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dimanche, 22 décembre 2013

The Rites of Manhood: Man’s Need for Ritual

The Rites of Manhood: Man’s Need for Ritual

by Brett & Kate McKay

Ex: http://www.artofmanliness.com

in A Man's Life, On Manhood

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Does modern life ever feel excruciatingly flat to you? A bleak landscape devoid of layers, rhythm, interest, texture?

Are you ever haunted by the question “Is this all there is?”

Have you ever looked at an old photo and felt that the scene held such an inexplicable richness that it seemed you could practically step right into it?

The barren flatness of modern life is rooted in many things, including mindless consumerism, the absence of significant challenges, and the lack of shared values and norms, or even shared taboos to rebel against. But what is the solution?

Many would be quick to say faith, or philosophy, or relationships. All good answers.

But what is it that vivifies beliefs to the extent they can transform your perspective not simply for an hour on Sunday, but also in the mundane moments throughout your week? What can move an understanding of abstract truths from your mind into your very sinews? What can transform superficial ties with others into deep and meaningful bonds?

The answer I would suggest is ritual.

Our modern world is nearly devoid of rituals – at least in the way we traditionally think of them. Those that remain – such as ones that revolve around the holidays – have largely lost their transformative power and are often endured more than enjoyed, participated in as an obligatory going through of the motions. Ritual has today become associated with that which is rote, empty, meaningless.

Yet every culture, in every part of the world, in every era has engaged in rituals, suggesting they are a fundamental part of the human condition. Rituals have even been called our most basic form of technology – they are a mechanism that can change things, solve problems, perform certain functions, and accomplish tangible results. Necessity is the mother of invention, and rituals were born out of the clear-eyed perspective that life is inherently difficult and that unadulterated reality can paradoxically feel incredibly unreal. Rituals have for eons been the tools humans have used to release and express emotion, build their personal identity and the identity of their tribe, bring order to chaos, orient themselves in time and space, effect real transformations, and bring layers of meaning and texture to their lives. When rituals are stripped from our existence, and this fundamental human longing goes unsatisfied, restlessness, apathy, alienation, boredom, rootlessness, and anomie are the result.

The Rites of Manhood

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In the coming year we plan to do in-depth posts on some of the rituals that have been most central to the meaning and making of manhood, such as rites of passage, initiations, and oaths. This week we will be laying the foundation for these posts in two articles; the first will set up a definition of ritual, and the second will explore the many ways rituals are so vital for a full and meaningful life.

Today we’ll provide a little context as to the nature of ritual and why it has largely disappeared from modern societies.

What Is Ritual?

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According to Catherine Bell, professor of ritual studies and author of the preeminent textbook on the subject, ritual has been traditionally defined as an action that lacks a “practical relationship between the means one chooses to achieve certain ends.” For example, shaking hands when you meet someone can be considered a ritual as there is no real reason why grabbing another’s hand and shaking for a second or two should lead to acquaintanceship. It is a culturally-relative gesture; we might very well greet each other with a pat on the shoulder or even no physical contact at all. As another example, washing your hands to clean them is not a ritual since there exists a clear practical relationship between your action and the desired result. But if a priest splashes water on his hands to “purify” them, that’s a ritual, since the water is largely symbolic and not really meant to rid the hands of bacteria.

Bell lists six attributes of rituals:

