I love this concept so deeply! Your reflections also reminded me of my own experiences with the academic world. I completed my PhD in medieval English literature in 1997, just in time for the number of available university jobs in the humanities to be drastically cut. (That's what started me down a new career path as a family physician.)
A number of factors contributed to this slashing of humanities teaching positions (and entire subdisciplines and even departments), but the big one was the change in definition of what a college education is supposed to do: from exploring ideas and broadening one's knowledge (and through that, becoming a well-rounded person) to preparation for the job market.
Universities would be remiss if they sent graduates out into the world with no job prospects, but this narrow focus on career readiness comes at the expense of development of the whole person. In addition, it wasn't just any work that students were supposed to be prepared for on graduation: it was/is mostly work in business/finance, technology, and science fields related to technology. Certainly, people can find fulfillment and purpose in these fields, but the arts and humanities are just as critically important. They're all about what makes us human(e)--the highest of human achievements and the mental/emotional/moral qualities that accompany these achievements.
Looking back, even if I'd known in advance that I wouldn't be able to find work teaching medieval literature in a university, I wouldn't have made different educational choices. I'm happy to be a doctor with a humanities background. I believe it's helped me to understand my patients better and to connect with them on a human level. It's made me aware of the centrality of stories to each person's life, as well as their health. Studying the humanities is the perfect reminder that medicine (and other disciplines) is both an art and a science. In other fields, too, we need both.
I read this with interest at the same time as I started a book which has this written on its inside cover :
“Twentieth-century man, over-urbanized, over-industrialized, over-organized, over-specialized, seems often a bewildered, harassed creature running up and down his cage. Along his drab streets television aerials grope idly towards heaven, like antennae of a new ant-state. As science advances, and the arts retreat and some have begun to wonder if we are descending towards a New Dark Age, with scientists and technicians in place of theologians and monks.”
The fact that that was written in 1958 gives us an idea of how long the journey might be, to a time when the arts are valued highly once more.
If I was honest, I’m not sure Sacred Humanism particularly resonates with me, but I certainly think it’s very important to find a way to remind us all how central the humanities are to living a good life.
Thank you for this essay. I would include cinema in the discussion - the transcendental is so evident in the work in the spare spaces of such great filmmakers as Robert Bresson through the the current wave of directors such as Apichatpong Weeraskethakul, synonymous with the slow cinema movement, or Charlotte Wells whose exploration of grief in the silences and stillness of Aftersun so resonated with audiences. I work in this field and look for the kind of work that can turn a cinema into a cathedral - sound, vision, all testimony to humanity but raise something up in us, that touch our secular souls, or maybe ground us in our soles. I work with a new generation of creatives - maybe I search them out, but there is definitely a greater desire to connect with this sacred humanity. 🙏
Thank you, Susan, for opening up this conversation. I am 'overflowing' with responses to this beautiful piece of writing, and thrilled by your project of bringing together 'the Sacred' and the Humanities. I wasn't fully aware of the shift within the humanities from awe and emotional presence to a more analytic stance--but I see it now that you have spoken about it. I read your essay, then went for a hike in the woods, while still mulling over what you had to say. I came back, reread, and I am now trying to crystallize some of my thoughts. First, about your choice of Klee: I am so curious about why you chose him in particular for this letter? I particularly respond to the painting, Ancient Sound, I feel its depth, its music; it feels very similar to my walk in the woods. This work feels so organic, so alive, and very aligned with my own sense that even though I can't name it, can't fully understand what it is, that there is some source, some energy of inspiration and creativity that moves through us as beings, as creators-- something very aligned with your sense of awe. As someone who first trained as a physician before transitioning to work as a psychotherapist, I feel like I have a foot in both worlds- the world of the humanities and the world of sciences. I find places for sacred humanism in both. As a workshop facilitator, poetry, music and the arts-- as well as simple ritual--are important to the whole process and help each participant to tune into the 'world beyond the self'-- as you have named it: even if we don't have a belief in a theistic god, even as this non visible world is difficult to name or quantify. But I am also a bit cautious about this venture, and