). New York: Mariner Books.

Anon. (1976). Alcoholics Anonymous: The story of howmany thousands of men and women have recoveredfrom alcoholism. New York: Alcoholics Anonymous

World Services.

Aristotle. (1987). The poetics of Aristotle (trans:

Halliwell, S.). ChapelHill: University ofNorth Carolina

Press.

Bruner, J. (2002). Making stories: Law, literature, life.New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

S 1742 Substance Abuse and Religion

Coles, R. (1989). The call of stories: Teaching andthe moral imagination. Boston: Houghton Mifflin

Company.

Freud, S. (1963). Three case histories. New York:

Touchstone.

Kurtz, E., & Ketcham, K. (1992). The spirituality ofimperfection: Storytelling and the journey towholeness. New York: Bantam Books.

Mishler, E. G. (1995). Models of narrative analysis:

A typology. Journal of narrative and Life history,5(2), 87–123.

Ochberg, R. L. (1996). Interpreting life stories. In

R. Josselson (Ed.), Ethics and process in the narrativestudy of lives (pp. 97–113). Thousand Oaks: Sage.

Peacock, J. L., & Holland, D. C. (1993). The narrated self:

Life stories in process. Ethos, 21(4), 367–383.Polkinghorne, D. E. (1988). Narrative knowing and the

human sciences. Albany: State University of New

York Press.

Roberts, G. (1999). Introduction: A story of stories. In

G. Roberts & J. Holmes (Eds.), Healing stories: Nar-rative in psychiatry and psychotherapy (pp. 3–26).

New York: Oxford University Press.

Saleeby, D. (1994). Culture, theory, and narrative: The

intersection of meanings in practice. Social Work,39(4), 353–359.

Schussler, F. E. (1994). Transgressing canonical

boundaries. In E. F. Schussler (Ed.), Searching thescriptures: A feminist commentary (Vol. 2, pp. 1–14).New York: Crossroad Publishing Company.

White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative means totherapeutic ends. New York: W. W. Norton.

Substance Abuse and Religion

Gilbert Todd Vance

Department of Psychology, Virginia

Commonwealth University, Roanoke, VA, USA

Interest in the relationships between substance use

and religion/spirituality has a long history. In The

Varieties of Religious Experience, first published

as a book in 1902, William James commented on

the relationship between alcohol use and mysti-

cism. In 1961, Carl Jung andBillW. of Alcoholics

Anonymous famously corresponded concerning

their perceived relationships between alcohol

use, recovery from alcohol addiction, and the

search for spirituality.

Certain psychoactive substances are associated

with use by specific religions for mystical or

ceremonial purposes. For example, peyote is asso-

ciated with use by some indigenous people groups

in North America. Kava is associated with use for

religious purposes by people groups in the Pacific.

In modern research, an inverse relationship

between substance use and religiosity (i.e., higher

levels of substance use correlate with lower levels

of religiosity and vice versa) has generally been

observed acrossmany studies. This relationship has

been observed for various aspects of religion/spir-

ituality andwell as for the various levels of licit and

illicit substance use. However, research has also

shown that findings regarding the relationships

between substance use and religion/spirituality

depend on many factors. These include the specific

aspect of religion/spirituality being measured (e.g.,

frequency of religious service attendance, spiritual

practices, scriptural study), the specific aspect of

substance use being considered (e.g., lifetime use,

substance dependence, abstinence, lifetime risk for

substance abuse), and the population being studied

(e.g., adolescents, older adults, men, women). It

must be noted that inverse relationships observed

between substance use and religiosity are not

merely a reflection of some religions’ prohibitions

against substance abuse. As Gorsuch (1995) has

said, there is no single set of religious/spiritual

norms regarding substance use. Precise research

on the relationships between substance use and

religion/spirituality requires specification of the

various dimensions of religion/spirituality as well

as the specific aspect of substance use being

examined.

Because of the apparent protective effects of

religion/spirituality in relation to substance use,

some have proposed that the value of incorporat-

ing religion/spirituality should be considering

in conceptualizing prevention and treatment

programs for substance abuse and dependence.

The success of spiritually oriented programs such

as Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) suggests that

religion/spirituality may play an important role

for some persons in recovery from substance

dependence. However, it is important to note

that the overt spirituality of some AA groups

can possibly be seen as a barrier to program

participation for those persons who do not

identify as religious or spiritual.

Suffering and Sacred Pain 1743 S

See Also

▶ James, William

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

Bibliography

Gorsuch, R. L. (1995). Religious aspects of substance abuse

and recovery. Journal of Social Issues, 51(2), 65–83.James, W. (1902/1997). The varieties of religious

experience: A study in human nature. New York:

Simon & Schuster.

Suffering and Sacred Pain

Karen D. Scheib

Candler School of Theology, Emory University,

Atlanta, GA, USA

S

Suffering is an experience of severe distress and

pain affecting one or more domains of human

experience: physical, psychological, social, and

spiritual. To suffer (sub + fero) literally means to

“bear up under,” to submit, or to be forced to

endure conditions that threaten well-being. Suffer-

ing is often a profoundly personal experience, and

an inability to fully share one’s sufferingmay com-

pound the distress. Disciplines such as philosophy,

religion, medicine, and the social sciences have

sought to understand the experience of human

suffering and the profound questions raised by its

ubiquitous presence. Recent research by medical

anthropologists (such as Arthur Kleinman and E. J.

Cassell) has sought to distinguish the physiological

experience of pain from the subjective experience

of suffering. In some religious traditions, including

Buddhism and Christianity, suffering is seen as an

inescapable dimension of human life.

Perspectives on Suffering in theChristian Tradition

Multiple perspectives on the purpose of suffering

are found in both scripture and tradition.

Suffering may be seen as a time of testing or

trial, as an educational or formative process, as

the consequence of sin, or simply as mystery.

While various reasons why God allows suffering

are found within the Christian tradition, agree-

ment on one point is clear: suffering is not God’s

intent for humankind. From the earliest Jewish

narratives of origin, incorporated in the Christian

tradition, suffering is seen as opposed to the

goodness of creation. Suffering that results from

violence, injustice, grief, loss, death, self-hatred,

and self-destruction is a consequence of the fallen

state of humanity and not in accordance with

God’s will. Humans exist within this fallen

world in tension between the dignity God

intended and the reality of finitude.

Perspectives on Suffering in the Hebrew

Scriptures

The multiple perspectives on suffering found in

the Hebrew Scriptures must be seen in the context

of God’s covenant with Israel. The “law of

retribution,” by which the righteous are rewarded

and the evil suffer, is a prominent theme in

Deuteronomy, as well as the books of Joshua

through second Kings. Suffering is also seen as

time of trial or testing or as form of education that

draws us nearer to God. Lament, in which one

cries out God in the midst of suffering while

trusting that God receives the plea and continues

in faithful presence, is presented as a legitimate

response to suffering. The Book of Job provides

the most sustained and nuanced treatment of

innocent suffering in the Hebrew Scriptures and

raises enduring questions about God’s presence

or absence in the midst of suffering. The final

depiction of God in the Book of Job is as One

who draws close to us in the midst of suffering,

and though this scripture gives no definitive

answers regarding the reason for suffering, this

communion with God is itself described as

transformative.

New Testament Perspectives on Suffering

The Hebrew Scriptures served as the first Chris-

tian sacred texts and provided the lens through

which the suffering and death of Jesus were

understood. Yet God is doing something new

S 1744 Suffering and Sacred Pain

through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus,

which leads to a revised view of suffering. In the

New Testament as in the Hebrew Scriptures,

suffering may be understood as a trial that

strengthens the faith of believers. However, the

Christian believer’s ability to endure trials is

made possible through identification with and

participation in Jesus’ death and resurrection.

Christ’s resurrection has relegated suffering to

a temporary power in this world that will be

overcome when God’s reign arrives in its fullness

at Jesus’ return.

At least three overlapping views of suffering

can be found in the New Testament. First, Jesus

proclaims the coming reign of God now breaking

into creation but not yet revealed in its fullness.

Human beings have resisted and fallen away from

God’s intention for creation resulting in a world

wounded by evil and suffering. Jesus is himself

a manifestation of this new reign of God through

which salvation – that is, healing, restoration, and

the alleviation of suffering – will occur. Second,

God most fully enters into human suffering

through the death and resurrection of Christbreaking that power of death. While suffering

will not fully cease in this life, those united to

Christ will experience the love and presence of

God in the midst of profound suffering. The

power of love breaks the hold suffering has on

us so that we are no longer defined by suffering

alone but transformed by love in the midst of

suffering. Third, the Apostle Paul’s writing

develops the theme of suffering for the gospel inwhich he speaks of his own suffering endured as

an apostle of Christ. Believers are encouraged to

identify with the crucified and risen Christ for it is

through participation in his death and resurrec-

tion that suffering Christians find meaning. The

New Testament proclaims a God who is present

in the midst of suffering and continues to bring

life out of death.

Theological Perspectives on Suffering and

Evil

A certain tension exists within the Christian tra-

dition between accepting suffering as an inevita-

ble part of the human condition and resisting it as

a form of evil opposed to God’s will. This tension

is further nuanced by the distinction between

material and moral evil. Suffering which occurs

as a consequence of “acts of nature,” such as

hurricanes, earthquake, or disease, is considered

an occasion of material evil. Such experiences,

though not God’s intent, are a part of our finite

human condition, may provide opportunities

for spiritual growth, and are to be accepted.

However, the suffering inflicted by other human

beings is moral evil and occurs through oppression,

dehumanization, and multiple forms of violence.

Moral evil is experienced as dehumanization or

a loss of one’s sense of intrinsic worth as a human

being, and it is this form of evil and sufferingwhich

is to be resisted.

Material and moral evil may occur simulta-

neously or separately. Examples of suffering

occurring as a consequence of moral evil apart

from material evil include feelings of remorse of

guilt, brought about by our own actions, or expe-

riences of loneliness, hurt, betrayal, or alienation

resulting from the moral evil inflicted on us by

others. Moral evil inflicted on self or others can

also be mediated through material occasions of

suffering, such as self-mutilation, rape, torture,

murder, and war. Some forms of suffering may be

occasions of material suffering in which no moral

evil is present. Examples of this form of suffering

are found in natural disasters and illness in its

various forms. Still other occasions of suffering

are part material evil and part moral evil.

Illnesses related to addictions and compulsive

behaviors, such as lung cancer from a long habit

of cigarette smoking, are examples of mixed

types of suffering.

The multiple perspectives on suffering found

in the biblical tradition extend through the larger

Christian theological tradition. For example,

Augustine’s privation theory asserts that evil

and its attendant suffering occur in the absence

of the good. Irenaeus, a second-century theolo-

gian, argued that while evil does not have a real

existence, the suffering attendant to it provides

opportunities for spiritual growth and an increase

in charity, courage, and self-discipline. The mys-

tical tradition within Christianity also frames cer-

tain forms of suffering as potential occasions for

spiritual growth. Suffering is one of the mysteries

Suffering and Sacred Pain 1745 S

S

of creation and an inescapable part of our human

condition. An attempt to flee it often leads us to

secure ourselves through material goods, leading

to idolatry.

The mystical tradition emphasizes God’s pres-

ence and profound love in the midst of suffering

and asserts that true knowledge of ourselves and of

God comes only by embracing suffering. Julian of

Norwich, an English mystic, in her work Showingsdescribes the immense depth of God’s love for us

revealed to her through an intense experience of

physical suffering. She suggests that the path

toward spiritual maturity and wholeness requires

a voluntarily reentry into experiences of suffering

for the sake of healing and the restoration of whole-

ness in which the paradoxes of life and death are

held in creative tension rather than split into

destructive opposition.

In the midst of suffering, the human cry is

“Why?” a cry often addressed to God. Theodicy,

now a subdiscipline in theology, emerged in the

eighteenth century as a philosophical attempt to

answer this cry and is associated with Gottfried

Wilhelm Leibniz. In the Theodicy (1710), Leib-

niz gives a reasoned attempt to reconcile the

existence of an all-good, all-powerful, all-

knowing Creator God with evil and suffering.

More recently, contemporary theologians have

raised objections to the enterprise of theodicy

itself. Some argue that while this approach

affirms the impassibility or unchanging nature

of God and protects God’s transcendence, it also

mitigates the impact of the tragedy of human

suffering and mollifies evil. Theodicy itself thus

becomes a source of suffering. Critiques of the-

odicy increased in the wake of the Shoah, theJewish genocide undertaken by the Nazi regime,

as well as more recent experiences of genocide in

Rwanda, Burundi, Cambodia, Bosnia, and Dar-

fur. Opponents to classical theodicy argue that it

can instill passivity in the face of evil and lead to

deafness to the cries of those enduring radical

forms of suffering, a position inconsistent with

the gospel message. Liberation theologians have

pointed out that those most often urged to endure

suffering as means of spiritual growth or to ben-

efit the larger, common good are those who have

the least access to power and privilege.

Contemporary theologians, including Dorothee

Soelle and J€urgen Moltmann, reject Gods’ impas-

sibility and offer the image of the crucified Christ

as God’s solidarity with us in suffering. Another

contemporary theological approach to suffering

reframes the question of suffering by embracing

a view of human existence and creation as tragi-

cally structured. From this view, all suffering is

tragic but not all suffering is evil.

Pastoral Responses to Suffering

Some systematic and practical theologians argue

that resisting and transforming suffering is the

principal theological task, rather than explaining

its presence in the world. One example of this

response is found in the work of pastoral theolo-

gian John Swinton who rejects theodicy and

develops a set of practices to resist and transform

suffering. These interlocking practices include

lament, forgiveness, thoughtfulness as opposed

to mindlessness or unthinking obedience to

authority, and a form of friendship that requires

radical hospitality. It is through such practices of

redemption that the church shows how to

continue loving God and other human beings in

the midst of evil and suffering.

