THE POSITIVE CULT I: Elements of Sacrifice

Whatever the importance of the negative cult may be, and though it may indirectly have positive effects, it does not contain its reason for existence in itself; it introduces one to the religious life, but it supposes this more than it constitutes it. If it orders the worshipper to flee from the profane world, it is to bring him nearer to the sacred world. Men have never thought that their duties towards religious forces might be reduced to a simple abstinence from all commerce; they have always believed that they upheld positive and bilateral relations with them, whose regulation and organization is the function of a group of ritual practices. To this special system of rites we give the name of positive cult.

However important the negative cult may be, and though it may have positive effects indirectly, it does not exist for its own sake. It introduces people to religious life, but it presupposes religious life more than it creates it. If it tells worshippers to avoid the profane world, it does so to bring them closer to the sacred world. People have never thought that their duties toward religious forces could be reduced to simply avoiding all contact with them. They have always believed that they had positive, two-way relations with these forces. A group of ritual practices serves to regulate and organize these relations. We call this particular system of rites the positive cult.

For some time we almost completely ignored the positive cult of the totemic religion and what it consists in. We knew almost nothing more than the initiation rites, and we do not know those sufficiently well even now. But the observations of Spencer and Gillen, prepared for by those of Schulze and confirmed by those of Strehlow, on the tribes of central Australia, have partially filled this gap in our information. There is one ceremony especially which these explorers have taken particular pains to describe to us and which, moreover, seems to dominate the whole totemic cult: this is the one that the Arunta, according to Spencer and Gillen, call the Intichiuma. It is true that Strehlow contests the meaning of this word. According to him, intichiuma (or, as he writes it, intijiuma) means "to instruct" and designates the ceremonies performed before the young man to teach him the traditions of the tribe. The feast which we are going to describe bears, he says, the name mbatjalkatiuma, which means "to fecundate" or "to put into a good condition."¹¹⁰⁴ But we shall not try to settle this question of vocabulary, which touches the real problem but slightly, as the rites in question are all celebrated in the course of the initiation. On the other hand, as the word Intichiuma now belongs to the current language of ethnography, and has almost become a common noun, it seems useless to replace it with another.¹¹⁰⁵

For a long time, we knew almost nothing about the positive cult of totemic religion or what it involved. We knew little beyond the initiation rites, and even now we do not know those well enough. But observations of central Australian tribes have partly filled this gap. Spencer and Gillen made these observations, building on Schulze’s earlier work, and Strehlow confirmed them. The explorers took particular care to describe one ceremony, which also seems to dominate the whole totemic cult. According to Spencer and Gillen, the Arunta call this ceremony the Intichiuma. Strehlow, however, disputes the meaning of the word. According to him, intichiuma (or, as he writes it, intijiuma) means "to instruct". He says it refers to ceremonies performed before a young man to teach him the tribe’s traditions. He says the feast we will describe is called mbatjalkatiuma, meaning "to fecundate" or "to put into a good condition."¹¹⁰⁴ But we will not try to settle this question of vocabulary. It has little bearing on the real problem, since all the rites in question are celebrated during initiation. Moreover, the word Intichiuma is now part of the everyday language of ethnography and has almost become a common noun. Replacing it with another word therefore seems pointless.¹¹⁰⁵

The date on which the Intichiuma takes place depends largely upon the season. There are two sharply separated seasons in Australia: one is dry and lasts for a long time; the other is rainy and is, on the contrary, very short and frequently irregular. As soon as the rains arrive, vegetation springs up from the ground as though by enchantment and animals multiply, so that the country which had recently been only a sterile desert is rapidly filled with a luxurious flora and fauna. It is just at the moment when the good season seems to be close at hand that the Intichiuma is celebrated. But as the rainy season is extremely variable, the date of the ceremonies cannot be fixed once for all. It varies with the climatic circumstances, which only the chief of the totemic group, the Alatunja, is qualified to judge: on a day which he considers suitable, he informs his companions that the moment has arrived.¹¹⁰⁶

The timing of the Intichiuma depends largely on the season. Australia has two sharply distinct seasons. One is dry and lasts a long time. The other is rainy, but very short and often irregular. As soon as the rains arrive, plants spring from the ground as if by magic, and animals multiply. The land, recently a barren desert, quickly fills with abundant plant and animal life. The Intichiuma is celebrated just when the good season seems close at hand. But the rainy season varies greatly, so the date of the ceremonies cannot be fixed once and for all. It varies with the weather, which only the chief of the totemic group, the Alatunja, is qualified to judge. On a day he considers suitable, he tells his companions that the time has come.¹¹⁰⁶

Each totemic group has its own Intichiuma. Even if this rite is general in the societies of the centre, it is not the same everywhere; among the Warramunga, it is not what it is among the Arunta; it varies, not only among the tribes, but also within the tribe, among the clans. But it is obvious that the different mechanisms in use are too closely related to each other to be dissociated completely. There is no ceremony, perhaps, which is not made up of several, though these are very unequally developed: what exists only as a germ in one, occupies the most important place in another, and inversely. Yet they must be carefully distinguished, for they constitute just so many different ritual types to be described and explained separately, but afterwards we must seek some common source from which they were derived.

Each totemic group has its own Intichiuma. Although the rite is widespread in the societies of the centre, it is not the same everywhere. Among the Warramunga, it differs from the rite among the Arunta. It varies not only between tribes, but also between clans within a tribe. But the different methods used are obviously too closely related to be separated completely. Perhaps every ceremony contains several of these methods, although they are developed to very different degrees. A method that exists only in an early form in one ceremony occupies the most important place in another, and vice versa. Yet we must carefully distinguish these methods. Each constitutes a different ritual type that must be described and explained separately. Afterward, however, we must seek a common source from which they all originated.

Let us commence with those observed among the Arunta.

Let us begin with those observed among the Arunta.

The celebration includes two successive phases. The object of the rites which take place in the first is to assure the prosperity of the animal or vegetable species serving the clan as totem. The means employed for this end may be reduced to two principal types.

The celebration has two successive phases. The rites in the first phase aim to ensure the prosperity of the animal or plant species that serves as the clan’s totem. The means used for this purpose may be grouped into two main types.

It will be remembered that the fabulous ancestors from whom each clan is supposed to be descended, formerly lived on earth and left traces of their passage there. These traces consist especially in stones and rocks which they deposited at certain places, or which were formed at the spots where they entered into the ground. These rocks and stones are considered the bodies or parts of the bodies of the ancestors, whose memory they keep alive; they represent them. Consequently, they also represent the animals and plants which served these same ancestors as totems, for an individual and his totem are only one. The same reality and the same properties are attributed to them as to the actually living plants or animals of the same species. But they have this advantage over these latter, that they are imperishable, knowing neither sickness nor death. So they are like a permanent immutable and ever-available reserve of animal and vegetable life. Also, in a certain number of cases, it is this reserve that they annually draw upon to assure the reproduction of the species.

As we have seen, each clan is believed to descend from mythical ancestors who once lived on earth and left traces of their presence. These traces are mainly stones and rocks. The ancestors left them in certain places, or the stones and rocks formed where the ancestors entered the ground. They are considered the bodies or body parts of the ancestors and keep their memory alive. They represent the ancestors. As a result, they also represent the animals and plants that served as these ancestors’ totems. This is because an individual and their totem are one and the same. The stones and rocks are considered just as real as living plants or animals of the same species. They are also believed to have the same properties. But they have one advantage over living plants and animals: they last forever and know neither sickness nor death. They are therefore like a permanent, unchanging, and always available reserve of animal and plant life. In some cases, people draw on this reserve each year to ensure the reproduction of the species.

Here, for example, is how the Witchetty grub clan, at Alice Springs, proceeds at its Intichiuma.¹¹⁰⁷

Here, for example, is how the Witchetty grub clan at Alice Springs conducts its Intichiuma.¹¹⁰⁷

On the day fixed by the chief, all the members of the totemic group assemble in the principal camp. The men of the other totems retire to a distance;¹¹⁰⁸ for among the Arunta, they are not allowed to be present at the celebration of the rite, which has all the characteristics of a secret ceremony. An individual of a different totem, but of the same phratry, may be invited to be present, as a favour; but this is only as a witness. In no case can he take an active part.

On the day set by the chief, all members of the totemic group gather at the main camp. The men of the other totems withdraw some distance away.¹¹⁰⁸ Among the Arunta, they are not allowed to attend the rite, which has all the characteristics of a secret ceremony. As a favor, a person from a different totem but the same phratry may be invited to attend. But he may attend only as a witness. He can never take an active part.

After the men of the totem have assembled, they leave the camp, leaving only two or three of their number behind. They advance in a profound silence, one behind another, all naked, without arms and without any of their habitual ornaments. Their attitude and their pace are marked with a religious gravity: this is because the act in which they are taking part has an exceptional importance in their eyes. Also, until the end of the ceremony they are required to observe a rigorous fast.

After the men of the totem gather, they leave the camp, leaving only two or three of their number behind. They walk in complete silence, one behind the other. All are naked, carrying no weapons and wearing none of their usual ornaments. Their manner and pace are solemn and reverent because they consider the act they are taking part in exceptionally important. They are also required to observe a strict fast until the ceremony ends.

The country which they traverse is all filled with souvenirs left by the glorious ancestors. Thus they arrive at a spot where a huge block of quartz is found, with small round stones all around it. This block represents the witchetty grub as an adult. The Alatunja strikes it with a sort of wooden tray called apmara,¹¹⁰⁹ and at the same time he intones a chant, whose object is to invite the animal to lay eggs. He proceeds in the same fashion with the stones which are regarded as the eggs of the animal and with one of which he rubs the stomach of each assistant. This done, they all descend a little lower, to the foot of a cliff also celebrated in the myths of the Alcheringa, at the base of which is another stone, also representing the witchetty grub. The Alatunja strikes it with his apmara; the men accompanying him do so as well, with branches of a gum-tree which they have gathered on the way, all of which goes on in the midst of chants renewing the invitation previously addressed to the animal. About ten different spots are visited in turn, some of which are a mile or more from the others. At each of them there is a stone at the bottom of a cave or hole, which is believed to represent the witchetty grub in one of his aspects or at one of the phases of his existence, and upon each of these stones, the same ceremonies are repeated.

