On Sacrifice
Introibo ad altare Dei, ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meum.
From the Missale Romanum, "Prayers at the Foot of the Altar"
On Sacrifice
Sacrifice appears to be a universal religious instinct and it is found in the "great world religions" generally. In Christianity, it is most closely identified with the sacrifice of Jesus for the sins of the world, renewed or re-presented in the Sacrifice of the Mass, in which, in a typically Baroque understanding, the sacrifice is understood to be to God by God (in the person of his minister, the priest). The ancient pagans, of course, ridiculed these rites as a form of cannibalism in their general disgust at the religion. Here, we will explore the sacrificial impulse in general and the pagan approach in particular.
Sacrifice in General
Why is the sacrificial impulse so general? The human condition, bounded with uncertainty, is such that, in earlier times, we sought primarily supernatural means to control natural events. The crude notion of sacrifice as "bribing the gods" is thus at least partially correct, but there is more to it than this. The word "culture" derives from cultus, which refers to the act of worship. In its higher forms, religious worship is a joyous act in which man rejoices in his being and in the improbable event of his existence. He is animate matter, the rarest of the rare in an almost entirely empty, cold universe. He can think and love; he can give life and kill; he is like a god in so many ways, bar his mortality. Sacrifice in the ancient world thus took many forms, from the modest, sober sacrifice of the first fruits to the far more terrifying (and rare, at least in Rome) act of human sacrifice (the force of which Christianity retains in its appeal to the Crucified God). Each has, at its heart, that joyousness (or the fear of its loss) that is the gift of mere existence, and which we are normally so reluctant to resign.
As an essentially joyful act, in its more modest forms, it gives form and affirmation to human existence. The Christian instinct to offer sacrifice on Sunday is a sure one, just as the ancient pagans offered it on the Kalends and Ides. Both agree in putting aside toil and labour for the occasion, helping to maintain its joyful sense (perhaps lost in puritan sabbatarianism). It is perhaps from this instinct that the Biblical revulsion at work (which is felt to be a divine curse for disobedience) stems; that a blessed life must be a workless one is a rare point of agreement in Hebrew, Christian and pagan thought (albeit one that later thought considered must be consecrated to contemplation rather than mere idleness). Too much work, as experience teaches us, can be dehumanising, reducing us to automata that seek after mindlessness to dull the pain of mere existence. Sacrifice, in that respect, is humanising.
If the sacrificial, or cultic act, is itself humanising, not all of its forms are. The sacrifice of first fruits, of candles, of small offerings of food or incense, are healthy and modest, giving expression to the primal wonder with which we celebrate our existence. To offer thanks to the gods, or the universe, or whatever, for the mere fact of existence is one of the first stages in embracing the wondrousness of human life, which is also the starting point of philosophia, the love of wisdom. With this in mind, let us disregard the more lurid forms of sacrifice, including human sacrifice.
From General to Particular
Most thought on worship and sacrifice gives too much attention to the object (i.e. the god/s) of these things, rather than their subject (the priest, or worshipper). Sacrifice, when understood as primarily about the object, makes little sense to the modern mind, but it is far more enlightening when we consider it from the subjective point of view. If it begins as a response to the fear that the precarity of human life gives, it ends in a joyful affirmation of the sheer wonder of existence as we see day to day. Thus, the great theological controversies of history have little value for us. Let us understand it anew.
Sacrifice renews our sense of wonder, by recalling how life, the greatest gift, is both unmerited and unrequested. For better or worse, it is a gift we are given to enjoy for so many years (whether many or few) without conditions and without promise. In sorrow and in joy, it is good to call this to mind - just how existence itself is both blind and benign, leaving us to our own devices before we return to the great whatever from which we spring. It also recalls our communion with our fellow men and just how unusual consciousness and reason are. It is the sole expression of real joy in a mute universe of which we know.
Historically, sacrifice has reflected the rhythms of natural and human life, such as the changes of the seasons and the sowing and reaping of crops, as well as exceptional events such as birth and death, as well as coronation and war. The recall to wonder, coupled with the seemingly more practical aim of pleasing the gods, served to still and sanctify these moments of life. The raising of the mind to the truths of philosophy, the only "holy", is one of the most dignified acts and, with time, many of these rites became elaborate and intricate (often specific to time and place, as well). This was carried over into the more formal rites of mass, such as the pontifical mass.
