Religion and the Fantastic in Traditional Societies
Within fantasy theory (Kathryn Hume, Marianne Wünsch8), as well as within the study of religion (Marco Frenschkowski), we find work that treats the fantastic in traditional societies and in that connection theorizes ‘religion-in-fantasy’.
In her 1984 book, Fantasy and Mimesis: Responses to Reality in Western Literature, Kathryn Hume attacks the exclusivity of genre-based definitions of the fantastic and fantasy, and instead presents a broad definition that also includes religious literature. She argues that fantasy is one of two basic impulses which inform all fiction. The first impulse is that of mimesis, which she sees as the ‘desire to imitate, to describe, events, people, situations, and objects with such verisimilitude that others can share your experience’ (Hume 1984: 20). The other impulse, fantasy, is ‘the desire to change givens and alter reality’, a ‘departure from consensus reality’ (Hume 1984: 20, 21). Fantasy is the deliberate departure from the limits of what is accepted as real and normal, from deliberate distortion and departure to omission and erasure (Hume 1984: xii). Consensus reality is defined as the reality we depend upon for everyday action, for example that humans need food, air and liquid to survive, that bodies fall, that stones are solid, that humans die and so forth (Hume 1984: xi). For her, fantasy also comprises fantasy stories, whose marvel is considered ‘real’, for the fantasy that is considered real is not considered real in the same sense that a chair is real (Hume 1984: 21).9 This clearly opens the field of fantasy to include religious fantasy.10
Hume’s work is valuable for its observations of religion and fantasy, for example, of how fantasy form and religious content in some instances are almost ‘bound to’ coincide (Hume 1984: 121), by discussing literature’s many means of imposing meaning on the reader (Hume 1984: 168–197), and by being generally appreciative of the idea of ‘religious fantasy’. Yet, her views of what religion and religious literature do are not entirely satisfactory. For example, when she describes religious literature, she states that the framework of experience is imposed on the audience as ‘an absolute’ and that ‘no other possibility is acknowledged’ (Hume 1984: 122). Such a view of the transmission of worldview from text to mind seems to me too simplistic, and one could also pose the question of how this would look from within a polytheistic tradition like the Mesopotamian, which clearly acknowledged the presence and legitimacy of other deities and other founding narratives for other peoples in other cities and areas, as is also the case for some segments of the Hebrew Bible. Of course religious narratives play important roles in religions, yet they are not necessarily received in ways that can be called passive.11 By contrast, the idea that belief is not as important as novelty and the elicitation of powerful sensations when accounting for the power of religious narrative (Hume 1984: 164–165, 167) is suggestive for a study of religious narrative. I also have reservations with respect to the classification of literature based on its ‘response to reality’12 and with respect to the idea that only some types of literature would offer escape and comfort and only some other types subversion and so forth,13 and the, to my mind, too little space for the individual recipient that the theory allows for.14
Marianne Wünsch’s 1991 book Die Fantastische Literatur der Frühen Moderne (1890–1930): Definition, Denkgeschichtlicher Kontext, Strukturen) points clearly to the key problem of any definition of the fantastic—the question of the definition of the concepts of ‘the inexplicable’, ‘the unnatural’ and ‘the supernatural’. Her detailed engagement with this question is relevant for the question of the fantastic in relation to religion and traditional societies. She argues that if we categorize forms of literature by means of their relationship to ‘reality’, we must philosophically investigate what is meant by reality. In her social-constructionist view, concepts of reality are historically quite variable. There is no singular universal model of reality, only epochal reality models. In order to clarify this concept, Wünsch introduces the concept of ‘cultural knowledge’ and defines it as the ‘total amount of true statements of an epoch’ (Wünsch 1991: 16–18). This sociologically and historically variable concept of reality is used to distinguish between reality-compatible literature (literature that does not violate the reality concept of the epoch) and non-reality-compatible literature (literature that does violate the reality concept of the epoch). Furthermore she introduces a text-internal entity that represents the knowledge elements of the reality concept that are violated in the text and this entity reacts with disbelief, wonder and so forth when faced with the fantastic events in fantastic literature (Wünsch 1991: 37). Fantastic literature always represents a vehicle for wonder, shock and surprise, according to Wünsch. The need for explanation is represented in the text itself, she holds. This, however, would exclude not only Kafka but also Tolkien and much new fantasy from the domain. Wünsch openly excludes religious narrative, because she holds that if believed a work is not fantastic. Yet, contrary to Wünsch’s view that if believed a work is not fantastic, if the presence of doubt, hesitation and wonder in a text makes it fantastic, then surely many religious narratives would have to be included.
Wünsch offers a detailed engagement with the problem of locating the fantastic in other cultural contexts. Her definition of the fantastic in relation to the full scale of the ‘extra-literary reality’ is, to my mind, problematic, because it is difficult to pinpoint what people in a given epoch find real and how many of them find it real simultaneously, especially so with respect to the past. Also today, the concept of the total sum of true statements of an epoch presents difficulties. Still, Wünsch is correct in pointing out that no theory of the fantastic and fantasy can do without some approach to the problem—at least if we want to address the fantastic in other cultures or in the past.
Turning now to the study of religion, Marco Frenschkowski, evangelical theologian and historian of religion, offers what he terms a Religionswissenschaftliche take on fantasy narrative and a set of general comments on the field of fantasy and religion (Frenschkowski 1999, 2005, 2006). In his view, the fantastic is a fundamentally modern phenomenon (Frenschkowski 2006: 339–340; 2005). Frenschkowski compares religion—not religious narrative—with fantasy literature and provides an overall historical explanation of the replacement of the religious literature of a religious worldview with the fantasy literature of a secular worldview (Frenschkowski 2005: 1999). According to Frenschkowski, the fantastic as a narrative form can only arise where a religious worldview has collapsed. Imaginative narratives from earlier epochs are not fantasy if they form unbroken parts of the contemporary worldview (Frenschkowski 1999: 47; 2006: 339–341).15 In other words, if the supernatural is believed and claimed to be real then it cannot be fantastic (Frenschkowski 2006: 351). Yet, he acknowledges some of the problems with such a view, namely that such narratives are clearly intuitively fantastic, and second that the secularization hypothesis has turned out to be problematic—that for the Western societies, we cannot argue a simple succession from a religious worldview before the Enlightenment to a secular one in post-Enlightenment times.16 Therefore, he concedes that fantasy is not post-religious in a cultural-historical sense, but only structurally, and acknowledges the simultaneous coexistence of fantasy and religion. In premodern cultures, too, people would believe different things in different contexts, and a narrator may insist that his or her narrative was true in one context, and in another insist that it is not; humans simply do not believe the same things at all times and in all contexts, nor with the same intensity, he says (Frenschkowski 2005). Frenschkowski also acknowledges that because myths in general are historical, artfully made products, there is thus no fundamental diff...