Spiritual practices, when most relevant to us, intersect with all aspects of our being. Beltane, as a welcoming of spring and the earth’s fertility as she wakes from her winter slumber, often celebrates humans as sexual creatures. This particular rite, written by boy bill, invites us all to come as we are, in the complexity of our identities: as queer, leather, pagan – whatever it may be.
Bring your full self in. Leave nothing at the door.
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What makes us spiritual beings?
In those moments where the sacred intersects with the profane, we can sometimes find space for healing and coming into ourselves. With this powerful shoot, we explored the iconography of the crucifixion through the lens of BDSM, creating a space for release through flagellation, blood, and tears.
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Nobody is a smooth intermingling of labels and identities. Often, it is where the edges of identities butt up against one another that we find the most friction – which can, sometimes, be our source of strength. A Roman Catholic upbringing and queer identity brought us to a couple of spaces traditionally utilized for meditation to focus in on the way these identities intermix.
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Were I to say to you “tell me what a unicorn is”, you would start with the horn. It would likely be a pristine white color, and generally horse-like, but just a little bigger, just a little better. There might be sparkles, and somewhere in the background, there’s probably a virgin. If I asked you to tell me what unicorns did, you might say that they were the protectors of their forests, noble beasts, repositories of the remaining magic on this earth, or possibly chilling somewhere in Vegas with Bigfoot, Elvis, and the Loch Ness monster.
But why do legendary creatures set our imaginations on fire? While it is very unlikely that most of these beings currently exist, they are still part of our collective consciousness. They set us afire with longing; mysteries come to life. As we tell stories about the unknowable, we begin to glimpse behind the curtain of everyday life and perhaps gain an understanding of something larger. In speaking of myth, we bring it into the realm of understanding and create a connection with the unknowable. Mythological creatures serve as a tangible connection with the divine – whether good or evil. In this role, unicorns serve as a link to facilitating greater understanding of human existence and the ways in which connection to the concept of a higher power may influence that experience.
Origins of the Unicorn Myth
Where did the unicorn come from anyways? While it’s possible that some enterprising trickster thought of plonking a horn on a horse in ancient times and parading it around for all and sundry to see, it is unlikely the answer is that simple. Our current understanding of the unicorn as a one-horned horse is very different from historical accounts of the creature. Indeed, the idea of the unicorn has only remained universal in the loosest of senses; while it has always had a horn, four feet and a tail – and was otherwise generally mammalian – its size has ranged from that of a goat to rhinoceros. Sometimes its hooves are cloven, and at others solid. The horn may be smooth, or ridged, or spiraled, and may range from black to pearlescent white in color, and between eight and thirty-six inches in length (Lavers). Its color ranges, too, but has most commonly been white, red or black, and may have a goat-like beard. Or not.
In character, the unicorn has most often been portrayed as fierce, fast and solitary. But how did these diverse physical characteristics coalesce into our modern understanding of the flawless unicorn? Current research suggests that the myth first originated somewhere in the Tibetan plateaus. In The Natural History of Unicorns, Chris Lavers notes that the first account of a unicorn-like creature was recorded by Ctesias of Cnidus in 398 BCE:
There are in India certain wild asses which are as large as horses, and larger. Their bodies are white, their heads dark red, and their eyes dark blue. They have a horn on the forehead which is about a foot and a half in length. The base of this horn, for some two hand’s-breadth above the brow, is pure white; the upper part is sharp and of a vivid crimson; and the remainder, or middle portion, is black.
Here, then, we see the seeds of the unicorn myth. While there exist earlier oral accounts of the unicorn myth, Ctesias’ account is to date the earliest known written account. The distinctive horn and coloration is introduced. These characteristics are similar to other animals which inhabit the Tibetan Plateau, as we shall see below.
Ctesias goes on to speak of the efficacious properties of the horn, noting that “Those who drink out of these horns, made into drinking vessels, are not subject, they say, to convulsions or to the holy disease [epilepsy]. Indeed, they are immune even to poisons, if, either before or after swallowing such, they drink wine, water, or anything else from these beakers” (1-2). Magic and medicine were much the same to Ctesias and his contemporaries. As a learned man and doctor of no small repute himself, Ctesias understood the complex connection between an individual’s physical health, their mental emotional state, and the unknowable – that reached by faith, most often understood as god/s. Healing, while a science, was a
lso a mystery, and cures were as often seen as signs of the god’s favor as the outcome of a doctor’s skill. It was not, therefore, unreasonable to assign magical properties to the unicorn’s horn and consider it to be as factually true as those of us living in the twenty-first century consider the Law of Gravity. Magic was not ridiculous or whimsy; it was a filter for explaining the seemingly unexplainable, in the same way Western society uses science today. Ctesias goes on to speak of the nature of the unicorn, its solitary ways, its fierce demeanor in protection of its young, and the fact that it can only be killed at great risk, but never taken alive.
In the Caucasus Mountains there exist stories and songs which have been preserved largely intact from generation to generation through a strong community understanding of ritual. In “The Association of the Lady and the Unicorn, and the Hunting Mythology of the Caucasus,” author David Hunt notes that in classical descriptions of the unicorn “nearly all refer to hunting and often to mountains. In high mountainous areas of Europe and the near East, the most important prey animal for hunters is typically a goat, ibex or chamois” (75). The animal thus described, then, is of the same general conformation as the unicorn: fast, agile, horned and solitary. If seen in profile, as in the case of the Ibex above, it is understandable that such a creature could be taken as having one horn from a distance.
Of Virility and Virgins
As belief in the unicorn spread, its qualities – physical, mental, emotional and spiritual – continued to grow and change. Like a game of telephone where people whisper messages in an ongoing chain from one ear to another, understanding of the unicorn morphed from its origins. The further removed it became from its original source, the greater the mystery, the deeper the symbology. While the original beast may have been a wild ass or a goat or even a rhinoceros, our current understanding of the unicorn is so far from its earthly origins as to make such considerations largely irrelevant. The unicorn of myth has transcended its physical state and become something greater.
This practice is not uncommon; eschewing the fleshy form for a higher state. Buddha, Jesus, Hercules and any number of heroes, spiritual warriors, and visionaries exist as conceptual transcendental symbols. But these are human links to the divine; they reveal what is possible for us. Mythological creatures are a connection between the natural world and the divine, helping us realize the web of interdependence and the ways in which everyone and everything is connected.
That sense of connection between humans and the natural world is particularly relevant when considering the unicorn myth. From the inception of its tale, the unicorn has almost always been paired with a woman. Hunt notes this, saying “The lady mounted on the two-headed deer, depicted on the bronze buckle [Figure 2] from the Old Hellenic period, shows that the association of a lady with a hunting-prey animal is very ancient in the Caucasus, going back to well before the Christian era” (82). One might wonder why a woman would be paired with a beast of prey when hunting-based cultures typically divided duties along the lines of patriarchal gender roles where home was the demesne of the woman and those external duties (hunting, gaining livelihood for the household) were the bailiwick of men.
Further examination, however, clarifies the issue. Although hunting is traditionally the purview of the man, domestic duties, including that of herding tamed beasts, would often fall to the woman. Hunt comments on this: “In all hunting cultures there is an owner; sometimes a master, but more often a mistress of the beasts” (75). Logically, then, a woman is paired with the unicorn myth. And as the unicorn myth develops, it attracts meanings like iron fillings to a magnet, often centered around the dualities represented in the female human/male beast pairing: feminine and masculine; chastity and virility; control and passion; sinner and saint.