Psychological Perspectives on Sufferingand Growth

The tension between accepting and resisting

suffering in the Christian tradition is also present

in some psychological views of suffering. Psycho-

dynamic psychology views the suffering of

mental illness as the result of disturbed relation-

ships in childhood, which leads to unconscious

internal conflicts. The process of healing requires

uncovering these conflicts, which can be painful.

Similar to the approach of Christian mysticism,

psychodynamic psychotherapy requires the patient

to reenter the original suffering so that it may be

transformed and healing can occur.

A link between suffering and growth is also

found in recent psychological research on resil-

ience which has demonstrated that, contrary to

S 1746 Sufi Psychology

expectations, the majority of children who expe-

rience trauma or grow up in dysfunctional fami-

lies do well as adults. Protective factors that

foster growth even in the midst of trauma and

suffering include a strong sense of identity, intel-

ligence, physical attractiveness, supportive care-

givers, family cohesion, and external support

networks. The resilience literature also suggests

that religious and spiritual beliefs are key ele-

ments of resilience. Religious beliefs that endow

suffering with meaning may offer persons an

opportunity to live in the creative tension of

accepting and resisting suffering.

See Also

▶Anxiety

▶Atonement

▶Bible

▶Christ

▶Compassion

▶Descent to the Underworld

▶Dying and Rising Gods

▶ Forgiveness

▶Hope

▶Melancholia

▶ Psalms

▶ Sacrifice of Isaac

▶ Scapegoat

▶ Shame and Guilt

▶Theodicy

Bibliography

Chessick, R. D. (1974/1983). The technique andpractice of intensive psychotherapy. New York:

Jason Aronson.

Glicken, M. D. (2006). Learning from resilient people:Lessons we can apply to counseling andpsychotherapy. Thousand Oaks: Sage.

Leibniz, G. W. (1710). Theodicy. Amsterdam: Apud

Isacum Trojel.

McGill, A. C. (1982). Suffering: A test of theologicalmethod. Philadelphia: Westminster Press.

Ryan, R. (2011).God and the mystery of human suffering:A theological conversation across the ages. New

York: Paulist Press.

Soelle, D. (1975). Suffering (p. 15). Philadelphia: FortressPress.

Soelle, D. (1992). Suffering. In D.W.Musser & J. L. Price

(Eds.), A new handbook of Christian theology.Nashville: Abingdon Press.

Sulmasy, D. P. (1999). Finitude, freedom, and suffering.

In M. E. Mohrmann & M. J. Hanson (Eds.), Painseeking understanding: Suffering, medicine, andfaith. Cleveland: The Pilgrim Press.

Swinton, J. (2007). Raging with compassion: Pastoralresponses to the problem of evil. Grand Rapids:

William B. Erdmans.

Tedeschi, R. G., & Calhoun, L. G. (1995). Trauma andtransformation: Growing in the aftermath of suffering.Thousand Oaks: Sage.

Wilkinson, I. (2005). Suffering: A sociological introduction.Malden: Polity.

Sufi Psychology

Lynn E. Wilcox

California State University, Sacramento,

CA, USA

Sufism is considered the inner dimension of Islam

and is based on the teachings of the Prophet

Mohammad (pbuh) and the holy Qur’an. Sufi

psychology is the application of Sufism. Expres-

sions of the basic concepts vary, sometimes rad-

ically, between Sunni and Shi’a Muslims and

between the various Sufi orders (See Fadiman

and Frager 1997; Geoffroy 2010; Grisell 1983;

Lings 1993).

The goal of Sufism and Sufi psychology is

unified oneness, in which every aspect of one’s

being is unified in harmony. It is based on the

concept La ilaha illa Allah, which means there is

only one God. The Prophet taught through his

actions that whatever exists in one individual

has to come to one point and present itself.

When this occurs, the absolute knowledge of

oneness with Existence is attained. Called Irfan,

derived from the word ma’rifa meaning cognition

(Angha 2002b), Sufism is considered the science

of the soul.

Amir al Mo’menin Ali (2000), the cousin,

son-in-law, and successor of the Prophet

Mohammad (pbuh), conceived that this law of

Islam works in all aspects, stating: “Whoever

sets right his inward self, God sets right his

Sufi Psychology 1747 S

S

outward self.” Early examples are Salman Farsi

and Oveys Gharani (Uwais al-Qarni). Salman

Farsi went from one religion to another before

becoming a Muslim, always learning and acting

upon, in reaching his goal of cognizing reality.

Oveys Gharani (Uwais al-Qarni) never met the

Prophet, but by focusing on knowledge and

aiming for cognition, became one with Existence,

and the Prophet sent him his own cloak to signify

his elevated spiritual status.

Sufi psychology sees our identities as formed

primarily externally through identification with

objects, life experiences, acquired knowledge,

expectations of others, and societal roles, stan-

dards, and norms. This mental construct becomes

our ego and our invented identity. It is our ever-

changing, unstable, little “i.” These externally

based life purposes and derived life goals con-

stantly alienate us from our true self and true

identity, which is our eternal “I,” our connection

to Existence, to God. The connection to the spir-

itual realm, known as the Divine Seed, the

Precious Pearl, lies within the physical heart.

Lacking inner awareness and experiencing

a state of disconnection with the true self, people

experience separation, insufficiency, and feelings

of being entrapped. Believing they don’t have

what they need, they try to acquire it from the

external world by any means possible and

become prone to addictions and mental disorders.

Symptoms are signs of dissonance between the

outer and the inner world.

To combat this estrangement and facilitate the

journey of self-knowledge, a sophisticated set

of spiritual, educational principles and practices

has emerged over the last 1400 years.

Sufi psychology teaches each individual the sci-

ence of exploring his own being and unfolding

the inherent, vast, and infinite knowledge within.

This, plus the individual supervision of the Sufi

Pir (Spiritual Master) has proved highly effective

in stimulating positive changes in human

behavior. Not everyone can attain unification

and at-oneness, but any progress is beneficial.

These teachings historically have been

presented in the elegant love songs of numerous

poets such as Nizami (1976), Sadi (1979), Rumi

(1982), Attar (1984), and Hafiz (1998).

Annemarie Schimmel’s (1985) work provides

the most accurate introduction in English to

these historic love poets.

In the twentieth century, key Sufi concepts

began to be translated into the language of mod-

ern science, and the teachings, formerly available

only to a handful of carefully selected students,

were opened to all sincere seekers by Molana

Shah Maghsoud Sadegh Angha. He (1975) stated

the human body is equipped with 13 electromag-

netic energy centers. Cognition and development

of these centers create the required harmony and

facilitate discovery of the spiritual dimension of

the human being. The most important center

resides in the heart. Professor Angha called it

the “I,” or the “source of life.” Today Sufi

concepts are being explained in terms of physics

(Angha 1996).

In Sufism: A Bridge Between Religions, Pir

Salaheddin Ali Nader Angha (2002a) uses an

analogy to explain the developmental process.

He states that people love candles and candlelight

but have forgotten the true, symbolic meaning.

A candle is a model of what a human being

should be, for the candle has the same purpose

as the true purpose of the human being – to give

light to the world.

Sufi psychology presents the methods and

techniques necessary to cleanse, purify, unify,

and form us like the candle, so that we, too can

be illuminated. Wax directly from a beehive is

lumpy, uneven, and contains contaminants. For

a good candle, the wax must become uniform,

smooth, and perfectly clean. So also do the prac-

tices of Sufism purify our body. Our physical

body is like the wax, but instead of being smooth,

concentrated, and purified, we are full of impuri-

ties, and our energy is dissipated in many direc-

tions, wasted on our desires, reactions, ideas,

illusions, and conflicts. The chattering brain

reigns.

The central portion of the candle, the wick, is

the heart of the candle and is made of cotton

fibers, which must also be cleaned and purified,

combed and carded, and then twisted together

tightly to form a unified whole. The wick repre-

sents the innermost yearnings of one’s being, our

connection to the spiritual realm. The wick and

S 1748 Sufi Psychology

the wax are completely different, yet each is

necessary for a functional candle, which can

give light. It takes the wax and the wick to make

a candle that can be lit and will then give light

and heat.

The teachings of the prophets, Moses,

Buddha, Jesus,Mohammad, etc. (pbut), are delin-

eated in three stages. The first is called SHARIAT

and includes the obligations and purification

necessary for the physical body and nature. This

is like the wax of the candle and is concerned with

all communication and behaviors toward the

world outside ourselves. This is the surface

level and involves the basic practices necessary

for purification of the physical body. Unfortu-

nately, many people stop here.

The second is TARIGHAT and is the inner part

of the human, which must be purified, unified,

and concentrated so that all our thoughts, emo-

tions, and tendencies should come together as

tightly as the fibers are twisted to make a wick.

This is the path of the seeker in Sufism.

The third part is HAGHIGHAT, which is

unifying and receiving the truth of the light. It

requires complete and total concentration and

unification, focused in one direction for one pur-

pose, as finely as a laser beam.

SHARIAT is like the WAXTARIGHAT is like the WICKHAGHIGHAT is receiving the LIGHT

The purified, spiritual person receives the

flame of love and gives light. The person who

attains this level is the Aref. The final goal is

receiving and keeping the light. Once that occurs,

then all is seen with the light of knowledge.

This is also called the second birth. Candles

cannot light themselves. When one is purified

and ready, then Existence will give the light.

The quality of light comes to the candle, and the

candle keeps it. Human beings cannot give

the light to each other. The flame of love provid-

ing light is a gift from God.

In Sufism and Knowledge, Pir Salaheddin Ali

Nader Angha (1996) makes it clear that the phe-

nomena of the light are reflected in physics as

well as metaphysics. In it he uses the example of

a proton and electron to describe how the

“. . .‘attractive’ force between the electron and

proton results in their ‘unity,’ that is the birth of

the ‘hydrogen’ atom. The off production of the

‘attraction’ is ‘light.’” In other terms, in Sufism

the power of attraction creates an internal

revolution in the seeker, until his entire being

is submitted to God, just as the electron submits

to the proton. Ultimately the seeker “. . .is

annihilated in the Absolute, and none remains

but God.”

Symbolically, the goal of discovery of the “I”

has been poetically presented in various forms –

the moth perishing in the flame, union with the

Divine Beloved, the drop of water becoming one

with the sea of Existence. The goal may be seen

as a “death” which is entirely different from

physically dying. The moth becomes one with

the flame. The lover is annihilated in union with

the Beloved. The drop loses its boundaries in the

ocean’s depths.

The first step in readiness is to find and follow

the teacher, who is called “The Light of the Path.”

The teacher has received the light, knows the perils

and pitfalls, and can help others find the way.

Rumi (1926–1982) stated: “He who has himself

for a guide takes 200 years for a two day journey.”

The teacher is introduced fromwithin, through the

heart of the seeker, and guides the process neces-

sary for the candle to receive the light.

Application of the following principles of

Sufism (Angha, quoted in Wilcox 1995) is

essential to the goal.

ZEKR (to remember) remembering God at all

times

FEKR (to think, meditate) being in the state of

awareness and wondering

SAHAR (to awaken) awakening of soul and body

JUI’ (to hunger) having exterior hunger (mind)

and interior hunger (heart) to persist in the

search to obtain the truth

SUAMT (to observe silence) ceasing to think and

talk about worthless things

SAUM (to fast) fasting of body from food, mind

from attachments, and soul from desires

KHALVAT (to observe solitude) praying in

solitude, externally and internally

KHEDMAT (to serve) ultimately dissolving in the

Truth of Existence

Sufi Psychology 1749 S

S

Tamarkoz®, meaning concentration of forces,

is an important component of purification. These

meditative practices help to reduce distractions

and disconnections encouraged by the continual

attempts of the material world to stimulate more

wishes and wants. They also balance and focus

personal energy, enabling one to attain a state of

concentration necessary for the healing of the

heart and soul. The zekr, or rhythmic chanting

in remembrance of God, characterizes Sufi prac-

tice and is essential in the process.

The state of disconnection from one’s core

self and from the Divine is painfully lonely and

unsettling. Healing occurs naturally when we

are reconnected to our eternal, constant “I”.

Sufi psychotherapy offers an empowering per-

spective, reminding people of their infinite

potentiality, true identity, and inner resources

and strengths. It focuses on the spiritual realm,

on rekindling the spiritual flame within each

human heart, enabling all the positive attributes

that lie within to emerge and expand. The goal

of Sufi psychotherapy is healing the soul and

union with the Beloved, union with the divine

creative energy of the universe that is called

God. The outcome is one of deep, permanent

transformation.

Know that both your pain and your remedy reside

within you (Ali 2000).

Basically the goal of both Sufism and Sufi

psychology is self-knowledge, and through self-

knowledge, knowledge of the Creator. Sufi psy-

chology does not focus on words or thoughts,

which veil the truth. It concentrates on the devel-

opment of inner, heart cognition guided by the

spiritual master, the Pir. The focus is on creative

development, leading to recognition of one’s true

identity and purpose in life. It is called the Way

of Love.

To introduce the American public to Sufi psy-

chology, students of M.T.O. Shahmaghsoudi,

School of Islamic Sufism® founded the Sufi

Psychology Association in 1997. They hold four

retreats and at least three conferences each year.

Their website is sufipsychology.org and their

semiannual journal is titled Sufism: Science of

the Soul.

God is the light

Of the heavens and of the earth.