  • Formalism: This is a quality rooted in contrast and how restrictive or expressive the accepted code of behavior is for a given event/situation. For example a backyard picnic is very casual and will not feel like a ritual because there are few guidelines for how one may express oneself. A very formal dinner, on the other hand, has a more limited range of accepted behaviors and thus can feel quite ritual-like. Bell argues that while we sometimes see formality as stuffy, since it curbs more spontaneous expression, formalized activities are not “necessarily empty or trivial” and “can be aesthetically as well as politically compelling, invoking what one analyst describes as ‘a metaphoric range of considerable power, a simplicity and directness, a vitality and rhythm.’ The restriction of gestures and phrases to a small number that are practiced, perfected, and soon quite evocatively familiar can endow these formalized activities with great beauty and grace.”
  • Traditionalism. Rituals are often framed as activities that carry on values and behaviors that have been in place since an institution’s creation. This link to the past gives the ritual power and authority and provides the participant with a sense of continuity. The ritual may simply harken to those who came before, as when university graduates don the gowns that were once typical everyday classroom wear for scholars, or it may actually seek to recreate a founding event – as in the American celebration of Thanksgiving.
  • Disciplined invariance. Often seen as one of the most defining features of ritual, this attribute involves “a disciplined set of actions marked by precise repetition and physical control.” Think of soldiers marching in drill step or the sit/stand/kneel pattern followed by Catholics during the course of a Mass. Disciplined invariance suppresses “the significance of the personal and particular moment in favor of the timeless authority of the group, its doctrines, or its practices,” and “subordinates the individual and the contingent to a sense of the encompassing and the enduring.”
  • Rule-governance. Rituals are often governed by a set of rules. Both war and athletics are examples of activities that can be quite ritual-like when their rules regulate what is and is not acceptable. Rules can both check and channel certain tensions; for example, the game of football channels masculine aggression into a form of ritualized and controlled violence. On occasion the rules fail to sufficiently check the tension that is always bubbling right at the surface, as when a chaotic brawl breaks out amongst players. That the game reflects a similar submerged tension within society at large is part of why the audience finds the ritual so compelling.
  • Sacral symbolism. Ritual is able to take ordinary or “profane” objects, places, parts of the body, or images, and transform them into something special or sacred. “Their sacrality,” Bell writes, “is the way in which the object is more than the mere sum of its parts and points to something beyond itself, thereby evoking and expressing values and attitudes associated with larger, more abstract, and relatively transcendent ideas.” Thus something like incense can be a mere mixture of plants and oils designed to perfume a room, or, when swung from a censer, can represent the prayer of the faithful ascending into heaven.
  • Performance. Performance is a particular kind of action – one that is done for an audience. A ritual always has an intended audience, even if that audience is God or oneself. Tom F. Driver, a professor of theology, argues that “performance…means both doing and showing.” It is not a matter of “show-and-tell, but do-and-show.” Human are inherently actors, who wish to see themselves as characters in a larger narrative, and desire the kind of drama inherent in every timeless tale. Rituals function as narrative dramas and can satisfy and release this need. In the absence of ritual, people resort to doing their “showing” on social media and creating their own drama – often through toxic relationships or substances.

The more of these attributes a behavior/event/situation invokes, the more different from everyday life and ritual-like it will seem. The fewer of these attributes present, the more casual and ordinary it will feel.

For a more simple definition of ritual, here’s one that works: thought + action. A ritual consists of doing something in your mind (and often feeling something in your heart), while simultaneously connecting it to doing something with your body.

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Rituals fall into a wide variety of categories. Theorist Ronald Grimes lists 16 of them:

  • Rites of passage
  • Marriage rites
  • Funerary rites
  • Festivals
  • Pilgrimage
  • Purification
  • Civil ceremonies
  • Rituals of exchange (as in worshipers making sacrifices to the gods in hope of receiving blessings from the divine)
  • Worship
  • Magic
  • Healing rites
  • Interaction rites
  • Meditation rites
  • Rites of inversion (rituals of reversal, where violating cultural norms is temporarily allowed, as in men dressing like women)
  • Sacrifice
  • Ritual drama

The important thing to understand about rituals is that they are not limited to very big, very formal events. Rituals can in fact be large or small, private or public, personal or social, religious or secular, uniting or dividing, conformist or rebellious. Funerals, weddings, presidential inaugurations, church services, baptisms, fraternal initiations, and tribal rites of passage are all rituals. Handshakes, dates, greetings and goodbyes, tattoos, table manners, your morning jog, and even singing the Happy Birthday song can be rituals as well.

Whither Ritual?

In many traditional societies, almost every aspect of life was ritualized. So why is there such a dearth of rituals in modern culture?

The embrace of ritual in the Western World was first weakened by two things: the Protestant Reformation’s movement against icons and ceremonialism and the Enlightenment’s emphasis on rationalism.

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Historian Peter Burke, argues “the Reformation was, among other things, a great debate, unparalleled in scale and intensity, about the meaning of ritual, its functions and its proper forms.” Many Protestants concluded that the kind of rituals the Catholic Church practiced gave too much emphasis to empty, outward forms, rather than one’s internal state of grace. They rejected the “magical efficacy” of rites to be able to do things like change bread and wine into the literal body and blood of Christ.

The magical efficacy of ritual was attacked from the other side by Enlightenment thinkers. As discussed above, ritual is inherently nonrational since there is no practical relationship between the action and the end result. It is not rational to think that painting one’s body before battle will offer protection, that a rite of passage can turn a boy into a man, or that smoking a peace pipe can seal a treaty. Thus, ritual began to be associated with the superstitions of primitive peoples.