And lest we become too focused on the otherworldly qualities of the transcendental unicorn, we are reminded of his ardor through his horn. While he is as often as not visually portrayed without the necessary equipment for successful copulation (as we might understand it – although who really knows how unicorns procreate?), the rampant horn asserts his ever-ready nature. Jeffery Cohen pithily notes: “The beautiful unicorn cannot be captured by hunters, but if a chaste maiden offers her lap, he is happy to lay his head there; lest the image become suggestive, the reader is told immediately that the unicorn is Christ, the virgin is Mary, and there is (by implication) nothing sexual about this strange equine’s ardor for placing his long horn in maidenly laps” (71).
Attachment of the unicorn to the Roman Catholic Church and Jesus and Mary in particular likely grew out of the Church’s practice of co-opting existing beliefs to further spread its influence. One of the Church’s most effective tactics, which resulted in its nearly viral spread across the majority of Europe and into the near East, was that of adapting its theology and celebrations to pre-existing pagan practices. While this practice was by no means universal, as the Church was just as likely to covert the “godless heathens” by means of brutal force, this practice – utilizing the carrot instead of the stick, as it were – generally met with greater long-term success.
By placing a Catholic patina over the already existing framework, the Church could utilize existing structures and easily convert cultural groups to their teachings through persuasion rather than coercion. People were still allowed – and, in most cases, encouraged – to engage in seasonal celebrations, although generally without such outright attention to fecundity as may have previously been present. Demigods were sainted, and old holy sites re-sanctified under one God with a capital g. Within a few generations, communities which were previously pagan had become effectively Roman Catholic, often with very little understanding that things had once been different.
Through this mechanism, then, the unicorn mythos was most likely adapted to a Christian framework. And it dovetailed nicely; the dualities represented, the semi-deification of the apocryphal woman and the virile beast allowed for a neat symbolic transposition to Mary and Jesus. In the following passage from Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose, Brother William and his young apprentice, Adso, discuss the probability of the existence of the Unicorn, and the significance of its symbolism.
“But is the unicorn a falsehood? It’s the sweetest of animals and a noble symbol. It stands for Christ, and for chastity; it can be captured only by setting a virgin in the forest so that the animal, catching her most chaste odor, will go and lay its head in her lap, offering itself as prey to the hunters’ snares.”
“So it is said, Adso. But many tend to believe that it’s a fable, an invention of the pagans….”
“The unicorn, as these books speak of him, embodies a moral truth, or allegorical, or analogical, but one that remains true, as the idea that chastity is a noble virtue remains true. But as for the literal truth that sustains the other three truths, we have yet to see what original experience gave birth to the letter. The literal object must be discussed, even if its higher meaning remains good (379-381).”
What is important, then, when considering the unicorn, becomes not so much its existence in a form we would recognize as unequivocally “unicorny” but what the creature signifies. In associating it with the Jesus/Mary mythos, the Church transformed the unicorn into a symbol of virtues, far removed from its physical origins. Focus was placed not on the flesh but upon what lays beyond, upon a person’s character, the development of virtues, and an individual’s enduring soul as defined by the Church.
Through their dual associations with virility and faith, unicorns became a popular symbol for coats of arms during the middle ages and throughout the renaissance. These mythical beasts can be seen representing noble houses across country lines; from England to Eastern European countries and beyond. Wherever the Catholic Church made its presence known one is likely to see the unicorn.
The coat of arms seen here is from seventeenth-century Germany. The unicorn is represented rampant both times; hooves up, as if ready to take on any foes and defend his country, courageous and true (Wade, 85). The red of the unicorn reinforces this attitude; red is the color of military prowess, and also known as “the martyr’s color” (Wade, 36). The gold of the hooves balances this fervor; or, as it is called when referring to heraldry is indicative of generosity, and the spirit of a true knight. This is further reinforced by the or sheaves of grain on azure (blue) which rise from the vert (green) earth. It is likely that the person who chose this coat of arms wished to be seen as someone with deep ties to country, faith and duty. The unicorn here is a righteous protector, never acting in anger, gentle to those beneath him, respectful to his peers and those above, and fearless in battle.
We can then see it is in this time period that our understanding of the unicorn as we conceive of it today becomes clear. He has been purified, sanctified, and glorified. The symbolic stunt-double of Christ, the unicorn is now holy (Gotfredsen, 75). With the passage of years, the understanding of unicorn-as-Jesus weakens (Gotfredsen, 130), but he still remains a symbol of virtue, an untouchable and unknowable entity.
Everybody Poops, Even Unicorns: Unicorns in Popular Culture
When we look contemporary popular culture, however, the unicorn has undergone an interesting metamorphosis. Instead of focusing on those things which make the mythic creature divine, attention is now given to its corporeal form. With the unicorn, we ask the questions that we would never consider applying to Jesus or Buddha: do unicorns poop, and if so, is that where rainbows come from? What happens when they get sick?
In the spirit of satire (and, no doubt, to make a decent profit), ThinkGeek.com has even gone so far as to offer a product called Canned Unicorn Meat. This non-edible novelty resembles a can of SPAM, and is advertised as an excellent source of sparkles. Such products are not unusual, either; recipes exist for unicorn poop cookies, and a search on Google will net a number of creative and unconventional products, ranging from tee shirts to individually crafted works of art.
Perhaps this focus on the bodily functions of the mythical beast is a new way of creating connection with the divine. As fleshy creatures, we are bound to certain physical necessities, whether for good or ill. Our human body, and the passions and desires and needs which it produces, inform our experience in this life. While we are gifted with the ability to look beyond the curtain of this physical existence as beings who can reason, feel, and dream, we cannot step beyond without leaving our bodies behind. We are fettered – and freed – by experiencing this life as corporeal creatures. By breaking down the barriers of mystery through focusing on relatable aspects, we gain an opportunity to realize the ways in which we are all interconnected. At the end of the day, everybody poops, even unicorns.
Works Cited
Cohen, Jeffrey Jerome. “Animals, Sexual Symbolism of.” Encyclopedia of Sex and Gender. Ed. Fedwa Malti-Douglas. Vol. 1. Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2007. 68-71. Gale Virtual Reference Library. Web. 5 May 2012.
Dureau, Yona. “The Metamorphosis of a Signifier Vs. an Iconic Signified: The Unicorn – A Case Study.” Semiotica: Journal of the International Association for Semiotic Studies/Revue De L’association Internationale De Sémiotique 128.1-2 (2000): 35-68. MLA International Bibliography. Web. 28 Apr. 2012.
Eco, Umberto. The Name of the Rose. New Yord: Warner Books, 1983. Print.
Gotfredsen, Lise. The Unicorn. New York: Abbeville, 1999. Print.
Hunt, David. “The Association of the Lady and the Unicorn, and the Hunting Mythology of the Caucasus.” Folklore 114.1 (2003): 75-90. Print.
Lavers, Chris. The Natural History of Unicorns. New York: William Morrow, 2009. Print.
Mohacsy, Ildiko. “The Legend of the Unicorn: An Illumination of the Maternal Split.” Journal of the American Academy of Psychoanalysis 12.3 (1984): 387-412. Print.
Nelsen, Marilyn Janice. “Re-Membering the Soul through the Senses: Meditations, Reflections, and Reveries on ‘the Lady and the Unicorn’ Tapestry.” ProQuest Information & Learning, 2004. Print.US.
