The Sacred in Time and Space

Throughout the readings for Thursday’s class and during our discussion, I felt that we touched on the motif of the sacred in both time and space repeatedly. The Romanian author Mircea Eliade (who was, interestingly enough, formerly employed by the University of Chicago) also touches on these ideas, noting that every religion and every individual treats certain spaces and segments of time as qualitatively different and more important than other spaces and segments which are quantitatively identical; that is to say, for example, that a church, even if it occupies the same amount of space as a warehouse, holds greater psychological and metaphysical importance in the minds of Christians. I would like to discuss some of the cases in which the sacred appeared in our discussion and how this sacredness causes a ‘narrativization’ of our lives.

First, we repeatedly discussed the layout of the Tabernacle Tent, with reference to a specific Medieval diagram. The diagram demonstrates that the tent is composed of two distinct parts - an outer area (the Holy Place) enclosing a second, smaller area (where the Ark of the Covenant is kept). This layout on its own, introduces a narrative element. The tent is first introduced to us as a mystery, into which we cannot see at all. Our culture, family, etc. will presumably have informed us that this is an important place. However, once inside, the mystery only deepens, as we are exposed to new information - there is yet another tent inside, into which only certain people - namely, priests -  can go. The Tabernacle tent serves to illustrate both an example of a sacred space and to introduce one kind of narrative - the mysterious narrative - in which information is slowly given to us which often only adds to our confusion and desire to know. As an aside, the layout of Carolingian monasteries, which we discussed in class, also exemplify a Tabernacle Tent-like layout, in which the church lies inside the wall of the monastery, which itself is a kind of sacred envelopment.

Second, we have discussed over multiple classes the importance and meaning of books - specifically in relation to their use as ‘conversion devices’ for Pagan England but also in general. The book, I think, serves as an unusual but interesting instance of the exact same phenomenon as the Tabernacle Tent. The St. Augustine Gospels, which we have looked at, is sacred in that it has great historical and religious significance, making it more important than, say, a rock of the same size and weight. Furthermore, like all books, it exemplifies the mysterious narrative discussed above. It does not, unlike a scroll or a painting, make all of its contents known right away. On the contrary, one has to actively seek out the information contained in it, with each new page revealing something new, but also encouraging further reading.

Third, to come to the main topic of Thursday’s class, the Psalms, we encounter both a different type of sacrality and of narrative. We discussed how chanting/singing the Psalms was a staple of monastery life for Benedictine monks around the time of Charlemagne. These Psalms were to be memorized and were always sung at a particular time of day. Here, we see a clear example of sacred time - the time in which the Psalms are sung, although quantitatively unremarkable with reference to, for instance, lunchtime, carry a far weightier load, in that skipping lunch means a few hours of extra hungriness, whereas skipping the singing of the Psalms might place a monk in both terrestrial and spiritual trouble. However, this example also presents a different kind of narrative - the unmysterious narrative. The singing of the Psalms forms a narrative in the sense that it is a kind of rock or anchor for the ‘story’ of the day and is unmysterious in that memorized lines are simply repeated - everyone involved already knows what is going to happen. 

So, what do we make of all of this? What’s the point of the mysterious and the unmysterious narrative? What do they tell us about ourselves and our understanding of the world? While I don’t pretend to have the answers to these questions, I can offer my best guess. I think that these two kinds of narratives reflect the two parts of what it means for something to be sacred. For something to be sacred it must, of course, be known, and therefore unmysterious, so that it can be distinguished from other things. However, sacredness also indicates mystery for a couple reasons worth discussing. First, there’s the mystery of what it even means for something to be sacred from a pure biological or materialist level - what evolutionary reason do we have to view two things with equal utility for our survival (a church and a warehouse, for example) as deeply different? I think that even someone who had never been exposed to Christianity, or religion at all, could tell you that the church is the more important building. But why? There is also a second, and less interesting reason, that mystery inspires sacrality, which is simply speculation. Without full knowledge or understanding one’s mind (and some people’s minds more than others) tends to wander, developing theories and generally keeping one occupied with what the secret could be rather than on the mundane; in other words, mysterious things are just more interesting than mundane, known things and will be conferred some importance for that reason alone. Sacredness is mysterious and vice versa.

—LM