Suspicion of ritual again grew after World War II, in the wake of the way in which ritual ceremonies had been used to solidify loyalty to the Nazi cause.

Cultural embrace of ritual then really began to unravel during the social movements of the 1960s, which emphasized free expression, personal freedom, and individual emotional fulfillment above all. Rituals — which prescribe certain disciplined behaviors in certain situations, and require a person to forfeit some of their individuality in service to the synchrony and identity of the group — constrain spontaneity and the ability to do whatever one pleases. Ritual thus came to be seen as too constraining and not sufficiently “authentic.”

For these reasons, the use of and participation in rituals has been greatly curtailed. Or perhaps as historian Peter Burke argues, we’ve just replaced old rituals with new ones: “If most people in industrial societies no longer go to church regularly or practice elaborate rituals of initiation, this does not mean that ritual has declined. All that has happened is the new types of rituals—political, sporting, musical, medical, academic and so on—have taken the place of the traditional ones.” But the new rituals – watching sports, attending music festivals, checking Facebook, shopping, visiting a strip club on your 18th birthday — are light on nourishment and do not satisfy. Traditional rituals provided a mechanism by which humans could channel and process that which was difficult to grapple with – death, maturation, aggression – allowing the participant to discover new truths about themselves and the world. New rituals, if they can even really be called such, attempt to deny anything ugly in life (lest that lead you to close your wallet) and present a shiny, glossy façade — “confetti culture” – that facilitates passive consumption and turning away from examining given assumptions.

In our next post, we will argue that despite the cultural disdain for ritual, it is a human art form and practice which should be revived. It is true that ritual can be used for good or for ill, yet its benefit is so great that fear of the bad should not lead us to throw out the baby with the bathwater. Even if a man sees no place for ritual in his faith, he can have great use for it in other areas in his life (indeed, if his faith is completely unritualized, he has all the more need for other kinds of rituals). We will argue that even the most rational man might make room in his life for some “magic,” and that while ritual may seem constraining, it can paradoxically be incredibly empowering and even liberating. How that might be so, is where we will turn next time.

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Sources:

Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions by Catherine Bell

Liberating Rites: Understanding the Transformative Power of Ritual by Tom F. Driver

samedi, 18 juillet 2009

Labyrinthe et "Trojaburg"

Trojaburg_(Scandinavian_stone_labyrinth).jpg

 

 

Labyrinthe et «Trojaborg»

Deux traits caractéristiques de la préhistoire nord-européenne

 

par le Prof. Frithjof Hallmann,

Université d'Uppsala

 

Il est une règle en archéologie qui veut que la fréquence des découvertes sur un site prouve que ce site est le site originel de l'objet en question. Dans le cas du sym­bole que sont les labyrinthes, le site d'o­rigine doit être le nord de l'Europe et non le sud. Environ 500 labyrinthes de pierre ont été découverts en Europe sep­ten­trio­nale, jusqu'aux confins de l'Océan Arcti­que. Bon nombre de ces labyrinthes datent de la préhistoire européenne, y compris ceux du Grand Nord. Dans la zone médi­terranéenne, on ne trouve que rarement ce symbole, perennisé dans les aligne­ments de pierres.

 

En règle générale, le labyrinthe est consi­déré comme une sorte de jardin, conçu pour jouer à s'égarer. Tous ceux qui ont eu l'occasion de visiter des labyrinthes de haies dans les jardins et parcs anglais, fran­çais ou italiens, sauront combien il est parfois difficile de retrouver le chemin de la sortie. Le labyrinthe, en conséquence, est considéré par la plupart de nos con­tem­porains, comme un jeu où l'on s'a­mu­se à s'égarer. Beaucoup de princes eu­ro­péens du XVIième au XIXième siècle se sont fait installer des jardins labyrin­thi­ques pour amuser et distraire leurs in­vi­tés. Parmi les plus célèbres labyrinthes fran­çais, citons ceux de Versailles, de Chan­­tilly, du Jardin des Plantes; en An­gleterre, les labyrinthes de Hatfield House, de Hertfordshire, de Hampton Court Pala­ce (à Londres), ainsi que le grand laby­rin­the de Hazlehead Park à Aberdeen; en Ita­lie, aujourd'hui, on peut encore visiter le célèbre labyrinthe de haies de la Villa Pi­sani à Stra, à l'ouest de Venise, avec une tour et une statue de Minerve au centre. Ce sont là les laby­rinthes les plus connus et les mieux con­servés aujourd'hui. 200.000 touristes par­couraient chaque an­née les allées du laby­rinthe de Stra, jus­qu'au moment où il a fallu les fermer au public qui devenait vraiment trop nom­breux et risquait d'abîmer le site.