think we have to be careful how we use these words, reckoning with their history, their historical meanings. I will start with 'Sacred'. When I think about 'Sacred', I think about the way being fully present, fully connected from a heart place makes me feel inside-- a little bit like Jonathan Haidt's conception of 'Elevation'. As a process, the word Sacred has so much possibility. A slowing down, a reverence, a presence to Thou, to Other. When it is applied as a descriptor of an object, I become a little more nervous: sacred object, sacred idea ... ok, yes, and when does this put a gate up about who can enter, what discussions can be had? Who determines what is sacred? I think of the term, 'Sacred Cow'. Then we might get purity, zealotry, evangelism. Then there is the word 'Humanism'. The resonance of this word for me is still connected to secular humanism, which has had so many meanings. But some of them have been 'no god allowed' 'rational'- in a way that doesn't make room for other ways of knowing, for mysteries, for forces beyond our human ego. Some versions of humanism do include a 'living world' -- but not all. As someone who walks in both worlds, I believe we need both. I'd better stop here! This is becoming more than a comment. I hope this conversation will continue.--With gratitude, Keren
A question I have is whether, in trying to restore an earlier ethos,, it’s helpful to return to older pre-existing language and concepts, or whether we need to create something new —in order to step away from the difficulties and distortions of what the older terms originally meant.
Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it. (Mary Oliver)
In a concert hall, the camera spotlights a performer's agile fingers dancing on the keyboard before zooming in on the audience, capturing their sparkling eyes as they collectively effervesce, frozen in time. In Bergen, Norway, I sit on the stone steps at Mount Fløyen, mesmerized by the faces glowing in the shimmering sunset, evoking a profound hush of a cathedral. In Tolstoy's "The Death of Ivan Ilyich," I am deeply moved by the character's transformation from being terrorized by death to making peace with his mortality after encountering a transcendent epiphany in his final hours. In Peru, at a Mother Teresa's home for people in poverty, I witness a more functional youth change the diaper and gently, slowly wipe the smeared rear of a gravely disabled peer, not dutifully but graciously, like an older brother.
To capture these moments, I must live consciously in the present. I also need to be alive in my inner world with eyes wide open to see the sacred in every being. Only then can I recognize, in plain sight, every bush becoming a burning bush, and each soul sparking with dignity, honor, and reverence. Awaken within, witness without. We may even glimpse the Sacred embodied in what is true, good, and beautiful. The discipline of the humanities serves as a portal to this sacred seeing. Given human capacity for both good and evil, formation and deformation, the humanities cultivate our souls to be compassionate and cultured, kind and refined. The humanities can not only save humanity but also enhance our existence with wonder, awe, beauty, depth, and mystery. Humanity is the root; the humanities are the branches that ennoble the finest expression of our humaneness - the making of beautiful souls.
This speaks so much to me right now. My undergrad degree was in English, too (1981). Several years later, an M.S. in communications from the same university did improve my professional life and confidence, and I don’t regret that. But the humanities side of me never left, and since my mid-60s, I’ve felt a deeper hunger for it.
Very nicely written article on “Sacred Humanism”. The UK government are looking to reduce funding for university degrees in the humanities as they believe that students studying these have low earning potential when compared to degrees in technical subjects. Consequently universities are scaling back humanities, arts and social science programs. This is very sad but a reflection on the current economic climate. Whenever money is tight, the first thing to take a hit is the arts.
There is a lot of emphasis on technology, which is very short lived and constantly changing, whereas art, music, literature and philosophy endures for hundreds or even thousands of years.
We need technology to survive physically but we also need the arts to survive emotionally. They are an essential part of being human and have been part of our lives and culture for eons.
As for the feeling of awe when looking at art, I have a theory that I have thought about often. I think that when we have that feeling of awe or are emotionally moved by a piece of art, music or literature, then the artist must have had the same feelings when he or she created the piece, like it has been charged with those emotions. A lot of our vital essence has to be put into a creation to make it truly great and for others to appreciate that. I think this happens when we get in that flow state and our mind gets out of the way, and our artwork seems to take on a life of its own. Conversely, when our heart is not in any form of creative endeavour, it will not inspire awe in anyone who hears or sees it. There is a lot more than aesthetics instilled in works of art.