The country they travel through is filled with traces left by the glorious ancestors. They come to a place where a huge block of quartz is surrounded by small round stones. The block represents the adult witchetty grub. The Alatunja strikes it with a kind of wooden tray called apmara.¹¹⁰⁹ At the same time, he chants to invite the animal to lay eggs. He does the same with the stones, which are regarded as the animal’s eggs. He also rubs one of the stones on the stomach of each person assisting him. Then they all go a little farther down, to the foot of a cliff also celebrated in the myths of the Alcheringa. At its base is another stone, which also represents the witchetty grub. The Alatunja strikes it with his apmara. The men accompanying him do the same, using gum-tree branches they have gathered on the way. All the while, they chant, renewing their invitation to the animal. They visit about ten different places in turn, some a mile or more apart. At each place, a stone lies at the bottom of a cave or hole. Each stone is believed to represent the witchetty grub in one of its aspects or stages of life. The same ceremonies are repeated at each stone.

The meaning of the rite is evident. When the Alatunja strikes the sacred stones, it is to detach some dust. The grains of this very holy dust are regarded as so many germs of life; each of them contains a spiritual principle which will give birth to a new being, when introduced into an organism of the same species. The branches with which the assistants are provided serve to scatter this precious dust in all directions; it is scattered everywhere, to accomplish its fecundating work. By this means, they assure, in their own minds, an abundant reproduction of the animal species over which the clans guard, so to speak, and upon which it depends.

The meaning of the rite is clear. The Alatunja strikes the sacred stones to knock off some dust. The grains of this very holy dust are regarded as germs of life. Each grain contains a spiritual principle that will give birth to a new being when introduced into an organism of the same species. The assistants use branches to scatter this precious dust in all directions. They scatter it everywhere so that it can bring about reproduction. In this way, they believe they ensure abundant reproduction of the animal species that the clans, so to speak, watch over and depend on.

The natives themselves give the rite this interpretation. Thus, in the clan of the ilpirla (a kind of "manna"), they proceed in the following manner. When the day of the Intichiuma arrives, the group assembles near a huge rock, about fifty feet high; on top of this rock is another, very similar to the first in aspect and surrounded by other smaller ones. Both represent masses of manna. The Alatunja digs up the ground at the foot of this rock and uncovers a churinga which is believed to have been buried there in Alcheringa times, and which is, as it were, the quintessence of the manna. Then he climbs up to the summit of the higher rock and rubs it, first with the churinga and then with the smaller stones which surround it. Finally, he brushes away the dust which has thus been collected on the surface of the rock, with the branches of a tree; each of the assistants does the same in his turn. Now Spencer and Gillen say that the idea of the natives is that the dust thus scattered will "settle upon the mulga trees and so produce manna." In fact, these operations are accompanied by a hymn sung by those present, in which this idea is expressed.¹¹¹⁰

The people themselves interpret the rite in this way. In the clan of the ilpirla (a kind of "manna"), they perform it as follows. On the day of the Intichiuma, the group gathers near a huge rock about fifty feet high. On top of this rock is another that looks very similar to it, surrounded by smaller stones. Both rocks represent masses of manna. The Alatunja digs at the foot of the rock and uncovers a churinga. It is believed to have been buried there in Alcheringa times and is, as it were, the essence of the manna. Then he climbs to the top of the higher rock. He rubs it first with the churinga and then with the smaller stones surrounding it. Finally, he brushes away the dust collected on the rock's surface with tree branches. Each person assisting takes a turn doing the same. Spencer and Gillen say that the people believe the scattered dust will "settle upon the mulga trees and so produce manna." In fact, those present accompany these actions with a hymn that expresses this idea.¹¹¹⁰

With variations, this same rite is found in other societies. Among the Urabunna, there is a rock representing an ancestor of the Lizard clan; bits are detached from it which they throw in every direction, in order to secure an abundant production of lizards.¹¹¹¹ In this same tribe, there is a sand-bank which mythological souvenirs closely associate with the louse totem. At the same spot are two trees, one of which is called the ordinary louse tree, the other, the crab-louse tree. They take some of this sand, rub it on these trees, throw it about on every side and become convinced that, as a result of this, lice will be born in large numbers.¹¹¹² The Mara perform the Intichiuma of the bees by scattering dust detached from sacred rocks.¹¹¹³ For the kangaroo of the plains, a slightly different method is used. They take some kangaroo-dung and wrap it up in a certain herb of which the animal is very fond, and which belongs to the kangaroo totem for this reason. Then they put the dung, thus enveloped, on the ground between two bunches of this herb and set the whole thing on fire. With the flame thus made, they light the branches of trees and then whirl them about in such a way that sparks fly in every direction. These sparks play the same rôle as the dust in the preceding cases.¹¹¹⁴

This same rite appears in other societies, with variations. Among the Urabunna, a rock represents an ancestor of the Lizard clan. They break bits off the rock and throw them in every direction to ensure an abundant supply of lizards.¹¹¹¹ In the same tribe, a sandbank is closely linked to the louse totem through its mythological associations. Two trees stand at the same spot. One is called the ordinary louse tree, the other the crab-louse tree. They take some sand, rub it on the trees, and throw it in every direction. They are convinced that, as a result, lice will be born in large numbers.¹¹¹² The Mara perform the Intichiuma of the bees by scattering dust taken from sacred rocks.¹¹¹³ For the kangaroo of the plains, they use a slightly different method. They wrap some kangaroo dung in an herb that the animal is very fond of. For this reason, the herb belongs to the kangaroo totem. They put the wrapped dung on the ground between two bunches of the herb and set it all on fire. They use the flames to light tree branches, then whirl the branches around so that sparks fly in every direction. These sparks play the same role as the dust in the preceding cases.¹¹¹⁴

In a certain number of clans,¹¹¹⁵ men mix something of their own substance with that of the stone, in order to make the rite more efficacious. Young men open their veins and let streams of blood flow on to the rock. This is the case, for example, in the Intichiuma of the Hakea flower among the Arunta. The ceremony takes place in a sacred place around an equally sacred rock which, in the eyes of the natives, represents Hakea flowers. After certain preliminary operations, "the old leader asks one of the young men to open a vein in his arm, which he does, and allows the blood to sprinkle freely, while the other men continue the singing. The blood flows until the stone is completely covered."¹¹¹⁶ The object of this practice is to revivify the virtues of the stone, after a fashion, and to reinforce its efficacy. It should not be forgotten that the men of the clan are relatives of the plant or animal whose name they bear; the same principle of life is in them, and especially in their blood. So it is only natural that one should use this blood and the mystic germs which it carries to assure the regular reproduction of the totemic species. It frequently happens among the Arunta that when a man is sick or tired, one of his young companions opens his veins and sprinkles him with his blood in order to reanimate him.¹¹¹⁷ If blood is able to reawaken life in a man in this way, it is not surprising that it should also be able to awaken it in the animal or vegetable species with which the men of the clan are confounded.

In some clans,¹¹¹⁵ men mix some of their own substance with the stone to make the rite more effective. Young men open their veins and let blood stream onto the rock. This happens, for example, in the Intichiuma of the Hakea flower among the Arunta. The ceremony takes place at a sacred site around a rock that is also sacred. The Arunta believe the rock represents Hakea flowers. After some preliminary actions, "the old leader asks one of the young men to open a vein in his arm, which he does, and lets the blood sprinkle freely while the other men continue singing. The blood flows until the stone is completely covered."¹¹¹⁶ The purpose of this practice is to restore the stone's powers, in a sense, and make it more effective. We should remember that the men of the clan are related to the plant or animal whose name they bear. The same life principle is in them, especially in their blood. So it is only natural to use their blood and the mystical germs it carries to ensure that the totemic species reproduces regularly. Among the Arunta, when a man is sick or tired, a young companion often opens his veins and sprinkles him with blood to revive him.¹¹¹⁷ If blood can reawaken life in a man this way, it is not surprising that it can also awaken life in the animal or plant species with which the men of the clan are identified.

The same process is employed in the Intichiuma of the Undiara kangaroo among the Arunta. The theatre of the ceremony is a water-hole vaulted over by a peaked rock. This rock represents an animal-kangaroo of the Alcheringa which was killed and deposited there by a man-kangaroo of the same epoch; many kangaroo spirits are also believed to reside there. After a certain number of sacred stones have been rubbed against each other in the way we have described, several of the assistants climb up on the rock upon which they let their blood flow.¹¹¹⁸ "The purpose of the ceremony at the present day, so say the natives, is by means of pouring out the blood of kangaroo men upon the rock, to drive out in all directions the spirits of the kangaroo animals and so to increase the number of the animals."¹¹¹⁹

The same process is used in the Intichiuma of the Undiara kangaroo among the Arunta. The ceremony takes place at a water hole roofed over by a pointed rock. The rock represents an animal-kangaroo from the Alcheringa. A man-kangaroo from the same period killed the animal-kangaroo and placed it there. Many kangaroo spirits are also believed to live there. First, a number of sacred stones are rubbed against one another in the way we have described. Then several participants climb onto the rock and let their blood flow onto it.¹¹¹⁸ "According to the natives, the purpose of the ceremony today is to pour the blood of kangaroo men onto the rock. This drives the spirits of the kangaroo animals out in all directions, increasing the number of animals."¹¹¹⁹

There is even one case among the Arunta where the blood seems to be the active principle in the rite. In the Emu group, they do not use sacred stones or anything resembling them. The Alatunja and some of his assistants sprinkle the ground with their blood; on the ground thus soaked, they trace lines in various colours, representing the different parts of the body of an emu. They kneel down around this design and chant a monotonous hymn. From the fictitious emu to which this chant is addressed, and, consequently, from the blood which has served to make it, they believe that vivifying principles go forth, which animate the embryos of the new generation, and thus prevent the species from disappearing.¹¹²⁰

There is even one case among the Arunta where blood seems to be the active force in the rite. The Emu group does not use sacred stones or anything like them. The Alatunja and some of his assistants sprinkle the ground with their blood. On the soaked ground, they draw lines in different colours, representing the different parts of an emu’s body. They kneel around the drawing and chant a monotonous hymn. They believe that life-giving forces come from the imaginary emu to which they sing, and therefore from the blood used to make it. These forces bring the embryos of the new generation to life and so prevent the species from disappearing.¹¹²⁰

Among the Wonkgongaru,¹¹²¹ there is one clan whose totem is a certain kind of fish; in the Intichiuma of this totem also, it is the blood that plays the principal part. The chief of the group, after being ceremoniously painted, goes into a pool of water and sits down there. Then he pierces his scrotum and the skin around his navel with small pointed bones. "The blood from the wounds goes into the water and gives rise to fish."¹¹²²

Among the Wonkgongaru,¹¹²¹ one clan has a certain kind of fish as its totem. Blood also plays the main role in the Intichiuma of this totem. After being ceremonially painted, the group’s chief goes into a pool of water and sits down. He then pierces his scrotum and the skin around his navel with small, pointed bones. "The blood from the wounds goes into the water and gives rise to fish."¹¹²²