Theokritoff, Elizabeth. “Of Trees and Unicorns : Images of the Precious Cross.” Sourozh 78 (1999): 37-42. ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials. Web. 28 Apr. 2012.
Wade, William Cecil. The Symbolisms of Heraldry. London: G. Redway, 1898. Print.
Zeckel, Adolf. “The Totemistic Significance of the Unicorn.” Psychoanalysis and Culture; Essays in Honor of Géza Róheim. Eds. George B. Wilbur and Warner Muensterberger. Oxford England: International Universities Press, 1951. 344-360. Print.
This paper was written for Academic Research and Writing, offered at Marylhurst University, Winter 2012.
There has been a great deal of positive forward movement towards the acceptance of gays and lesbians within Christian faiths during the last thirty years. Opening and accepting congregations have taken steps to welcome people whose only difference from their heterosexual counterparts is, purportedly, that they engage in romantic and intimate sexual relationships with people of the same gender as their own. The “we’re just like you” argument, coupled with the notion of the immutability of sexual orientation, has helped make gay and lesbian identities more normative – and if not actively accepted, at least tolerated.
However, sexual orientation is not a monolithic identifier. Just as there are a myriad of ways to be heterosexual, so are there a myriad of ways in which people are not. Gay and lesbian are not the only non-heterosexual identities; there are people who are bisexual, pansexual, omnisexual, asexual, queer… the list goes on. These labels, which are almost always bestowed by individuals upon themselves, do not fit neatly into the dichotomous framework of male-female and heterosexual-homosexual. They are, however, most often subsumed into the binary system with little attention given to the nuances of personal identity and the positionality that adopting such a label usually signifies. When considering matters of religion, then, it becomes necessary to be open to a queer approach to theology in order to serve those who would fall through the cracks of neglect and disinterest otherwise.
Queer as an Operational Framework
I had to take my car to the mechanic this afternoon, where a mechanic referred to me with feminine pronouns – something that rarely happens to me these days. I was grateful, ultimately, when the shop said they couldn’t do the work because of the peculiarities of my vehicle, and I moved on to a shop which specialized in my car. As a person with both a queer sexuality and gender identity, I regularly think about the ways in which I am perceived: what impression did I make? What do they think of me? Do they think I am straight? Gay? Man? Woman?
Even though I usually pass as a white, heterosexual, cisgendered male, and am regarded with the attendant privilege that comes with being perceived as a member of that group, my identity is more complex. In moments like the one this afternoon, I am sharply reminded of the precarity of my identity, and the ways in which it is both self-constructed and imposed by the expectations of others and society. My identity as a masculine-expressing person – one who shaves and is balding – does not match, to most people, my upbringing as a girl who loved dresses and the color yellow.
This, however, could be explained – and even accepted – within a binary framework if I ascribed to easily explainable labels when organizing my identity along sexuality and gender, like female-to-male and gay. But I do not sit comfortably in either of those identities; my gender, while most certainly masculine-expressing, is not unequivocally male, and my romantic and physical attraction to people is not predicated on an individual’s gender identity. Therefore queer becomes a useful term along which to organize my personal understanding of self and the ways in which I desire to be seen in the world.
But what does adopting queer as a self-identifying label mean? In Saint Foucault: Towards a Gay Hagiography, author David Halperin described it thusly:
Queer is by definition whatever is at odds with the normal, the legitimate, the dominant. There is nothing in particular to which it necessarily refers. It is an identity without an essence. ‘Queer’ then, demarcates not a positivity but a positionality vis-à-vis the normative” (62).
Queer identity, then, becomes a matter of positionality against whatever may be considered normal – which can and does vary from culture to culture and context to context. In this sense, it becomes inclusive – for by refusing to explicitly define as a certain way of being in the world, it becomes open to interpretation. Its value becomes whatever the individual assigns to it, with its most important factor remaining constant: a positionality of subversion to societal norms.
American philosopher Judith Butler, a champion of queer as an identity, remarked on its inclusiveness in a 2001 interview:
My understanding of queer is a term that desires that you don’t have to present an identity card before entering a meeting. Heterosexuals can join the queer movement. Bisexuals can join the queer movement. Queer is not being lesbian. Queer is not being gay…Queer is an argument against certain normativity, what a proper lesbian or gay identity is.
But it is this very inclusiveness which critics find threatening. The lack of discrete identity qualifiers, the endless questioning of normative conventions, and the deconstruction of those norms would seem to result in nothing but unlabeled chaos.
Yet queer as an identity and as an academic approach to theology is a critical tool for understanding the multiplicity of identities which create individuals and cultures. Robert F. Goss discusses this in “Queer Theologies as Transgressive Metaphors: New Paradigms for Hybrid Sexual Theologies,” saying that “[q]ueer theorists argue that identities are always multiple, hybrid, provisional, or composite in which an infinite number of identity markers can combine to form new sites of knowledge” (45). No person’s identity is static, and no label forms the composite sum of a population. Queer theory helps us to refrain from tokenizing individuals through seeing them only as the archetypal representative of a label or invisibilizing their identity altogether by subsuming it into that of a larger population to which the individual may not even self-identify with.
By being committed to a queer perspective, we engage in “a constant postmodern subverting the paradigm(s) into ever-widening margins of conversation. This includes our own identity markers. Otherwise, we privilege our identity over others. Thus, ‘queering’ or transgressing the queer is concerned to include everyone and to speak for no one in particular” (Goss, 47). The praxis of queer theory was a direct outgrowth of feminist and minority culture perspectives; as such, its approach is directly linked with and advocates for social justice.
The Need for Queer Theology
The origins of prejudice against non-heterosexual identities in Christianity is generally attributed back to the six “clobber” passages. In At the Intersection of Church and Gay, Eric Rodriguez elaborates:
Six passages from the Bible (Genesis, 19:1–28; Leviticus, 18:22, 20:13; Romans, 1:26,27; I Corinthians, 6:9; I Timothy, 1:10) have generally been used to support the contention that homosexuality is a sin. Based on these passages, Christian doctrine has decreed homosexuality to be “unnatural,” a “perversion,” and an “abomination in the eyes of God” (Clark, Brown, & Hochstein, 1990; Greenberg & Bystryn, 1982; Keysor, 1979; Scanzoni & Mollenkott, 1978). While a few Christian denominations (i.e., the United Church of Christ and the Religious Society of Friends [Quakers]) view homosexuality in a more positive light, the preponderance of mainstream Christian denominations does not (Ellison, 1993; Mahaffy, 1996). In one study, 72% of Christian religious organizations surveyed condemned homosexuals and homosexuality as being an abomination (Melton, 1991).
Andrew Yip confirms this, saying “religious texts constitute the primary, though not exclusive, basis for the censure of homosexuality” (49).
One can note that negative attitudes towards queer people are endemic within Christian communities. This prejudice results in a drastically underserved population, whose unique needs as an oppressed minority culture are ignored altogether, with focus placed on “curing” the individual of their undesirable sexuality or at least invisibilizing it to the point that the individual’s sexual identity is effectively removed as something undesirable. Normative apologist approaches are equally problematic; the focus in welcoming and accepting church communities is often that of the immutable nature of sexuality and gender.
