Film as Religion, Second Edition. John C. Lyden

in their view of time—or at least exalts the nonhistorical (i.e., mythical) aspects of Western religion as more effective in relating the sacred to human life. He also tends to assume that all cultures use basically the same cosmogonic, cyclical notion of myth, which may be a generalization without basis.

      One thing for which Eliade deserves credit is his effort to avoid reductionism, as he was just as concerned as Geertz to provide a method that does not reduce religion to an expression of psychological or sociological forces. In order to do this, Eliade relied on a concept of the sacred as the transcendent (as in Rudolf Otto’s studies) more than as an expression of society (as in Durkheim’s studies). In practice, this means that his method does not work as well with those religions that lack a radical concept of transcendence, as we have seen. Geertz, to a greater extent than Eliade, avoided reductionism without such a “theological” concept of the sacred as the radically transcendent, but both of them understood the dialectical relationship between the sacred and the profane as one in which neither term can be reduced to the other, and there is considerable interaction between the two in both of their theories. Just as Geertz held that there is slippage between the commonsense worldview and the religious worldview, so Eliade finds the profane can be a vehicle for the sacred even as there is a continual alteration between the profane worldview and the sacred worldview. Myth gains its relevance, for both thinkers, by providing a link between the ideal world of the sacred and the ordinary world of the profane—even as I have suggested that films make a similar connection between the ideal and the real.

      Jonathan Z. Smith

      Jonathan Z. Smith is one of those religion scholars who admits his debt to Eliade even as he provides some criticisms of him. Smith finds Eliade’s dichotomy of “archaic” and “modern” religion problematic, especially insofar as it may imply a periodization that is artificial. Smith believes that the two forms of religion Eliade characterizes as mythic-cyclical and historical might be better referred to as “locative” (place-centered) religion and “utopian” (future-centered) religion—although here too one must be wary of implying a development from one to the other, as both appear throughout the history of religions. More significantly, Smith calls attention to the “dark side” of religious myths, which do not always deal with a cosmogonic unity and harmony that is to be reproduced as a source of order and new life. Instead, many myths deal with unresolved conflicts and tensions in life between good and evil, order and chaos. It is not that chaos is repeatedly overcome by creation, as Eliade would have it, but that chaos itself is a continual source of power, just as sacred as its converse. Smith finds myths to be more dualistic, especially in those stories that deal with outsider figures (like tricksters) that challenge the normal way of seeing or doing things.34 In addition to calling attention to such dualism and conflict in myth and ritual, Smith has focused on the importance of the particular in his studies of religion and so is suspicious of the sort of generalizations about “the sacred” that characterize the work of Eliade and other scholars.35

      Smith also criticizes those views that make it seem as if nonliterate peoples have a “primitive” and, to us, incomprehensible understanding of myth or that romanticize the “pristine” nature of this worldview as one that lacks skepticism, the ability to make distinctions, or critical thought. In such views, according to Smith, the “primitive” is viewed as incapable of “those perceptions of discrepancy and discord which give rise to the symbolic project that we identify as the very essence of being human.”36 In contrast, Smith believes that every culture, modern or not, reflects on the incongruities of its experiences and develops ways of dealing with those incongruities and tensions. For this reason, Smith insists that “there is no pristine myth; there is only application.” Myths exist as particular strategies for dealing with particular situations, and so there is no single form for all myths (e.g., Campbell’s “monomyth” or Eliade’s cosmogony) nor a pure myth that exists apart from the social context in which it is lived. As a strategy for dealing with incongruity in life, myth is “a self-conscious category mistake. That is to say, the incongruity of myth is not an error, it is the very source of its power.” Myths do not seek to overcome incongruity, but (like jokes or riddles) they delight in the incongruous fit of disparate elements.37

      Smith gives some examples to illustrate his view of myth. The story of Hainuwele from the Wemale tribe of Ceram (near New Guinea) deals with a girl who is born in a supernatural manner and who has the ability to excrete valuable items, “cargo” from other lands such as porcelain dishes and golden earrings. Her tribesmen kill her out of jealousy, and her dismembered body is buried, out of which grows various new plant species. The classic interpretation of this myth, by Adolf Jensen, viewed this as an example of the “pristine” myth of the origin of vegetation, death, and sexuality, which has been “corrupted” in its application by reference to modern items. But Smith points out that the story is not about origins at all, as death, agriculture, and sex all exist at the beginning of the story. Instead, it is a story developed to deal with the arrival of outsiders who have “cargo” that the Wemale do not. As the white outsiders did not share these goods equally with the Wemale (as Wemale morality dictated they ought), the Wemale developed this story to explain that the cargo came from their own people, who made it their own by assimilating (i.e., killing) its source and transforming the cargo into the local food. Even though this myth does not result in the desired equalization of wealth, it speaks of a fully intelligible desire for such equality that is not incomprehensible to the outsider. In other words, the myth does not express a worldview that is totally alien to our own.38

      Smith also discusses the Enuma Elish, the ancient Babylonian text that was understood by Eliade and others as a prime example of a cosmogony. According to the cosmogonic interpretation of this myth, it reenacts the creation and guarantees new life through a symbolic death and resurrection of the king. Smith, however, argues that the myth is not primarily about creation, death, or resurrection to new life but rather about the founding of Babylon and its divine kingship by the god Marduk. As such, it is a more political and historically conditioned text than is sometimes realized, as it acts to establish the legitimacy of the current rulers of Babylon. The associated ritual of the Akita festival involves a staged slapping and humiliation of the king, who is stripped of his royal garments and who engages in a negative confession (claiming he has done no wrong) before being restored. This is no symbolic death and resurrection that reenacts the cosmic cycle of life and death but an implied threat of what will happen to a poor ruler. Unless one rules wisely and protects Babylon, as the king claims he has in the ritual, he will be judged and destroyed. This ritual had particular relevance at the time when it was written, a period during which Babylon was occupied by the Seleucids, so it acts as “a ritual for the rectification of a foreign king.” In other words, Babylonians could accept a foreign ruler as long as he promised to comport himself as a native ruler would, and this ritual enacted both the threatened judgment (if he ruled poorly) and the promised acceptance (if he ruled well). The myth is used to deal with the tense situation of foreign occupation and provides a means to legitimize it.39

      Smith then wants us to understand myths in their local sociopolitical context and not homologize them to a single idea or concept. To understand a myth, we must understand its cultural and historical situation and how it speaks to the people who tell it in that place and time. This does not mean that he reduces myths to simply political strategies, but he insists that we deal with the context in which they have meaning, and this point is well taken. Smith’s emphasis on the importance of understanding the particular details of religions and myths is perhaps his most significant legacy as a scholar of religion.

      It may be, however, that Smith insists too much on incongruity, to the point that myths cannot possibly resolve the conflicts with which they deal. One may hear some echoes of Lévi-Strauss’s notion of myth as involving an attempt to resolve a fundamental conflict that is doomed to fail. For Lévi-Strauss, this functioned as part of his romanticized concept of the mythic and illogical “savage” whose worldview loses credibility as soon as it is exposed to analysis. Smith has made it very clear that he does not wish to turn the myth teller into an alien and illogical creature, but it is sometimes unclear how he can avoid viewing mythological cultures in this way, given his assumptions.

      One can also ask if the incongruity is as all-encompassing as he believes and whether the myth