By a wholly similar process, the Dieri think that they assure the reproduction of two of their totems, the carpet snake and the woma snake (the ordinary snake). A Mura-mura named Minkani is thought to live under a dune. His body is represented by some fossil bones of animals or reptiles, such as the deltas of the rivers flowing into Lake Eyre contain, according to Howitt. When the day of the ceremony arrives, the men assemble and go to the home of the Minkani. There they dig until they come to a layer of damp earth which they call "the excrement of Minkani." From now on, they continue to turn up the soil with great care until they uncover "the elbow of Minkani." Then two young men open their veins and let their blood flow on to the sacred rock. They chant the hymn of Minkani while the assistants, carried away in a veritable frenzy, beat each other with their arms. The battle continues until they get back to the camp, which is about a mile away. Here, the women intervene and put an end to the combat. They collect the blood which has flown from the wounds, mix it with the "excrement of Minkani," and scatter the resulting mixture over the dune. When this rite has been accomplished, they are convinced that carpet snakes will be born in abundance.¹¹²³

In much the same way, the Dieri believe they ensure the reproduction of two of their totems, the carpet snake and the woma snake (the ordinary snake). A Mura-mura named Minkani is believed to live under a dune. His body is represented by fossil bones of animals or reptiles. According to Howitt, such bones are found in the deltas of the rivers flowing into Lake Eyre. On the day of the ceremony, the men gather and go to Minkani’s home. There, they dig until they reach a layer of damp earth, which they call "the excrement of Minkani." From then on, they dig very carefully until they uncover "the elbow of Minkani." Then two young men open their veins and let their blood flow onto the sacred rock. They chant the hymn of Minkani while the other men, overcome by a genuine frenzy, beat one another with their arms. The fighting continues until they return to the camp, about a mile away. There, the women step in and end the fight. They collect the blood from the wounds and mix it with the "excrement of Minkani." They then scatter the mixture over the dune. Once the rite is complete, they are convinced that carpet snakes will be born in abundance.¹¹²³

In certain cases, they use the very substance which they wish to produce as the vivifying principle. Thus among the Kaitish, in the course of a ceremony whose object is to create rain, they sprinkle water over a sacred rock which represents the mythical heroes of the Water clan. It is evident that they believe that by this means they augment the productive virtues of the rock just as well as with blood, and for the same reasons.¹¹²⁴ Among the Mara, the actor takes water from a sacred hole, puts it in his mouth and spits it out in every direction.¹¹²⁵ Among the Worgaia, when the yams begin to sprout, the chief of the Yam clan sends men of the phratry of which he is not a member himself to gather some of these plants; these bring some to him, and ask him to intervene, in order that the species may develop well. He takes one, chews it, and throws the bits in every direction.¹¹²⁶ Among the Kaitish when, after various rites which we shall not describe, the grain of a certain grass called Erlipinna has reached its full development, the chief of the totem brings a little of it to camp and grinds it between two stones; the dust thus obtained is piously gathered up, and a few grains are placed on the lips of the chief, who scatters them by blowing. This contact with the mouth of the chief, which has a very special sacramental virtue, undoubtedly has the object of stimulating the vitality of the germs which these grains contain and which, being blown to all the quarters of the horizon, go to communicate these fecundating virtues which they possess to the plants.¹¹²⁷

In some cases, they use the very substance they want to produce as the life-giving principle. Among the Kaitish, for example, a ceremony is performed to create rain. During it, they sprinkle water over a sacred rock representing the mythical heroes of the Water clan. Clearly, they believe that water increases the rock’s power to produce rain just as blood does, and for the same reasons.¹¹²⁴ Among the Mara, the performer takes water from a sacred hole, puts it in his mouth, and spits it out in every direction.¹¹²⁵ Among the Worgaia, when the yams begin to sprout, the chief of the Yam clan sends men to gather some. The men belong to the phratry of which he is not a member. They bring him some of the plants and ask him to intervene so that the species will grow well. He takes one, chews it, and throws the pieces in every direction.¹¹²⁶ Among the Kaitish, various rites are performed that we will not describe. After these rites, when the grain of a grass called Erlipinna has fully developed, the chief of the totem brings a little to camp. He grinds it between two stones. The resulting dust is reverently gathered up, and a few grains are placed on the chief’s lips. He then blows them in every direction. Contact with the chief’s mouth has a very special sacramental power. It undoubtedly serves to stimulate the vitality of the seeds within these grains. Blown in every direction, the grains go on to pass their fertilizing powers to the plants.¹¹²⁷

The efficacy of these rites is never doubted by the native: he is convinced that they must produce the results he expects, with a sort of necessity. If events deceive his hopes, he merely concludes that they were counteracted by the sorcery of some hostile group. In any case, it never enters his mind that a favourable result could be obtained by any other means. If by chance the vegetation grows or the animals produce before he has performed his Intichiuma, he supposes that another Intichiuma has been celebrated under the ground by the ancestors and that the living reap the benefits of this subterranean ceremony.¹¹²⁸

The native never doubts that these rites work. He is convinced that they must produce the results he expects, as if by necessity. If events disappoint him, he simply concludes that the sorcery of a hostile group counteracted the rites. In any case, he never considers that the desired result could be achieved by any other means. If plants happen to grow or animals reproduce before he has performed his Intichiuma, he assumes that the ancestors have celebrated another Intichiuma underground. He believes that the living benefit from this underground ceremony.¹¹²⁸

This is the first act of the celebration.

This is the first part of the celebration.

During the period immediately following, there are no regular ceremonies. However, the religious life remains intense: this is manifested especially by an aggravation of the system of interdicts. It is as though the sacred character of the totem were reinforced: they do not even dare to touch it. In ordinary times, the Arunta may eat the animal or plant which serves as totem, provided they do so with moderation, but on the morrow of the Intichiuma this right is suspended; the alimentary interdiction is strict and without exceptions. They believe that any violation of this interdict would result in neutralizing the good effects of the rite and in preventing the increase of the species. It is true that the men of other totems who happen to be in the same locality are not submitted to the same prohibition. However, their liberty is less than ordinary at this time. They may not consume the totemic animal wherever they place, in the brush, for example; they must bring it to camp, and it is there only that it may be cooked.¹¹²⁹

In the period immediately afterward, there are no regular ceremonies. However, religious life remains intense. This is especially clear in the stricter prohibitions. It is as though the sacred character of the totem had grown stronger. They do not even dare to touch it. In ordinary times, the Arunta may eat the animal or plant that serves as their totem, provided they do so in moderation. But the day after the Intichiuma, this right is suspended. The prohibition on eating the totem is strict and allows no exceptions. They believe that any violation would cancel the good effects of the rite and prevent the species from increasing. Men of other totems who happen to be in the same area are not subject to the same prohibition. However, their freedom is also more limited than usual at this time. They may not eat the totemic animal wherever they please, in the brush, for example. They must bring it to camp, and it may be cooked only there.¹¹²⁹

A final ceremony terminates this period of extraordinary interdictions and definitely closes this long series of rites. It varies somewhat in different clans, but the essential elements are the same everywhere. Here are the two principal forms which it takes among the Arunta. One of these is in connection with the witchetty grub, the other with the kangaroo.

A final ceremony ends this period of extraordinary restrictions and brings the long series of rites to a close. The ceremony varies somewhat among clans, but its essential elements are the same everywhere. Among the Arunta, it takes two principal forms. One is connected with the witchetty grub, the other with the kangaroo.

When the grubs have attained full maturity and appear in abundance, the men of the totem, as well as others, collect as many of them as possible; then they all bring those they have found back to camp and cook them until they become hard and brittle. They are then preserved in wooden vessels called pitchi. The harvest of grubs is possible only during a very short time, for they appear only after the rain. When they begin to be less numerous, the Alatunja summons everybody to the camp; on his invitation, each one brings his supply. The others place theirs before the men of that totem. The Alatunja takes one of these pitchi and, with the aid of his companions, he grinds its contents between two stones; after this, he eats a little of the powder thus obtained, his assistants do the same, and what remains is given to the men of the other clans, who may now dispose of it freely. They proceed in exactly the same manner with the supply provided by the Alatunja. From now on, the men and women of the totem may eat it, but only a little at a time; if they went beyond the limits allowed, they would lose the powers necessary to celebrate the Intichiuma and the species would not reproduce. Yet, if they did not eat any at all, and especially if the Alatunja ate none in the circumstances we have just described, they would be overtaken by the same incapacity.

When the grubs are fully grown and abundant, the men of the totem and others collect as many as possible. They all bring the grubs they find back to camp and cook them until they are hard and brittle. Then they store them in wooden containers called pitchi. The grub harvest is possible only for a very short time, because the grubs appear only after rain. When the grubs begin to grow scarce, the Alatunja calls everyone to the camp. At his invitation, each person brings their supply. The others place their supplies before the men of that totem. The Alatunja takes one of these pitchi and, with his companions’ help, grinds its contents between two stones. He then eats a little of the resulting powder, and his assistants do the same. The rest is given to the men of the other clans, who may now use it freely. They follow exactly the same process with the supply provided by the Alatunja. From then on, the men and women of the totem may eat the grubs, but only a little at a time. If they ate more than allowed, they would lose the powers needed to perform the Intichiuma, and the species would not reproduce. Yet if they ate none at all, they would lose the same powers. This would be especially true if the Alatunja ate none under the circumstances just described.

In the totemic group of the Kangaroo, which has its centre at Undiara, certain characteristics of the ceremony are more clearly marked. After the rites which we have described have been accomplished on the sacred rock, the young men go and hunt the kangaroo, bringing their game back to the camp. Here, the old men, with the Alatunja in their midst, eat a little of the flesh of the animal, and anoint the bodies of those who took part in the Intichiuma with its fat. The rest is divided up among the men assembled. Next, the men of the totem decorate themselves with totemic designs and the night is passed in songs commemorating the exploits accomplished by men and animal kangaroos in the times of the Alcheringa. The next day, the young men go hunting again in the forest and bring back a larger number of kangaroos than the first time, and the ceremonies of the day before recommence.¹¹³⁰

In the Kangaroo totemic group, centered at Undiara, certain features of the ceremony are more distinct. After completing the rites described on the sacred rock, the young men hunt kangaroos and bring them back to camp. There, the old men, with the Alatunja among them, eat a little of the kangaroo meat. They also rub kangaroo fat on the bodies of those who took part in the Intichiuma. The rest of the meat is divided among the men gathered there. Next, the men of the totem decorate themselves with totemic designs. They spend the night singing about the deeds of kangaroo men and kangaroo animals in the time of the Alcheringa. The next day, the young men hunt again in the forest and bring back more kangaroos than before. Then the previous day's ceremonies begin again.¹¹³⁰

With variations of detail, the same rite is found in other Arunta clans,¹¹³¹ among the Urabunna,¹¹³² the Kaitish,¹¹³³ the Unmatjera,¹¹³⁴ and in the Encounter Bay Tribe.¹¹³⁵ Everywhere, it is made up of the same essential elements. A few specimens of the totemic animal or plant are presented to the chief of the clan, who solemnly eats them and who must eat them. If he did not fulfil this duty, he would lose the power of celebrating the Intichiuma efficaciously, that is to say, so as to recreate the species annually. Sometimes the ritual consumption is followed by an unction made with the fat of the animal or certain parts of the plant.¹¹³⁶ This rite is generally repeated by the men of the totem, or at least by the old men, and after it has been accomplished, the exceptional interdictions are raised.