The immutability argument is great for those who fit – or are made to fit – into normative identities of straight, gay and lesbian. Goss notes that as “scholars in religion, we have, however, fallen into a trap that makes hetero/homo gender preference exclusive metacategories of sexual identity. There are other homosexuals who do not fit into the categories of heterosexual, lesbian, and gay” (44). But for those individuals who fall outside the narrow confines of those identities – the result is that of alienation, and an understanding that in order to be welcome a person must fit in one of the small, socially defined boxes instead of being allowed to experience faith as a person with all aspects of their identity fully integrated – social, sexual, religious and so on. Goss further elaborates, speaking from his personal experience: “Heteronormative theology excludes me except in its hermeneutics of abomination while gay normative theology excludes me in its apologetic attempts to assimilate into mainstream culture” (46).
My own personal experience has confirmed this; as a person who tried desperately to fit into the available molds presented at the cost of personal happiness. The person I am today is the result of hard-won and ongoing work, and of consciously making the decision – several times in my life – to divorce myself from a pre-existing framework which viewed me as fundamentally flawed. Queering theology allows us to look at existing institutional prejudice, and work to dismantle oppressive systems. Goss speaks to this:
Hopefully, we may expose all traces of privilege within our own theological discourse, any traces of American white supremacism, centrism, sexism, biphobia and transphobia. Thus we may become more responsible in making new hybrid voices accessible to ourselves, the academy, and our theological constituencies (52).
The act of queering theology is not just relevant to sexual and gender minorities, however. It becomes a tool of much larger scope, allowing us to create space for a diverse array of individuals, regardless of their race, culture, economic status, religion, physical or mental ability, age, or any other factor which may serve as a locus of identity either to themselves or as perceived by others.
Queer theology is, at its heart, a discursive, social-justice centered, liberationist approach to matters of religion and faith. Goss notes that as an act, “[q]ueering is ultimately opening space to new immigrant identities to articulate their own perspectives” (50). Through a willingness to engage in dialogue, however challenging, we work toward making the religious experience one which has relevance to an underserved and underrepresented population. There currently exists a culture of shame which bars us from serving those who we perceive as different. Through letting go of our attachment to binary frameworks and respecting the multiplicity of identities that comprise every person’s experience, we become better advocates and allies for the populations we serve. By employing a queer perspective, we can work to reclaim theology from its service to existing systemic institutionalized prejudice. With a queer theology, we can reclaim religion and faith to serve all of humanity by radically, actively accepting every person with respect and compassion.
Works Cited
Rodriguez, Eric M. “At the Intersection of Church and Gay: A Review of the Psychological Research on Gay and Lesbian Christians.” Journal of Homosexuality 57.1 (2010): 5-38. Academic Search Complete. Web. 15 May, 2012.
Goss, Robert F. “Queer Theologies as Transgressive Metaphors: New Paradigms for Hybrid Sexual Theologies.” Theology & Sexuality: The Journal of the Institute for the Study of Christianity & Sexuality 5.10 (1999): 43. Academic Search Complete. Web. 15 May 2012.
Halperin, David M. Saint Foucault: Towards a Gay Hagiography. New York: Oxford UP, 1995. Print.
Michalik, Regina. “The Desire for Philosophy: An Interview with Judith Butler.” Lolapress.org. Lola Press, 2001. Web. 15 May 2012.
Yip, Andrew K. T. “Queering Religious Texts: An Exploration of British Non-Heterosexual Christians and Muslims Strategy of Constructing Sexuality- Affirming Hermeneutics.” Sociology 39.1 (2005): 47-65. Academic Search Complete. Web. 15 May 2012.
This paper was originally written for Foundations of Religious Studies and Philosophy, offered at Marylhurst University, Winter 2012.
In contemporary Western culture, sex and gender are often conflated. Sexual identity is predicated on one’s assigned gender; if a person is assigned male at birth, then they must perforce be heterosexual and attracted to individuals assigned female at birth. Genitals, of course, are the arbiters of destiny in this case. Regardless of the fact that nearly 1 in 1,500 births result in an intersexed individual or person with ambiguous genitalia (ISNA), there are still only two optimal configurations: heterosexual male and heterosexual female. Genitalia, however, are not always indicators of gender identity or sexual orientation, and many cultures provide room for this kind of diversity of expression. Native American cultures, when considered as a loose composite, are one such example.
A Note on Terminology and Approach
In discussing the topic of Two-Spirit people I find it important to note that I approach this as an outsider; while my gender and sexuality are queer, my cultural upbringing is that of a white European descent individual. My knowledge, therefore, is gleaned outside of the contexts of Native American culture. While I do my best in the writing of this to be mindful of refraining from undue analysis through my own framework, this paper is still composed from the remove of one who has not intimately lived a Native American or Two-Spirit identity.
I find it worthwhile to note this because of the ways in which Western ideas have permeated scholarly approach to Two-Spirit people, encouraging a dismissive attitude to any approach to gender and sexuality which is not rigidly binary. For example, the pejorative term berdache is often found in contemporary sources. Notably, a recent textbook on LGBTQ history and identity, Finding Out, uses the term to describe Two-Spirit people even while noting that “European explorers brought with them the term berdache, now often used to describe Native American postcontact gender nonconformists” (15.) The book goes on to briefly and dismissively describe Two-Spirit gender identity and sexual expression through a Western framework, effectively removing any Native perspective or first-person cultural understanding from the dialogue.
While the concept of history being written by the winners is not uncommon, in order to be better scholars and allies we must be able to approach cultures and histories which have been silenced and oppressed with respect and an awareness that the framework from which we approach life is very different from the lived experiences of those who have lived with marginalized circumstances or identities. The term berdache is especially troublesome not only because it was an identity imposed by outsiders but because of its meaning as noted by glbtq: An Encyclopedia of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual,
Transgender, and Queer Culture as it is a term “which was defined in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century French dictionaries as ‘a young man who is shamefully abused’ or ‘a young man or boy who serves as another’s succubus, permitting sodomy to be committed on him’” (Stryker.) The term itself, then, is deeply judgmental. In Transgender Warriors, Leslie Feinberg speaks on this, saying
The blanket use of the word disregarded distinctions of self-expression, social interaction and complex economic and political realities. Native nations had many respectful words in their own languages to describe such people; Gay American Indians (GAI) has gathered a valuable list of these words. However, cultural genocide has destroyed and altered Native languages and traditions. So Native people ask that the term “Two-Spirit” be used to replace the offensive colonial word – a request I respect (21.)
And it is with this in mind that I do my best to write from a space of respect towards Native traditions and Two-Spirit people in particular.
What Does Two-Spirit Mean?
Two-Spirit identity is one of inclusion. There is not an easily analogous identity in Western culture; the closest we might come is queer, but the definition of Two-Spirit is larger than a personal or political identity, especially when considered against the backdrop of Native American community. Western culture in general and Americans in specific place priority on the individual – I, me, myself becomes the most important arbiter in a person’s life. Native American society, however, largely places a higher priority on the entire community: what does an individual have to offer to the whole, and how can everyone benefit, together?
Therefore, when considering the individual, one must also consider the community. While this is true with any person, it is especially pertinent in cultures where priority is placed on the community over the individual. Native wisdom traditions teach of universal oneness: interconnectedness between the physical and the non-physical; self and other; earth, animal, element, plant and person; spiritual and secular. Spiritual practice is not necessarily separate from everyday intent; instead, the mundane is rife with mystery, if we but know how to see. In Dancing the Dream: The Seven Sacred Paths of Human Transformation, Jamie Sams says “when the desire to spiritually evolve begins to emerge, some people adopt the judgmental ideas that spirituality is desirable, and therefore, that physicality is not as important as spirituality” (245.)
