Approaches through Materiality

Religion is a funny thing, because it always seems to be riding two horses at once. One could describe these horses in a number of different ways, using all sorts of familiar dichotomies; practice and belief, body and soul, earthly and heavenly, here and hereafter. “Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses”. Here, food and forgiveness, or, perhaps more accurately, ingestion and salvation, are claimed, simultaneously – even seamlessly – by religion. This list could (and does) go on, being inclusive of, for example, immanence and transcendence – but more on this below. Yet these binary pairs can clearly be observed bleeding into one another. Ingesting pork, for example, often appears to be religiously more troublesome than does ingesting bread. This is because matter matters. We may ask, then, is religion really riding two horses, or are these ‘familiar dichotomies’ so familiar because they are false? Rephrasing the question in terms that partially echo the title and subtitle of Morgan’s (2010) landmark edited volume Religion and Material Culture: The Matter of Belief, is, I think, helpfully clarifying. What, then, is the matter with religion? The answer presented below is that, very often, the matter with religion is the matter of religion. Put more simply still, the problem with religion is its materiality. This chapter examines the whys and wherefores of this problem for the anthropology of religion – its ethnographic puzzles and methodological opportunities, as well as its conceptual impasses and theoretical insights.

Whose sins do the Brethren confess? The problem of sin as the problem of expiation

Among Brethren fisher families in Gamrie, northeast Scotland, professional clergy and written liturgy are held to be blasphemous denials of the true workings of the Holy Spirit. God, I was told, chooses to speak through all born-again (male) persons, unrestricted by the vain repetitions of lettered clerics and their prayer books. In this context, confession of one’s own sin is a private and pointedly interior affair. In Gamrie, not only did every man seek to be his own skipper, but also his own priest. Yet, much of Brethren worship is given over to ritualised acts of confession. So whose sins do the Brethren confess, and to what end? This article argues that among the Brethren of Gamrie, such acts involve confessing not one’s own sin, but the sins of a ‘sick’ and ‘fallen’ world. More than this, by attending to the sociological (as opposed to theological) processes of confessing the sins of another, we see a collapse in the distinction between confiteor and credo that has so dogged anthropological studies of Christianity. In Brethren prayer and bible study, as well as in everyday gossip, the “I confess” of the confiteor and the “I believe” of credo co-constitute one another in and through evidences of the ‘lostness’ of ‘this present age’. But how, if at all, does this solve ‘the problem of sin’? This article suggests that, with the ritual gaze of confession turned radically outward, Brethren announcements of global wickedness enact (in a deliberate tautology) both a totalising call for repentance from sin, and a millenarian creed of the imminent apocalypse. Here, the problem of ritual can be understood as the problem of (partially failed) expiation.

Establishing the ‘Truth’ of the Matter: Confessional Reflexivity as Introspection and Avowal

The conceptualisation of reflexivity commonly found in social anthropology deploys the term as if it were both a ‘virtuous’ mechanism of self‐reflection and an ethical technique of truth telling, with reflexivity frequently deployed as an moral practice of introspection and avowal. Further, because reflexivity is used as a methodology for constructing the authority of ethnographic accounts, reflexivity in anthropology has come to closely resemble Foucault’s descriptions of confession. By discussing Lynch’s (2000) critical analysis of reflexivity as an ‘academic virtue’, I consider his argument through the lens of my own concept of ‘confessional reflexivity’. While supporting Lynch’s diagnosis of the ‘problem of reflexivity’, I attempt to critique his ethnomethodological cure as essentialist, I conclude that a way forward might be found by blending Foucault’s (1976, 1993) theory of confession with Bourdieu’s (1992) theory of ‘epistemic reflexivity’.