With variations in detail, the same rite is found in other Arunta clans,¹¹³¹ among the Urabunna,¹¹³² the Kaitish,¹¹³³ the Unmatjera,¹¹³⁴ and in the Encounter Bay Tribe.¹¹³⁵ Everywhere, the rite has the same essential elements. A few specimens of the totemic animal or plant are presented to the clan chief. He must solemnly eat them. If he did not fulfill this duty, he would lose the power to perform the Intichiuma effectively. In other words, he would lose the power to recreate the species each year. Sometimes, after this ritual meal, people are anointed with the animal’s fat or certain parts of the plant.¹¹³⁶ The men of the totem, or at least the older men, generally repeat this rite. Once the rite is complete, the special prohibitions are lifted.

In the tribes located farther north, among the Warramunga and neighbouring societies,¹¹³⁷ this ceremony is no longer found. However, traces are found which seem to indicate that there was a time when it was known. It is true that the chief of the clan never eats the totem ritually and obligatorily. But in certain cases, men who are not of the totem whose Intichiuma has just been celebrated, must bring the animal or plant to camp and offer it to the chief, asking him if he wants to eat it. He refuses and adds, "I have made this for you; you may eat it freely."¹¹³⁸ So the custom of the presentation remains and the question asked of the chief seems to date back to an epoch when the ritual consumption was practised.¹¹³⁹

Farther north, among the Warramunga and neighboring societies,¹¹³⁷ this ceremony is no longer practiced. However, traces suggest that it was once known there. The clan chief never eats the totem as a required ritual. But in certain cases, men who do not belong to the totem whose Intichiuma has just been celebrated must bring the animal or plant to camp. They must offer it to the chief and ask if he wants to eat it. He refuses and adds, "I have made this for you; you may eat it freely."¹¹³⁸ So the custom of presenting the totem remains. The question asked of the chief seems to date back to a time when people ritually ate the totem.¹¹³⁹

The interest of the system of rites which has just been described lies in the fact that in them we find, in the most elementary form that is actually known, all the essential principles of a great religious institution which was destined to become one of the foundation stones of the positive cult in the superior religions: this is the institution of sacrifice.

The system of rites just described is important because it contains all the essential principles of sacrifice. It shows them in the simplest form known to us. Sacrifice would become a cornerstone of positive worship in the higher religions.

We know what a revolution the work of Robertson Smith brought about in the traditional theory of sacrifice.¹¹⁴⁰ Before him, sacrifice was regarded as a sort of tribute or homage, either obligatory or optional, analogous to that which subjects owe to their princes. Robertson Smith was the first to remark that this classic explanation did not account for two essential characteristics of the rite. In the first place, it is a repast: its substance is food. Secondly, it is a repast in which the worshippers who offer it take part, along with the god to whom it is offered. Certain parts of the victim are reserved for the divinity; others are attributed to the sacrificers, who consume them; this is why the Bible often speaks of the sacrifice as a repast in the presence of Jahveh. Now in a multitude of societies, meals taken in common are believed to create a bond of artificial kinship between those who assist at them: In fact, relatives are people who are naturally made of the same flesh and blood. But food is constantly remaking the substance of the organism. So a common food may produce the same effects as a common origin. According to Smith, sacrificial banquets have the object of making the worshipper and his god communicate in the same flesh, in order to form a bond of kinship between them. From this point of view, sacrifice takes on a wholly new aspect. Its essential element is no longer the act of renouncement which the word sacrifice ordinarily expresses; before all, it is an act of alimentary communion.

We know how much Robertson Smith’s work transformed the traditional theory of sacrifice.¹¹⁴⁰ Before him, sacrifice was seen as a kind of tribute or homage, either required or voluntary. It was thought to resemble the tribute subjects owe their princes. Robertson Smith was the first to note that this classic explanation failed to account for two essential features of the rite. First, sacrifice is a meal: it consists of food. Second, the worshippers who offer the meal share it with the god to whom it is offered. Certain parts of the sacrificial animal are reserved for the deity. Other parts go to those who offer the sacrifice, who eat them. That is why the Bible often describes sacrifice as a meal in the presence of Jahveh. In many societies, people believe that eating together creates an artificial bond of kinship among those who share the meal. Relatives are, in fact, people who naturally share the same flesh and blood. But food constantly rebuilds the substance of the body. So shared food may have the same effects as a shared origin. According to Smith, sacrificial feasts are meant to let the worshipper and his god share the same flesh. The purpose is to create a bond of kinship between them. From this perspective, sacrifice takes on a wholly new meaning. Its essential element is no longer the act of giving something up that the word “sacrifice” ordinarily suggests. Above all, it is an act of communion through food.

Of course there are some reservations to be made in the details of this way of explaining the efficacy of sacrificial banquets. This does not result exclusively from the act of eating together. A man does not sanctify himself merely by sitting down, in some way, at the same table with a god, but especially by eating food at this ritual repast which has a sacred character. It has been shown how a whole series of preliminary operations, lustrations, unctions, prayers, etc., transform the animal to be immolated into a sacred thing, whose sacredness is subsequently transferred to the worshipper who eats it.¹¹⁴¹ But it is true, none the less, that the alimentary communion is one of the essential elements of the sacrifice. Now when we turn to the rite which terminates the ceremonies of the Intichiuma, we find that it, too, consists in an act of this sort. After the totemic animal has been killed, the Alatunja and the old men solemnly eat it. So they communicate with the sacred principle residing in it and they assimilate it. The only difference we find here is that the animal is naturally sacred while it ordinarily acquires this character artificially in the course of the sacrifice.

Of course, some details of this explanation of how sacrificial banquets work need qualification. Their effect does not come exclusively from eating together. A person does not become sacred merely by sitting down, in some sense, at the same table as a god. More importantly, a person becomes sacred by eating sacred food at this ritual meal. As we have seen, a series of preliminary acts transforms the animal to be sacrificed into a sacred thing. These acts include ritual washings, anointings, and prayers. The animal’s sacredness then passes to the worshipper who eats it.¹¹⁴¹ Even so, sharing food is one of the essential elements of sacrifice. When we turn to the rite that ends the Intichiuma ceremonies, we find that it, too, involves sharing food. After the totemic animal has been killed, the Alatunja and the old men solemnly eat it. In this way, they commune with the sacred principle within the animal and take it into themselves. The only difference here is that the animal is naturally sacred. In an ordinary sacrifice, the animal becomes sacred artificially during the sacrifice.

Moreover, the object of this communion is manifest. Every member of a totemic clan contains a mystic substance within him which is the pre-eminent part of his being, for his soul is made out of it. From it come whatever powers he has and his social position, for it is this which makes him a person. So he has a vital interest in maintaining it intact and in keeping it, as far as is possible, in a state of perpetual youth. Unfortunately all forces, even the most spiritual, are used up in the course of time if nothing comes to return to them the energy they lose through the normal working of things; there is a necessity of the first importance here which, as we shall see, is the real reason for the positive cult. Therefore the men of a totem cannot retain their position unless they periodically revivify the totemic principle which is in them; and as they represent this principle in the form of a vegetable or animal, it is to the corresponding animal or vegetable species that they go to demand the supplementary forces needed to renew this and to rejuvenate it. A man of the Kangaroo clan believes himself and feels himself a kangaroo; it is by this quality that he defines himself; it is this which marks his place in the society. In order to keep it, he takes a little of the flesh of this same animal into his own body from time to time. A small bit is enough, owing to the rule: the part is equal to the whole.¹¹⁴²

Moreover, the purpose of this communion is clear. Every member of a totemic clan contains a mystical substance. It is the most important part of their being, because their soul is made from it. Their powers and social position come from this substance, because it makes them a person. So they have a vital interest in keeping it intact and, as far as possible, perpetually youthful. Unfortunately, all forces, even the most spiritual, are used up over time. They must have something to restore the energy they lose through the normal course of things. This need is of the utmost importance. As we shall see, it is the real reason for the positive cult. Therefore, the men of a totem can retain their position only by periodically renewing the totemic principle within them. They represent this principle as a plant or an animal. So they turn to the corresponding species to obtain the extra forces needed to renew and rejuvenate the principle. A man of the Kangaroo clan believes and feels that he is a kangaroo. He defines himself by this quality, and it marks his place in society. To keep this quality, he eats a little of the animal’s flesh from time to time. A small bit is enough, because of the rule: the part is equal to the whole.¹¹⁴²

If this operation is to produce all the desired effects, it may not take place at no matter what moment. The most opportune time is when the new generation has just reached its complete development, for this is also the moment when the forces animating the totemic species attain their maximum intensity. They have just been drawn with great difficulty from those rich reservoirs of life, the sacred trees and rocks. Moreover, all sorts of means have been employed to increase their intensity still more; this is the use of the rites performed during the first part of the Intichiuma. Also, by their very aspect, the firstfruits of the harvest manifest the energy which they contain: here the totemic god acclaims himself in all the glory of his youth. This is why the firstfruits have always been regarded as a very sacred fruit, reserved for very holy beings. So it is natural that the Australian uses it to regenerate himself spiritually. Thus both the date and the circumstances of the ceremonies are explained.

If this operation is to have all the desired effects, it cannot take place at just any time. The best time is when the new generation has just reached full maturity. This is also when the forces animating the totemic species are at their strongest. These forces have just been drawn, with great difficulty, from the sacred trees and rocks, those rich reservoirs of life. Moreover, all sorts of means have been used to make the forces even stronger. This is the purpose of the rites performed during the first part of the Intichiuma. The firstfruits of the harvest also show, by their very appearance, the energy they contain. In them, the totemic god proclaims himself in all the glory of his youth. That is why the firstfruits have always been regarded as very sacred, reserved for very holy beings. So it is natural that the Australian uses them to renew himself spiritually. This explains both the timing and the circumstances of the ceremonies.

