St. Lydwine’s life presents us with an impressive collection of liminal and trickster characteristics. Not only did she display psychic powers, but like several of the trickster gods, she made visits to the underworld (purgatory) and also escorted souls to heaven. She spent extended periods in mystical, ecstatic trance (an altered state of consciousness). Her life was characterized by disruption and almost complete dissolution of her body. There were accusations of deception, yet she produced numerous miracles.
St. Joseph of Copertino (1603-1663) was one of the best-attested levitators in history. Eric Dingwall prepared one of the most impressive evaluations of the saint in his book Some Human Oddities (1947). Dingwall’s assessment merits note as he was a magician, an avowed rationalist, a member of the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal (CSICOP) and of the Rationalist Press Association (RPA). He was also an exceedingly knowledgeable psychical researcher. The following brief summary is derived from the 39 pages of material he presented.
Joseph of Copertino was a severe ascetic; he wore a prickly hair shirt and bound his loins in chains. To make his food unpalatable, he would put a bitter powder on it. His diet was abominable, and his lack of nutrition and poor hygiene kept him in a ravaged condition. He fastened a metal plate to his body so that it pressed into his sores.
Joseph practiced long hours of contemplation and sometimes spontaneously became entranced. He was often quite useless for any practical work, and in his obliviousness to the world, during his chores he sometimes accidentally broke crockery. Then he would wear the broken pieces around his neck in order to increase his humiliation. This rarely endeared him to his fellows, and St. Joseph was ejected from more than one religious group. Several authorities became suspicious of him, and he was called before the Inquisition but emerged unscathed. His miracles were astounding. He displayed telepathy, clairvoyance, powers of healing, multiplication of food, the ability to find lost objects, in addition to innumerable levitations occurring in good light and confirmed by many observers. The Duke of Brunswick, patron of Leibnitz, was one witness. He was so moved that he converted from Lutheranism after twice seeing Joseph levitate, once for about a quarter of an hour.
Sri Ramakrishna (1836-1886) was one of the greatest saints in India and the spiritual teacher of Vivekananda, who is recognized for bringing Hinduism to the West. In his early days, Ramakrishna sometimes worshiped his own genitals, and he often dressed as a woman. At times he used his hair as a mop to clean the homes of the most wretched poor. He would enter temples, lie down at places reserved for a goddess, and eat the food placed there as an offering for her. During one period he identified with Hanuman, the monkey god. He swung through trees and subsisted on roots and fruits. His coccyx grew, giving him something of a tail, a phenomenon perhaps analogous to the stigmata of Christians. Ramakrishna viewed money and sex as great impediments to the spiritual life. He had precognitive experiences but renounced psychic powers; in fact the well known author and screenwriter Christopher Isherwood quotes Ramakrishna as advising “Shun them, like filthy excrement.”
Jansenism produced a number of amazing mystics. It was a loosely organized, somewhat austere and puritanical movement within the Catholic Church in France in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The movement was based on the posthumously published writings of Cornelius Jansen, a bishop who died in 1638. He allotted free will only small role in obtaining salvation, and his writings were condemned as heretical by the Church. The movement attracted a range of people; among the most eminent was Blaise Pascal, the scientist, philosopher and mathematician.
Jansenism had many anti-structural qualities; it had no clearly defined leader nor any uniform, coherent set of beliefs. The Jansenists were disruptive, and both religious and secular authorities persecuted them. History professor B. Robert Kreizer described this in his book Miracles, Convulsions, and Ecclesiastical Politics in Early Eighteenth-Century Paris (1978). In 1727 an ascetic Jansenist deacon, Francois de Paris, died and was buried in the cemetery of Saint Medard. His death attracted great attention, and numerous miracles occurred in association with him and his tomb. Some of the more bizarre are recounted in Dingwall’s fascinating work Some Human Oddities (1947). Several Jansenists became regular performers at the cemetery and were known as convulsionnaires. Some were immune to fire; others underwent voluntary crucifixions. One of the most wonderful was the Eater of Ordure, a woman who was investigated by Parisian lawyer, M. le Paige. He carefully weighed the amount of fecal matter she ate. At times after eating excrement, she reputedly vomited up fresh milk. This is a wild, graphic reversal of the food-excrement binary opposition. Despite its memorability, I do not recall seeing the case mentioned by anyone but Dingwall.
The milieu of the Jansenists merits comment, especially in light of the numerous miracles. The Jansenists did not trust the ecclesiastical or the political authorities, and the Church and state took a similar view of them. The movement was widespread, but it had no clear focal leadership nor codified belief system. There was little containing structure, and thus it was particularly unbounded. The term anti-structure is especially applicable. In a later chapter on unbounded conditions, I will describe how those situations are especially rife with trickster phenomena.