One painting that really inspired me was one of Vincent Van Gogh’s self portraits that I saw close up at the Royal Academy in London some years ago. Every brush stroke was visible, the depth of the paint and the amazing array of colours used, something you don’t get from looking at a print. It was a whole different experience, and one I have remembered ever since.
It’s my hope that the young people of today learn to experience the same level of awe in the humanities as they do in the latest iPhone!
Sacred Humanism paired with Transcendence is like music to my ears. I love that we can focus on appreciation of beauty and excellence is this space. Many beautiful minds live in this space. How do we find a place for those voices, that choir to sing together and help us all to transcend to an abundant, soul filling life. Nature helps me get there but I love creative spaces to help me travel in sacred humanism. Thanks.
I love the idea of Sacred Humanism, thank you for this very inspiring article!
I love the idea of life as sacramental; as a Quaker I try to live this way but the opposite, the prosaic, often gets in my way, I'm afraid, and I stumble. But your article reminds me of how much I live my life through poetics, and literature, and spiritual writings, and nature, and I love the meaning of the sense of awe that you present, something that our souls yearn for, out of this world. This poem by Walt Whitman is important to me and I'm pretty sure, well known Quiet Life readers:
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes that you lovest best,
This essay is such a gift, Susan. Thank you. I hope it travels far and wide.
Ted Gioia talks a lot about us being on the precipice of a New Romanticism, and, good lord, I hope he’s right. I read your framing of the current moment as a mirror — the sunset of a reductive period of Enlightenment. Which I also can’t wait to say goodbye to.
As a undergraduate philosophy major many years ago I am a big fan of all the humanities, even accepting the criticism that the during the time of my studies my field tended to advocate towards reason and pure logic (though not all) as well as emanating from a more narrow range of voices. That said, I think there was something important and timeless about some of the big questions we were considering and I reflect on many of the same questions when I experience nature or works of art. I like the word "sacred" and I think it combines well with humanism. I get why "sacred humanism" makes sense, but emotionally, I'm personally not ready to give up the word secular, in part perhaps because I am a strong advocate that the secular is not mutually exclusive with spirituality or experiencing a sense of "sacredness". For me, the biggest threat to humanistic study, is the growing technical view of higher education as vocational training. The ballooning cost of college hasn't helped, but I fear the issue is a wider worldview about the value of the humanities.
One of the paintings that inspires awe for me, and fits into my sense of sacred humanity, is by Klimt. The painting is called Hope and depicts a nude pregnant woman, behind which we see Death lurking. She has flowers in her hair, and a look that suggests a confidence in the life she carries within her. It was, as many such paintings have been, controversial. I have the pleasure of being able to go see it in person at our National Art Gallery. You can see it here: https://www.gallery.ca/collection/artwork/hope-i I can recall the first time that I wandered into that section and saw it for the first time. It caused me to stop and pause over it, as I looked more closely at the details. It's not a "quiet" painting by any means, as I see it, but rather a provocative one that reminds us of the cycles of life, and the precariousness of it too. Painted in 1903, a time when maternal death was higher than today. The painter had lost his infant son the year before. Hope, what we carry when there's little else, as we move forward. Hope, the candle that lights the way through fear perhaps? through darkness? I'm not sure that there can be resilience without hope.
What inspired awe in me? For decades, my favorite book and movie was Dr. Zhivago... until The English Patient came to me as movie and book. Burying oneself in historical worlds, individuals' lives rushed desperately in love and fear in times of overwhelming upheaval, was all-enveloping to me. The English Patient novel was more spellbindingly lyrical than 'mere' prose, and numerous websites list dozens of quotes from the movie.
I love this concept so deeply! Your reflections also reminded me of my own experiences with the academic world. I completed my PhD in medieval English literature in 1997, just in time for the number of available university jobs in the humanities to be drastically cut. (That's what started me down a new career path as a family physician.)
