Robert Orsi’s History and Presence (2016) is an ambitious project to rethink history in relation to the human experience of divine ‘real presence.’ Drawing upon human experiences of God present in the Eucharist, the apparitions of the Virgin, or the worshipping of saints, Orsi claims that human-divine encounters (what he calls ‘abundant events’) are crucial for understanding modern religious history ‘at all levels.’ (73) Orsi’s ‘logic’ of how ritual works is one of Asad’s when he criticizes Geertz’s Protestantism-based view of culture as highly symbolic. For Orsi, the ritual affects and directs human interaction with the world; moreover, the presence of saints makes one “more efficacious in their actions upon the world.” (67) Orsi is not at ease with the modern understanding of religion that treats divine presence as merely symbolic, and his book tries to debunk that image, drawing upon the lived devotional practices of Catholics.
Orsi is audacious in his attempt to theorize the experiences of Catholics in history by drawing upon the data he had gained talking to contemporary Catholics. Listening to the Catholics’ accounts of their encounters with the supernatural, Orsi translates those contemporary experiences into the historical past – going as far as the events of the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre (17). Orsi is well-versed in Catholic doctrine and his assessments of human experiences are affected by how Catholicism as a system of beliefs interprets those experiences.
Drawing on multiple instances of human experiences of divine ‘real presence’, Orsi makes an important point: history narrates human experiences. The ‘real presence’ that the Catholics encounter in their relationship with the divine is one such experience that must be taken into account when we construct narratives of religious history. However, Orsi writes about Catholics and from a Catholic perspective, which creates a very specific way frame of understanding human experience, human understanding of the divine, and the relationship of the divine with the mundane. It is obvious that Orsi is not trying to make totalizing claims of what constitutes the divine-human relationship; he is aware of his commitment to talk about Catholics, which is evident even in his distinguishing between the terms ‘real,’ ‘present,’ and ‘real presence.’ Orsi intentionally uses the term ‘real presence’ to talk specifically about the experiences of Catholics and within the framework of what Catholicism considers as really present (8). Orsi makes more universal claims about including the accounts of lived devotional experiences in historical writing, especially the ‘modern’ one that denies divine presence. I gained from Orsi’s narrative that he does not account for the dynamism of history and religion. I had an impression that he assumes that the devotional experiences of Catholics are the same or at least similar in all historical epochs (though, he hints at the dynamic nature of religious experience when talking about Vatican II and his mother on pp. 210-11). The book left me wondering whether it is feasible to do an ethnography of the past (Orsi is not the only author who attempted to do that).
Based on this reflection, I invite you to think with me about the following questions:
- How do ‘theological considerations’ (i.e., making sense of human relationship with the divine) inform the construction of historical narratives?
- When an ethnographer tries to describe the believer’s experience of the divine (based on the believer’s account), how does the use of such words as ‘real’ and ‘present’ limit our narrative?
- How does an ethnographer separate their religious beliefs/commitments from their work?
- How applicable is the ethnographic data gained from the contemporary interlocutors for constructing the experiences of historical actors?
Thanks for these great questions, Evgeniia. I’m looking forward to our discussion tomorrow!
I want to consider your question “how does an ethnographer separate their religious beliefs/commitments from their work?” I’m curious to what extent that separation is even possible. Of course, I want to be mindful of and transparent about how my religious commitments shape my perspectives and impact my work, but I know that they do. Even if we do not believe in a specific god’s presence or in a particular happening, that conviction in and of itself likely shapes how we write about the religious beliefs, experiences, and practices of others.
I appreciated Orsi’s proposal to think of the gods as active “interlocutors and provocateurs, as agents” in the study of religion and history (251). Though Orsi works from a uniquely Catholic meaning of “real presence” to explain the “really actually there” relationships in his examples, I do think his bigger point about taking the presence of spiritual others seriously was valuable for me as I consider my own ethnographic research. For example, I’m a Protestant Christian who is interested in the lived-out theologies of other Christians. When someone tells me about their experience of the Holy Spirit present to them as they are falling asleep on the sidewalk looking up at the stars, I too believe that the Holy Spirit was “really there” with them. While I could certainly say something about the somewhat “symbolic” importance of believing that God is present with those on the margins of society, what would it mean for me to think about the relational presence of God more seriously in my scholarship? I think I do take God’s presence seriously, but I’m still not sure how that might get worked out in my own writing. While I’m still uncertain, I do want to continue considering how my own convictions about God’s presence among those with whom I speak can and will shape my scholarship.