The parable of His light

Is as if there were a niche,

And within it a lamp,

The lamp enclosed in glass,

The glass as it were, a brilliant star,

Lit from a blessed tree,

An olive, neither of the East nor of the West,

Whose oil is well nigh luminous,

Though fire scarce touched it.

Light upon light!

God doth guide whom he will to His light.

God doth set forth parables for men, and

God doth know all things.

(Holy Qur’an, 24:35)

See Also

▶ Islam

▶ Jihad

▶Rumi, Celaladin

▶ Sufis and Sufism

Bibliography

Ali, A. M. (2000). Sacred sayings: Imam Ali andProphet Mohammad. Monchengladbach: M.T.O.

Shahmaghsoudi.

Angha, S. M. S. (1975). Hidden angles of life. Pomona:

Multidisciplinary.

Angha, S. A. N. (1996). Sufism and knowledge. Riverside:MTO.

Angha, S. A. N. (2000). Sufism: The reality of religion.Riverside: MTO.

Angha, S. A. N. (2002a). Sufism: A bridge between reli-gions. Riverside: MTO.

Angha, S. A. N. (2002b). Theory “I”: The unlimited visionof leadership. Riverside: MTO.

Attar, F. D. (1984). The conference of the birds(trans: Darbandi, A., & Davis, D.). New York:

Penguin.

Fadiman, J., & Frager, R. (1997). Essential sufism.San Francisco: Harper-Collins.

Geoffroy, E. (2010). Introduction to sufism: The innerpath of Islam (trans: Gaetani, R.). Bloomington:

World Wisdom.

Grisell, R. (1983). Sufism. Berkeley: Ross.Hafiz, S. D. (1998). Divan-i-Hafiz (trans: Clark, W.).

Bethesda: Ibex.

Holy Qur’an: Text, translation and commentary. (1983).(trans: Ali, A. Y.). Brentwood: Amana Corp.

Lings, M. (1993). What is sufism? Cambridge, UK:

Islamic Texts Society.

S 1750 Sufis and Sufism

Nizami, G. (1976). The story of the seven princesses(trans: Gelpke, R.). London: Bruno Cassirer.

Rumi, J. M. B. (1926–1982). The mathnawi of Jalalu’d-din Rumi (trans: Nicholson, R. A.). London: E.J.

W. Gibb Memorial Trust.

Sadi, M. D. (1979). The rose garden (trans: Eastwick,

E. B.). London: Octagon.

Schimmel, A. (1985). Mystical dimensions of Islam.Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Wilcox, L. (1995). Sufism and psychology. Chicago:

Abjad.

Sufis and Sufism

Fredrica R. Halligan

Mind Body Spirit Institute, Stamford, CT, USA

We are the flute, our music is Yours;

We are the mountain echoing only You;

Pieces of chess, You marshall us in line

And move us to defeat or victory. . .(Rumi, cited in Mabey 2002, p. 35).

Sufism is the mystical expression of Islamic faith.

Numerous orders or brotherhoods (tariqa) have

been formed over the centuries, many following

well-known spiritual leaders (shaykhs). Best

known in the West is the Whirling Dervishes or

Mevlevi, a path of which Rumi was the founder.

Jalal al-din Rumi (1207–1273 CE) was born in

Persia and settled in Konya in present-day

Turkey. His poetry speaks eloquently of love

and surrender to the Divine One and especially

of the longing for mystical union (Rumi 1975).

The aim of the Sufi is to perfectly reflect the

image of God in one’s heart, thus to achieve

union with the Divine. For 2 years, Rumi’s clos-

est soul mate was Shams-i Tabrizi, and after the

unexpected departure of this companion, Rumi’s

grief was expressed passionately as “the dance of

the spheres” in which whirling motion served to

heighten altered states of spiritual consciousness

(Trimingham 1998). In his longing for Shams, his

spiritual companion, Rumi wrote some of his

most potent poetry. For example, the longing of

the soul for God:

O, makeme thirsty, do not givemewater!Makeme

your lover! Banish my sleep! (Mabey 2002, p. 21).

Likewise, the willingness to surrender to the

Divine One:

My heart has become a pen in the Beloved

fingers. . .. The pen says, ‘Lo, I obey, for You

know best what to do.’

Of Rumi, it is written:

Thus the primary goal of the Sufi is to transcend or

“naught” the self or ego, which acts as a barrier or

“veil” between the human heart and God, distorting

our perception of reality and inhibiting our capacity

tomature to our full “selfhood” inwhichwe perfectly

reflect the attributes ofGod. The focus is therefore on

turning the soul to God; on becoming God-centered

rather than self-centered; on the spiritual rather than

the material, transitory world; and on inner, spiritual

change rather than on the external reality of worldly

status and wealth (Mabey 2002, p. ix).

Sufi Asceticism

Asceticism and a life of renouncement were highly

valued spiritual approaches among the Sufis in the

medieval period. Many of the early Sufi ascetics

were quite extreme in their behavior. Some Sufi

ascetics became hermits and wandered around

naked or formed communities that used mind-

altering substances such as alcohol, cannabis, or

hashish. They also followed Islamic law assidu-

ously, fulfilling spiritual duties including prayer,

ritual, fasting, and cleanliness of body and spirit.

Sufi Mysticism

Ibn ’Arabi (1165–1240 CE) was one of the

most articulate of the theologians of Sufism. As he

pointed out, all Sufis commit themselves to become

lovers of God. In Islamic tradition, the 99 beautiful

Names of God all refer to the One. So they may

describe God, in terms of many attributes, as

follows: the Merciful, the Just, the Wrathful, the

Powerful, the Active, the Creator, the Author,

the Form-Giver, the Bestower, the Patient, the

Separator, the Sustainer, the Wise, the Stability,

the Keeper, the Gracious, the Forgiver, the

Experiencer, the Self-Sufficient, the Encompassing,

the Hearing, the Seeing, the Subtle, the Beloved,

and so forth.AllNames refer to theOnewho isGod.

Sullivan, Harry Stack 1751 S

S

And that God is infinite Love, infinite Compassion,

a feeling-full Person who desires to be known.

Following the tradition of the Prophet Muhammad

(the Hadith), Ibn ’Arabi wrote that God’s Mercy is

greater thanGod’sWrath. “HisMercy encompasses

everything existentially and in principle. . . . The

Mercy of God flows in [all] created beings and

courses through the selves and essences”

(Ibn ’Arabi 1980, p. 224). In fact, says Ibn ’Arabi,

Mercy is inherent in all creation. Not only things

and people but also experiences are created by

Mercy. Even the experiences we would rather

avoid: “Know that Mercy is inherent in all

creativity, so that, [even] by the Mercy bestowed

on pain, pain was created [brought into existence]”

(Ibn ’Arabi 1980, p. 224).

In Ibn ’Arabi’s psychology, he divides humans

into three classes: (1) the disciples of the science ofthe heart. . . . the mystics, and more particularly the

perfect among the Sufis; (2) the disciples of the

rational intellect. . . .the scholastic theologians;

and (3) simple believers. The Sufis are disciples of

heart; the theologians are disciples of intellect.

Never the twain shall meet. For simple believers,

he holds out more hope: “Under normal circum-

stances a simple believer can develop into a mystic

through spiritual training; but between mystics and

rational theologians there is an unbridgeable gulf”

(Corbin 1969, p. 230). What Ibn ’Arabi is saying is

that essentially we are all blessed. Because of the

blessing of our imaginative function, we are at least

potentially capable of receiving the theophanies of

God. These glimpses of Godmanifesting to human-

ity occur definitely but rarely for ordinary folk.

They occur hardly ever or are ignored by intellec-

tualizerswho only believewhat the rational intellect

dictates. But for the prophets, the Sufis, the Shi’ite

saints, and the mystics, the door is more widely

open to receive the frequent glimpses and the reve-

lations of the Divine. Furthermore, one can cooper-

ate with the Divine Intent by making oneself more

capable of receiving these Manifestations. This is

done through spiritual practices and especially

through the loving prayer of the heart (himma).

Today, in working therapeutically with

spiritually oriented clients, we can see that Ibn

’Arabi’s insights into the difference between heart

and intellect can profoundly inform our

understanding of passion versus thought in

providing access to spiritual growth and develop-

ment. Creativity itself is “attributed to the heart of

the Sufi. . . . here himma is defined as the ‘cause’

which leads God to create certain things, though

himma, strictly speaking, creates nothing” (Corbin

1969, p. 227). This is the power of prayer. As Ibn

’Arabi says, himma is “a hidden potency which is

the cause of all movement and all change in the

world” (cited in Corbin 1969, p. 228). When we

yearn, as the Sufi does, for God and for His Mercy,

and when we surrender to God’s Will, then the

prayers are heard and the Divine response is

according to our best interests.

See Also

▶ Ibn al-‘Arabi

▶ Islam

▶Rumi, Celaladin

▶ Sufi Psychology

Bibliography

Corbin, H. (1969). Alone with the alone: Creativeimagination in the Sufism of Ibn ’Arabi. Princeton:Bollingen Series XCI.

Ibn ’Arabi. (1980). The bezels of wisdom (trans: Austin,

R. W. J.). Mahwah: Paulist Press.

Jalal al-Din Rumi. (1975). Teachings of Rumi: TheMasnavi(trans: Winfield, E. H.). New York: E. P. Dutton.

Mabey, J. (2002). Rumi: A spiritual treasury. Oxford, UK:Oneworld Publications.

Trimingham, J. S. (1998). The Sufi orders in Islam.New York: Oxford University Press.

Sullivan, Harry Stack

Melissa K. Smothers

Department of Behavioral Sciences, School of

Education, Department of Educational

Psychology, Mount Mary University, University

of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, Milwaukee, WI, USA

Harry Stack Sullivan (1892–1949) was an

American psychiatrist who developed a theory of

psychoanalysis which focused on the importance

S 1752 Sullivan, Harry Stack

of interpersonal relationships. He grew up in New

York State, the son of an Irish-American farmer.

His childhood was an impoverished one, in which

the Sullivan family often had financially difficul-

ties. Sullivan also may have been isolated at times

from other boys during his early years and experi-

enced some degree of loneliness during his child-

hood. He was brought up in the Catholic faith but

left the church in his adulthood. Sullivanwent on to

studymedicine at the ChicagoCollege ofMedicine

and Surgery and received anMD degree in 1917. It

was during medical school that Sullivan first

studied psychoanalysis as well as entered into his

own analyses. In the 1920s, Sullivan worked with

schizophrenic patients at the Sheppard and Enoch

Pratt Hospital in Maryland, which inspired him to

reevaluate the current approach in working with

this population. He used specially trained ward

attendants to work with patients in order to provide

them with peer relationships that Sullivan believed

the patients hadmissed during the latency period of

development. It was during this time that Sullivan

worked closely with William Alanson White, who

was interested in the influences of social sciences

on psychiatry. White, along with Adolph Meyer,

was looking to explain mental illness in more than

just physical terms.

Sullivan viewed his patients as being acutely

aware of other people, and in order to understand

a patient’s psychopathology, it was important to

view the interpersonal field of the patient as well.

He branched out from the typical Freudian

approach of the time and began to conceptualize

patient’s distress as more interactional than

intrapsychic. Sullivan asserted that human person-

ality and behaviors are created in interactions

between individuals, as opposed to something that

resides within the individual. This approach of

viewing the patient within the context of others

was profound at the time, and Sullivan believed

that onemust focus on the past and present relation-

ships of the patient in order to fully understand the

individual.

In 1929, Sullivan left Maryland and moved to

New York City, where he began work in private

practice of psychoanalysis and psychiatry. He did

much to advance the study of psychiatry in the

1930s. Following the death of White in 1933,

Sullivan and some of his colleagues established

the William Alanson White Psychiatric Founda-

tion. The foundation was originally developed to

train psychiatrists in both traditional medical edu-

cation as well as the influences of sociocultural

factors. He also founded the journal Psychiatry in1938, which he edited until his death. In 1941,

Sullivan left clinical practice to work as

a consultant to the US Selective Service

Commission, which was attempting to improve

the psychiatric evaluations of draftees. This experi-

ence assisted in the development of a series of

lectures, which was published posthumously as

The Psychiatric Interview. After World War II,

Sullivan participated in international mental health

seminars and organizations and, in 1948, was active

in developing the World Federation for Mental

Health. He died unexpectedly in Paris, France, in

1949 of a cerebral hemorrhage. Sullivan’s work in

examining interpersonal relationships became

the foundation of interpersonal psychoanalysis,

a school of psychoanalytic theory that focuses on

the detailed exploration of the patients’ patterns of

interacting and relating with others. Sullivan, along

with Clara Thompson, Karen Horney, Erich

Fromm, Erik H. Erikson, and Frieda Fromm-

Reichmann, laid the groundwork for understanding

the individual patient based on the network of the

patients’ relationships. Sullivan was also the first to

introduce the concept of the psychiatrist as

a participant observer in therapy. Sullivan acknowl-

edged that the psychiatrist’s understanding of the

current therapeutic interaction stems from his own

past experiences. He taught that the psychiatrist

must be aware of countertransference feelings

within himself. Sullivan credited three well-known

therapists with significant influence in his psychiat-

ric approach: Sigmund Freud, Adolf Meyer, and

William A. White. While Sullivan never met

Freud, he was an avid follower of his writing and

credited himwith his fundament orientation.Meyer

helped Sullivan to viewmental illness as a dynamic

pattern of behavior, andWhite assisted himwith the

practical aspects of therapy. Although Sullivan

published little in his lifetime, he influenced gener-

ations of mental health professionals and therapists;

many of his ideas and writings were collected and

published posthumously.

