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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.
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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 SelfIn 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
PornographyAs 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:
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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,
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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
BibliographyJung, 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 AbstractI 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
ShekhinahMark 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 QuestionThe 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 RevivingBecoming 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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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.
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Corio, L. N., & Corio, D. (2003). Megaliths: The ancientstone monuments of England and Wales. London:
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and west, models of the cosmos. NewYork: Barnes and
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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
CommentaryThe 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
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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
of definition, the definition of the problem. In
J. D. Gort, H. M. Vroom, R. Fernhout, &
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Rodopi.
Greenfield, S., & Droogers, A. (Eds.). (2001). Reinventingreligions: Syncretism and transformation in Africa andthe Americas. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield.
Hayden, R. (2002). Antagonistic tolerance: Competitive
sharing of religious sites in South Asia and the Balkins.
Current Anthropology, 43, 205–231.Inglehart, R. (1996). Globalization and postmodern
values. The Washington Quarterly, 23, 215–228.Marsella, A., & Yamada, A. (2000). Culture and mental
health: An introduction and overview of foundations,
concepts and issues. In I. Cuellar & F. A. Paniagua
(Eds.), Handbook of multicultural health: Assessmentand treatment of diverse populations. San Diego:
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Shaw, R., & Stewart, C. (1994). Introduction:
Problematizing syncretism. In S. Stewart & R. Shaw
(Eds.), Syncretism/anti-syncretism, the politics ofreligious synthesis. London: Routledge.
Van der Veer, P. (1994). Syncretism, multiculturalism and
the discourse of tolerance. In S. Stewart & R. Shaw
(Eds.), Syncretism/anti-syncretism, the politics ofreligious synthesis. London: Routledge.
Werbner, R. (1994). Afterward. In S. Stewart & R. Shaw
(Eds.), Syncretism/anti-syncretism, the politics ofreligious synthesis. London: Routledge.
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