Thanks again for your great questions! -Brittany Fiscus-van Rossum
Hello Evgeniia, I appreciate your thoughtful reflection and critical questions. Here, I want to highlight also that Orsi has combined a historical and ethnographic approach in reading the individual experiences of “presence.” In the initial part of his book, Orsi delves into the construction of religion in academia and its impact on the public and government, which is problematic for scholars investigating religion. In his argument, Orsi brings about an objective reality on religious experience by simply asking individuals about how they think of “presence” or “God.” Orsi proposes studying religion in its relationship with gods or deities where many religious people are genuinely experiencing it. With respect to his critique of how many scholars have neglected this aspect, as they often consider it irrational, Orsi invites us to explore “abundant events” discursively, which in many ways has contributed to decolonizing the methodology of religion.
To address your question, I argue that Orsi’s critical examination on religion has been very helpful for scholars of religion, particularly for ethnographers when they study religious practices. The most important thing is the extent to which an ethnographer is aware of the dominance of religious discourse that gives “absence of gods” in human experience. In my view, the task of ethnographers is also to revisit ideas of “modern religion” that have long been entrenched in the public and academia is not easy. In my observations of Indigenous religious communities considered by the state as “having no religion,” they are frequently compelled to bring up the concept of “God” when discussing their experiences of a “superbeing.” Finally, the ethnographer attempts to reveal the acceptance of individuals’ narratives while critically engaging with them to promote an inclusive and empathetic attitude towards those who have beliefs and experiences regarding the “presence.”
Thank you,
Mufdil
Thank you for this insightful reflection, Evgeniia and for posing such important questions.
I want to highlight a few things that I personally found captivating and critical to the field of religious studies vis-à-vis projects that focus on ethnography. Orsi’s methodology is predicated on the premise that through the accumulation of anecdotes, truths will become more apparent. The terms ‘abundant event’ and ‘really real’ that Orsi employs to approach history, in my sense, are more human in nature. Especially his arguments on human-divine encounters and the usage of ‘abundant events’ open a way for us as scholars to enhance their ability as human to appreciate each other (251-252). The fact that he feels that stories should not be smirked at simply because they are too excessive, he wants to emphasize that the presence of truth often lay in the absurd which gets lost in between our choices of finding ‘real’. What I personally most compelling in this book was that this work goes further to affirm agents and interlocutors as important, who for long have been ignored or not considered ‘authentic’ enough. Perhaps they are not as significant in other fields of study, but human experiences should be accorded great weight in the scholarship for religious studies.
I think your questions on theological consideration and on the separation of one’s religious beliefs or commitments from their work while doing ethnography are great. This has been my continuous concern where I feel is it even possible for one to separate ‘personal’ from ‘political’ (here political being an academy inquiry)? When considering subjects such as religion, deviating from established beliefs can have adverse effects on one’s own faith, how can an individual approach the examination and discussion of these concerns in an impartial manner? I am hopeful that our class tomorrow will be able to offer us some meaningful respite to this question.
Thank you once again for posing insightful inquiries. See you tomorrow!
Thank you for this insightful reflection, Evgeniia and for posing such important questions.
I want to highlight a few things that I personally found captivating and critical to the field of religious studies vis-à-vis projects that focus on ethnography. Orsi’s methodology is predicated on the premise that through the accumulation of anecdotes, truths will become more apparent. The terms ‘abundant event’ and ‘really real’ that Orsi employs to approach history, in my sense, are more human in nature. Especially his arguments on human-divine encounters and the usage of ‘abundant events’ open a way for us as scholars to enhance their ability as human to appreciate each other (251-252). The fact that he feels that stories should not be smirked at simply because they are too excessive, he wants to emphasize that the presence of truth often lay in the absurd which gets lost in between our choices of finding ‘real’. What I personally most compelling in this book was that this work goes further to affirm agents and interlocutors as important, who for long have been ignored or not considered ‘authentic’ enough. Perhaps they are not as significant in other fields of study, but human experiences should be accorded great weight in the scholarship for religious studies.
I think your questions on theological consideration and on the separation of one’s religious beliefs or commitments from their work while doing ethnography are great. This has been my continuous concern where I feel is it even possible for one to separate ‘personal’ from ‘political’ (here political being an academy inquiry)? When considering subjects such as religion, deviating from established beliefs can have adverse effects on one’s own faith, how can an individual approach the examination and discussion of these concerns in an impartial manner? I am hopeful that our class tomorrow will be able to offer us some meaningful respite to this question.
Thank you once again for posing insightful inquiries. See you tomorrow!
I agree with what you gleaned from the text about history being the story of human experiences. In some ways it can be reduced to that but in others, that perspective is quite daunting. Sometimes I struggle to even understand my own experiences, much less that of an entire people. Orsi tries to capture this, an audatious project indeed, through his distinct research techniques. Everytime I read a work of his, am in awe of how he uses ethnography to create historical theory, and his own autoethnography to bring the theories to life for the reader.