 

Quant au touriste qui s'intéresse à l'his­toi­re de l'art, il peut visiter de nom­breux labyrinthes de mosaïques, surtout dans des églises. Ceux qui se rendent en Italie pourront en voir de très beaux dans l'é­glise Santa Maria di Trastevere à Rome, ou encore dans l'église San Vitale de Ra­venne, dont le sol présente un magni­fi­que labyrinthe. Dans la cathédrale de Luc­ca, on peut apercevoir un labyrinthe gravé dans un mur et flanqué d'une ins­cription latine signifiant "Ceci est le laby­rinthe que le Crétois Dédale a construit". En France, notons les labyrinthes de la Cathédrale de Bayeux et de l'église de Saint-Quentin, qui attirent, aujourd'hui encore, de nom­breux amateurs d'art. En territoire alle­mand, nous ne trouvons au­jourd'hui plus qu'un seul labyrinthe: dans la crypte de la Cathédrale de Cologne.

 

Mais en Allemagne, comme en divers en­droits d'Angleterre, on peut encore voir les traces, dans l'herbe, de très an­ciens la­byrinthes comme la Roue (Rad)  d'Eilen­riede près de Hannovre ou les la­byrinthes d'herbe de Steigra et de Graitschen en Thu­ringe. Malheureusement, le magnifi­que laby­rinthe de Stolp en Poméranie, l'un des plus beaux du monde, a été dé­truit.

 

En Angleterre, une bonne centaine de labyrinthes

 

En Angleterre, au contraire de l'Alle­ma­gne où l'on ne trouve plus que les trois labyrinthes que je viens de citer, le tou­riste amateur de sites archéologiques pour­ra en visiter une bonne centaine. Dans les Iles Britanniques, on les appelle Troy-town  ou Murailles de Troie (Walls of Troy),  exactement comme plusieurs la­byrinthes scandinaves encore existants (Trojaborg;  en all. Trojaburg).  A l'évi­den­ce, labyrinthes britanniques et la­by­rinthes scandinaves sont structurelle­ment apparentés. Car il ne s'agit pas de cons­truc­tions de modèle simple, édifiées pour le seul plaisir du jeu, mais d'une al­lée u­ni­que serpentant circulairement vers un centre, pour en sortir immédiatement, tou­jours en serpentant. Il est intéressant de noter que les élèves des écoles pri­maires, en Scandinavie, apprenaient en­core, dans les années 30, l'art de «dessiner des labyrinthes».

 

Avant de nous pencher sur la significa­tion étymologique des termes «laby­rin­thes» et «Trojaborg» (Troy-town; Troja­burg),  je voudrais d'abord signaler qu'au­jourd'hui, sur le territoire suédois, j'ai dé­nombré 296 Trojaborge  de pierre, dont les diamètres varient entre 4 et 24 m et qui comptent généralement 12 seg­ments cir­cu­laires; en Finlande, y compris les Iles Åland, j'en ai dénombré 150; dans le nord de l'Angleterre, 60 (dont 15 sont fouillés par des archéologues profession­nels); en Norvège, 24; en Estonie, 7; en Angleterre méridionale, 2; sur le territoire de la RFA (avant la réunification), 1. Nous arrivons ainsi au nombre de 540 Trojaborge nord-européens en pierres, auxquels il faut a­jouter la centaine de la­byrinthes en prairie des Iles Britanniques et leurs trois équi­valents allemands. Malheureuse­ment, la zone archéologique méditerranéenne ne compte plus, au­jourd'hui, de labyrinthes de ce type; seuls demeurent les labyrinthes des églises et ceux, récents et en haies, des parcs. Nous pouvons en revanche décou­vrir des laby­rinthes gravés sur des parois rocheuses, comme dans le Val Camonica dans les Alpes italiennes, ou à Pontevedra en Espagne septentrionale. Ce labyrinthe ibé­rique présente le même modèle que ce­lui découvert sur la pierre irlandaise de Wicklow et celui de Tintagel en Cor­nouailles.