Sunyata 1753 S

See Also

▶Erikson, Erik

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶ Psychoanalysis

▶Relational Psychoanalysis

Bibliography

Mitchell, S. A., & Black, M. J. (1995). Freud and beyond.New York: Basic Books.

Mullahy, P. (Ed.). (1952). The contributions of Harry StackSullivan: A symposium on interpersonal theory in psychi-atry and social science. New York: Science House.

Perry, H. S. (1982). Psychiatrist of America: The life ofHarry Stack Sullivan. Cambridge, MA: Harvard

University Press.

Rychlak, J. F. (1973). Introduction to personality andpsychotherapy: A theory-construction approach.Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company.

Sunyata

Paul C. Cooper

National Psychological Association for

Psychoanalysis, Two Rivers Zen Community,

New York, NY, USA

S

Sunyata is a Sanskrit term which has been trans-

lated into English as “emptiness or voidness.”

Along with pratityasamutpada (dependent arising,

dependent origination), sunyata constitutes the

foundational cornerstone of Buddhist phenomenol-

ogy.By emptiness or voidness, Buddhistsmean that

all phenomena are empty of, lack, or are void of any

“own,” inherent, permanent, or separate existence.

All phenomena arise dependently contingent on

causes and conditions. Sunyata has been confused

with nihilism. This incorrect view has been criti-

cized by both Asian and American Buddhist

scholars (Abe 1985; Hopkins 1983). On the con-

trary, Buddhist scholars describe both nihilism and

materialism, being and nonbeing, as dualistic, and

as a misguided delusion. For example, D. T. Suzuki

notes that “When the mind is trained enough it sees

that neither negation (niratta) nor affirmation (atta)

applies to reality, but that the truth lies in knowing

things as they are, or rather as they become” (1949,

p. 143). Recently, sunyata has been translated as

“wondrous being” and “pregnant gourd” to convey

both the nature and creative potential in its experi-

ential realization.

American psychologists have also addressed

this point of misunderstanding and have raised

important implications for psychotherapy. For

instance, Jack Engler gives an example of the

potential misuse of the notion of sunyata among

American students of Buddhism. He writes that

“Students may mistake subjective feelings of emp-

tiness for ‘sunyata’ or voidness; and the experience

of not feeling inwardly cohesive or integrated for

‘anatta’ or selflessness” (Engler 1984, p. 39). The

complimentary teaching of nonattachment is then

often misunderstood, according to Engler, “. . .asrationalizing their inability to form stable, lasting

and satisfying relationships” (Engler 1984, p. 37).

Mark Epstein (1989) draws attention to the

distinctions between the experience of emptiness

associated with depression and that requires treat-

ment and emptiness as a core Buddhist experi-

ence and religious principle.

The unreality of a nihilistic misunderstanding

of sunyata has clinical relevance as exemplified

in the following: “For Anna, this unreality of the

no-thing that has become reified into an ‘I don’t

exist self.’As she and I look for this ‘I don’t exits

self’ what will we find? The no-thing has the

same solidity as the some-thing. Ultimately, the

no-thing is as insubstantial as the no-thing.” This

formulation has demonstrated clinical usefulness

(Cooper 2010).

See Also

▶American Buddhism

▶Buddhism

▶ Psychotherapy

Bibliography

Abe, M. (1985). Zen and western thought. Honolulu:

University of Hawaii Press.

S 1754 Superego

Cooper, P. (2010). The Zen impulse and the psychoana-lytic encounter. New York: Routledge.

Engler, J. (1984). Therapeutic aims in psychotherapy and

meditation: Developmental stages in the representa-

tion of self. Journal of Transpersonal Psychology,16(1), 25–61.

Epstein, M. (1989). Forms of emptiness: Psychodynamic,

meditative and clinical perspectives. Journal of Trans-personal Psychology, 21(1), 61–71.

Hopkins, J. (1983). Meditation on emptiness. London:Wisdom Publications.

Suzuki, D. T. (1949). Essays in Zen Buddhism (p. 68).

London: Rider & Co.

Superego

Benjamin Beit-Hallahmi

Department of Psychology, University of Haifa,

Haifa, Israel

The basic theory of the development of the

superego, according to psychoanalytic theory,

can be summarized briefly: the child is punished

by its parents, either physically or by the with-

drawal of love, for indulging in certain behavior,

and later experiences anxiety when it does so

because of anticipated punishment. The child

identifies with the parents and wishes to be like

them and conform to their demands. Parental

requirements are internalized and the child now

feels guilty even if the parents are absent.

The psychological structure which represents

the parental demands is called the superego.

Superego has two parts: the unconscious

conscience and the conscious ego ideal.

The conscience, the bigger part, is harsh and

irrational, because aggression towards the parents

is redirected to the self; this is particularly likely

to happen when the parents are kind but frustrat-

ing in subtle ways. When physical punishment is

used, children feel more able to express their

frustration in outward aggression.

Psychoanalysts have postulated that the

conscience part of the superego is projected

on to the image of a God. This superego

projection helps to maintain the adult’s typical

balance between desire, morality, and action.

It may be that the internalization and forma-

tion of conscience occur with the image of

God serving as a “portable punisher.” B. F.

Skinner observed that an “all-seeing God” is

uniquely effective, because escape from the

punisher is impossible. In the search for self-

control, external supports are often utilized.

This psychological reality is reflected in the

familiar philosophical debates about whether

morality is at all possible without belief in

God, and in many cultures, religion is identi-

fied with law and morality.

The superego is likely to come into conflict

with instinctive desires, particularly sexual and

aggressive desires. This conflict is resolved or

relieved by projection of the superego which

now appears as God. For example, the super-

ego can be projected on to a doctor, teacher,

leader, or priest; the repressive demands of the

superego are then thought to be prohibitions

imposed by the person in question, who is felt

to be coercing and looking down on the sub-

ject. In J. C. Flugel’s formulation, a more

radical type of projection is postulated, in

which the superego is projected on to the

universe as a God, and the instinctive desires

similarly as the Devil. Alternatively, the

instinctive desires can be projected on to

groups of people such as Jews or Africans

who are then thought to be highly sexed and

aggressive. The gains for the individual are

that the conflict is reduced through being no

longer an inner one, while he feels that he can

deal with the situation by overt action, instead

of by changing himself. The presumed role of

religion in impulse control is highly relevant

to test this hypothesis. Findings on the effects

of religion in controlling aggression, sex, and

drug use and in promoting pro-social behavior

are relevant to this hypothesis.

Related to the notion of superego is the func-

tion of religion in relieving guilt feelings. Sev-

eral psychoanalytic writers have discussed the

function of religion in relieving guilt feelings,

interpreted as the direction of aggression

towards the self, and there is evidence that it is

connected with internal conflicts between the

self and the ego ideal or the conscience.

Supervision in Pastoral Counseling 1755 S

See Also

▶Ego

▶ Id

▶ Psychoanalysis

▶ Shame and Guilt

Bibliography

Flugel, J. C. (1945). Man, morals and society. New York:

International Universities Press.

Supervision in Pastoral Counseling

Loren Townsend

Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary,

Louisville, KY, USA

S

Contemporary professional pastoral counseling

and psychotherapy is deeply anchored in

supervised clinical practice. Pioneers of the early

twentieth century pastoral counseling movement

saw great potential in psychoanalysis and psychol-

ogy for a clinical ministry to troubled souls. These

leaders used psychological and psychoanalytic

supervision methods to expand their work, inte-

grate psychology with theology in ministry, and

develop theory and skills to train new generations

of ministers proficient in psychologically informed

pastoral care and counseling. This supervisory

tradition shaped clinical pastoral education and

professional pastoral counseling.

Prior to the nineteenth century, western

Christian pastoral counseling focused on direct

moral instruction informed by church tradition and

the moral theology of the age (Clebsch and Jaekle

1967). Newministers learned how to providemoral

instruction as part of their general preparation for

ministry. Historian Brooks Holifield (1983) notes

that the North American religious context was par-

ticularly sensitive to emerging mental philosophies

and psychology. As university-educated pastors

integrated these ideas into ministry practice, pasto-

ral counseling focused more on parishioners’

internal psychological life and less on moral

instruction. Early innovators like Jonathan Edwards

(1703–1758) and Ichabod Spencer (1798–1854)

provided rudimentary counseling supervision

through their pastoral manuals (Edwards 1743;

Spencer 1851) and encouraged pastors to embrace

psychologically informed, conversational methods

of counseling. In counseling, pastors should be

“easy of access. . . compassionate, tender and

gentle” (Edwards 1743).

In the early twentieth century, Sigmund

Freud provided a teachable method of psycho-

therapy. Becoming a psychoanalyst required

collaborating with the community of psycho-

analysts and completing a definable training

process. Oskar Pfister (1853–1956), a Swiss

Lutheran pastor who had studied psychology

at the University of Zurich and Basil, was

one of the first pastors to make full use of

supervision and psychotherapy training. He

completed training as a lay (nonmedical) psy-

choanalyst through the Zurich psychoanalytic

circle (which included Carl Jung and Eugen

Bleuler). A psychoanalytic pioneer in his own

right, Pfister is best be remembered for his

deep friendship and ongoing theological corre-

spondence with Sigmund Freud (1964).

American pastors saw great promise for

congregational care through psychoanalysis

and the psychology of William James. One

early expression was the Emmanuel Movement

(1905–1929). Rev. Elwood Worcester, rector of

the Emmanuel Church (Episcopal), believed that

all pastors, intentionally or unintentionally, pro-

vided therapy. He led the church to develop

a model of care in which physicians trained in

psychotherapy diagnosed parishioners’ problems

and then oversaw the work of clergy who treated

“nervous diseases resulting from defects of

character” (Holifield 1983, p. 206). Through what

appeared to be an early form of collaborative super-

vision, church-centered therapists were trained and

monitored by physicians in the limited use of psy-

chotherapeutic methods. This approach spread to

well-to-do congregations in the United States,

Europe, Asia, and Africa. By 1929, it had lost

momentum because of conflicts about the authority

and role of clergy therapists.

S 1756 Supervision in Pastoral Counseling

Contemporary pastoral counseling supervi-

sion is rooted in the clinical pastoral education

movement of the early and mid-twentieth

century. In the 1920s, Congregational pastor

Anton Boisen gathered a small group of ministers

in Boston to learn clinical treatment methods in

local hospitals and social agencies. His own

struggle with mental illness led him to find better

ways to minister to persons with psychological

problems. In 1925, Boisen and neurologist

Richard Cabot collaborated to train small groups

of theological students using medical case study

methods. Though Cabot and Boisen parted ways

in the mid-1930s over disagreements about the

nature of mental illness, their collaboration

deeply influenced how pastoral counseling super-

vision practices developed in the United States.

Cabot emphasized training that focused on clergy

counselors’ persistence, effort, and competence.

In contrast, Boisen’s psychoanalytic approach

introduced “pastoral counselors to deeper

motivations of the self experienced in disorder,

conflict, and guilt. Insight into one’s own patho-

logical motivation modeled on psychoanalysis

became the focus of both clinical training and

counseling practice” (Townsend 2009, p. 18).

While both positions were important supervision

methods as they developed in the twentieth

century, Boisen’s belief that practical skills

(doing) must be grounded in personal insight

(being) became a near-universal position for

most pastoral counseling supervision. The

power of this position reflected the cultural

strength of psychoanalysis, Boisen’s own success

as a trainer and organizer, and the fact that influ-

ential theologians (e.g., Paul Tillich and Reinhold

Niebuhr) were constructing a theological frame-

work to integrate psychoanalysis into pastoral prac-

tice. This emphasis on insight and being reflects

“what is essentially a theological judgment – that

ministry necessarily involves the whole person of

theminister, not just what he or she knows or does”

(Patton 2005, p. 1240). It is instructive that pastoral

counseling’s primary journal of supervision is

published as Reflective Practice: Formation andSupervision in Ministry.

Supervision is central to personal and profes-

sional formation as a pastoral counselor.

Formation itself is understood as a lifelong pro-

cess that stimulates and defines growth through

each stage of a pastoral counselor’s career

(Bidwell and Marshall 2006). A supervisory rela-

tionship facilitates several central formative

processes:

• Counselor insight and self-understanding

• Skill development

• Contextual awareness

• Theological/spiritual reflection

• Entrance into professional practice or new

stage of an established practice

A developmental model of supervision helps

define tasks, processes, and goals in several

stages of formation (Stoltenberg and McNeill

2010). Supervision is a contractual relationship.

Contracts between supervisors and supervisees

define stage-appropriate conditions for supervision

(where supervision will take place, how

a supervisee’s work will be observed, etc.) and

goals for skill development, personal insight,

use of self in counseling, and progress toward

professional certification. Supervision differs

from consultation. Consultation typically involves

a short-term contract in which an expert provides

input about specific aspects of a single case or

treatment method. Supervision contracts attend to

a supervisee’s overall professional development.

They require practical, legal, and ethical oversight

of a supervisee’s work.

