Reading Robert Orsi”s *History and Presence*. It is blowing my mind! https://t.co/fmdYZHwkKz
— John Fea (@JohnFea1) January 3, 2017
Back in August we featured Orsi’s History and Presence in the Author’s Corner. You can read that interview here. Over the last few weeks I have finally gotten a chance to dig deeply into this book. I am taking it slowly. It is a thought-provoking work.
Orsi wonders what the practice of history might look like if “the transcendent broke into time.” How might we envision a historiography in which “the gods” are active agents and we, as historians, make an effort to try understand what they are doing. What intrigues me the most about this suggestion is that it comes not from David Barton or some other providential historian of the Christian Right that we criticize here at The Way of Improvement Leads Home, but from a Professor of Religious Studies and History and the Grace Craddock Nagle Chair in Catholic Studies at Northwestern University.
Unlike the aforementioned providential historians, Orsi is not suggesting that we try to discern the workings of Providence in the world. Instead, he starts with the assumption that God and the gods are present and have been present to millions of people in the past. (He draws the word “presence” from the Catholic doctrine of the “real presence” of Christ in the Eucharist). He writes: “I am inclined to believe that presence is the norm of all human existence, including in religion, and absence is an authoritative imposition” (p.6). He is asking his readers “not to make the move to absence, at least not immediately, not to surround presence with the safeguard of absence, but instead to withhold from absence the intellectual, ethical, and spiritual prestige modernity gives to it, and to approach history and culture with the gods fully present to humans.” (p.8).
Orsi calls for an “Abundant History” that rejects the secular inclination to interpret “presence”–such as a Marian apparition or a pilgrimage to a shrine or a vision–according “to the authorized interpretive categories” of the political, sociological, ideological, technological, scientific, and economic. He urges us to avoid explaining religious phenomena as social constructions. Orsi adds:
In an intellectual culture premised on absence, the experience of presence is the phenomenon that is most disorienting, most inexplicable. This puts that matter of “translation” and “bracketing” into a new light. Constraints on the scholar’s imagination become, by means of his or her scholarship, constraints on the imaginations of others, specifically those whose lives the scholar aims to present and understand. There is a double intellectual tragedy here, for once their reality is constrained by ours, they no longer have the capacity to enlarge our understandings of our imaginations. This is the price of ontological safety. (p.64).
Orsi concludes this chapter by wondering:
The past may act upon us in such a profound way as to erase our intentions of remaining outside of it. This is the vertigo of abundant history. It comes upon historians as a result of their training and disciplining. But it may be that this is what abundant historiography is: approaching events that are not safely cordoned off in the past, that are not purified, but whose routes extend into the present, into the writing of history itself.
I am about halfway through the book and it is giving me a lot to think about. I recently took a break from reading and listened to Ed Linenthal‘s interview with Orsi on the Process Podcast produced by the Organization of American Historians. You can listen to it here.
There is one section in the podcast in which Orsi talks about museums as places where “figures of presence are gathered.” These sacred objects–Orsi gives an example of a Buddhist deity–are meant to be touched and spoken to, but the practice of museum protocol means that they must remain behind glass walls. This, Orsi notes, enforces a “code of absence” in the museum.
The conversation with Linenthal is fascinating since he is not only the outgoing editor of The Journal of American History, but he also has a background in religious studies and has written a lot about sacred spaces in American civil religion.
Orsi admits that there is “little tolerance” in academia for the kind of abundant history he is talking and writing about. He claims that he doesn’t know how to convince his colleagues that this kind of “real presence” is part of the “empirical world.”
I’ll keep reading. Stay tuned.