Perhaps some will be surprised that so sacred a food may be eaten by ordinary profane persons. But in the first place, there is no positive cult which does not face this contradiction. Every sacred being is removed from profane touch by this very character with which it is endowed; but, on the other hand, they would serve for nothing and have no reason whatsoever for their existence if they could not come in contact with these same worshippers who, on another ground, must remain respectfully distant from them. At bottom, there is no positive rite which does not constitute a veritable sacrilege, for a man cannot hold commerce with the sacred beings without crossing the barrier which should ordinarily keep them separate. But the important thing is that the sacrilege should be accompanied with precautions which attenuate it. Among those employed, the most usual one consists in arranging the transition so as to introduce the worshipper slowly and gradually into the circle of sacred things. When it has been broken and diluted in this fashion, the sacrilege does not offend the religious conscience so violently; it is not regarded as a sacrilege and so vanishes. This is what happens in the case now before us. The effect of the whole series of rites which has preceded the moment when the totem is solemnly eaten has been to sanctify those who took an active part in them. They constitute an essentially religious period, through which no one could go without a transformation of his religious state. The fasts, the contact with sacred rocks, the churinga,¹¹⁴³ the totemic decorations, etc., have gradually conferred upon him a character which he did not have before and which enables him to approach, without a shocking and dangerous profanation, this desirable and redoubtable food which is forbidden him in ordinary times.¹¹⁴⁴

Perhaps some will be surprised that ordinary, nonreligious people may eat such sacred food. But first, every form of active worship faces this contradiction. The very nature of every sacred being puts it beyond ordinary touch. Yet sacred beings would serve no purpose and have no reason to exist if they could not come into contact with their worshippers. On other grounds, those same worshippers must remain respectfully distant from them. In essence, every active rite is an act of sacrilege. People cannot interact with sacred beings without crossing the barrier that should ordinarily keep them apart. But the important thing is to take precautions that lessen the sacrilege. The most common precaution is to introduce the worshipper slowly and gradually into the realm of sacred things. When the sacrilege is broken up and diluted in this way, it offends religious feeling less violently. It is not regarded as sacrilege, and so it disappears. This is what happens in the case before us. The whole series of rites before the totem is solemnly eaten has made the active participants sacred. The rites form an essentially religious period. No one could pass through it without a change in religious status. The fasts, contact with sacred rocks, the churinga,¹¹⁴³ the totemic decorations, and so on gradually give each participant a quality he did not have before. This quality allows him to approach the desirable and formidable food without a shocking and dangerous act of profanation. In ordinary times, the food is forbidden to him.¹¹⁴⁴

If the act by which a sacred being is first immolated and then eaten by those who adore it may be called a sacrifice, the rite of which we have just been speaking has a right to this same name. Moreover, its significance is well shown by the striking analogies it presents with so many practices met with in a large number of agrarian cults. It is a very general rule that even among peoples who have attained a high degree of civilization, the firstfruits of the harvest are used in the ritual repasts, of which the pascal feast is the best known example.¹¹⁴⁵ On the other hand, as the agrarian rites are at the very basis of the most advanced forms of the cult, we see that the Intichiuma of the Australian societies is closer to us than one might imagine from its apparent crudeness.

If killing a sacred being and then eating it in worship may be called a sacrifice, the rite we just discussed deserves the same name. Its significance is also clear from its striking similarities to many practices found in agrarian cults. A very common rule, even among highly civilized peoples, is to use the first harvest crops in ritual meals. The best-known example is the pascal feast.¹¹⁴⁵ Moreover, agrarian rites lie at the very foundation of the most advanced forms of religious worship. So the Intichiuma of Australian societies is closer to us than its apparent crudeness might suggest.

By an intuition of genius, Smith had an intuition of all this, though he was not acquainted with the facts. By a series of ingenious deductions—which need not be reproduced here, for their interest is now only historical¹¹⁴⁶—he thought that he could establish the fact that at the beginning the animal immolated in the sacrifice must have been regarded as quasi-divine and as a close relative of those who immolated it: now these characteristics are just the ones with which the totemic species is defined. Smith even went so far as to suppose that totemism must have known and practised a rite wholly similar to the one we have been studying; he was even inclined to see the original source of the whole sacrificial institution in a sacrifice of this sort.¹¹⁴⁷ Sacrifice was not founded to create a bond of artificial kinship between a man and his gods, but to maintain and renew the natural kinship which primitively united them. Here, as elsewhere, the artifice was born only to imitate nature. But in the book of Smith this hypothesis was presented as scarcely more than a theory which the then known facts supported very imperfectly. The rare cases of totemic sacrifice which he cites in support of his theory do not have the significance he attributed to them; the animals which figure in them are not real totems.¹¹⁴⁸ But to-day we are able to state that on at least one point the demonstration is made: in fact, we have just seen that in an important number of societies the totemic sacrifice, such as Smith conceived it, is or has been practised. Of course, we have no proof that this practice is necessarily inherent to totemism or that it is the germ out of which all the other types of sacrifices have developed. But if the universality of the rite is hypothetical, its existence is no longer to be contested. Hereafter it is to be regarded as established that the most mystical form of the alimentary communion is found even in the most rudimentary cults known to-day.

Through an intuition of genius, Smith grasped all this, although he did not know the facts. He used a series of ingenious deductions, which need not be repeated here. Their interest is now only historical.¹¹⁴⁶ Smith thought these deductions established that the animal killed in sacrifice was originally regarded as almost divine. It was also regarded as a close relative of those who killed it. These are precisely the characteristics that define a totemic species. Smith even supposed that people practicing totemism must have performed a rite just like the one we have been studying. He was even inclined to see a sacrifice of this kind as the original source of the whole institution of sacrifice.¹¹⁴⁷ Sacrifice was not established to create a bond of artificial kinship between people and their gods. It was established to maintain and renew the natural kinship that originally united them. Here, as elsewhere, artifice arose only to imitate nature. But in Smith’s book, this hypothesis was presented as little more than a theory. The facts then known supported it very imperfectly. Smith cites a few cases of totemic sacrifice in support of his theory. But they do not have the significance he attributed to them. The animals involved are not real totems.¹¹⁴⁸ Today, however, we can say that the case has been made on at least one point. We have just seen that an important number of societies practice or have practiced totemic sacrifice as Smith conceived it. Of course, we have no proof that this practice is necessarily inherent in totemism. Nor do we have proof that all other types of sacrifice developed from it. But although the claim that the rite is universal remains a hypothesis, its existence can no longer be disputed. From now on, it must be regarded as established that the most mystical form of communion through food is found even in the most rudimentary religious practices known today.

But on another point the new facts at our disposal invalidate the theories of Smith.

But on another point, the new facts available to us disprove Smith's theories.

According to him, the communion was not only an essential element of the sacrifice, but at the beginning, at least, it was the unique element. Not only is one mistaken when he reduces sacrifice to nothing more than a tribute or offering, but the very idea of an offering was originally absent from it; this intervened only at a late period and under the influence of external circumstances; so instead of being able to aid us in understanding it, it has rather masked the real nature of the ritual mechanism. In fact, Smith claimed to find in the very notion of oblation an absurdity so revolting that it could never have been the fundamental reason for so great an institution. One of the most important functions incumbent upon the divinity is to assure to men that food which is necessary for life; so it seems impossible that the sacrifice, in its turn, should consist in a presentation of food to the divinity. It even seems self-contradictory that the gods should expect their food from a man, when it is from them that he gets his. Why should they have need of his aid in order to deduct beforehand their just share of the things which he receives from their hands? From these considerations Smith concluded that the idea of a sacrifice-offering could have been born only in the great religions, where the gods, removed from the things with which they were primitively confused, were thought of as sorts of kings and the eminent proprietors of the earth and its products. From this moment onwards, the sacrifice was associated with the tribute which subjects paid to their prince, as a price of the rights which were conceded to them. But this new interpretation was really an alteration and even a corruption of the primitive conception. For "the idea of property materializes all that it touches"; by introducing itself into the sacrifice, it denatured it and made it into a sort of bargain between the man and the divinity.¹¹⁴⁹

According to Smith, communion was not only an essential part of sacrifice. At first, at least, it was the only part. It is wrong to reduce sacrifice to a tribute or offering. In fact, the idea of an offering was originally absent from sacrifice. It entered only much later, under the influence of external circumstances. So instead of helping us understand sacrifice, it has obscured the true nature of how the ritual works. In fact, Smith claimed that the very idea of an oblation was absurd and repugnant. It could never have been the fundamental reason for such a great institution. One of the divinity’s most important duties is to provide people with the food they need to live. So it seems impossible that sacrifice, in turn, should consist of presenting food to the divinity. It even seems self-contradictory that the gods should expect food from people, who get their own food from the gods. Why should the gods need human help to take their rightful share of what they give people? From these considerations, Smith concluded that the idea of sacrifice as an offering could have arisen only in the great religions. In those religions, the gods were separated from the things with which they had originally been identified. They were thought of as a kind of king and as the supreme owners of the earth and its products. From then on, sacrifice was associated with the tribute subjects paid their ruler for the rights granted to them. But this new interpretation altered and even corrupted the original conception. For "the idea of property materializes all that it touches". When this idea entered sacrifice, it changed its nature and made it into a kind of bargain between a person and the divinity.¹¹⁴⁹

But the facts which we have described overthrow this argumentation. These rites are certainly among the most primitive that have ever been observed. No determined mythical personality appears in them; there is no question of gods or spirits that are properly so called; it is only vaguely anonymous and impersonal forces which they put into action. Yet the reasoning which they suppose is exactly the one that Smith declared impossible because of its absurdity.

But the facts we have described overturn this argument. These rites are certainly among the most primitive ever observed. No specific mythical figure appears in them. They do not involve gods or spirits in the proper sense of those words. The rites put only vague, anonymous, impersonal forces into action. Yet the reasoning behind them is exactly what Smith declared impossible because of its absurdity.

Let us return to the first act of the Intichiuma, to the rites destined to assure the fecundity of the animal or vegetable species which serves the clan as totem. This species is the pre-eminently sacred thing; in it is incarnated that which we have been able to call, by metaphor, the totemic divinity. Yet we have seen that to perpetuate itself it has need of the aid of men. It is they who dispense the life of the new generation each year; without them, it would never be born. If they stopped celebrating the Intichiuma, the sacred beings would disappear from the face of the earth. So in one sense, it is from men that they get their existence; yet in another way, it is from them that men get theirs; for after they have once arrived at maturity, it is from them that men acquire the force needed to support and repair their spiritual beings. Thus we are able to say that men make their gods, or, at least, make them live; but at the same time, it is from them that they live themselves. So they are regularly guilty of the circle which, according to Smith, is implied in the very idea of a sacrificial tribute: they give to the sacred beings a little of what they receive from them, and they receive from them all that they give.