 

J'ai cherché à découvrir un labyrinthe en Crète, qui confirmerait la légende de Thé­sée et Ariane. Je n'ai pas découvert le fa­meux labyrinthe de Cnossos. Or, on as­so­cie très justement la Crète au symbole du la­byrinthe, car, au British Museum et dans le Musée de l'Antiquité de Berlin, les visiteurs peuvent y voir des labyrinthes sur des monnaies crétoises du IIième et du Vième siècle avant notre ère. En Egyp­te, pays d'où nous viendrait, d'après les lin­guistes, le terme «labyrinthe» (Lope-ro-hint,  soit le palais à l'entrée du lac, allu­sion à un labyrinthe disparu, qui se serait situé sur les rives du Lac Méri), je n'ai pas eu plus de chance qu'en Crète et je n'ai pas trouvé la moindre trace d'un labyrin­the. D'autres spécialistes de l'étymologie cro­yent que l'origine du mot labyrinthe vient du terme «labrys», qui désigne la dou­ble hache crétoise.

 

Un piège pour

 l'astre solaire?

 

Quant au nom scandinave de Trojaborg,  il n'a rien à voir avec la ville de Troye en Asie Mineure, comme l'a prouvé un spé­cialiste allemand des symboles, qui vivait au siècle dernier, le Dr. Ernst Krause. Tro­jaborg  serait une dérivation d'un terme in­do-européen que l'on retrouve en sans­krit, draogha,  signifiant «poseur de piè­ges». Dans la mythologie indienne, en ef­fet, existe une figure de «poseur de piè­ges», qui pose effectivement des pièges pour attraper le soleil.

 

En langue vieille-persique, nous retrou­vons la même connotation dans la figure d'un dragon à trois têtes, du nom de dru­ja;  en langue suédoise dreja  signifie l'acte de «tourner» ou de manipuler un tour. Le sens caché du labyrinthe se dé­voile dans la légende de Thésée et d'Ariane, dans l'Ed­da et dans la Chanson des Nibelun­gen, où nous retrouvons, par­tout, une jeu­ne fille solaire gardée par un dragon ou un Minotaure, symboles des forces de l'obs­curité. Le mot «Troja» se re­trouve, outre dans le nom de la ville de l'épopée homérique, dans le nom de cen­taines de labyrinthes scandinaves et bri­tanniques, dans la danse labyrinthique française, le Troyerlais, dans la ville de Troyes en Cham­pagne, dans les trojarittes de la Ro­me antique, dans le nom de Hagen von Tronje, figure de la Chanson des Nibe­lun­gen. Des dizaines de noms de lieu en Eu­ro­pe portent la trace du vocable "troja".

 

Le Prof. Karl Kerényi, l'un des principaux spécialistes contemporains des mythes et des symboles, est l'un des très nombreux experts qui admettent aujourd'hui l'origi­ne nordique du symbole du laby­rinthe. Les pays du Nord, pauvres en so­leil, dé­ve­loppent une mythologie qui cherche à ren­dre cet astre captif, au con­traire des my­thologies du Sud de l'Europe. Les ar­chéo­logues spécialisés dans la préhistoire, sur base de leurs fouilles, datent les laby­rinthes nord-euro­péens de l'Age du Bron­ze (de 1800 à 800 avant notre ère); les la­byrinthes sur parois rocheuses de l'Europe centrale, de même que le labyrinthe en pier­res plates d'argile de Pylos dans le Pé­lo­ponèse, datent, eux, de 1200 à 1100 avant notre ère. Un laby­rinthe de vases étrusque date, lui, du VIIième ou du VIième siècle avant notre ère, tandis que les monnaies de Cnossos, sur lesquelles figurent des la­byrinthes, da­tent du Vième et du IIième siècle avant notre ère.

 

La ressemblance est frappante entre les la­byrinthes des monnaies crétoises du IIiè­me siècle avant notre ère et la configu­ra­tion du labyrinthe suédois de Visby en Got­land. Cette configuration, nous la re­trou­vons dans de nombreux sites de Suè­de, et aussi en Norvège, en Finlande et en Estonie. D'où, la question de l'origine sep­tentrionale de ces symboles labyrinthiques se pose tout naturellement.

 

Ces labyrinthes reflètent le tracé astrono­mi­que des planètes. Les mythes associés aux labyrinthes, d'après de nombreux cher­cheurs et érudits, reflètent la nostalgie du soleil chez les peuples des régions sep­tentrionales de l'Europe.

 

Dr. Frithjof HALLMAN.

(texte issu de Mensch und Maß,  23.2.1992; adresse: Verlag Hohe Warte, Ammerseestraße 2, D-8121 Pähl; parution bimensuelle, abonnement trimestriel, 35 DM).