A number of factors contributed to this slashing of humanities teaching positions (and entire subdisciplines and even departments), but the big one was the change in definition of what a college education is supposed to do: from exploring ideas and broadening one's knowledge (and through that, becoming a well-rounded person) to preparation for the job market.
Universities would be remiss if they sent graduates out into the world with no job prospects, but this narrow focus on career readiness comes at the expense of development of the whole person. In addition, it wasn't just any work that students were supposed to be prepared for on graduation: it was/is mostly work in business/finance, technology, and science fields related to technology. Certainly, people can find fulfillment and purpose in these fields, but the arts and humanities are just as critically important. They're all about what makes us human(e)--the highest of human achievements and the mental/emotional/moral qualities that accompany these achievements.
Looking back, even if I'd known in advance that I wouldn't be able to find work teaching medieval literature in a university, I wouldn't have made different educational choices. I'm happy to be a doctor with a humanities background. I believe it's helped me to understand my patients better and to connect with them on a human level. It's made me aware of the centrality of stories to each person's life, as well as their health. Studying the humanities is the perfect reminder that medicine (and other disciplines) is both an art and a science. In other fields, too, we need both.
I read this with interest at the same time as I started a book which has this written on its inside cover :
“Twentieth-century man, over-urbanized, over-industrialized, over-organized, over-specialized, seems often a bewildered, harassed creature running up and down his cage. Along his drab streets television aerials grope idly towards heaven, like antennae of a new ant-state. As science advances, and the arts retreat and some have begun to wonder if we are descending towards a New Dark Age, with scientists and technicians in place of theologians and monks.”
The fact that that was written in 1958 gives us an idea of how long the journey might be, to a time when the arts are valued highly once more.
If I was honest, I’m not sure Sacred Humanism particularly resonates with me, but I certainly think it’s very important to find a way to remind us all how central the humanities are to living a good life.
Thank you for this essay. I would include cinema in the discussion - the transcendental is so evident in the work in the spare spaces of such great filmmakers as Robert Bresson through the the current wave of directors such as Apichatpong Weeraskethakul, synonymous with the slow cinema movement, or Charlotte Wells whose exploration of grief in the silences and stillness of Aftersun so resonated with audiences. I work in this field and look for the kind of work that can turn a cinema into a cathedral - sound, vision, all testimony to humanity but raise something up in us, that touch our secular souls, or maybe ground us in our soles. I work with a new generation of creatives - maybe I search them out, but there is definitely a greater desire to connect with this sacred humanity. 🙏
Thank you, Susan, for opening up this conversation. I am 'overflowing' with responses to this beautiful piece of writing, and thrilled by your project of bringing together 'the Sacred' and the Humanities. I wasn't fully aware of the shift within the humanities from awe and emotional presence to a more analytic stance--but I see it now that you have spoken about it. I read your essay, then went for a hike in the woods, while still mulling over what you had to say. I came back, reread, and I am now trying to crystallize some of my thoughts. First, about your choice of Klee: I am so curious about why you chose him in particular for this letter? I particularly respond to the painting, Ancient Sound, I feel its depth, its music; it feels very similar to my walk in the woods. This work feels so organic, so alive, and very aligned with my own sense that even though I can't name it, can't fully understand what it is, that there is some source, some energy of inspiration and creativity that moves through us as beings, as creators-- something very aligned with your sense of awe. As someone who first trained as a physician before transitioning to work as a psychotherapist, I feel like I have a foot in both worlds- the world of the humanities and the world of sciences. I find places for sacred humanism in both. As a workshop facilitator, poetry, music and the arts-- as well as simple ritual--are important to the whole process and help each participant to tune into the 'world beyond the self'-- as you have named it: even if we don't have a belief in a theistic god, even as this non visible world is difficult to name or quantify. But I am also a bit cautious about this venture, and think we have to be careful how we use these words, reckoning with their history, their historical meanings. I will start with 'Sacred'. When I think about 'Sacred', I think about the way being fully present, fully connected from a heart place makes me feel inside-- a little bit like Jonathan Haidt's conception of 'Elevation'. As a process, the word Sacred has so much possibility. A slowing down, a reverence, a presence to Thou, to Other. When it is applied as a descriptor of an object, I become a little more nervous: sacred object, sacred idea ... ok, yes, and when does this put a gate up about who can enter, what discussions can be had? Who determines what is sacred? I think of the term, 'Sacred Cow'. Then we might get purity, zealotry, evangelism. Then there is the word 'Humanism'. The resonance of this word for me is still connected to secular humanism, which has had so many meanings. But some of them have been 'no god allowed' 'rational'- in a way that doesn't make room for other ways of knowing, for mysteries, for forces beyond our human ego. Some versions of humanism do include a 'living world' -- but not all. As someone who walks in both worlds, I believe we need both. I'd better stop here! This is becoming more than a comment. I hope this conversation will continue.--With gratitude, Keren
I’ve heard both versions of humanism, too. This whole conversation opens a door in me to want to know more.