Let us return to the first act of the Intichiuma. These rites are meant to ensure the fertility of the animal or plant species that serves as the clan’s totem. This species is the most sacred thing of all. It embodies what we have been able to call, metaphorically, the totemic divinity. Yet we have seen that the species needs human help to continue. People give life to each new generation of the species. Without them, it would never be born. If they stopped celebrating the Intichiuma, the sacred beings would disappear from the earth. So, in one sense, the sacred beings owe their existence to people. Yet in another sense, people owe their existence to the sacred beings. Once the sacred beings reach maturity, people gain from them the strength needed to sustain and restore their spiritual beings. Thus, we can say that people make their gods, or at least keep them alive. But at the same time, people themselves live through their gods. So they regularly engage in the circular exchange that Smith says is implied in the very idea of a sacrificial tribute. They give the sacred beings a little of what they receive from them, and they receive from them all that they give.

But there is still more to be said: the oblations which he is thus forced to make every year do not differ in nature from those which are made later in the rites properly called sacrifices. If the sacrificer immolates an animal, it is in order that the living principles within it may be disengaged from the organism and go to nourish the divinity. Likewise, the grains of dust which the Australian detaches from the sacred rock are so many sacred principles which he scatters into space, so that they may go to animate the totemic species and assure its renewal. The gesture with which this scattering is made is also that which normally accompanies offerings. In certain cases, the resemblance between the two rites may be followed even to the details of the movements effected. We have seen that in order to have rain the Kaitish pour water over the sacred stone; among certain peoples, the priest pours water over the altar, with the same end in view.¹¹⁵⁰ The effusions of blood which are usual in a certain number of Intichiuma are veritable oblations. Just as the Arunta or Dieri sprinkle the sacred rock or the totemic design with blood, so it frequently happens that in the more advanced cults, the blood of the sacrificed victim or of the worshipper himself is spilt before or upon the altar.¹¹⁵¹ In these cases, it is given to the gods, of whom it is the preferred food; in Australia, it is given to the sacred species. So we have no ground for saying that the idea of oblation is a late product of civilization.

But there is more to say. The offerings he is required to make each year are no different in nature from later offerings made in rites properly called sacrifices. If a person sacrifices an animal, it is so that the living principles within it can be released from its body and nourish the divinity. Similarly, the grains of dust the Australian detaches from the sacred rock are sacred principles. He scatters them into the air so that they can give life to the totemic species and ensure its renewal. The gesture used to scatter the dust is also the one normally used in making offerings. In some cases, the resemblance between the two rites extends even to the details of the movements. We have seen that the Kaitish pour water over the sacred stone to bring rain. Among certain peoples, the priest pours water over the altar for the same purpose.¹¹⁵⁰ The shedding of blood that is usual in a number of Intichiuma consists of genuine offerings. The Arunta or Dieri sprinkle blood on the sacred rock or the totemic design. Similarly, in the more advanced cults, the blood of the sacrificed victim or the worshipper is often spilled before or on the altar.¹¹⁵¹ In these cults, the blood is given to the gods, whose preferred food it is. In Australia, it is given to the sacred species. So we have no grounds for saying that the idea of an offering is a late product of civilization.

A document which we owe to Strehlow puts this kinship of the Intichiuma and the sacrifice clearly into evidence. This is a hymn which accompanies the Intichiuma of the Kangaroo; the ceremony is described at the same time that its expected effects are announced. A morsel of kangaroo fat has been placed by the chief upon a support made of branches. The text says that this fat makes the fat of the kangaroos increase.¹¹⁵² This time, they do not confine themselves to sprinkling sacred dust or human blood about; the animal itself is immolated, or sacrificed as one might say, placed upon a sort of altar, and offered to the species, whose life it should maintain.

A document provided by Strehlow clearly shows the connection between the Intichiuma and sacrifice. It is a hymn that accompanies the Intichiuma of the Kangaroo. The hymn describes the ceremony and announces its expected effects. The chief has placed a piece of kangaroo fat on a support made of branches. The text says that this fat increases the fat of the kangaroos.¹¹⁵² This time, they do not merely sprinkle sacred dust or human blood around. The animal itself is killed, or sacrificed, one might say. It is placed on a kind of altar and offered to the species to sustain its life.

Now we see the sense in which we may say that the Intichiuma contains the germs of the sacrificial system. In the form which it takes when fully constituted, a sacrifice is composed of two essential elements: an act of communion and an act of oblation. The worshipper communes with his god by taking in a sacred food, and at the same time he makes an offering to this god. We find these two acts in the Intichiuma, as we have described it. The only difference is that in the ordinary sacrifice¹¹⁵³ they are made simultaneously or else follow one another immediately, while in the Australian ceremony they are separated. In the former case, they are parts of one undivided rite; here, they take place at different times, and may even be separated by a rather long interval. But, at bottom, the mechanism is the same. Taken as a whole, the Intichiuma is a sacrifice, but one whose parts are not yet articulated and organized.

Now we can see why we may say that the Intichiuma contains the beginnings of the sacrificial system. In its fully developed form, a sacrifice has two essential elements: an act of communion and an act of offering. The worshipper communes with his god by eating sacred food. At the same time, he makes an offering to the god. We find both acts in the Intichiuma, as we have described it. The only difference is in their timing. In an ordinary sacrifice¹¹⁵³, the acts happen at the same time or immediately after one another. In the Australian ceremony, they are separated. In an ordinary sacrifice, the acts are parts of a single, undivided rite. In the Intichiuma, they take place at different times, sometimes with a rather long interval between them. But the basic process is the same. Taken as a whole, the Intichiuma is a sacrifice, but its parts are not yet connected and organized.

The relating of these two ceremonies has the double advantage of enabling us to understand better the nature of the Intichiuma and that of sacrifice.

Connecting these two ceremonies helps us better understand both the Intichiuma and sacrifice.

We understand the Intichiuma better. In fact, the conception of Frazer, which made it a simple magic operation¹¹⁵⁴ with no religious character at all, is now seen to be unsupportable. One cannot dream of excluding from religion a rite which is the forerunner of so great a religious institution.

We now understand the Intichiuma better. In fact, Frazer’s view that it was merely a magical operation¹¹⁵⁴ with no religious character at all is untenable. One cannot possibly exclude from religion a rite that was the forerunner of such a great religious institution.

But we also understand what the sacrifice itself is better. In the first place, the equal importance of the two elements entering into it is now established. If the Australian makes offerings to his sacred beings, there is no reason for supposing that the idea of oblation was foreign to the primitive organization of the sacrificial institution and later upset its natural arrangement. The theory of Smith must be revised on this point.¹¹⁵⁵ Of course the sacrifice is partially a communion; but it is also, and no less essentially, a gift and an act of renouncement. It always presupposes that the worshipper gives some of his substance or his goods to his gods. Every attempt to deduce one of these elements from the other is hopeless. Perhaps the oblation is even more permanent than the communion.¹¹⁵⁶

But we also understand sacrifice itself better. First, we now know that its two elements are equally important. If the Australian makes offerings to his sacred beings, there is no reason to suppose that offerings were foreign to the earliest form of sacrifice. Nor is there reason to suppose that offerings later upset its natural arrangement. Smith's theory must be revised on this point.¹¹⁵⁵ Of course, sacrifice is partly a communion. But it is also, just as essentially, a gift and an act of giving something up. Sacrifice always assumes that the worshipper gives some of his substance or his goods to his gods. Any attempt to derive one of these elements from the other is hopeless. Perhaps the offering is even more enduring than the communion.¹¹⁵⁶

In the second place, it ordinarily seems as though the sacrifice, and especially the sacrificial oblation, could only be addressed to personal beings. But the oblations which we have met with in Australia imply no notion of this sort. In other words, the sacrifice is independent of the varying forms in which the religious forces are conceived; it is founded upon more profound reasons, which we shall seek presently.

Second, sacrifice, especially sacrificial offerings, usually seems to be directed only to personal beings. But the offerings we have encountered in Australia imply no such idea. In other words, sacrifice does not depend on the different ways people conceive of religious forces. It rests on deeper reasons, which we will soon explore.

In any case, it is clear that the act of offering naturally arouses in the mind the idea of a moral subject, whom this offering is destined to please. The ritual acts which we have described become more intelligible when it is believed that they are addressed to persons. So the practices of the Intichiuma, while actually putting only impersonal forces into play, prepare the way for a different conception.¹¹⁵⁷ Of course they were not sufficient to form the idea of mythical personalities by themselves, but when this idea had once been formed, the very nature of these rites made it enter into the cult; thus, taking a more direct interest in action and life, it also acquired a greater reality. So we are even able to believe that the cult favoured, in a secondary manner, no doubt, but nevertheless one which is worthy of attention, the personification of the religious forces.

In any case, the act of offering clearly brings to mind a moral being whom the offering is meant to please. The ritual acts we have described make more sense when people believe they are addressed to persons. So the practices of the Intichiuma prepare the way for a different understanding, although they actually involve only impersonal forces.¹¹⁵⁷ Of course, these practices alone could not create the idea of mythical beings. But once that idea had formed, the nature of these rites brought it into religious worship. The idea thus became more directly involved in action and life, and so became more real. We may therefore believe that worship encouraged people to see religious forces as persons. Its role was no doubt secondary, but still worthy of attention.

But we still have to explain the contradiction in which Robertson Smith saw an inadmissible logical scandal.

But we still have to explain the contradiction that Robertson Smith saw as an unacceptable logical scandal.

If the sacred beings always manifested their powers in a perfectly equal manner, it would appear inconceivable that men should dream of offering them services, for we cannot see what need they could have of them. But in the first place, in so far as they are confused with things, and in so far as they are regarded as principles of the cosmic life, they are themselves submitted to the rhythm of this life. Now this goes in oscillations in contrary directions, which succeed one another according to a determined law. Sometimes it is affirmed in all its glory; sometimes it weakens to such an extent that one may ask himself whether it is not going to fade away. Vegetation dies every year; will it be reborn? Animal species tend to become extinguished by the effect of natural and violent death; will they be renewed at such a time and in such a way as is proper? Above all, the rain is capricious; there are long periods during which it seems to have disappeared for ever. These periodical variations of nature bear witness to the fact that at the corresponding periods, the sacred beings upon whom the plants, animals, rain, etc., depend are themselves passing through grave crises; so they, too, have their periods of giving way. But men could not regard these spectacles as indifferent spectators. If he is to live, the universal life must continue, and consequently the gods must not die. So he seeks to sustain and aid them; for this, he puts at their service whatever forces he has at his disposition, and mobilizes them for this purpose. The blood flowing in his veins has fecundating virtues; he pours it forth. From the sacred rocks possessed by his clan he takes those germs of life which lie dormant there, and scatters them into space. In a word, he makes oblations.

