Oct 03, 2009 15:48
Visited the UPenn Museum today. It was nice to finally see the rest of the damned building. Up until now, I've only ever used the classrooms, cafe, and computer lab.
But, of course, I'm being trained to think like an anthropologist, so museums are interesting places for me to let my brain run wild.
Firstly, the University has the second largest crystal ball in the world on display. The sucker is about 49 pounds, is perfectly spherical, and is absolutely flawless. It was made by constantly spinning a piece of rock quartz in a semi-cylindrical container that had emery and water for years at a time.
Just think about that: an object of no use whatsoever being created in a process that takes years. Naturally, it was owned by an Empress. The ultimate luxury piece to show off obscene amounts of wealth.
But, to the meat of my thoughts: also in this section were small, portable shrines. The shrines had figures of the Buddha and had double swinging doors to close up the shrine. The doors got me thinking about the act of seeing.
Isn't it interesting that we take a common sense like sight and make it profound? Shrines can be closed off when the act of seeing what is within would be improper. Wrong time, didn't complete the prerequisites, etc. Simply stated: there are times when it is bad to see something.
However, one is still supposed to remember that that un-see-able thing is still there. Torah Scroll or Communion Wafer, it doesn't matter. The time to see or interact with these things is highly limited and regulated, but you still know that they are near by and are usually supposed to remember that they are near.
Walk into a Catholic Church and at the alter is a very ornate case (no clue what it is called). You know the items for Communion are in that case, yet you are not in the proper state to see them/interact with them. You have to pray, sing, and otherwise mentally and spiritually prepare yourself for that moment of sight and interaction (and, in the case of the wafer, eating. Please do not attempt to eat a Torah Scroll).
This got me thinking about the construct of holiness itself. What makes an item (or dance, or story, or whatnot) holy? Obviously, people do. But what of the process of holy-fication (don't judge me for making up words)? And the interaction with the holy object (or whatever)?
I'm sticking with objects because they're easier. And, holy objects sometimes make it into museums (usually when the group that regards it as holy is either long gone or ignored effectively enough).
So, first the object has to be created. Not just in making the object itself, but the need for it has to be established. This need is based on the situation of the people who think of it. An oral culture doesn't decide to make a book and have it be holy. Writing needs to be established and also regarded as an allowable form for holiness to be communicated. Maybe the culture writes, but considers it too profane for holy stories, which should only be spoken at certain times.
Not to mention the interaction and possible destruction of these things.
Hmm....so much to think about.