A question I have is whether, in trying to restore an earlier ethos,, it’s helpful to return to older pre-existing language and concepts, or whether we need to create something new —in order to step away from the difficulties and distortions of what the older terms originally meant.
Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it. (Mary Oliver)
In a concert hall, the camera spotlights a performer's agile fingers dancing on the keyboard before zooming in on the audience, capturing their sparkling eyes as they collectively effervesce, frozen in time. In Bergen, Norway, I sit on the stone steps at Mount Fløyen, mesmerized by the faces glowing in the shimmering sunset, evoking a profound hush of a cathedral. In Tolstoy's "The Death of Ivan Ilyich," I am deeply moved by the character's transformation from being terrorized by death to making peace with his mortality after encountering a transcendent epiphany in his final hours. In Peru, at a Mother Teresa's home for people in poverty, I witness a more functional youth change the diaper and gently, slowly wipe the smeared rear of a gravely disabled peer, not dutifully but graciously, like an older brother.
To capture these moments, I must live consciously in the present. I also need to be alive in my inner world with eyes wide open to see the sacred in every being. Only then can I recognize, in plain sight, every bush becoming a burning bush, and each soul sparking with dignity, honor, and reverence. Awaken within, witness without. We may even glimpse the Sacred embodied in what is true, good, and beautiful. The discipline of the humanities serves as a portal to this sacred seeing. Given human capacity for both good and evil, formation and deformation, the humanities cultivate our souls to be compassionate and cultured, kind and refined. The humanities can not only save humanity but also enhance our existence with wonder, awe, beauty, depth, and mystery. Humanity is the root; the humanities are the branches that ennoble the finest expression of our humaneness - the making of beautiful souls.
It all begins with paying attention.
This speaks so much to me right now. My undergrad degree was in English, too (1981). Several years later, an M.S. in communications from the same university did improve my professional life and confidence, and I don’t regret that. But the humanities side of me never left, and since my mid-60s, I’ve felt a deeper hunger for it.
Very nicely written article on “Sacred Humanism”. The UK government are looking to reduce funding for university degrees in the humanities as they believe that students studying these have low earning potential when compared to degrees in technical subjects. Consequently universities are scaling back humanities, arts and social science programs. This is very sad but a reflection on the current economic climate. Whenever money is tight, the first thing to take a hit is the arts.
There is a lot of emphasis on technology, which is very short lived and constantly changing, whereas art, music, literature and philosophy endures for hundreds or even thousands of years.
We need technology to survive physically but we also need the arts to survive emotionally. They are an essential part of being human and have been part of our lives and culture for eons.
As for the feeling of awe when looking at art, I have a theory that I have thought about often. I think that when we have that feeling of awe or are emotionally moved by a piece of art, music or literature, then the artist must have had the same feelings when he or she created the piece, like it has been charged with those emotions. A lot of our vital essence has to be put into a creation to make it truly great and for others to appreciate that. I think this happens when we get in that flow state and our mind gets out of the way, and our artwork seems to take on a life of its own. Conversely, when our heart is not in any form of creative endeavour, it will not inspire awe in anyone who hears or sees it. There is a lot more than aesthetics instilled in works of art.