This book stood out to me because I use concepts of the symbolic divine and religionization of innate human experiences. He also positions himself in the conversation excellently and I think you acknowledge that in your reflection quite well. He places himself with people whom we have already read. Which was great for me in increasing the intelligibility of the piece and further emphasized things that I should be reading, personally. I hope that this was helpful to you as well. On the other hand, perhaps this legibility is simply a burden that will further subject us to the codified practices of the religion discipline but I suppose that is the life we have chosen (this is a joke referencing page 250 about legibility). I think it is funny, but it may be lame.
Anyway, I enjoyed reading your reflection, it helped to emphasize certain aspects of the reading to me. Thank you for your thoughts.
Thank you, Evgeniia, for your remarks on Orsi’s work.
An important issue you mentioned about his historical analysis is how he frames the categories of presence/absence and how Geertz influenced posterior modern understandings of the relationship between divine and human. An interesting dualism he mentions in that regard is the differentiation between “representations” in contrast to “presence” and, therefore, subsequent modern explanations of what is “old” or “modern.” Such dualities bring light to current (our) interactions with the divine, definitions of the religious experience, and how we approach the studies/other’s experiences of the divine. The idea of what was “really present” produced historical disputes that shaped all the social dynamics around them. Orsi accurately presents a taxonomy of religion as a product of such disputes. The debates that constituted the heart of both Catholicism and Protestantism ended up also shaping ulterior academic approaches to different understandings of the divine (e.g., Buddishm (40)) or the regulation of social sciences knowledge by determining, for instance, what is “normal” or not in Psychology.
In that sense, I would respond to the questions you pose that we are basically influenced (probably in an unconscious form and as a product of historical developments) by perspectives and (pre)conceptions of the symbolic -representations- and what is “really present.” There is no such thing as “impartial” or “objective” if we are the product of history – unconscious history. So, by acknowledging the development of modern schools of thought and our personal accounts, inevitably, we will frame our work from such dualities the same way Orsi’s family experiences, the accounts of the Catholic Church, and his reading of institutional and human experiences of what is present beautifully illustrate.
Thank you for an engaging post, Evgeniia
One of the questions you asked was about ethnographers using terms like ‘real’ and ‘present’. I agree that such terms draw a definite line and this might seem limiting. However, for Orsi the ‘real’ and ‘present’ are not his experience, that is the interlocutors’ cosmos of real and present. Their lived experiences of what is real and present gives a new trajectory to explore how real and present is understood.
The construction of real and present in the book happens through relics, images, cross and so on which signifies the material culture. This seems very similar to Hinduism, where material culture is central to their belief system. I was also thinking about Fancies Xavier’s (Jesuit missionary) body which is still preserved in a church in Goa, India. His body is believed to be incorruptible. His body is both divine and material.
The stark dichotomy between presence and absence seems a bit rigid. Especially when Orsi is engaging with traumatic narratives. What if the divine disappears for them?
Oris doesn’t give any socio-cultural background (race and class) of his interlocutors except them being Catholics. Does such context make a difference in ethnographical research?
Any thoughts about the writing style? He switches between anecdotes (they are more like vignettes) and historical analysis.
Hi Evgeniia,
Thanks for your thoughtful post!
To your question #3, I’ll echo Brittany and say I’m not sure separating religious commitments is attainable. I do think we can bracket them, insofar as bracketing means withholding intentional interpretation of the data in question (though, as Orsi points out, even the idea of bracketing may need to be revisited [64]). But I don’t think we can totally escape religious beliefs and/or understandings of the divine, even if those understandings are that there’s nothing beyond the empirical. I say that because worldviews and biases—including religious beliefs and theological understandings (which may or may not be explicit even to ourselves)—are baked into the way we design our data collection, the choices we make about what counts and what doesn’t in our study, the kinds of sources we seek, and what makes those sources useful to us. If researchers all make choices based on what has shaped our lives to that point, surely religion can be part of that as well.
In Orsi’s case, he’s at least being up front about his biases. And he’s up front that his method (if it can be properly called that) doesn’t lend itself to neatness or even duplication per se. Could an ethnographer who’s trying to fully separate their work from their commitments produce the same kind of evocative descriptions that Orsi does in describing the dead among the living or the “excess” experiences of clerical abuse survivors? Possibly, maybe even probably. But the kind of things that Orsi tunes into—the particular kind of theologically induced pain that the survivors feel, for example—may only be accessible for someone who is an insider to that kind of faith. If so, trying to separate faith commitments from ethnography may work against the thing the ethnographer is trying to do.