In the earliest stages of a pastoral counselor’s

formation, supervision is usually part of a broader

program of training. This includes classes in

theory and practice, structured access to clients

for experience in counseling (practicum or intern-

ship), and an institutional context in a university,

seminary, or freestanding training organization

that assures safety for both the counselor and

client. For beginning students, supervision will

focus on foundational skills and self-awareness

required to engage clients safely, provide pastoral

presence, and offer basic therapeutic interven-

tions. In this stage, the supervisor also helps the

student understand the institutional, spiritual,

theological, and multicultural context of pastoral

counseling. With beginning students, supervisors

work to develop an effective supervisory rela-

tionship, help supervisees manage anxiety about

Supervision in Pastoral Counseling 1757 S

S

their counseling sessions, carefully monitor

a supervisee’s interaction with clients, and assist

students with client assessment and treatment

plans. Supervisors are responsible for assuring

that clients receive adequate care and that

supervisee’s behavior meets legal and ethical

standards. Most supervisors will require review

of a supervisee’s actual counseling sessions using

video recording, live observation, or co-therapy

with the supervisor. This allows supervisor and

supervisee to discuss what happened in counsel-

ing sessions, explore alternatives, and assure that

clients are receiving appropriate help. Viewing

and reviewing cases also provides supervisors the

opportunity to help supervisees understand their

own feelings and assumptions. Supervisors will

introduce beginning pastoral counselors to theo-

logical reflection on their work and help them

examine contextual variables, such as gender,

race, class, and religious or spiritual differences.

Traditionally, beginning pastoral counselors are

required to be in personal psychotherapy while in

supervision. This helps supervisees identify and

manage personal issues, biases, stresses, and

transferences that may affect how they use

themselves in therapy and relate to supervisors.

Supervision of intermediate pastoral counselors –

those who are no longer novices, but are not yet

qualified to work without continuous supervision –

concentrates on expanding basic counseling skills,

relating specific counseling theories to client assess-

ment and treatment, conducting sessions with

increasing independence, and completing require-

ments for certification or licensure. This stage is

a time of concentrated growth. It provides a rich

opportunity for personal formation, especially when

the supervisory relationship is effective and trust-

worthy. In the safety of this relationship, supervisees

are free to experiment with new techniques and

theories. Good supervision helps supervisees exam-

ine how they use their own personality in counseling

practice, explore their motivation to become

a therapist, and develop autonomy in theological

reflection and spiritual integration of their work.

Supervision goals for intermediate therapists

include increasingly nuanced attention to contextual

variables such as gender, race, class, sexual orienta-

tion, and religious diversity.

Advanced pastoral counselors who are quali-

fied to practice independently often continue in

supervision as part of lifelong formation. Most

use supervision to help manage difficult transfer-

ences, deepen how they use their own personality

in counseling, expand their use of theological

reflection, gain assistance for difficult case

loads, or learn new techniques or models for

therapy.

Theological or spiritual reflection is at the

heart of supervision in pastoral counseling.

Supervisors teach and/or model reflective prac-

tices as they supervise students. Townsend

(Townsend 2002, 2006) describes four primary

methods of reflection used by pastoral counselors

and suggests that a supervisor’s preferred method

of reflection is an important formation variable.

A supervisor’s preferred reflective method influ-

ences how a supervisee interprets the meaning

and context of counseling and the theories of

therapy they adopt and how one uses oneself in

counseling practice and defines the place of spir-

ituality and theology in treatment.

Historically, pastoral counselors became super-

visors through a process of apprenticeship based on

psychoanalytic training models. Supervision was

simply an extension of a particular model of psy-

chotherapy. However, as psychotherapy theory

expanded in themid-twentieth century, supervision

became an area of scholarly interest (Ekstein and

Wallerstein 1957; Klink 1966). By the time the

American Association of Pastoral Counselors

formed in the mid-1960s, supervision was

a ministry specialty that required a theoretical

framework to understand supervision processes

and supervised practice as a supervisor. The Jour-nal of Supervision and Training in Ministry was

founded in 1977 as a vehicle to share supervision

practices and theory among seminary field educa-

tion directors, chaplains, and pastoral counselors.

The journal was renamed Reflective Practice: For-

mation and Supervision in Ministry in 2007. In the1980s and 1990s, the study of psychotherapy super-

vision developed as a subdiscipline of psychology,

professional counseling, and marriage and family

therapy (Falender and Shafranske 2004; Liddle

et al. 1988; Stoltenberg and McNeill 2010;

Todd and Storm 2002). This has benefitted pastoral

S 1758 Surrealism, Religion, and Psychology

counselors by providing a broader empirical foun-

dation to ground pastoral counseling supervision.

Like other disciplines, becoming a certified pasto-

ral counseling supervisor now requires both aca-

demic study of supervision and supervised practice

of supervision.

See Also

▶ Pastoral Psychotherapy and Pastoral

Counseling

▶ Spectrum of Pastoral Counseling

Bibliography

Bidwell, D., & Marshall, J. (Eds.). (2006). The formationof pastoral counselors: Challenges and opportunities.Binghamton: Haworth Press.

Clebsch, W. A., & Jaekle, C. R. (1967). Pastoral carein historical perspective. New York: Harper and

Row.

Edwards, J. (1743). The great concern of a watchman forsouls. Boston: Green, Bushell and Allen.

Ekstein, R., &Wallerstein, R. S. (1957). The teaching andlearning of psychotherapy. New York: International

Universities Press.

Falender, C., & Shafranske, E. P. (2004). Clinical super-vision: A competency-based approach. Washington,

DC: The American Psychological Association.

Freud, S. (1964). Psychoanalysis and faith. New York:

Basic Books.

Holifield, E. B. (1983). A history of pastoral care inAmerica: From salvation to self-realization.Nashville: Abingdon Press.

Klink, T. W. (1966). Supervision. In C. R. Fielding (Ed.),

Education for ministry. Dayton: American Association

of Theological Schools.

Liddle, H. A., Bruenlin, D. C., & Schwartz, R. C. (1988).

Handbook of family therapy training and supervision.New York: Guilford.

Patton, J. (2005). Supervision, pastoral. In R. Hunter

& N. Ramsay (Eds.), Dictionary of pastoral careand counseling (2nd ed.). Nashville: Abingdon

Press.

Spencer, I. (1851). A pastor’s sketches (1st series Ed.).

New York: M. W. Dodd. (First published 1850).

Stoltenberg, C. D., & McNeill, B. W. (2010). IDMsupervision: An integrated developmental model forsupervising counselors and therapists (3rd ed.).

New York: Routledge.

Todd, T., & Storm, C. (2002). The complete systemicsupervisor: Context, philosophy, and pragmatics.Lincoln: Author’s Choice.

Townsend, L. L. (2002). Theological reflection, pastoral

counseling, and supervision. Journal of PastoralTheology, 12(1), 60–71.

Townsend, L. L. (2006). Theological reflection and the

formation of pastoral counselors. In D. Bidwell &

J. Marshall (Eds.), The formation of pastoralcounselors: Challenges and opportunities. Bingham-

ton: Haworth Pastoral Press.

Townsend, L. L. (2009). Introduction to pastoralcounseling. Nashville: Abingdon.

Surrealism, Religion, and Psychology

Charlotte Moore

West Chester University of Pennsylvania, West

Chester, PA, USA

Surrealism is an artistic and literary movement

that began in Europe in the early 1920s. It

features fantastic, whimsical, and dreamlike

images that express an alternate reality of sorts,

which the members of this movement refer to as

“surreality” (Breton 1972). Surrealists employ

a variety of techniques derived from psychology

and alchemy, as well as from previous artistic

movements, to induce the inspiration necessary

to experience and express this “surreality.”

Surrealism is not merely an artistic movement,

but is also a way of life with strong philosophical

underpinnings. Andre Breton, author of the

Manifestoes of Surrealism, cites Sigmund

Freud, Karl Marx, G. W. F. Hegel, and prominent

figures in the western esoteric tradition such as

Franz Hartmann and Cornelius Agrippa among

his influences (Breton 1972). Artists associated

with this movement are Man Ray, Rene Magritte,

Salvador Dalı, Andre Breton, Max Ernst, Giorgio

de Chirico, Leonora Carrington, Remedios Varo,

and Yves Tanguy, among others (Alexandrian

1985; Waldberg 1971).

The Surrealists’ project was to bridge the gap

between ordinary wake-state consciousness and

those more unconscious processes associated

with dreams, imagination, illusion, and madness

(Colville 1991). Andre Breton writes, in the first

Manifesto of Surrealism, “I believe in the future

resolution of these two states, dream and reality,

Surrealism, Religion, and Psychology 1759 S

S

which are seemingly so contradictory, into a kind

of absolute reality, a surreality, if one may so

speak” (Breton 1972). Breton further states that

one must:

not lose sight of the fact that the idea of Surrealism

aims quite simply at the total recovery of our psy-

chic force by a means which is nothing other than

the dizzying descent into ourselves, the systematic

illumination of hidden places and the progressive

darkening of other places, the perpetual excursion

into the midst of forbidden territory (Breton 1972).

This inner journey was reported to be

conducive to both artistic inspiration and

a radical transformation of one’s consciousness.

The subsequent artistic expression of the realiza-

tions inspired by these inner journeys was

intended to awaken and liberate both the individ-

ual Surrealist and humanity at large, giving rise to

a kind of social and psycho-spiritual revolution.

The Surrealists derived many of their concep-

tions of the unconscious from the philosophy of

Sigmund Freud. Bretonwrites in his firstManifesto,

“it was . . . by pure chance that a part of our mental

world whichwe pretended not to be concernedwith

any longer . . . has been brought back to light. For

this we must give thanks to the discoveries of

Sigmund Freud” (Breton 1972). In later Surrealism,

however, some female Surrealists drew greater

inspiration from the conceptions of the unconscious

posited by Carl Gustav Jung (Chadwick 1985).

While some paintings contain more archetypal

and alchemical imagery, for example, others

simply provide direct references to key figures in

psychology such as Sigmund Freud, Carl Jung, and

Alfred Adler (Kaplan 2000).

The way “surreality” is represented also varies

from artist to artist. Some paintings are more

mimetic in nature, whereas others portray halluci-

natory landscapes that are unlike anything experi-

enced in ordinary wake-state modes of

consciousness. Some paintings include archetypal

images, as mentioned above, while others contain

specificmagical images, such asmagic squares and

sigils (Choucha 1992). The techniques used to

induce artistic inspiration also varied from artist

to artist, despite their common goals.

One of the techniques employed by Surrealists

was automatism, a technique inspired by

spiritualism in which the artist places him- or

herself in a passive, receptive state, forgets

about the usual parameters of one’s creative or

artistic abilities, and writes or paints quickly

without any preconceived subject in mind

(Breton 1972). The goal of automatism was to

allow the artist to derive one’s own mythology

and unconscious imagery through the archetypes

of the collective unconscious (Carrouges 1974).

A similar technique employed bySurrealistswas

to record one’s dreams and pay special attention to

them. Bretonwrites, “I have always been amazed at

the way an ordinary observer lends so much more

credence and attaches so much more importance to

waking events than to those occurring in dreams”

(Breton 1972). The intention of a dreamwork was

similar to that of automatism in that it provided

a method of accessing unconscious imagery or for-

mulating a kind of personal dream mythology that

unites the personal and the collective to give rise to

a more holistic perception of reality and to derive

artistic inspiration from that unique perspective.

Although these techniques were primarily

used as a source of artistic inspiration, biograph-

ical studies of some of the artists associated with

Surrealism suggest a psychotherapeutic benefit to

using them. Jungian perspectives on the relation-

ship between psychoanalysis and alchemy, for

example, proved beneficial when dealing with

trauma associated with the events of World War

II, in addition to providing tools for psychologi-

cal integration and psycho-spiritual transforma-

tion (Aberth 2004; Kaplan 2000).

See Also

▶Dreams

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav, and Alchemy

▶Occultism

▶Unconscious

Bibliography

Aberth, S. (2004). Leonora Carrington: Surrealism,alchemy and art. Burlington: Lund Humphries.

S 1760 Surrender

Alexandrian, S. (1985). Surrealist art. New York: Thames

and Hudson.

Breton, A. (1972).Manifestoes of surrealism. Ann Arbor:University of Michigan Press.

Carrouges, M. (1974). Andre Breton and the basicconcepts of surrealism. Tuscaloosa: The University

of Alabama Press.

Chadwick, W. (1985). Women artists and the surrealistmovement. Boston: Little Brown and Company.

Choucha, N. (1992). Surrealism and the occult. Rochester:Destiny Books.

Colville, G. (1991). Beauty and/is the beast: Animal

symbology in the work of Leonora Carrington,

Remedios Varo and Leonor Fini. In M. A. Caws,

R. Kuenzli, & G. Raaberg (Eds.), Surrealism andwomen. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.

Jung, C. G. (1980). Psychology and alchemy. New York:

Bollingen.

Kaplan, J. (2000). Remedios Varo: Unexpected journeys.New York: Abbeville.

Waldberg, P. (1971). Surrealism. New York:

McGraw Hill.

Surrender

Fredrica R. Halligan

Mind Body Spirit Institute, Stamford, CT, USA

Surrendering (and/or taming) the ego is an

important theme in the mystical traditions of

all the major world religions. In the Sanskrit,

saranagathi connotes personal surrender in

terms of acceptance of the Divine Will and devo-

tion to God. It is notmeant as surrender to another

human being or as relinquishment of one’s

own intellectual discrimination. Like asceticism,

surrender fulfills the spiritual purpose of renounc-

ing the cravings of the ego.

Psychologically, ego is important. According

to Jung, ego is built up in the first half of life and

performs very necessary functions as center of

the conscious psyche. Spiritually, however, there

comes a time when ego, with its many desires and

propensity to control, must let go of the reins. As

the slogan in the 12-step programs articulates it,

the essence of the surrender process is to “let go

and let God.” Mystics in all of the world’s

religions have found that higher spiritual

states cannot be reached until ego control is

surrendered; the illusion of separation is

renounced; and one’s actions are dedicated to

God, leaving the results in God’s hands. This

attitude implies acceptance of all aspects of life

as they emerge, while continuing to strive to live

a virtuous life, according to one’s conscience.