To believe that physicality is just as important as spirituality is a radical belief to the Western mind. If raised in a Christ-centered framework, we are generally taught to believe that flesh is temporary; spirit, eternal. And while this is parallel to Native wisdom traditions, the attitudes towards treatment of the flesh differ. The eternal spirit of Native traditions lives on in an eternal cycle, journeying and learning on an ongoing basis, whereas the eternal spirit of Christ-centered traditions incarnates once and then spends eternity in a locale, either praising the goodness of the Creator or boiling in eternal damnation for sins of the flesh. Christian traditions, therefore, largely focus on eschewing the pleasures of the fleshy body to better prepare for the eternal. Native American traditions, on the other hand, believe that eternity is now, and that incarnating is an opportunity to experience and learn to better experience the gift of awareness as granted by the Creator. Ideas of the nature of the Creator and whether it is a single conscious identity or not also varies greatly.
In short, Native American traditions focus on an integrated approach to individual identity, considering the person as a whole whether than a composite of disparate labels. Two-Spirit people are no different in this; the label in its current use is inclusive of people of non-heterosexual and non-cisgendered identities and experiences. But it also describes the spiritual outlook of the individual; to be Two-Spirit is to be one on a different path than one-spirited people. Sams briefly discusses Two-Spirit people, saying “Two-spirited people are the third sex acknowledged by Native traditions. Unlike single-spirited people, who carry either a female or a male orientation, two-spirited people have both male and female orientations and dual Sacred Points of View in one body when they are born” (154.) The Two-Spirit Society of Denver explains further:
The term Two-Spirit refers to another gender role believed to be common among most, if not all, first peoples of Turtle Island (North America), one that had a proper and accepted place within indigenous societies. This acceptance was rooted in the spiritual teachings that say all life is sacred and that the Creator must have a reason for making someone different. This gender role was not based in sexual activities or practices, but rather the sacredness that comes from being different.
Historical precedent, however, differs from contemporary reality. While Two-Spirit people were once largely revered and celebrated (or at least accepted) as individuals with a unique understanding of the interconnectedness of existence, the virtual decimation of Native culture by oppressive Western colonialism has led to a shift in attitude towards Two-Spirit peoples.
Two-Spirit People and Contemporary Culture
If one looks for images of Native American people on any popular search engine, the vast majority of the images will be from the late nineteenth century or evocative of Native culture prior to European colonization. Mainstream culture is fascinated with the idea of Native Americans as timeless, the indigenous “noble savages” of the Americas while the truth is far more complex. While the somewhat isolated nature of reservation life can allow for the successful preservation of culture and tradition in ways that exposure to homogenized mainstream life does not, reservation life also brings with it the reality of extreme poverty, and often a lack of access to basic needs like adequate medical attention and education (Forest.) Additionally, not all Native American people live on the reservation, and experience discrimination as a result of being perceived as other than white or otherwise of the cultural majority.
Preservation of tradition, then, becomes critical as a means of creating and prolonging cultural identity, the positionality of which differs from a predominantly white, Christian, capitalist, consumerist, secularized, individualist outlook. And yet, a cultural contamination occurs, for no person, thing, or culture exists in a vacuum. If it is a truth that we are all interconnected, then it also follows that everything influences everything else.
This may be especially true when there exists a binary approach to identity. In this case, the separation of mainstream from Native cultures creates a valuation where the majority is valued as more desirable than that of the minority. So Western values and attitudes trickle down, and not always to good effect. Paulo Freire comments on this phenomenon in Pedagogy of the Oppressed:
But almost always, during the initial stage of the struggle, the oppressed, instead of striving for liberation, tend themselves to become oppressors, or “sub-oppressors.” The very structure of their thought has been conditioned by the contradictions of the concrete existential situation by which they were shaped. Their ideal is to be men; but for them, to be men is to be oppressors. This is their model of humanity. This phenomenon derives from the fact that the oppressed, at a certain moment of their existential experience, adopt an attitude of “adhesion” to the oppressor. Under these circumstances they cannot “consider” him sufficiently clearly to objectivise him – to discover him “outside” themselves. This does not necessarily mean that the oppressed are unaware that they are downtrodden. But their perception of themselves as oppressed is impaired by their submersion in the reality of oppression. At this level, their perception of themselves as opposites of the oppressor does not yet signify engagement in a struggle to overcome the contradiction; the one pole aspires not to liberation, but to identification with its opposite pole (45-46.)
This kind of identification with the oppressor can lead to self-destructive attitudes, both individually and culturally, as people internalize the prejudices of the cultural majority and attempt to minimize their own lived experiences and identities so that they can have access to the same privileges conferred on those who are perceived as in the cultural majority. The adoption of majority values can often lead to additional difficulties for people who are perceived or identify as other than heterosexual or cisgendered, as in the case of Two-Spirit people. Recent studies affirm this, noting that individuals who are non-heterosexual or non-cisgendered and of a minority race – specifically, in this case, Two-Spirit individuals, have higher incidences of illness, lack of access to basic services, and are at greater risk for hate crimes (Chae and Walters; Stotzer.)
When considering the place of Two-Spirit individuals in contemporary Native culture, it is important to consider the whole picture. As there exist external pressures of Western culture, so to do internal pressures as a people whose ways have largely been decimated by colonialism works to re-create a cohesive identity and propagate its traditions to new generations. The struggle to retain and pass on cultural identity has given rise to what might be termed Native American conservatism. Brian Joseph Gilley comments on this in “Native Sexual Inequalities: American Indian Cultural Conservative Homophobia and the Problem of Tradition”, saying “‘Native homophobia’ exists within the realm of tradition, not within the ideological realm that scaffolds the traditional (as this term is used by tribal peoples to refer to their worldview)” (50.)
He goes on to note that “colonialism successfully changed the ways in which these immanent ideas were acted out in social practices, but failed to permanently obliterate the cultural logic that at one time produced multiple genders and sexualities. Culturally conservative GLBTQ Natives and/or Two-Spirit people are fully aware of this fact and attempt to access that underlying cultural logic to reassociate the tradition of multiple genders and sexualities with tribal community social practices” (50.) The struggle is both internal and external as Two-Spirit people work to find and reaffirm their place within Native American culture and the larger world.
Two-Spirit people exist at an intersection of identities which is both unique and challenging: traditional community expectations; spiritual, physical, mental, emotional aspects of self; experience within the mainstream culture. Set against a Western framework of segregated binary individualism, Two-Spirit people might represent a confusion. When considered within the context of Native American wisdom traditions with its focus on interconnectivity, however, acknowledgement of non-heterosexual and non-cisgendered identities as other something to be accepted without judgment – and, sometimes, as something to be celebrated – becomes a logical conclusion.
Works Cited
“About Us.” denvertwospirit.com. Two-Spirit Society of Denver, n.d. Web. 10 May 2012.
Chae, David H., and Karina L. Walters. “Racial Discrimination and Racial Identity Attitudes In Relation To Self-Rated Health and Physical Pain and Impairment Among Two-Spirit American Indians/Alaska Natives.” American Journal Of Public Health 99.(2009): S144-S151. Academic Search Complete. Web. 10 May 2012.
Feinberg, Leslie. Transgender Warriors. Boston: Beacon Press, 1996. Print.
Forest, Ohky Simine. Dreaming the Council Ways: True Native Teachings from the Red Lodge. York Beach, Me.: Samuel Weiser, 2000. Print.
Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum, 2000. Print.