In Christian spirituality, the sacrifice of Christ on the cross for the sins of men is totemic and exemplary, calling all Christians to a similar life of self-sacrifice. For the pagan, sacrifice is an act of wondrous joy at the sheer fact of existence, whatever its vicissitudes. If we cannot help but be aware of our faults, we hold that they are not "eternal" or held against us forever in some fiery furnace for even the avenging spirits grow weary and impatient. Pagan sacrifice is thus moderate, normally composed of the sacrifice of incense or some simple foods and seldom with much ceremony. The gods might be present if they so wish, but the act remains fruitful and valid. It is also the beginning of the joyousness of philosophy.
The variety of human life presents a variety of sacred rites. Those for thanksgiving over the harvest will be different to the rites that seek peace in the time of war, the latter being more solemn than the former. Moreover, proper to each god, commonly, is a certain priesthood dedicated to its rites so as to propitiate, thank and intercede with the particular deity, such as with Avenging Mars or Jupiter Optimus et Maximus ("Jupiter Best and Greatest").
Sacred Rites for Unbelievers
Two millennia of Christian thought have habituated us to thinking of gods in strangely concrete terms, as if the existence of deity was on the same level, fundamentally, as that of the number 35 'bus to Tanterton. Deity is poetry about man and his condition, which aspires to the heights of which he is capable while despising the "shallows and miseries" of his nature. Thus, the rites of deities are poetry about man and his condition, which warn and remind of these fundamental things. They are, perhaps, enacted poetry and theology, which speak to man whether Olympus is "mere myth" or no.
The Importance of Myth
The importance of myth has been made clear since the demythologisation of Christian religion in the nineteenth century. The rejection of the Crucified Jew by Nietzsche and culture more widely signals that the West lives in a time without myth, which leaves us psychologically vulnerable, poor and suffering. Myth helps us to reconcile ourselves with the realities and potentialities of human life on the existential level. Science and mathematics are, rightly, ignorant of these questions but human beings cannot be without causing grave harm to themselves. The gods are symbols whose purpose is to help us develop psychologically, without reference to its external reality (for it is psychologically true, if not on the level, say, of political history).
To conclude; ours is the task of assembling a new series of rites and their supporting myths by which men can thrive.
May the gods assist us.
From the Missale Romanum, "Prayers at the Foot of the Altar"
On Sacrifice
Sacrifice appears to be a universal religious instinct and it is found in the "great world religions" generally. In Christianity, it is most closely identified with the sacrifice of Jesus for the sins of the world, renewed or re-presented in the Sacrifice of the Mass, in which, in a typically Baroque understanding, the sacrifice is understood to be to God by God (in the person of his minister, the priest). The ancient pagans, of course, ridiculed these rites as a form of cannibalism in their general disgust at the religion. Here, we will explore the sacrificial impulse in general and the pagan approach in particular.
Sacrifice in General
Why is the sacrificial impulse so general? The human condition, bounded with uncertainty, is such that, in earlier times, we sought primarily supernatural means to control natural events. The crude notion of sacrifice as "bribing the gods" is thus at least partially correct, but there is more to it than this. The word "culture" derives from cultus, which refers to the act of worship. In its higher forms, religious worship is a joyous act in which man rejoices in his being and in the improbable event of his existence. He is animate matter, the rarest of the rare in an almost entirely empty, cold universe. He can think and love; he can give life and kill; he is like a god in so many ways, bar his mortality. Sacrifice in the ancient world thus took many forms, from the modest, sober sacrifice of the first fruits to the far more terrifying (and rare, at least in Rome) act of human sacrifice (the force of which Christianity retains in its appeal to the Crucified God). Each has, at its heart, that joyousness (or the fear of its loss) that is the gift of mere existence, and which we are normally so reluctant to resign.
As an essentially joyful act, in its more modest forms, it gives form and affirmation to human existence. The Christian instinct to offer sacrifice on Sunday is a sure one, just as the ancient pagans offered it on the Kalends and Ides. Both agree in putting aside toil and labour for the occasion, helping to maintain its joyful sense (perhaps lost in puritan sabbatarianism). It is perhaps from this instinct that the Biblical revulsion at work (which is felt to be a divine curse for disobedience) stems; that a blessed life must be a workless one is a rare point of agreement in Hebrew, Christian and pagan thought (albeit one that later thought considered must be consecrated to contemplation rather than mere idleness). Too much work, as experience teaches us, can be dehumanising, reducing us to automata that seek after mindlessness to dull the pain of mere existence. Sacrifice, in that respect, is humanising.