Anti-structural And Trickster Aspects Of Mysticism
The saints, mystics, and gurus described above are a miniscule fraction of the examples that could be cited. Georg Feuerstein’s book Holy Madness (1991) provides a superb summary of the lives of many exotic mystics from a variety of religious traditions, and he gives a sophisticated discussion of tricksters and clowns. Feuerstein did not cite Victor Turner nor the concept of anti-structure, but he certainly recognized the pattern when he described holy fools saying: “their folly was clearly not merely passive. First, their spiritual fervor and extreme asceticism could not help but make an impact on their communities, if only by provoking disapproval and mockery. Second, their behavior, which they considered spiritually superior to that of ordinary world
lings, was an implicit criticism of the secular life-style. Third, their folly at times involved offensive acts that were designed to shock and provoke a reaction.” In addition, their miraculous phenomena were looked upon as signs of grace from God; the miracles gave them legitimacy, and the authority of the established religious hierarchy was thereby called into question.
The monastic life provides no immunity against deception in the paranormal realm, and it may even stimulate it. Ian Wilson’s book Stigmata (1989) provides a detailed consideration of problems of fraud attending that phenomenon. Dingwall’s Very Peculiar People and Some Human Oddities report on a number of tricksters among monks and nuns. Jerome Oetgen, the biographer of Boniface Wimmer, head of a Benedictine abbey, tells of the particularly informative case of Paul Keck. Keck was a professional actor, but in 1859 at age 23 he entered Wimmer’s abbey in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. Shortly thereafter, he had a vision of a monk who had died 77 years previously and who asked for prayers. There was an investigation, and at least some evidence was found that such a monk had indeed existed. Keck later made prophecies, some of which came true, further enhancing his reputation. Soon he was embroiled in political battles over the direction of the abbey, with his faction wanting a more rigorous observance of monasticism and less involvement with the outside world. Keck’s charisma made him persuasive, and he was given a large hand in running the monastery. Skeptical monks had doubts about his holiness, and on a trip away from the abbey, Keck took part in a raucous party and tried to seduce another monk. Additional questions were raised about his honesty. Eventually the Office of the Inquisition reviewed the case and concluded that his visions deserved no credence.20
I was alerted to the Keck case by a paper by Van A. Reidhead, an anthropologist at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. Reidhead made an extensive study of the Benedictine tradition, and his article “Structure and Anti-Structure in Monasticism and Anthropology” (1993) provides an excellent discuss
ion of Turner’s ideas in relation to monas-ticism. It helps explain how the highly structured social and physical environment of the monastery can contain the liminality of mystical practices. Liminality is of particular relevance to the Benedictines because they often serve as guides for people undergoing visionary and paranormal experiences (guides through liminality).
I have a debt of gratitude to Reidhead because he explicitly used the term anti-structure in the title of his paper. That attracted my attention. Even though I was completely unfamiliar with the term and knew nothing of Turner’s work, I knew that there was a strong relationship between processes of destructuring and psi. When I read his discussion of Keck, I realized that there was also a connection between anti-structure and the trickster, and that led me to study Turner. Reidhead’s article was a key link for me.
The nefarious behaviors of monks are relatively little known, and perhaps many would prefer it that way. The cloistered life provides some containing structure for liminality and limits its intrusion, including the trickery, into the larger world. In spite of the problems that accompany mystical practices, Reidhead points out that certain monastic orders are some of the longest-lived institutions in the world. They have much to teach us about structure and anti-structure.
Psychological and Other Aspects Of Mysticism
Mysticism has not only social effects but also profound psychological ones. St. Francis’ style of thought is an example. Turner noted that: “This concrete, personal, imagist mode of thinking is highly characteristic of those in love with existential communitas, with the direct relation between man and man, and man and nature. Abstractions appear as hostile to live contact. William Blake, for example, a great literary exponent of communitas in his Prophetic Books, wrote that ‘he [who] would do good to others must do it in Minute Particulars; General Good is the plea of the Hypocrite and Scoundrel.’”
A few comments should be made about Turner’s passage because the large issue of abstraction will continue to be important in this book. As mentioned previously, St. Francis’ low level of abstract thinking made it impossible for him to care for large groups, and that is one important effect. However, abstraction is also relevant to understanding theoretical issues in areas as diverse as magic tricks and ethnomethodology, which will be covered later. Turner also alluded to imagery, and that too will be raised in coming chapters, including its use in magic and modern-day witchcraft.
Stigmata is another phenomenon of mysticism related to boundary blurring and liminality. In Catholicism, the pervasive imagery of the crucified Christ affected mystics who strived to identify with him. A number of them displayed the wounds of Christ on their bodies, and this suggests blurring of the usual boundaries between mind and body. Ian Wilson notes that historically, there have been seven women stigmatists for every man. This is consistent with Ernest Hartmann’s finding that women have thinner boundaries than men and that thinner boundary people demonstrate greater volitional control over physiological processes.
Mystics sometimes speak of divine marriage, and they often forego the usual earthly unions. Turner noted that in situations of extended communitas, within some constraining structure such as monasteries or utopian societies, either celibacy or group marriage is mandated. An exclusive male-female sexual relationship is a dyadic structure opposed to communitas. The trickster shares this property of communitas for he is known for sexual disruption and violation of taboos. Both the trickster and communitas destabilize dyadic relationships. I suspect that this is partly the basis for the rule of celibacy for Catholic priests, monks, and nuns. My observations suggest that strong contact with the paranormal can strain marital relationships. P.M.H. Atwater, a researcher on near-death experiences (NDEs) and an experiencer herself, noted that divorce is often a consequence of NDEs. Likewise, people sometimes become involved with the paranormal after the death of a spouse. This general idea is further supported by a multinational survey reported in the Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research in 1991. 23 Separated, divorced and widowed people had higher rates of paranormal experiences than the married. In short, supernatural contact leads to disruption of relationships, but such disruption also leads to contact or involvement with the supernatural—the pattern is constellational rather than causal.