Gilley, Brian Joseph. “Native Sexual Inequalities: American Indian Cultural Conservative Homophobia and the Problem of Tradition.” Sexualities 13.1 (2010): 47-68. Academic Search Complete. Web. 10 May 2012.
“How Common is Intersex?” ISNA. Intersex Society of North America, n.d. Web. 10 May 2012.
Meem, Deborah T., Michelle Gibson, and Jonathan Alexander. Finding Out: An Introduction to LGBT Studies. Los Angeles: Sage, 2010. Print.
Sams, Jamie. Dancing the Dream: The Seven Sacred Paths of Human Transformation. New York: HarperCollins, 1999. Print.
Stotzer, Rebecca L. “Violence Against Transgender People: A Review of United States Data.” Aggression & Violent Behavior 14.3 (2009): 170-179. Academic Search Complete. Web. 10 May 2012.
Stryker, Susan. “Berdache.” GLBTQ. Glbtq: An Encyclopedia of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Culture, 8 Nov. 2006. Web. 10 May 2012.
This paper was originally written for a Native American Spirituality and Cosmology class, offered at Marylhurst University, Winter 2012.
I originally wrote this as a post for a class I am taking about Native American religious and spiritual practices. A component of this class includes an expectation that students experientially engage in individual rituals to deepen their understanding.
I’ll start by saying that I’m probably the person that gets pegged as “PC-er than thou” more often than not; I believe strongly in the power of words and that their usage, no matter the intent, can reify a negative paradigm or dominant structure when utilized by people who have no ownership of the term as a way of organizing their identity (e.g. people using pejoratives like gay or retarded to describe something as sub par.) And it’s that ownership thing that I’m struggling with in process to this class. I don’t have any ownership of Native American spirituality or identity.
Therefore, taking this class to enrich my intellectual, spiritual, emotional/empathic understanding of people of Native American identity or experience is important and relevant – both from a personal standpoint and, ultimately, professionally. However, the piece that I’m working on is the co-opting piece: experientially engaging in Native American spiritual practices, as they do not have the cultural, historical and personal significance to me that they would someone raised in that identity. I am especially cautious around co-opting or appropriating practices from traditionally oppressed cultures.
My privilege of being a Catholic-raised white man is that I do not get assumptions thrown at me on the basis of my skin color or gender or religious/spiritual upbringing, unless they are generally positive. Appropriating the practices of an oppressed culture is not understanding; it is often tokenizing, an eroticization of the “exotic” and discarding of a larger understanding of the complex issues, judgements and consequences of being perceived or identifying with an oppressed identity.
While this most certainly does not mean that I feel that I (or any other person) should remain in identity-exclusive spaces (much to the contrary!) it does make me cautious about approaching matters of such deep personal significance as spirituality and religion. This past Saturday, I went to a Seder for the first time in my life, and enjoyed it immensely. Through six hours, four cups of wine and more tasty vegan and gluten free food options any Portlander could shake a stick at, I was blessed to witness and participate in a ritual which was equal parts community building, laughter, religion, and testament to the importance of social activism.
On the way home, a friend and I briefly touched on the subject of appropriation. They mentioned that they, as Jewish person, had a rosary, and wondered, half-seriously, if that meant they had to get rid of it. I responded that would mean that I would have to get rid of my Buddha statues. And I think that’s the correct answer – for me, in this case. However, the issue becomes more complex when dealing with a people whose identities and ways of life have been fundamentally oppressed. I don’t know that I would be comfortable owning, for example, a dream catcher without putting some very intentional thought into why I felt I needed it and what significance, if any, it held in my spiritual practice.
There’s certainly more to say about the issue, but I’m curious on your take – how do you feel about entering into and engaging in the spiritual practices of traditions other than your own? How do you best do it in a mindful and intentional way? What are your thoughts on appropriation?
Let’s start with what you know, Nik. When you were a child, you wanted to be a priest. Well, sure. You also wanted to be an astronaut, a rockstar, president, and a superhero. Somewhere along the line, you realized or were told that you couldn’t be a priest, and thought that nun maybe sounded nice, although it didn’t fill the same spot. The image of being cloistered away praying for the salvation of the world or quietly performing social service didn’t sound as right as a more active ministry. And you still thought being a superhero sounded cool.
Okay. So somewhere along the line, you realize that maybe Catholicism isn’t such a good match – or at least not the as-told-to-me-by-Rome version you’re raised in. You seek a little further afield, and think that you might find a home within another Christian denomination – say Southern Baptist. You take the bus clear across town to go to church, and the people are all very nice (as well as several tax brackets above your own). You’re a girl, but you can still do missionary work, or better yet, marry a nice boy and become a missionary’s wife. You’ll be serving (people who didn’t ask for it in the first place) by saving souls (into a faith which doesn’t necessarily have any resonance or relevance to their everyday life) from eternal damnation (a concept which you increasingly consider to be an abstraction) by accepting Jesus Christ into their hearts as their personal Lord and Savior (as you’re thinking about personal culpability and the need for people to save themselves.)
Well, hell (that place you’re not sure you believe in anyway.) This isn’t really working out at all – especially with this growing sense of personal identity that you’re starting to come to grips with. A problem indeed, in the framework you were raised with, and while you’ve suppressed or ignored it for a long time, the fact is that you’re not heterosexual. Or cisgendered. Mmm, now that is a quandary, as everything religion has ever told you says that you’re going to hell (there’s that place again) simply by virtue of being who you are.
Maybe this religion thing isn’t for you, after all, and maybe you can fulfil your call to serve others through social work, or activism, or volunteerism. Maybe you just need to go play some more video games and save the world that way. Regardless, you’ve got other things to worry about right now, like how to integrate this identity into your world, how you’re going to live, and how you’re going to stay alive and sane. Happiness comes in pieces with a developing sense of authentic self, contentment with building community, adventure and creativity and doing things for the first time that you never thought you would do because you were too afraid of what others might think. Personal responsibility is pretty neat stuff. And it’s a long road, but you’re also working on what personal responsibility means, and it comes to mean compassion and acceptance and respect. You consider love to be central to your life, and believe wholeheartedly in the inherent goodness of humankind.
And you’re starting to raise the lid on Pandora’s box of religion again. You’ve peeked in a few times over the years, and found a seething mass of anger, confusion, process – streaked with a deep affinity for the rituals to which you were first exposed, passion in faith, a buoyant joyfulness in moments of connection with everything, richness of community and unconditional love. But you’re stoic about this, because this stuff can make you into a sullen tear-streaked teenager again without much work; you left this behind years ago (didn’t you?) and you’ve been told time and again (by other people) that you can’t be authentically you and still have faith.
So why are you prying at this, scratching like a not-quite-healed scab that itches? Slather it with some lotion, pop some ibuprofen, and move on. Deaden the nerves and don’t feel it, don’t process it, don’t dare to be moved by it. Mask the problem by suppressing the symptoms.
But the problem is still there. And it’s manifest in a growing realization of personal fragmentation – a sense that you’re not whole, that by not being true to yourself in all areas of your life you’re short-changing yourself. You’re not living up to your full potential, which means you’re not taking the best care of yourself which means you can’t take the best care of others. So you’ve come late but at last to school again, and you’ve been sitting with this and talking this and taking that word – faith – out and polishing it by squeaks and starts and seeing if it fits. Removing religion as you know it from the association, and finding other words – spirituality, interdependence, co-creation, creative manifestation, loonyverse. You’re framing your feelings and experiences with words, learning to articulate this mess, untie the Gordian knot and, perhaps, make a tapestry.