If the sacrificial, or cultic act, is itself humanising, not all of its forms are. The sacrifice of first fruits, of candles, of small offerings of food or incense, are healthy and modest, giving expression to the primal wonder with which we celebrate our existence. To offer thanks to the gods, or the universe, or whatever, for the mere fact of existence is one of the first stages in embracing the wondrousness of human life, which is also the starting point of philosophia, the love of wisdom. With this in mind, let us disregard the more lurid forms of sacrifice, including human sacrifice.
From General to Particular
Most thought on worship and sacrifice gives too much attention to the object (i.e. the god/s) of these things, rather than their subject (the priest, or worshipper). Sacrifice, when understood as primarily about the object, makes little sense to the modern mind, but it is far more enlightening when we consider it from the subjective point of view. If it begins as a response to the fear that the precarity of human life gives, it ends in a joyful affirmation of the sheer wonder of existence as we see day to day. Thus, the great theological controversies of history have little value for us. Let us understand it anew.
Sacrifice renews our sense of wonder, by recalling how life, the greatest gift, is both unmerited and unrequested. For better or worse, it is a gift we are given to enjoy for so many years (whether many or few) without conditions and without promise. In sorrow and in joy, it is good to call this to mind - just how existence itself is both blind and benign, leaving us to our own devices before we return to the great whatever from which we spring. It also recalls our communion with our fellow men and just how unusual consciousness and reason are. It is the sole expression of real joy in a mute universe of which we know.
Historically, sacrifice has reflected the rhythms of natural and human life, such as the changes of the seasons and the sowing and reaping of crops, as well as exceptional events such as birth and death, as well as coronation and war. The recall to wonder, coupled with the seemingly more practical aim of pleasing the gods, served to still and sanctify these moments of life. The raising of the mind to the truths of philosophy, the only "holy", is one of the most dignified acts and, with time, many of these rites became elaborate and intricate (often specific to time and place, as well). This was carried over into the more formal rites of mass, such as the pontifical mass.
In Christian spirituality, the sacrifice of Christ on the cross for the sins of men is totemic and exemplary, calling all Christians to a similar life of self-sacrifice. For the pagan, sacrifice is an act of wondrous joy at the sheer fact of existence, whatever its vicissitudes. If we cannot help but be aware of our faults, we hold that they are not "eternal" or held against us forever in some fiery furnace for even the avenging spirits grow weary and impatient. Pagan sacrifice is thus moderate, normally composed of the sacrifice of incense or some simple foods and seldom with much ceremony. The gods might be present if they so wish, but the act remains fruitful and valid. It is also the beginning of the joyousness of philosophy.
The variety of human life presents a variety of sacred rites. Those for thanksgiving over the harvest will be different to the rites that seek peace in the time of war, the latter being more solemn than the former. Moreover, proper to each god, commonly, is a certain priesthood dedicated to its rites so as to propitiate, thank and intercede with the particular deity, such as with Avenging Mars or Jupiter Optimus et Maximus ("Jupiter Best and Greatest").
Sacred Rites for Unbelievers
Two millennia of Christian thought have habituated us to thinking of gods in strangely concrete terms, as if the existence of deity was on the same level, fundamentally, as that of the number 35 'bus to Tanterton. Deity is poetry about man and his condition, which aspires to the heights of which he is capable while despising the "shallows and miseries" of his nature. Thus, the rites of deities are poetry about man and his condition, which warn and remind of these fundamental things. They are, perhaps, enacted poetry and theology, which speak to man whether Olympus is "mere myth" or no.
The Importance of Myth
The importance of myth has been made clear since the demythologisation of Christian religion in the nineteenth century. The rejection of the Crucified Jew by Nietzsche and culture more widely signals that the West lives in a time without myth, which leaves us psychologically vulnerable, poor and suffering. Myth helps us to reconcile ourselves with the realities and potentialities of human life on the existential level. Science and mathematics are, rightly, ignorant of these questions but human beings cannot be without causing grave harm to themselves. The gods are symbols whose purpose is to help us develop psychologically, without reference to its external reality (for it is psychologically true, if not on the level, say, of political history).
To conclude; ours is the task of assembling a new series of rites and their supporting myths by which men can thrive.
May the gods assist us.
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