The lives of ascetics personify troubling philosophical questions that are not easily resolved. Some mystics commune with Jesus or the Blessed Virgin Mary, have ecstatic visions of heaven, and display grace through miraculous powers of healing and clairvoyance; yet they often endure severe physical suffering, battle demons, and undergo mental breakdowns. As in the story of Job, the life of Lydwine of Schiedam brings into stark relief the question of whether God is merciful and just. Some of the most profound religious questions deal with this topic. Carl Jung’s most controversial work, Answer to Job (1952), dealt with the matter, and in fact, Stanley Diamond’s introduction to the 1972 edition of Paul Radin’s The Trickster is entitled “Job and the Trickster.”
Why did God allow such brutal tortures to be inflicted upon St. Lydwine when she was so holy? Such a case, where direct, personal suffering is endured by someone reputedly close to God, poses a philosophical dilemma that is neither abstract nor obscure. The physical trauma impacts not only the mystic but anyone who sees it. This direct, living contact is exceptionally powerful. It is easier for the ecclesiastical authorities to avoid the issue, to ignore or downplay the role of mysticism, rather than confront and explain it. The more one becomes immersed in trickster phenomena, the more salient the questions can become. After deep involvement with Fortean research, investigator John Keel wrote The Eighth Tower (1975) asking not: “Does God exist?” but rather the much more disturbing question: Is God sane? Encounters with the supernatural can be profoundly unsettling and provoke questions that raise grave doubts about the legitimacy of religious and scientific authority.
Eruptions of mysticism and the paranormal destabilize the rational world. The phenomena, and the questions they raise, are deeply disturbing. Supernatural events can legitimize what would otherwise be seen as deviance or even madness. It is no accident that the mystic is often cloistered, thereby restricting divinity’s contact with the larger world. The necessity for this was recognized long ago, but our now-rationalized society has lost this understanding.
CHAPTER 6
Shamanism And Its Sham
Shamans are premier exemplars of liminality, and they were perhaps the earliest of our ancestors to wield supernatural power. Shamans were central figures in hunter-gatherer societies; their tribes relied on them to help find game, for healing, and to preside at rituals. They were technicians of the sacred.
An enormous amount has been published on shamans, and in the last 30 years there has been an explosion of interest in them, both in academe and among the wider public. Even popular magazines are now published on shamanism. In view of the literature’s extent, any summary can give only a general picture, but there are common patterns to be found. The connections between liminality and shamanism are pervasive, and a useful starting point is Mircea Eliade’s classic Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy (1951). Though he did not use the term “liminal,” a quick glance at the headings in his table of contents reveals the links. Some of the examples include “Shamanism and Mystical Vocation,” “Initiatory Sicknesses and Dreams,” “Shamanic Initiation,” “Celestial Ascents. Descents to the Underworld,” “Magical Cures. The Shaman as Psychopomp.” These are only some of the major headings, and subheadings demonstrate many further commonalities.
Victor Turner discussed the liminality of shamanism saying: “In extreme cases, such as the acceptance of the shaman’s vocation among the Saora of Middle India … this may result in the transformation of what is essentially a liminal or extrastructural phase into a permanent condition of sacred ‘outsiderhood.’ The shaman or prophet assumes a statusless status, external to the secular social structure, which gives him the right to criticize all structure-bound personae in
terms of a moral order binding on all.”
In their initiations shamans may spend long periods alone in the bush. They seek visions, sometimes facilitated by illness or fasting, which can involve death, dismemberment and rebirth. Shamans’ ventures into the bush and mystics’ retreats into the desert are examples of journeying into the wilderness. Shamans and mystics put themselves outside society, at least temporarily. Shamans contact ancestors and other spirits in séances; they serve as a bridge between this world and the next. Like other liminal persons, shamans are sometimes associated with birds.
Many liminal persons behave oddly, and shamans are no exception. In fact the literature of anthropology and psychiatry in the first half of the twentieth century frequently labeled shamans as schizophrenic. Later reevaluations disputed this view, but in any event, the observations of the earlier anthropologists and psychiatrists should not be dismissed. Their assessments emphasize the truly exotic nature of shamanism and its inherent incompatibility with Western rationality.
Today many who wish to portray earlier cultures favorably neglect the unsavory, disreputable, and irrational parts of shamanism. This gives a distorted picture and introduces an ethnocentric bias often more pernicious than that of the earlier commentators. The current miscreants typically presume that rationalistic approaches can fully explain and rehabilitate shamanism. They cannot. This blindness has unfortunate consequences, and we will return to this point in the chapter on totemism and the primitive mind.
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