If sacred beings always showed their powers equally, it would seem inconceivable that people would think of serving them. We cannot see what need sacred beings would have for such services. But first, sacred beings are identified with things and regarded as principles of cosmic life. To that extent, they are subject to the rhythm of cosmic life. This life moves back and forth between opposite states, which follow one another according to a fixed law. Sometimes cosmic life shows itself in all its glory. Sometimes it grows so weak that one wonders whether it is about to fade away. Vegetation dies every year. Will it grow again? Animal species tend to die out through natural and violent deaths. Will they renew themselves at the proper time and in the proper way? Above all, rain is unpredictable. Long periods pass when it seems to have disappeared forever. These periodic changes in nature show that the sacred beings on whom plants, animals, rain, and so on depend are themselves passing through serious crises at those times. Sacred beings, too, have periods of decline. But people could not watch these events with indifference. For people to live, life throughout the universe must continue, and therefore the gods must not die. So people seek to sustain and help the gods. They put whatever forces they have at the gods’ service and use them for this purpose. The blood flowing in their veins has the power to make things fertile, so they pour it out. From the sacred rocks belonging to their clan, they take the seeds of life lying dormant there. They scatter these seeds into the air. In short, they make offerings.

The external and physical crises, moreover, duplicate internal and mental crises which tend toward the same result. Sacred beings exist only when they are represented as such in the mind. When we cease to believe in them, it is as though they did not exist. Even those which have a material form and are given by sensible experience, depend upon the thought of the worshippers who adore them; for the sacred character which makes them objects of the cult is not given by their natural constitution; it is added to them by belief. The kangaroo is only an animal like all others; yet, for the men of the Kangaroo, it contains within it a principle which puts it outside the company of others, and this principle exists only in the minds of those who believe in it.¹¹⁵⁸ If these sacred beings, when once conceived, are to have no need of men to continue, it would be necessary that the representations expressing them always remain the same. But this stability is impossible. In fact, it is in the communal life that they are formed, and this communal life is essentially intermittent. So they necessarily partake of this same intermittency. They attain their greatest intensity at the moment when the men are assembled together and are in immediate relations with one another, when they all partake of the same idea and the same sentiment. But when the assembly has broken up and each man has returned to his own peculiar life, they progressively lose their original energy. Being covered over little by little by the rising flood of daily experiences, they would soon fall into the unconscious, if we did not find some means of calling them back into consciousness and revivifying them. If we think of them less forcefully, they amount to less for us and we count less upon them; they exist to a lesser degree. So here we have another point of view, from which the services of men are necessary to them. This second reason for their existence is even more important than the first, for it exists all the time. The intermittency of the physical life can affect religious beliefs only when religions are not yet detached from their cosmic basis. The intermittency of the social life, on the other hand, is inevitable; even the most idealistic religions cannot escape it.

External, physical crises are matched by internal, mental crises that tend toward the same result. Sacred beings exist only when people think of them as sacred. When we stop believing in them, it is as if they did not exist. Some sacred beings have a material form and can be experienced through the senses. Even these depend on the thoughts of their worshippers. Their sacred character makes them objects of worship, but it does not come from their natural makeup. Belief adds it to them. A kangaroo is just an animal like any other. Yet for the men of the Kangaroo, it contains a principle that sets it apart from other animals. This principle exists only in the minds of those who believe in it.¹¹⁵⁸ Once sacred beings have been conceived, they could continue without human help only if the ideas expressing them always remained unchanged. But such stability is impossible. These ideas are formed in communal life, and communal life is essentially intermittent. The ideas must therefore share this intermittent character. They are strongest when people are gathered together and in direct contact, all sharing the same idea and feeling. But when the gathering breaks up and each person returns to their own life, the ideas gradually lose their original force. Daily experiences gradually cover them over. Soon they would pass into the unconscious if we did not find ways to bring them back to consciousness and revive them. When we think of sacred beings less intensely, they mean less to us and we count on them less. They exist to a lesser degree. Here, then, is another way in which sacred beings need human services. This second reason sacred beings need human services is even more important than the first, because it applies all the time. The intermittent nature of physical life can affect religious beliefs only when religions are still tied to their cosmic basis. The intermittent nature of social life, by contrast, is inevitable. Even the most idealistic religions cannot escape it.

Moreover, it is owing to this state of dependency upon the thought of men, in which the gods find themselves, that the former are able to believe in the efficacy of their assistance. The only way of renewing the collective representations which relate to sacred beings is to retemper them in the very source of the religious life, that is to say, in the assembled groups. Now the emotions aroused by these periodical crises through which external things pass induce the men who witness them to assemble, to see what should be done about it. But by the very fact of uniting, they are mutually comforted; they find a remedy because they seek it together. The common faith becomes reanimated quite naturally in the heart of this reconstituted group; if is born again because it again finds those very conditions in which it was born in the first place. After it has been restored, it easily triumphs over all the private doubts which may have arisen in individual minds. The image of the sacred things regains power enough to resist the internal or external causes which tended to weaken it. In spite of their apparent failure, men can no longer believe that the gods will die, because they feel them living in their own hearts. The means employed to succour them, howsoever crude these may be, cannot appear vain, for everything goes on as if they were really effective. Men are more confident because they feel themselves stronger; and they really are stronger, because forces which were languishing are now reawakened in the consciousness.

Moreover, because the gods depend on human thought, people can believe that their help is effective. The only way to renew shared beliefs about sacred beings is to strengthen them at the source of religious life, in assembled groups. Periodic crises in the external world stir emotions that lead those who witness them to gather and consider what to do. But simply by coming together, people comfort one another. They find a remedy because they seek it together. Shared faith naturally comes alive again within the reassembled group. It is reborn because it finds once more the very conditions in which it first arose. Once restored, this faith easily overcomes all the private doubts that may have arisen in individual minds. The image of sacred things regains enough power to resist the internal or external causes that tended to weaken it. Despite the gods' apparent failure, people can no longer believe the gods will die, because they feel them living in their own hearts. However crude the means used to help the gods, those means cannot seem useless, because everything goes on as if they were truly effective. People are more confident because they feel stronger. And they really are stronger, because forces that were fading have now been reawakened in their consciousness.

So we must be careful not to believe, along with Smith, that the cult was founded solely for the benefit of men and that the gods have nothing to do with it: they have no less need of it than their worshippers. Of course men would be unable to live without gods, but, on the other hand, the gods would die if their cult were not rendered. This does not have the sole object of making profane subjects communicate with sacred beings, but it also keeps these latter alive and is perpetually remaking and regenerating them. Of course it is not the material oblations which bring about this regeneration by their own virtues; it is the mental states which these actions, though vain in themselves, accompany or reawaken. The real reason for the existence of the cults, even of those which are the most materialistic in appearance, is not to be sought in the acts which they prescribe, but in the internal and moral regeneration which these acts aid in bringing about. The things which the worshipper really gives his gods are not the foods which he places upon the altars, nor the blood which he lets flow from his veins: it is his thought. Nevertheless, it is true that there is an exchange of services, which are mutually demanded, between the divinity and its worshippers. The rule do ut des, by which the principle of sacrifice has sometimes been defined, is not a late invention of utilitarian theorists: it only expresses in an explicit way the very mechanism of the sacrificial system and, more generally, of the whole positive cult. So the circle pointed out by Smith is very real; but it contains nothing humiliating for the reason. It comes from the fact that the sacred beings, though superior to men, can live only in the human consciousness.

So we must be careful not to follow Smith in believing that worship exists solely for human benefit and has nothing to do with the gods. The gods need worship no less than their worshippers do. Of course, people could not live without gods. But the gods, in turn, would die if they were not worshipped. Worship does more than bring people in the ordinary world into contact with sacred beings. It also keeps those beings alive, continually remaking and renewing them. Of course, material offerings do not bring about this renewal through any power of their own. What renews the gods is the states of mind that these actions accompany or reawaken, though the actions themselves are futile. The real reason religious practices exist is not to be found in the acts they prescribe. That is true even of practices that appear most concerned with material things. Their real reason lies in the inner and moral renewal these acts help bring about. What worshippers really give their gods is not the food they place on altars or the blood they draw from their veins. It is their thought. Nevertheless, gods and their worshippers do exchange services, each demanding something from the other. The rule do ut des, “I give so that you may give,” has sometimes been used to define the principle of sacrifice. It is not a later invention of utilitarian theorists. It simply states clearly how the sacrificial system works and, more broadly, how the whole system of positive worship works. So the circle Smith pointed out is very real, but it is not an affront to reason. It arises because sacred beings, though superior to people, can live only in human consciousness.

But this circle will appear still more natural to us, and we shall understand its meaning and the reason for its existence still better if, carrying our analysis still farther and substituting for the religious symbols the realities which they represent, we investigate how these behave in the rite. If, as we have attempted to establish, the sacred principle is nothing more nor less than society transfigured and personified, it should be possible to interpret the ritual in lay and social terms. And, as a matter of fact, social life, just like the ritual, moves in a circle. On the one hand, the individual gets from society the best part of himself, all that gives him a distinct character and a special place among other beings, his intellectual and moral culture. If we should withdraw from men their language, sciences, arts and moral beliefs, they would drop to the rank of animals. So the characteristic attributes of human nature come from society. But, on the other hand, society exists and lives only in and through individuals. If the idea of society were extinguished in individual minds and the beliefs, traditions and aspirations of the group were no longer felt and shared by the individuals, society would die. We can say of it what we just said of the divinity: it is real only in so far as it has a place in human consciousnesses, and this place is whatever one we may give it. We now see the real reason why the gods cannot do without their worshippers any more than these can do without their gods; it is because society, of which the gods are only a symbolic expression, cannot do without individuals any more than these can do without society.

But this circle will seem even more natural if we take our analysis further. We can replace religious symbols with the realities they represent and examine how those realities behave in the ritual. This will help us understand the circle’s meaning and why it exists. As we have tried to establish, the sacred principle is simply society transformed and given a human form. If so, we should be able to interpret the ritual in secular and social terms. In fact, social life moves in a circle, just as ritual does. On the one hand, individuals get the best part of themselves from society. Society gives them their intellectual and moral culture, which gives them a distinct character and a special place among other beings. If we took away people’s language, sciences, arts, and moral beliefs, they would fall to the level of animals. So the qualities that define human nature come from society. But, on the other hand, society exists and lives only in and through individuals. The idea of society might disappear from individual minds. Individuals might no longer feel and share the group’s beliefs, traditions, and aspirations. If that happened, society would die. We can say the same of society as we just said of a god. Society is real only insofar as it has a place in human minds, and we determine what that place is. We can now see the real reason why gods cannot do without their worshippers any more than worshippers can do without their gods. Gods are only a symbolic expression of society. And society cannot do without individuals any more than individuals can do without society.