One painting that really inspired me was one of Vincent Van Gogh’s self portraits that I saw close up at the Royal Academy in London some years ago. Every brush stroke was visible, the depth of the paint and the amazing array of colours used, something you don’t get from looking at a print. It was a whole different experience, and one I have remembered ever since.
It’s my hope that the young people of today learn to experience the same level of awe in the humanities as they do in the latest iPhone!
Sacred Humanism paired with Transcendence is like music to my ears. I love that we can focus on appreciation of beauty and excellence is this space. Many beautiful minds live in this space. How do we find a place for those voices, that choir to sing together and help us all to transcend to an abundant, soul filling life. Nature helps me get there but I love creative spaces to help me travel in sacred humanism. Thanks.
Beautifully and thoughtfully written. Without this humanism life would remain less meaningful and more painful I believe.
I love the idea of Sacred Humanism, thank you for this very inspiring article!
I love the idea of life as sacramental; as a Quaker I try to live this way but the opposite, the prosaic, often gets in my way, I'm afraid, and I stumble. But your article reminds me of how much I live my life through poetics, and literature, and spiritual writings, and nature, and I love the meaning of the sense of awe that you present, something that our souls yearn for, out of this world. This poem by Walt Whitman is important to me and I'm pretty sure, well known Quiet Life readers:
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes that you lovest best,
Night, Sleep, Death and the Stars.
(The Clear Midnight)
This essay is such a gift, Susan. Thank you. I hope it travels far and wide.
Ted Gioia talks a lot about us being on the precipice of a New Romanticism, and, good lord, I hope he’s right. I read your framing of the current moment as a mirror — the sunset of a reductive period of Enlightenment. Which I also can’t wait to say goodbye to.
Here’s to the dawn of Sacred Humanism! 💙
As a undergraduate philosophy major many years ago I am a big fan of all the humanities, even accepting the criticism that the during the time of my studies my field tended to advocate towards reason and pure logic (though not all) as well as emanating from a more narrow range of voices. That said, I think there was something important and timeless about some of the big questions we were considering and I reflect on many of the same questions when I experience nature or works of art. I like the word "sacred" and I think it combines well with humanism. I get why "sacred humanism" makes sense, but emotionally, I'm personally not ready to give up the word secular, in part perhaps because I am a strong advocate that the secular is not mutually exclusive with spirituality or experiencing a sense of "sacredness". For me, the biggest threat to humanistic study, is the growing technical view of higher education as vocational training. The ballooning cost of college hasn't helped, but I fear the issue is a wider worldview about the value of the humanities.
One of the paintings that inspires awe for me, and fits into my sense of sacred humanity, is by Klimt. The painting is called Hope and depicts a nude pregnant woman, behind which we see Death lurking. She has flowers in her hair, and a look that suggests a confidence in the life she carries within her. It was, as many such paintings have been, controversial. I have the pleasure of being able to go see it in person at our National Art Gallery. You can see it here: https://www.gallery.ca/collection/artwork/hope-i I can recall the first time that I wandered into that section and saw it for the first time. It caused me to stop and pause over it, as I looked more closely at the details. It's not a "quiet" painting by any means, as I see it, but rather a provocative one that reminds us of the cycles of life, and the precariousness of it too. Painted in 1903, a time when maternal death was higher than today. The painter had lost his infant son the year before. Hope, what we carry when there's little else, as we move forward. Hope, the candle that lights the way through fear perhaps? through darkness? I'm not sure that there can be resilience without hope.
What inspired awe in me? For decades, my favorite book and movie was Dr. Zhivago... until The English Patient came to me as movie and book. Burying oneself in historical worlds, individuals' lives rushed desperately in love and fear in times of overwhelming upheaval, was all-enveloping to me. The English Patient novel was more spellbindingly lyrical than 'mere' prose, and numerous websites list dozens of quotes from the movie.
Humanism, and the discussions surrounding and about it, take too much of a distasteful political and cultural bent for my liking.
I feel as if I’m harboring deep, deep anger and bitterness over this.
Some people take solace in fine arts and poetry; I do so in mathematica.
I totally understand, John.
Love “Sacred Humanism”
The music of Carrie Newcomer is worth a listen.
There is Room at The Table for Everyone!