See Also

▶Asceticism

▶Ego

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶Twelve Steps

Bibliography

Easwaran, E. (1996). Original Goodness: On thebeatitudes. Tomales: Nilgiri Press.

Halligan, F. R. (2003). Listening deeply to God:Exploring spirituality in an interreligious age. Mystic:

Twenty-third Publications.

Hawley, J. (2001). The Bhagavad Gita: A walkthrough forwesterners. Novato: New World Library.

Swamis

Nicholas Grant Boeving

Rice University, Houston, TX, USA

One of the more ubiquitous word acquisitions

from Sanskrit, its meaning can roughly be

translated as “he who knows and is master of

himself” – or herself – as the case may be, for

swami is an honorific designation for men as

well as women. Often indicative of one who has

chosen the path of renunciation, it is more

often than not attributed to someone who has

achieved mastery of a particular Yogic system

or demonstrated profound devotion to a god

or gods. While there are a multitude of

lineages, with a dizzying array of beliefs,

perspectives, and loyalties, swami is a pan-

traditional designation that tends to mean,

simply, “master.”

Symbol 1761 S

Perhaps the most well-known representative

of Indian religion in theWest to bear this moniker

is Swami Vivekananda. The chief disciple of

the Bengali saint and mystic Ramakrishna, the

man born Narendranath Dutt, was one of the

early mediators between the religious traditions

of the Occident and Orient, appearing before

a spellbound audience at Chicago’s World’s

Parliament of Religions in 1893. Vivekananda

was instrumental in the founding of the Rama-

krishna Order, one of the earliest Vedantic

monastic sects to emerge in the West.

Continuing Vivekananda’s legacy of spiritual

translation to the West was Swami Nikhilananda.

Born Dinesh Chandra Das Gupta was instrumental

in the founding of the Ramakrishna-Vivekananda

Center of New York. He, like Vivekananda, was

integral to the process of bringing Eastern spiritu-

ality to theWest, translatingmanyHindu holy texts

into English, among their number the Bhagavad-

Gita though perhaps his greatest contribution was

the translation of Ramakrishna Kathamrita from

Bengali into English published under the title The

Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna in 1942.The aforementioned religious figures were

integral to process of translating Eastern spiritu-

ality to West. The Occidental appropriations that

naturally unfolded often used psychological

concepts and language in making sense of the

unfamiliar semantic terrain. The onus of this

reinterpretation lay on the first generation of

Westerner’s to encounter these figures who were

part of a larger cultural process of psychologizing

religion that continues to this day.

S

See Also

▶Bhagavad Gita

▶Hinduism

Bibliography

Isherwood, C. (1965). Ramakrishna and his disciples.New York: Simon & Shuster.

Jackson, C. T. (1994). Vedanta for the west: The Rama-krishna movement in the United States. Bloomington:

Indiana University Press.

Kripal, J. (1995). Kali’s child: The mystical and erotic inthe life and teachings of Ramakrishna. Chicago:

University of Chicago Press.

Vaidyanathan, T. G., & Kripal, J. (1999). Vishnu onFreud’s desk: A reader in psychoanalysis andHinduism. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

Symbol

Sharn Waldron

Bungay, Suffolk, UK

According to Carl Jung, the development of con-

sciousness has meant that within the psychic pro-

cesses of civilized humanity there is a capacity

for reflection upon the differentiation between

psychic and external reality, a capacity which is

unknown to the instinctive mind of the primitive.

Because of this, the psychic system of civilized

humanity engenders difficulties that traditional

societies never experience. In traditional socie-

ties, there is no differentiation between psychic

and physical reality. The primitive’s relationship

to the world is one of “participation mystique,”

that is, the primitive projects his unconscious

onto the external environment. Jung writes:

The fact that all immediate experience is psychic

and that immediate reality can only be psychic

explains why it is that primitive man puts spirits

and magical influences on the same plane as phys-

ical events. . . In his world, spirit and matter still

interpenetrate each other. . . He is like a child, onlyhalf born, still enclosed in his own psyche as in

a dream (Jung 1934, para. 682, p. 195.).

For the civilized human being, the primitive’s

way of existence is no longer a valid option.

Because of the development of consciousness,

the unconscious is no longer projected onto the

external environment.

Jung writes:

The psychic life of civilized man, however, is full of

problems, we cannot even think of it except in terms

of problems. Our psychic processes are made up to

a large extent of reflections, doubts, experiments, all

of which are completely foreign to the unconscious,

instinctive mind of primitive man. It is the growth of

consciousness whichwemust thank for the existence

S 1762 Symbol

of problems; they are the Danaan gift of civilization.

It is just man’s turning away from instinct – his

opposing himself to instinct – that creates conscious-

ness (Jung 1954, para. 388).

The primitive psychic life is concrete and

symbolic at the same time. As a consequence,

he can speak of having a totem, a bush brother,

or see himself as being a relative of the crocodile

who protects him and whom he protects.

By contrast, conscious reason always seeks to

find answers, to resolve apparent opposites. It

takes a stand, assuming that a logical, understand-

able, and containable answer exists. It can do this

because reason is perceived as an unchanging

essence. This perspective renders any symbolic

view of itself redundant. Objectivity is seen as an

inevitable and attainable concomitant of reason.

Knowledge is defined by the interest we have in

knowing it. For civilized society, knowledge is

about controlling the environment, managing its

vagaries for the sake of greater prosperity and

security. However, reason is always relative,

and the concept of an unchanging essence of

reason is an illusion. Reason, like the totem

system, is a means to an end, a symbolic expres-

sion, although different in substance to the sym-

bols of the primitive, of a transitional step in the

path of development (Jung 1954, para. 47).

For Jung, the psyche of both primitive cultures

and children is closely connected to the uncon-

scious. It was Jung’s view that consciousness

began in childhood and developed out of the uncon-

scious. “One can actually see the conscious mind

coming into existence through the gradual unifica-

tion of fragments” (Jung 1946, para. 103). This

process is comparable to the evolutionary process

of humanity that Jung regarded as the evolutionary

development of consciousness. He writes:

Consciousness is phylogenetically and ontogeneti-

cally a secondary phenomenon. . . Just as the body

has an anatomical pre-history of millions of years, so

also does the psychic system. And just as the human

body to-day represents in each of its parts the result

of this evolution, and everywhere still shows traces

of its earlier stages – so the same may be said of the

psyche. Consciousness began its evolution from an

animal like state which seems to us unconscious, and

the same process of differentiation is repeated in

every child (Jung 1977, p. 381).

The child lives in a world which is understood

through the primal relationship with the mother.

This relationship is one of “participation mys-

tique.” The world for the infant is the mother’s

body world. The infant has no initial perception of

itself as a separate being. With physical touch and

stimulation, the infant begins to encounter physi-

cal realities which stimulate its sense of being and

otherness. Therefore, when a child expresses the

desire to take, to grasp, and to eat, it is attempting

to explore and understand the world, and it is in

this process that differentiation begins.

Jung argues that if human beings lived by

instinct alone, consciousness would be achieved

by biological growth and ageing. This is not, how-

ever, the experience of all human cultures. It is

evident in Jung’s analogy of cultural development

with early childhood development that Jung, being

a creature of his time, perceives culture through

the lens of social Darwinism and his language is

reminiscent of early Australian explorers who

spoke of the Australian Aboriginals as a “child

race” (Waldron and Waldron 2004).

Nevertheless, Jung’s contention that intention

and determination cannot accomplish psychic

development is valid. Psychic development needs

symbol to express and grasp realities beyond the

scope of consciousness if it is to cognitively appre-

hend and develop those realities.

The unconscious, out ofwhich symbols emanate,

is unknowable and cannot be brought to conscious-

ness because its content would overwhelm the con-

scious mind. It needs the mediation of symbol.

A symbol expresses those aspects of the psyche

that are differentiated and primal, conscious and

unconscious, and good and evil, the psychic oppo-

sites. Whenever such a symbol spontaneously

erupts from the unconscious, it dominates the

whole psyche. The symbol is a conduit by which

the energy generated from the tension of opposites

is channelled so that the psyche can move forward

(Jung 1948, para. 25).

Jung conjectures that the language of all

human beings is full of symbols (Jung 1964,

p. 3). For Jung, symbols are language or images

that convey, by means of concrete reality, some-

thing hidden or unknown. They have a numinous

quality only dimly perceived by the conscious

mind. These symbols can never be fully

Symbol 1763 S

S

understood by the conscious mind. In symbols,

the opposites are united in a form that is “never

devised consciously, but [are] always produced

out of the unconscious by way of revelation or

intuition” (Jung 1964, p. 48).

The function of a symbol is both compensa-

tory and integrative. It is compensatory in that it

illuminates something that belongs to the domain

of the unconscious. It compensates for that which

is hidden from our conscious. It is integrative in

that it is a union of opposites, holding in tension

the different aspects of the psyche.

Jung posits individual and collective symbols.

Individual symbols are peculiar to individuals.

They arise out of the individual’s personal uncon-

scious and, as a consequence, have little or no

meaning to other individuals. Collective symbols

are psychic images that arise out of the collective

unconscious of a group, tribe, culture, or nation.

As such, they possess a functional significance

for the community.

For a cultural symbol to be dynamic, it must

relate to an unconscious factor that the individuals

within that culture hold in common. For the symbol

to be relevant to a culture, it may appear to need to

have a functional meaning, and this may be seen to

contradict the argument that the symbol only needs

to relate to unconscious factors. However, the

function of meaning will have significance only

because its perceived social function is based on

a significance that is apprehended and given value

by means of the collective unconscious. The more

immediate a symbol is to the unconscious reality

common to the collective, the greater the effect on

that society.

Jung also perceives a “religious function” oper-

ative in the psyche, an instinctual drive for

a meaningful relationship of the personal self to

the transitional source of power, the reality

represented by the symbol. This instinctual drive

manifests itself in the spontaneous production of

religious symbols or “god images.” God images

are characterized by their central function, to rec-

oncile the opposites within the psyche. In order to

creatively engage with a god image, it is not

required to solve the clash of inner opposites but

rather to work with the symbol, to explore its

parameters. As we come face to face with the

dark side of God, masculine and feminine, we are

more able to come to terms with our own dark side

and contra-sexual aspects (Jung 1977, p. 367).

This transcendent function of the symbol

enables a transition from one psychic state to

another. Thereby, the drive for religion seems to

urge the full development of the individual.

The religious symbols thus generated become

symbols of totality. The god image is an arche-

type and as such is a source of inexhaustible

meaning and intelligibility. It has a numinous

quality and cannot be explained or verified

through rationale. Because the god image is

a symbol, it can never be reduced to its subjective

origins. Like all symbols, the god image emerges

spontaneously from the unconscious and is inde-

pendent of an individual’s religious convictions.

The god image functions as a mediator

between the conscious and the unconscious. It is

a union within the psyche of male and female,

good and evil, and all other opposites. It is com-

prised of unconscious and conscious components

and is an essential element in the process of

individuation. The goal of the process of individ-

uation is the birth of the self. The self is symbol-

ized by the mandala, a mystical circle expressing

the totality of the individual. The god image is

a reflection of this psychic truth.

It seems evident that there are times when the

god image ceases to be an integrative image through

which the individual or culture moves towards

wholeness. The potential exists for the shadow to

be suppressed so that a split occurs in the psyche.

When this happens it is possible for the shadow

to erupt in symbolic form. The resultant god

image is not integrative but rather expressive of

the shadow and suppression of aspects of the

psyche. Manifest abuse of power and suppression

of minorities and the defenseless elements in soci-

ety or adjacent societies will demonstrate the non-

integrative nature of such a split in the god image.

See Also

▶Archetype

▶Consciousness

▶God Image

S 1764 Symbols of Transformation in Dreams

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶Mandala

▶ Participation Mystique

▶ Self

▶Unconscious

Bibliography

Jung, C. G. (1934/2001).Modern man in search of a soul.London: Routledge.

Jung, C. G. (1948). On psychic energy. In CW 8. London:Routledge.

Jung, C. G. (1954). Stages of life. In CW 8. London:Routledge.

Jung, C. G. (1964). Man and his symbols. London:

Picador.

Jung, C. G. (1976). Psychological types. Princeton:

Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1977). Memories, dreams, reflections.London: Flamingo.

Jung, C. G. (1981). The development of personality.Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1987). The structures and dynamics of thepsyche. London: Routledge.

Waldron, S., & Waldron, D. (2004). Jung and the

neo-pagan movement. Quadrant, XXXIV(2), 29–46.

Symbols of Transformation inDreams

Wallace Clift1 and Jean Dalby Clift2

1University of Denver and Iliff School of

Theology, Denver, CO, USA2American Association of Pastoral Counselors,

Denver, CO, USA

Everybody dreams. We may not remember our

dreams, but the psychologists tell us that everyone

dreams. The sleep laboratories have described for

us the phenomenonofREM sleep. There have been

many theories throughout the ages about the pur-

pose of dreams. Postmodern depth psychologists

emphasize that dreams are an important way to

carry on the dialogue with the unconscious.

Yet there is still the mystery of understanding

what the unconscious side of the dialogue is say-

ing. Those little books at the grocery checkout

counter tell you this image means so-and-so and

“no question about it” – this is not helpful.

Dreams use a symbolic language that has many

meanings. So to explore what the symbols in

dreams mean may give us a picture of ourselves

of which we are unaware. Thus, dreams give us

data. That may help us to decide on a different

course of action, or we may still choose to con-

tinue the way we have been – the dreams do not

dictate what action, if any, we take in response to

their information. However, this data becomes

the possibility of transformation of a previously

held opinion or behavior.