Here we touch the solid rock upon which all the cults are built and which has caused their persistence ever since human societies have existed. When we see what religious rites consist of and towards what they seem to tend, we demand with astonishment how men have been able to imagine them, and especially how they can remain so faithfully attached to them. Whence could the illusion have come that with a few grains of sand thrown to the wind, or a few drops of blood shed upon a rock or the stone of an altar, it is possible to maintain the life of an animal species or of a god? We have undoubtedly made a step in advance towards the solution of this problem when we have discovered, behind these outward and apparently unreasonable movements, a mental mechanism which gives them a meaning and a moral significance. But we are in no way assured that this mechanism itself does not consist in a simple play of hallucinatory images. We have pointed out the psychological process which leads the believers to imagine that the rite causes the spiritual forces of which they have need to be reborn about them; but it does not follow from the fact that this belief is psychologically explicable that it has any objective value. If we are to see in the efficacy attributed to the rites anything more than the product of a chronic delirium with which humanity has abused itself, we must show that the effect of the cult really is to recreate periodically a moral being upon which we depend as it depends upon us. Now this being does exist: it is society.

Here we reach the solid rock on which all cults are built. It is what has kept them alive for as long as human societies have existed. When we see what religious rites involve and what they seem intended to achieve, we wonder in amazement how people could have invented them. We wonder even more how people can remain so faithful to them. How could people come to believe that a few grains of sand thrown into the wind, or a few drops of blood shed on a rock or an altar stone, could sustain the life of an animal species or a god? We have surely taken a step toward solving this problem. We have discovered a mental process behind these outward and seemingly unreasonable actions, one that gives them meaning and moral significance. But we cannot be sure that this process itself is not simply a play of hallucinatory images. We have identified the psychological process that leads believers to imagine that the rite brings the spiritual forces they need back to life around them. But the fact that this belief can be explained psychologically does not mean that it has any objective value. If we are to see the power attributed to rites as more than the product of a chronic delusion by which humanity has deceived itself, we must show something more. We must show that the cult does indeed periodically recreate a moral being on which we depend, just as it depends on us. And this being does exist: it is society.

Howsoever little importance the religious ceremonies may have, they put the group into action; the groups assemble to celebrate them. So their first effect is to bring individuals together, to multiply the relations between them and to make them more intimate with one another. By this very fact, the contents of their consciousnesses is changed. On ordinary days, it is utilitarian and individual avocations which take the greater part of the attention. Every one attends to his own personal business; for most men, this primarily consists in satisfying the exigencies of material life, and the principal incentive to economic activity has always been private interest. Of course social sentiments could never be totally absent. We remain in relations with others; the habits, ideas and tendencies which education has impressed upon us and which ordinarily preside over our relations with others, continue to make their action felt. But they are constantly combated and held in check by the antagonistic tendencies aroused and supported by the necessities of the daily struggle. They resist more or less successfully, according to their intrinsic energy: but this energy is not renewed. They live upon their past, and consequently they would be used up in the course of time, if nothing returned to them a little of the force that they lose through these incessant conflicts and frictions. When the Australians, scattered in little groups, spend their time in hunting and fishing, they lose sight of what concerns their clan or tribe: their only thought is to catch as much game as possible. On feast days, on the contrary, these preoccupations are necessarily eclipsed; being essentially profane, they are excluded from these sacred periods. At this time, their thoughts are centred upon their common beliefs, their common traditions, the memory of their great ancestors, the collective ideal of which they are the incarnation; in a word, upon social things. Even the material interests which these great religious ceremonies are designed to satisfy concern the public order and are therefore social. Society as a whole is interested that the harvest be abundant, that the rain fall at the right time and not excessively, that the animals reproduce regularly. So it is society that is in the foreground of every consciousness; It dominates and directs all conduct; this is equivalent to saying that it is more living and active, and consequently more real, than in profane times. So men do not deceive themselves when they feel at this time that there is something outside of them which is born again, that there are forces which are reanimated and a life which reawakens. This renewal is in no way imaginary and the individuals themselves profit from it. For the spark of a social being which each bears within him necessarily participates in this collective renovation. The individual soul is regenerated too, by being dipped again in the source from which its life comes; consequently it feels itself stronger, more fully master of itself, less dependent upon physical necessities.

However little importance religious ceremonies may have, they bring the group into action. People gather to celebrate them. Their first effect, then, is to bring individuals together, increase contact between them, and make them closer to one another. This alone changes what is in their minds. On ordinary days, practical and individual concerns occupy most of their attention. Everyone attends to personal business. For most people, this chiefly means meeting the demands of material life. Private interest has always been the main incentive for economic activity. Of course, social feelings can never be entirely absent. We remain in contact with others. Education has given us habits, ideas, and tendencies that usually guide our relations with others, and these continue to influence us. But opposing tendencies, aroused and sustained by the demands of the daily struggle, constantly fight and restrain these social feelings. The feelings resist with varying success, depending on their own strength. But that strength is not renewed. They live on their past strength. So, in time, they would be exhausted if nothing restored some of the force they lose through these constant conflicts and frictions. When Australians are scattered in small groups and spend their time hunting and fishing, they lose sight of their clan's or tribe's concerns. They think only of catching as much game as possible. On feast days, by contrast, these concerns necessarily fade from view. Because they are essentially profane, they have no place in these sacred periods. At such times, people focus on their shared beliefs and traditions, the memory of their great ancestors, and the collective ideal those ancestors embody. In short, they focus on social matters. Even the material interests that these great religious ceremonies are meant to serve concern the public order and are therefore social. Society as a whole has an interest in abundant harvests, rain that falls at the right time and not too heavily, and animals that reproduce regularly. So society is foremost in everyone's mind. It dominates and directs all conduct. In other words, society is more alive and active, and therefore more real, than during profane times. People are not deceiving themselves, then, when they feel that something outside them is being born again. They feel that forces are being revived and that life is awakening again. This renewal is not imaginary in any way, and individuals benefit from it too. For the spark of social being that each person carries within necessarily shares in this collective renewal. The individual soul, too, is renewed by being immersed again in the source of its life. As a result, it feels stronger, more fully in control of itself, and less dependent on physical needs.

We know that the positive cult naturally tends to take periodic forms; this is one of its distinctive features. Of course there are rites which men celebrate occasionally, in connection with passing situations. But these episodic practices are always merely accessory, and in the religions studied in this book, they are almost exceptional. The essential constituent of the cult is the cycle of feasts which return regularly at determined epochs. We are now able to understand whence this tendency towards periodicity comes; the rhythm which the religious life follows only expresses the rhythm of the social life, and results from it. Society is able to revivify the sentiment it has of itself only by assembling. But it cannot be assembled all the time. The exigencies of life do not allow it to remain in congregation indefinitely; so it scatters, to assemble anew when it again feels the need of this. It is to these necessary alternations that the regular alternations of sacred and profane times correspond. Since the apparent object, at least, of the cult was at first to regularize the course of natural phenomena, the rhythm of the cosmic life has put its mark on the rhythm of the ritual life. This is why the feasts have long been associated with the seasons; we have seen this characteristic already in the Intichiuma of Australia. But the seasons have only furnished the outer frame-work for this organization, and not the principle upon which it rests; for even the cults which aim at exclusively spiritual ends have remained periodical. So this periodicity must be due to other causes. Since the seasonal changes are critical periods for nature, they are a natural occasion for assembling, and consequently for religious ceremonies. But other events can and have successfully fulfilled this function of occasional cause. However, it must be recognized that this frame-work, though purely external, has given proof of a singular resistive force, for traces of it are found even in the religions which are the most fully detached from all physical bases. Many Christian celebrations are founded, with no break of continuity, on the pastoral and agrarian feasts of the ancient Hebrews, although in themselves they are neither pastoral nor agrarian.

We know that positive worship naturally tends to take periodic forms. This is one of its distinctive features. Of course, people sometimes perform rites in response to temporary situations. But these occasional practices are always secondary. In the religions studied in this book, they are almost exceptional. The essential part of worship is the cycle of festivals that return regularly at set times. We can now understand why worship tends to be periodic. The rhythm of religious life simply expresses the rhythm of social life and results from it. Society can renew its sense of itself only by gathering together. But people cannot gather all the time. The demands of life do not allow them to remain together indefinitely. So they disperse and gather again when they feel the need. The regular alternation between sacred and ordinary times corresponds to these necessary cycles of gathering and dispersal. At first, the apparent purpose of worship, at least, was to regulate the course of natural events. So the rhythm of life in the universe has left its mark on the rhythm of ritual life. This is why festivals have long been associated with the seasons. We have already seen this feature in the Intichiuma of Australia. But the seasons provided only the outer framework for this organization, not the principle behind it. For even forms of worship aimed at exclusively spiritual ends have remained periodic. This periodic pattern must therefore have other causes. Changes in the seasons are critical periods for nature, so they provide a natural occasion for gathering and, consequently, for religious ceremonies. But other events can and have successfully served as occasions for gathering. Still, we must recognize that this framework, though purely external, has proved remarkably resistant to change. Traces of it remain even in religions that are most fully detached from any physical basis. Many Christian celebrations have an unbroken connection to the herding and farming festivals of the ancient Hebrews. Yet these Christian celebrations are neither pastoral nor agricultural in themselves.

Moreover, this rhythm is capable of varying in different societies. Where the period of dispersion is long, and the dispersion itself is extreme, the period of congregation, in its turn, is very prolonged, and produces veritable debauches of collective and religions life. Feasts succeed one another for weeks or even for months, while the ritual life sometimes attains to a sort of frenzy. This is what happens among the Australian tribes and many of the tribes of North-western America.¹¹⁵⁹ Elsewhere, on the contrary, these two phases of the social life succeed one another after shorter intervals, and then the contrast between them is less marked. The more societies develop, the less they seem to allow of too great intermittences.

Moreover, this rhythm can vary among societies. When people remain dispersed for a long time and are spread very far apart, their period of gathering is also very long. It produces intense excesses of collective and religious life. Feasts follow one another for weeks or even months, while ritual life sometimes becomes almost frenzied. This happens among the Australian tribes and many tribes of North-western America.¹¹⁵⁹ Elsewhere, by contrast, these two phases of social life alternate at shorter intervals. The contrast between them is then less marked. The more societies develop, the less they seem to allow such long gaps between phases.