And that desire/need/call/passion (what is it?) to serve (how?) humanity/the greater good (what is that?) /the loonyverse/ all of us together, everyone (that’s a tall order)/ people, queer people (every single one?)/ people struggling to reconnect, people looking to find their authentic selves, people hungry for faith in something (I don’t care what you believe so long as you believe it and don’t harm others in the practice)/ humankind-unplugging-defragmentation-reconnecting-creating/re-creating/recreating-joyful-present-interconnection/we’re all in this boat together people. One person at a time, one connection at a time, one moment at a time, one breath at a time, making this world a better place. For all of us. Together.
If someone asks what I believe, I’ll answer depending on the context with everything from recovering Catholic to humanist to cautious believer in the sometimes great is. Or flying spaghetti monster higher power thingy that cannot be intuited whatever. If they ask if I’ve accepted Jesus Christ into my heart as my lord and savior, the answer doesn’t bear repeating. I left a regular religious practice behind with my hometown, and haven’t regretted it; just about every major religion I’ve come across to date either has politics I cannot support or says, in one way or another, that I’m going to hell for being who I am: a poly, kinky, trans and queer person. And if I’ve sometimes wondered or thought, well, there are plenty of other things to wonder, think and dream of in this world, and the lack of a spiritual practice is a small loss.
So I must be some kind of masochist (big stretch, that) to choose to attend a university founded by Catholic nuns that still has a very strong Catholic identification, right? This door was closed, this past done when I left my involvement in the church choir, the smell of incense, the measured processionals, the Nicene creed, the cult of saint worship, the daily recitation of the rosary and contemplation of the mysteries, the beautiful stained glass, Christ on the cross, stigmata, bleeding, thorns, confessions, pierced flesh, transmutation of the host, Latin hymns, community, Our Lady of Sorrows, the hierarchy of angels, the levels of hell, the mystery, the passion, the faith, the practice.
And I did. I did leave it behind for my personal happiness, my sanity, my health, my growth. I left behind a Pope who says that anyone supporting the ordination of women should be excommunicated, that aided in suppressing the sexual abuse of children by priests, the doctrine of fear, the hatred of that which is different, the conservative values, the idea that safer sex is a sin, sex outside of marriage is a sin, being queer is a sin, sex for sex sake is a sin, that kink is a sin, that polyamory is a sin, that I could not be ordained because of my assigned gender at birth, that if I were ordained I would have to give my life entirely over to God and never know love past that of agape. I left behind the idea that I am a weak creature, born of deceit and steeped in sin, and that I can never be anything more except by divorcing myself entirely from this life in contemplative preparation of the next.
This life is not just suffering.
This life is a gift, it is beauty and growth and change. This life is a blessing, and I cannot support a religion that forces me to choose between my health and love of this world and all the myriad creatures contained therein and its rules. I will not and cannot box myself, hide or suppress myself to meet someone else’s standards of what is morally right and wrong, and I will especially not support the practice of condemning others for taking care of themselves and their communities and seeking their authentic happinesses, so long as they bring no willful harm to themselves or others. I am me, whole, complete – mind, body and spirit, and any religious practice in which I was involved would have to welcome that and be one I could support in mind, body and spirit.
Whether I like it or not, this is a discourse that is going to keep coming up – in each and every class I take, at the least. It is generally rare to get the opportunity to talk about such subjects to the depth that I would wish in that kind of setting, too – as I am often the only visibly (or vocally) queer person in a small class of mostly religiously minded folk, I may as well be a fish speaking in bubbles to a flock of birds. I have a growing need to dialogue about what religion and spiritual practice as a queer person means – to talk about where people make concessions and if they think they are, gnaw around politics versus faith, attitudes and scripture, renewals of spiritual practice, practicing what one preaches and how to do it without preaching, the mysteries, the rituals, the sexual appeal, holistic approaches – how a person can be both queer and spiritual, or if it’s even worth the trouble.
So I’m putting this out there as a kind of feeler – is this something you would be interested in? Let me know. If you’ve got ideas on what format it could take, let me know. I would really love for this to be an ongoing dialogue with a wider community than what I’ve got rolling around in my head, would love to get excited and passionate and pull out books and compare research and bullshit and soapbox and dialogue with you. Let me know.
I. Introduction
The Bahá’í Faith is the newest of the world religions, founded less than two centuries ago in war-torn Persia. In the face of continued persecution, its membership has grown and spread to over 230 countries under a founder who preached a message of peace. Followers of the Bahá’í faith come from all cultures and ethnic backgrounds, but all are believers in social responsibility and world unity. In this paper, we will discuss the origins of the Bahá’í faith, identify the core teachings and values, and its place in the world today.
II. The History of Bahá’í Faith
The founder of the Bahá’í faith, Siyyid ‘Ali Muhammad, was born in Shiraz, Persia, in 1819. The child of prosperous merchants and a direct descendant of Muhammad, Siyyid was orphaned at an early age. Raised by an uncle, he was minimally educated (as was typical for his station) and entered the family business early. In the Overview of Bahá’í faith, it is noted that “even as a young boy He spent long periods in meditation and prayer” (Bahá’í International Community, ¶ 5). Siyyid was an active member of his community, becoming a successful merchant known for his integrity, while continuing to meditate and hold to a spiritual practice. In 1844, he publicly proclaimed his new faith: “standing with His hand on the door-ring of the Kaaba, the holiest shrine in all the Islamic world, the Báb publicly declared: ‘I am that Qa’im Whose advent you have been waiting’” (Bahá’í International Community, ¶ 7).
In renaming himself as the Báb, Siyyid invoked an authority which grew out of a belief from the Shiah sect of Islam. This was the predominant belief system in Persia at the time, which put forth that there were direct descendents of Muhammad who took the title of Imam and drew their authority directly from Muhammad himself. Their adherents considered the Imam’s understanding of spiritual matters to be divinely inspired. However, opposing Islam sects believed this practice heretical and routinely persecuted the Imams to their deaths. In 873, the twelfth appointed Imam went into seclusion while still a child that he might escape the grisly fate of his predecessors. For the remainder of his life, he acted only through intermediaries, who took on the title of Báb (meaning, literally, “the gate”), as they were the gate to the Hidden Imam. The Hidden Imam passed away, and neither he nor his intermediaries declared a spiritual successor, and people came to believe that in the fullness of time the Hidden Imam would come again to rule a unified people and world. As noted in the Historical context of the Bábi and Bahá’í faiths:
The refusal of either the Imam or the final Báb to name a successor implied that the matter was to be left by the faithful entirely in the hands of God. In time, a messenger or messengers of God would appear, one of whom would be the Imam Mahdi, or Qa’im, and who would again provide a direct channel for the Divine Will to human affairs. It was out of this tradition that the Bahá’í religion and its forerunner, the Bábi Faith, appeared in the mid-nineteenth century. (Bahá’í International Community, ¶ 11)
By declaring a new religion, the Báb undercut the authority of Islam within Persia, and especially that of the Shiah sect. The rulers of Persia were believed to be appointed by the Imams of antiquity. As he claimed authority from the tradition of the Hidden Imam, the Bábi faith drew the enmity of the two most powerful forces in Persia: the church and the state. Despite the growing tension, the Bábi faith continued to gain new followers at an almost exponential rate – including people from the Islamic clergy. As the political climate further deteriorated, the Báb was placed under arrest and for several years imprisoned in various remote areas of Persia, while the numbers of his followers continued to grow even as conservative Islamic attitudes towards the new religion became more vehement. In 1848, this vehemence finally broke out into open warfare and the outright murder of hundreds of followers of the Bábi faith, to public approbation. Finally, in 1850, the Báb was executed for his faith, and by 1852, the Bábi faith hovered on the brink of extinction.