In interpreting those symbols, we use C. G.

Jung’s theory of dream interpretation, which is

what most people use today whether they

mention Jung or not (Jung 2012). We have

found it helpful to use what we call “the 4 notes

of dream interpretation.”

The first note is that dreams are usually com-

pensatory. They give us a kind of “snapshot” of

the psyche. The picture, however, is one that adds

to our conscious attitudes, calling our attention to

something of which we are not consciously

aware. In other words, the picture may hold up

for us our “blind spots” – what we are not seeing

about ourselves.

Jung himself gives a clear example of this

compensatory function in a dream he had about

a patient of his (Jung 1961). He says that the

analysis was not going well, and he felt that he

was not getting at the correct interpretation of his

patient’s dreams. He decided to speak to her

about this, and the night before he planned to

speak, he had this dream:

I was walking down a highway through a valley in

late afternoon sunlight. To my right was a steep

hill. At its top stood a castle, and on the highest

tower there was a woman sitting on a kind of

balustrade. In order to see her properly, I had to

bend my head far back. I awoke with a crick in the

back of my neck. Even in the dream I had recog-

nized the woman as my patient.

Jung realized immediately that if in the dream

he had to look up so high to see the patient, he had

probably been looking down on her. The distor-

tion was so severe that it was a “pain in the neck.”

When he told the patient of his dream and his

interpretation, he says the treatment once more

moved forward.

Symbols of Transformation in Dreams 1765 S

S

In this example, Jung decided that the dream

showed him that he had fallen into a one-sided

stance which was blocking him from seeing his

patient “properly,” even as the dream language

suggested. In such dreams, one is likely to speak

of the dream as “telling me what to do” but notice

that the dream does not give Jung a direct “mes-

sage” that prescribes his future behavior. It sim-

ply tells him, by the compensatory imagery, “how

it is” – what his conscious attitude has been. He

made the decision, based on that information, that

he would modify that conscious attitude, but he

might just as well have decided that he did not

choose to modify it. He simply had more infor-

mation than before the dream on which to base

his choice.

If our conscious attitude has been rather

extreme, the compensatory imagery may be

extreme (and we may call it a nightmare). How-

ever, if our conscious attitude is only slightly out

of line, the dream imagery will be much closer to

the outer perception – complementary to con-

sciousness, that is, only adding an additional

small perspective.

The second note is the consideration of both

“objective and subjective Levels.” When we

dream of a person we know, the dream may

well be holding up something for us to see

about our relationship with that person, and we

can look at that. Regarding the dream this way is

to examine it on the “objective level.” Regarding

the dream on the “subjective level” means

treating the dream figure, even if we know the

person, as an aspect of oneself. Unknown people

or people with whom we do not have a personal

relationship are always to be treated on the sub-

jective level – as an aspect of ourselves.

Other images in the dream, however, are also to

be approached on the subjective level to some

extent. For example, if we dream about a house –

a particular kind of house – it may well represent

where, so to speak, “we have been living” or in the

jargon of today “where we have been hanging out.”

If we dream about some animal, wemay need to ask

ourselves if some instinct has been intruding in our

response to life – we speak of “animal instincts.”

A third note is Jung’s suggestion that we may

learn something about ourselves by looking at

a whole series of dreams. One single dream may

not be obvious, but if we notice the same motif

occurring in several dreams, then we may see

something that we had missed by looking at

only one dream. This same motif may not occur

in the very next dream, but over a period of time,

a pattern might present itself. This entails keeping

a dream journal.

A fourth note is one of the most important –

Jung calls it amplification. This entails looking at

your associations with the particular dream

image. You note down your personal associations

with an image, which is personal amplification.

These are, of course, basic, but you also need to

look beyond them. Jung concluded that the

symbolic language of dreams sometimes made

use of associations from culture in general –

even if the dreamer had never been aware of

such association. Myths also provide valuable

collective associations.

One of the examples of personal association

that we gave in our book, Symbols of Transfor-

mation in Dreams, is particularly helpful in

suggesting how one can use a dream in helping

one to be a more whole and real person (Clift and

Clift 1984).

A woman we know had a dream about Elliott

Gould, and when she was asked, “Who is Elliott

Gould?” she replied that she knew him only

through parts he had played in films (cinematic

myths). As she thought of her general ideas about

him, she realized that her main associationwas that

he usually played the part of someonewho acted as

if he were less capable and much dumber than he

actually was. With that association, she could then

ask herself: do I sometimes act as if I am less

capable and much dumber than I actually am?

Her rueful laughter was her answer, and then

“Elliott Gould” became a handy way to catch her-

self in that rather destructive pretend game she had

played for years, largely unaware that she was

doing so. In this way, her own association with

the dream figure gave her a continuing, living

symbol to tease herself with; when she caught

herself behaving that way, she could inwardly

chide, “Oh, come on, Elliott.”

Near the end of our stay at the Jung Institute in

Zurich (1966), Wallace had a dream that would

S 1766 Symbols of Transformation in Dreams

be disturbing as well as puzzling if not examined

on the subjective level (Clift and Clift 1984). He

had previously written his bishop inquiring about

a parish appointment, thinking our grant was

probably ending, though what he really wanted

to do was be a teacher in a seminary. That seemed

impossible without getting a Ph.D. This is the

dream:

I dreamed that I had killed someone in Israel and

that I was going back to Israel to settle it – it would

be “paid for” there. The killing seemed impersonal,

as I did not remember anything about the person

killed. I was sorry that I had, that was all. It seemed

that someone would have to die when I went back,

though the killing of someone else did not seem to

be the way. (The dream ended unresolved.)

The dream presents the matter clearly; “Some-

one in Israel” is obviously the parish priest in

Wallace. To go back to another parish assignment

is pictured as “paying for the crime” of having

left the parish (or killing the parish priest). The

dream points out that this action means the death

of someone else. It now seems clear that going

back would have meant the death of the student

who wanted to be a teacher. Actually, subsequent

events led eventually to his being offered

a further grant to get a Ph.D. from the University

of Chicago and that made possible the teaching

career that followed.

If we dream of someone dying that we know or

have known, we can ask ourselves what our

associations are with that person or what they

are like and then ask ourselves if that part of us,

that particular kind of attitude or approach to

life, is dying or has died in us. What we call

“nightmares” may not be so scary when we deal

with them symbolically on this subjective level.

Symbolic Language

C. G. Jung and the theologian Paul Tillich both

made a distinction between signs and symbols

(Jung 2012; Tillich 1957). Signs point to some-

thing. Symbols not only point to something but

they participate in the other reality toward which

they point. One of the easiest examples of this is

a nation’s flag. If you see an American flag on

a building, you may realize that’s the post office,

or, in another country, the American consulate.

The flag is functioning only as a sign, pointing to

some reality. However, when angry crowds burn

an American flag, it is also functioning as

a symbol, and it participates in the reality toward

which it points – toward policies which the

crowds deplore.

Approaching any dream image, then, demands

that one stay open to not only some obvious

external meaning (a sign) but also some

unknown, suggestive, internal elaboration of the

meaning (the symbol). These inner meanings and

elaborations will frequently have an emotional

content, the object of which is to get the

dreamer’s attention to some unconscious or

ignored facet of the dreamer’s life.

We have discovered that interpretation of

symbols is a universal process, applying not

only to dream images but to religious and literary

images. The power carried by the images in all

these fields is at the heart of the meaning they

carry for the dreamer, the believer, and the reader.

Jungian psychology has also given us

a powerful understanding of human imagery in

what Jung called the archetypes of the collective

unconscious – the universal human experience.

He named these archetypes the persona, the

shadow, the animus and anima, and the Self,

and he saw them as the common experience

of us all.

The term “persona” comes from the masks

that actors wore in ancient drama, and it refers

to the roles everyone plays in everyday life –

one’s system of adaptation to each encounter in

outer life. It is usually an adaptation between

one’s personal sense of identity and a sense of

what others are expecting. The most frequent and

obvious symbol of the persona is the clothes one

is wearing – or not wearing. Inappropriate dress

or nakedness indicates an inadequate adaptation,

a sense of being too exposed or ill adapted.

The “shadow” refers to the unknown or

unlived part of ourselves. Honest attention to

the task of knowing oneself is beneficial, and

spiritual guides throughout history have empha-

sized the need to grow and enlarge our knowledge

of ourselves. St. Teresa describes our lives as

Synchronicity 1767 S

S

moving from one “room” to the next as we

develop maturity, leaving the old behind (Teresa

1921). She says the one room we never leave

behind (in our interior castle), in life’s growth,

is the room of self-knowledge. The shadow is

represented in dreams by figures of the same

gender as the dreamer.

Jung used the Latin words for soul or spirit to

represent our contrasexual aspect – the “anima”

for the feminine figure in a man’s unconscious

and the “animus” for the male figure in

a woman’s dreams. There are two ways of being

human – male and female – and every individual

has aspects or qualities of both. Figures in dreams

of the other gender, particularly persons not in

one’s daily life, represent one’s anima or animus.

Gender is one of the most complex areas of

dream interpretation, especially because it has

both positive and negative aspects. Interpretation

in this area can take the dreamer into ever deeper

areas of personal development and serves as

a pathway to the last and perhaps most profound

of the archetypes of the collective unconscious.

This last archetype, the “Self,” is perhaps

Jung’s most important insight. He calls the Self

the archetype of wholeness and also the “god

image” in the psyche, symbolized in many

ways, often as the mandala circle. He does NOT

mean one’s own conscious self, for which he used

the term “ego.” Encounters with the Self have all

the qualities associated with the concept of God.

The Self is the image Jung observed of the uni-

versal need for a sense of meaning in life and the

human experience of a response to that need.

Thus, with those for whom a traditional religious

symbol system still functions, Jung’s concept of

the Self accords with their religious experience in

which the transcendent has become immanent.

All these archetypal images (and especially

the last, Self) are part of what Jung called the

process of individuation – the movement toward

a conscious process of becoming human and

whole. Though it is, of course, possible to get

“lost” in this process and become focused purely

on one’s own self, Jung taught, along with

religious teachers throughout history, that this

process of becoming more conscious is a gift

not only for the person but also for the

world collectively. Increasing human conscious-

ness can transform not only the individual,

but, person by person, the one world in which

we all live.

See Also

▶Analytical Psychology

▶Anima and Animus

▶Archetype

▶ Individuation

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

▶ Jungian Self

▶ Self

Bibliography

Clift, J. D., & Clift, W. B. (1984). Symbols of transforma-tion in dreams. New York: Crossroad.

Jung, C. G. (1961). Memories, dreams, reflections(A. Jaffe, Ed.; trans: Winston, R. & Winston, C.).

New York: Vintage Books.

Jung, C. G. (2012).Dreams: (From vols. 4, 8, 12, and 16 ofthe collected works of C. G. Jung). Princeton:

Princeton University Press.

Teresa of Avila. (1921). The interior castle (trans:

Benedictines of Stanbrook). London: Thomas Baker.

Tillich, P. (1957). Dynamics of faith. New York:

Harper & Row.

Synchronicity

Frances Campbell

New York, NY, USA

As a practicing psychoanalyst, Carl Jung became

aware of a process of meaningful coincidence

between physical events and the subjective states

of his patients. He termed this phenomena syn-

chronicity, and he came to believe that the

acknowledgement and utilization of synchronous

phenomena was a valuable tool in the process of

understanding and interpreting the expressions

and manifestations of the psyche.

The concept of synchronicity is part of

a conceptual triad which Jung conceived of as

S 1768 Synchronicity

essential to the understanding of the experience of

the psyche. The first element is causality, best

understood through Freud’s ideas of how libidinal

energy is managed within the psyche. Repressed

energy in one area is likely to express itself in

another form in order to be released. In this way

the psyche maintains a balance of libidinal energy

which becomes converted in response to the prin-

ciples of cause and effect. Jung broadened this

concept into the idea of a more generalized psychic

energy. He imagined that the expression of this

force is particular to the unfolding of the individual

psyche. From this emerged a teleological view, in

which the psyche contains within itself the poten-

tial for self-actualization. This forms the second of

Jung’s developmental triad. This teleological

potential for expression is contingent upon oppor-

tunities that encompass causality as well as the

element of serendipity. Without supporting cir-

cumstances, the germ that is the potential of the

selfmaynever have the opportunity to develop. It is

here that synchronicity plays a crucial role. The

element of chance may enhance or eliminate

opportunities for actualization of the self. Synchro-

nicity, or meaningful chance, can be defined as

a seemingly significant coincidence in time and

space of two more events that are related, but not

causally connected. An image, thought, fantasy, or

symbol presents itself to consciousness, and this is

reflected in a meaningful external event that

appears to have no causal connection. Synchronic-

ity, then, is the third principle by which the experi-

ence of the psyche may be understood or

interpreted. Jung considered that a law of synchro-

nicity might contrast with the physical law of cau-

sality. Causality propels the objective world, while

synchronistic phenomena seem to be primarily

connected to conditions of the psyche or processes

in the unconscious. Synchronicity takes the coinci-

dence of events in space and time as meaning

something more than mere chance, namely,

a particular interdependence between objective

events with the subjective state of the observer.

Jung’s exploration of this concept was based on

his belief that an emphasis on the rational aspects

of consciousness results in a one-sided view of the

psyche. This inhibits understanding of the

unconscious and its expression through dreams,

fantasy, and other nonrational experiences. Syn-

chronicity, as a correspondence theory in which

inner events occur simultaneously with exterior

events, is a reflection of a deeper perspective

found across cultures in which there is the philo-

sophical perception that parts are not only aspects

of the whole but reflections of it. That is, the

microcosm mirrors the macrocosm. For example,

Jung recognized this concept as an aspect of early

Taoist Chinese thought. Synchronous events may

be generated through the activating of archetypes.

These are unconscious preexistent primordial

images that yield believed to be a part of the deep

structure of the psyche and shared collectively and

therefore might be a creation of the collective

unconscious and perhaps even the psychoid strata.

The psychoid strata can be equated with

a generative yet undifferentiated source that under-

girds the collective unconscious.When archetypes

are experienced by an individual, they are often

expressed through dreams and fantasies or through

a conscious process Jung applied in his practice

called “active imagination.” In this process, spe-

cial attention is given to the appearance of arche-

typal material and the impact of its presentation on

the psyche of the individual. An archetype can act

as a mediator between the macrocosm that charac-

terizes the collective unconscious and the micro-

cosmwhich is the individual expression. The value

of attention to synchronistic phenomena, then, lies

in its ability to illuminate a dimension of the psy-

che that cannot be reached consciously. For Jung,

the fullest potential of the human psyche lies in the

integration of unconscious material, both personal

and collective, into consciousness. This assimila-

tion expands the individual psyche towards a fuller

degree of awareness or a conscious experience of

wholeness.

Because synchronicity may seem to involve the

observed as well as the observer, there are two

possible ways to view synchronous events. In

the first, there is a relationship between events

that can be observed objectively. In the second,

synchronicity involves the participation of the

observing psyche which in some way becomes

reflected in the objective material. In this case,

Syncretism 1769 S

synchronicity becomes a type of psychophysical

parallelism.

Expressions of Synchronicity

Two forms of synchronous expression most com-

monly experienced are (1) the perception that the

internal reality of the psyche is being externally

manifested in the world through an experience or

event. This may take the form of (a) a dream,

vision, or premonition of an experience that has

not yet happened or (b) two or more external

events that appear to be meaningfully, but not

causally related.

Synchronous expression appears to serve

a significant, if not urgent, purpose, which is to

bring attention to a perception or perspective that

is needed for the development of the psyche.

Synchronous experience may be urgent in pre-

sentation, acting as a signpost to bring awareness

to the psyche of a situation or state that is in

need of attention. In contrast, it may be initially

veiled, allowing an idea to be presented to the

receiver in a form that will not overwhelm

the conscious mind but allow it to assimilate

indirectly. Regardless of presentation, it would

seem synchronous phenomena serve to bring

to conscious awareness concepts of value for

self-development.

S

See Also

▶ Freud, Sigmund

▶ Jung, Carl Gustav

Bibliography

Jung, C. G. (1959a). Psychology and religion: West andEast, CW 11. New York: Pantheon Books.

Jung, C. G. (1959b). The archetypes and the collectiveunconscious, CW 9. New York: Pantheon Books.

Jung, C. G. (1960a). The structure and dynamics of thepsyche, CW 8. New York: Pantheon Books.

Jung, C. G. (1960b). Synchronicity: An acausal

connecting principle, CW 8. (pp. 424–447).

New York: Pantheon Books.

Syncretism

Valerie DeMarinis

Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden

The term “syncretism” has had different denota-

tions and connotations over time. In current usage

in anthropology and religious studies, it generally

refers to a mixing of elements from different reli-

gious systems or traditions. From the perspective of

many religious leaders, such a mixing is often

viewed as a negative process, as an abandoning of

true religion. From the perspective ofmany anthro-

pologists, psychologists, and professionals of other

academic disciplines, religious syncretism may

assist in a positive acculturation process, whereby

elements of different systems emerge in a new

format allowing an integration of ideas and behav-

iors. It is important to bear in mind that whatever

example of syncretism is in focus, it always takes

place in a psychocultural and sociopolitical con-

text, and therefore, the psychological effects of

such need to include those levels of analysis.

Though a central historical concept, globalization

as well as the challenges of voluntary and forced

migration have given birth to a reexamination of

religious syncretism. As Greenfield and Droogers

(2001) point to, there is a reemergence of the con-

cept as a tool for understanding such complex

phenomena as ethnicity, postcolonialism, and

transnationalism. Three examples of religious syn-

cretism are presented here. They are drawn from

different cultural contexts and illustrate the com-

plexities for understanding syncretistic systems

and behaviors and their varying psychological

effects.

Example 1: Syncretism as an Act ofSurvival

Drawing upon his fieldwork in Afro-Brazilian

religions, the French ethnologist Roger Bastide

(1978) has emphasized two aspects for histori-

cally understanding syncretism in this cultural

S 1770 Syncretism

context. First, attention needs to be given to the

systematic way in which elements from different

religious sources come together. Second, the

role of power mechanisms is emphasized, espe-

cially in the contact between two categories of

individuals, slaves, and slaveholders. Similarity

in worldview structures among African, Catho-

lic, and also Amerindian systems has facilitated

this syncretism. In this way African gods could

be identified with Catholic saints and with

Amerindian spirits. Catholic elements were

selectively adopted and adapted through the

application of African criteria, without the

knowledge of the slaveholders. In practice, as

strategic devices, identification with and differ-

entiation from the slaveholders’ religion were

both used for literal and symbolic survival.

Thus, the apparent adoption of a Catholic ritual

attitude in Mass could serve as an alibi for the

continuation of African ritual practices. Despite

this clever illustration of a survival deception,

the reality undergirding this example of syncre-

tism is one of supreme oppression. An examina-

tion of the legacy of this syncretism in

contemporary Afro-Brazilian expressions of

religiosity reveals a variety of mixtures of these

religious traditions both in terms of meaning

structures and ritual practices.

Example 2: Syncretism as CompetitiveSharing

A second example of religious syncretism is

found in the article by Robert Hayden (2002)

linked to the concept of competitive sharing.

This concept explains how sacred sites that have

long been shared by members of differing reli-

gious communities, perhaps even exhibiting syn-

cretic types of mixtures including the practices of

both, may at some point be seized or destroyed by

members of one of them in order to manifest

dominance over the other. Hayden argues that

competitive sharing is compatible with a passive

meaning of “tolerance” as noninterference but

incompatible with an active meaning of tolerance

as an embrace of the other. This confusion lies at

the heart of a critical weakness of most current

explanations of nationalist conflict in the Balkans

and communal conflict in India. Syncretism, in

this example, may be fostered by inequality and is

actually endangered by equality between the

groups. The term, syncretism, is problematical,

however, carrying a negative charge for

those concerned with analyzing or maintaining

putatively “pure” or “authentic” rituals and

a positive one for those who criticize concepts

such as cultural purity or authenticity or favor the

idea of “multiculturalism” (Shaw and Stewart

1994). For the former, syncretism is a matter of

violating or contaminating categories. For the

latter, since supposed boundaries are inherently

flexible, syncretism is universal and therefore not

an isolable phenomenon (Werbner 1994). As

Hayden notes, the problematical nature of syn-

cretism increases with the growth of the polari-

zations captured by the word “communalism” in

Indian discourse and the comparable “fundamen-

talisms” elsewhere (Hayden 2002, p. 207).

Understanding and approaching syncretism

in any given cultural context is dependent upon

the framework used for interpretation. Consider

the contrast between the following interpreta-

tions. Bayly’s analysis (1989) has focused on

a situation of “paradox” in South India noting

a growing tendency for groups and large corpo-

rations to be hostile to one another yet at the

same time there are persisting or reinvented

overlapping religious beliefs and syncretic reli-

gious practices. That of van der Veer, on the other

hand, has noted that “‘syncretism’ in India. . . isa trope in the discourse of ‘multiculturalism’”

and that scholarly discussion of “syncretic” phe-

nomena such as Hindu worship of Sufi saints

usually omits consideration of conflict or of

the processes of expansion and contraction of

religious communities (van der Veer 1994,

pp. 200–201). One of the critical differences in

these frameworks is that in Bayly’s framework,

syncretism represents tolerance, with a presumed

stasis, while for van der Veer, time is brought into

the analysis thus creating an approach to syncre-

tism as a dynamic expression that assumes no

inherent understanding of tolerance. As Hayden

notes, when time is added into the analysis, “syn-

cretism seems to be a measure at a given moment

Syncretism 1771 S

of relations between members of groups that dif-

ferentiate themselves, and to see it as tolerance

instead of competition is misleading” (Hayden

2002, p. 207).

S

Example 3: Syncretism as a PostmodernChoice or Acculturation Survival Tactic

The third example is that of a functional religious/

existential syncretism that can be found in what

ostensibly has been labeled one of the most secular

cultural contexts, Sweden. In this context, orga-

nized religious services, based on the Protestant-

Lutheran faith and until 2,000 expressed through

the National Church of Sweden, are not well

attended. However, participation in different

church-based rituals and ceremonies such as bap-

tism, funerals, and weddings is common. From

a functional perspective, ethnic-Swedish participa-

tion in ritualized activities remains high though not

within the context of a faith or belief tradition.

Looking at the results from the multi-country

World Values Survey, Sweden appears as an

outlier in terms of being the most secular and

nontraditional country (Inglehart 1996). At the

same time, there is a growing body of information

pointing to an increasing search for existential

meaning in this cultural context. The conscious or

unconscious expressions of this search not infre-

quently result in an interesting pattern of existential

behaviors and ritual practices that combine ele-

ments from different meaning-making traditions

and new or alternative religious movements,

a mixed existential worldview (DeMarinis 2003).

One illustration of this is an ethnic-Swedish person

whomay be amember of aWiccan group and at the

same time remain involved in some of the Church

of Sweden rituals. Another illustration is of

a personwith an immigrant or refugee background,

involved in both the traditional religious rituals and

belief system of the home country and also partic-

ipating in a religious or other meaning-making

system of the new host country.

From the psychological vantage point of post-

modernism as defined by Bauman, the individual

must create or chose an identity. He also notes

that the reverse side of identity choice is that of

identity confusion (Bauman 1998). In this kind of

postmodern context, syncretic religious/existen-

tial patterns are created as part of the internal

choice process and expressed in the external

sphere where rituals and practices are enacted

and experienced. The degree of social support

or negative pressure experienced by the individ-

ual from the surrounding society in relation to

having a mixed existential worldview can lead

to a change in the worldview’s structure. In other

words, the process is dynamic and open to

change.

Psychological Implications of ReligiousSyncretism

A classic psychological approach to syncretism as

a mental function is reflected in the comparison of

syncretism with the process of individual cognition

(Burger 1966), in that both create an analogy

between the old and the new and thereby facilitate

an innovation acceptance. Syncretism modifies but

perpetuates the essence of all impacting sectors,

thereby reducing the dangers of cultural shock.

Symbolic sectors such as religion can syncretize

more easily than artifactual sectors. The psycho-

logical mechanics of syncretism need to be under-

stood in relation to the psychocultural and

sociopolitical dynamics taking place in the given

cultural context. This may seem an obvious need

when thinking about the three examples provided,

as it is this deeper type of understanding that is

essential for mapping the different types of

psychological effects of syncretism. The analysis

necessary for arriving at this type of understanding

is not a standard part of the psychological process

of investigation. A valuable resource here is

a working approach to cultural analysis that has

emerged from the field of cultural psychology

(Marsella and Yamada 2000). Culture is based on

shared learned meanings and behaviors that are

transmitted from within a social activity context

for the purpose of promoting individual/societal

adjustment, growth, and development. Cultural

representations are both internal (i.e., values,

beliefs, patterns of consciousness) and external

(i.e., artifacts, roles, institutions). Changing internal

S 1772 Syncretism

and external circumstances brings about changes or

modifications for shared meanings and behaviors.

Using this approach with respect to under-

standing a situation involving religious syncre-

tism, the following steps can be taken. First,

a cultural mapping needs to be done involving

the internal as well as external representations of

the syncretistic meanings and behaviors. Such

a mapping will provide a means for locating the

cultural groups, religious systems, and levels of

interaction involved. Second, a historical layer

can then be added to this mapping with special

focus placed on understanding the power dynam-

ics and sociopolitical circumstances initially

leading to the syncretistic expression and what

has happened to that expression over time. The

third and most important step is assessing the

psychological effects, for both individuals and

groups, of engaging in the syncretistic behaviors.

Such varied syncretistic behaviors may, as in the

very varied examples provided, be associated

with psychological consequences ranging from

individual and group trauma to a stress-relieving

and salutogenic outcome. Each case needs to be

assessed on its own, in cultural context, and over

time. Clearly, religious syncretism has never

been and will never be a simple system with

a single design. For this very reason, an under-

standing of the psychological effects of religious

syncretism needs to approach with extreme care

and with sufficient, multidisciplinary methods.

See Also

▶Cultural Psychology

▶Migration and Religion

▶Trauma

Bibliography

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Bauman, Z. (1998). Postmodern religion? In P. Heelas

(Ed.), Religion, modernity and postmodernity. Oxford,UK: Blackwell.

Bayly, S. (1989). Saints, Goddesses, and kings: Muslimsand Christians in South Indian society, 1700–1900.Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

Burger, H. (1966). Syncretism: An acculturative acceler-

ator. Human Organization, 25(2), 103–115.DeMarinis, V. (2003). Pastoral care, existential health

and existential epidemiology: A Swedish postmoderncase study. Stockholm: Verbum Press.

Droogers, A. (1989). Syncretism: The problem

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Hayden, R. (2002). Antagonistic tolerance: Competitive

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values. The Washington Quarterly, 23, 215–228.Marsella, A., & Yamada, A. (2000). Culture and mental

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(Eds.), Handbook of multicultural health: Assessmentand treatment of diverse populations. San Diego:

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Shaw, R., & Stewart, C. (1994). Introduction:

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