Prior to his death, the Báb revealed to his followers that the one for which they were waiting would appear within their lifetime. This new spiritual leader, a Manifestation of God, would follow in the path of Jesus and Muhammad to bring a message of peace to the modern world, and unify all religions and people as citizens of the planet. So it was that an early follower of the Báb and member of the ruling elite, Husayn Ali, declared himself Bahá’u’lláh, meaning “the Glory of God” in Islam (Kourosh, A., & Hosoda, E., 2007, p. 446).
Husayn Ali had been imprisoned in 1852 for his ardent support of the Bábi faith, and while chained in a dungeon received a vision which revealed that he was a Manifestation of God, the Bahá’u’lláh. He spent the remainder of his life a political prisoner, and wrote copiously on matters as diverse as ethics, law, and mysticism laying out guidelines for his followers and his vision for the development of civilization. His collected writings comprise the core scripture of the Bahá’í faith. In 1892, he was laid to rest outside the prison town of ‘Akká, where he had spent the latter part of his life. His grave became the holiest site for followers of Bahá’í faith. Since then, the Bahá’í faith has spread to many countries, with worshippers numbering over five million strong (Momen, 2005, p. 422).
III. The Major Teachings of the Bahá’í Faith
The core teaching of the Bahá’í faith is that of unity: “Bahá’u’lláh …brought new spiritual and social teachings for our time. His essential message is of unity. He taught the oneness of God, the oneness of the human family, and the oneness of religion” (Bahá’í International Community, ¶ 3). With a message of unity, the goal of the Bahá’í faith is to bring a peaceful end to strife between nations as people realize their citizenship is not to any one nation but to the world.
The Oneness of God
To a Bahá’í, God is so far beyond human scope as to be unknowable. While one can contemplate the qualities of God, the sheer vastness of God is so immense it is beyond comprehension. God is all of existence, and all of existence is within God. Therefore, through learning and contemplation, one can come to the understanding that all faces of God – Yahweh, Shiva, Athena, Loki and so on – are reflections of the same being. All Gods are one God.
Oneness of Religion
Religions over time have evolved to meet the needs of humans as they are now, and to better interpret the will of God through a chain of divinely appointed prophets. In this sense, all religions are one, as each successive prophet builds upon the work of the last to the betterment of all humankind. Abraham, Krishna, Zoroaster, Buddha, Christ and Muhammad are recognized as legitimate prophets by the Bahá’í faith, and known as Manifestations of God. Báb and Baha’u’llah are the latest in this chain. Manifestations of God have a dualistic nature: both human and divine, they are the intermediaries between mortals and God. In Bahá’u’lláh: Manifestation of God, their role is explained: “Describing the relationship between the Manifestations of God and Their Creator, Bahá’u’lláh used the analogy of the mirror: God is as the Sun, and the Manifestations are as Mirrors that reflect that divine light — but they are in no way to be considered as identical to that Sun” (Bahá’í International Community, ¶ 5).
A mortal person could not look directly at the sun without going blind. They can, however, contemplate a reflection of the sun to gain a greater understanding of its nature without harm to themselves. A Manifestation of God is the direct link between God the unknowable and human the known – both divine and mortal. As such, they have a direct understanding of the will of God, and through following the teachings of the most recent Manifestation, a person may know most clearly God’s will.
Oneness of Humankind
Before a person is a citizen of a country, a state, a city or a neighborhood, they are a citizen of humanity. At root, all people have the same race – the human race – and all cultural, national, or ethnic differences are regional variations on that one theme: humanity. Members of the Bahá’í faith work to help realize a unified world vision where they can realize their founder’s ideal that “the earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens.” (Bahá’u’lláh, p. 250). As such they place a strong focus on cooperative social responsibility, gender equality, the ending of prejudice, and universal education.
IV. The Key Values of Bahá’í Faith
The Bahá’í faith places a strong emphasis on mercy, justice, loving-kindness, compassion and the ways in which they can actively be practiced for the betterment of all. Bahá’u’lláh believed that world problems cannot be solved except on a global level. He enjoined rulers of all nations to come together and create universal accords, and then continue to enforce and uphold those accords for the betterment of all humankind. To that end, the Bahá’í International Community, a non-governmental organization which represents the Bahá’í community, has been affiliated with the United Nations since its inception in 1947, and often serves as a consultant for such organizations as ECOSOC, UNIFEM, and UNICEF on humanitarian matters (Momen, 2005, p. 434).
Bahá’í place very little focus on ritual, and believe that one can endow the simplest act with a worshipful nature if the intent is present. Therefore, acts of cooperative social responsibility – the establishment of schools, teaching people to read, helping someone build a house or fix a meal – all of these can be acts of worship and contemplation of God. Followers of the faith work within their communities, often volunteering their time to humanitarian organizations and championing equal rights for all.
Reflecting this belief in the idea of a global community which embraces the similarities of all people while celebrating the differences, the Bahá’í administration almost always focuses on community at a local level. Members are encouraged to live simply, go out into the community and do work which is useful, learn the language and interact with the culture if they are new – not seeking to convert, but to break down the walls of prejudice through shared understanding and experience.
V. Conclusion
Bahá’í faith is still a young religion at less than two centuries, but it is perhaps its very youth which causes it to be one of the world’s leading religions for actively championing social causes and working cooperatively for the betterment of humankind. Their founder, Bahá’u’lláh, preached a simple message: the unity of God, religion, and humanity through thinking globally and acting locally. Having come a long distance from its roots in war-torn Persia, the Bahá’í faith now has followers from just about every ethnic and cultural background. With a message of welcome, their numbers continue to be on the increase. The ways in which the Bahá’í faith will continue to grow is open to conjecture, but there is no doubt it will continue to adapt to meet the needs and cultural evolution of humanity as a whole.
VI. Bibliography
Bahá’í International Community (n.d.). Bahá’u’lláh: Manifestation of God. Retrieved July 19, 2010 from: http://info.bahai.org/bahaullah-manifestation-of-god.html
Bahá’í International Community (n.d.). Historical Context of the Bábi and Bahá’í Faiths. Retrieved July 18, 2010 from: http://info.bahai.org/Bábi-and-bahai.html
Bahá’í International Community (n.d.). Overview of the Bábi Faith. Retrieved July 18, 2010 from: http://info.bahai.org/Bábi-faith.html
Bahá’í International Community (n.d.). Bahá’í home page. Retrieved July 19, 2010 from: http://bahai.org
Bahá’u’lláh (n.d.) Gleanings from the writings of Baha’u’llah. Retrieved July 18, 2010 from: http://www.sacred-texts.com/bhi/bahaullah/gwb.txt
Kourosh, A., & Hosoda, E. (2007). Eye on religion: The Bahá’í Faith. Southern medical journal, 100(4), 445-446. Retrieved from Academic Search Complete database.
Momen, M. (2005). The Bahá’í faith. In C. Partridge (Ed.) Introduction to world religions (pp. 421-434). Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.
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This paper was written for Theology 301, taught by Professor Lioy at Marylhurst University, Summer 2010.