In the Temple of Sulis Minerva

On Magic and Religion

The Roman baths in Bath, England, are a fascinating place to visit. To be sure, Jana and I enjoy Bath mainly because we are Jane Austin fans. Our favorite thing to do in Bath is to sit in the Parade Gardens, have a cream tea, and read Jane Austen novels aloud to each other.

But the most famous thing in Bath isn't Jane Austen, but the Roman baths. 

Hot springs for the Romans were sites of the sacred and divine. So, next to the baths they built over the spring the Romans dedicated a temple to the Celtic goddess Sulis, who had been worshipped at the springs by the Celts, identifying her as Minerva. During a visit to the baths you get a tour through the excavations of the temple dedicated to Sulis Minerva, learning a lot about Roman faith and religious observance. 

During my visit to the baths two things jumped out at me about Roman religion, the curse scrolls and the Haruspex altar. 

In the display of the curse scrolls you learn how the Romans would come to the temple to curse each other. To make a curse you would find a scribe at the temple who would write your curse on a thin bit of lead. After writing the curse, the lead would be rolled up and thrown into the spring, asking Sulis Minerva to grant the request. Here's a sample of some of the curses you read about in the exhibit:

Complaint about theft of a woman's cape: Lovernisca complains to the Goddess that her cape has been stolen.

A list of names: When a culprit was unknown a list of suspects was sometimes submitted to the Goddess, to help her identify the wrongdoer.

Compliant about theft of Vilbia, probably a woman: This curse includes a list of names of possible culprits. Perhaps Vilbia was a slave.

Also uncovered in the excavations at the baths were the pavement stones of the temple courtyard, which was filled with various altars. The most distinctive of these was the Haruspex stone.

In Roman religion, and in other ancient faiths, a haruspex was a person trained in the art of divination by reading the signs discerned in the entrails of sacrificed animals, usually sheep or birds. The livers and intestines of sacrificed animals at Bath were believed to contain signs of approval or disapproval of Sulis Minerva, which aided in the reading of omens and deciding upon courses of action.

I'm sharing these bits from my visit to the Roman baths in Bath to reflect today upon the distinctions between magic and religion. 

As any sociologist of religion will tell you, it is notoriously difficult to make a contrast between magic and religion. The traditional contrast has been that magic is instrumental whereas religion is relational. Specifically, magical practice is a sort of metaphysical technology. The hex in witchcraft is an obvious example. You pick up a spellbook and follow the instructions of the hex like a recipe. Somehow, if you follow the recipe, you get a predictable outcome, like a love charm. The love charm hex is an instrument, a tool to be used, to facilitate a prospective romantic partner becoming attracted to you.

Religion, by contrast, is a relationship with a deity. That is to say, an interpersonal relationship. When Christians say they have a "personal relationship" with Jesus this what they are talking about. Jesus is intimate friend and companion. There is trust, affection, and support mediated through direct and daily conversation. 

And yet, consider Roman religion, as witnessed in the curse scrolls and Haruspex Stone. Was Roman observance in the temple of Sulis Minerva magical or religious? Seems like a bit of both. To be sure, there was a relationship with the goddess. And I expect that the Romans experienced a degree of personal affection toward her. And yet, as we see in the curse scrolls and the divinations of the haruspex, Roman interactions with Sulis Minerva tended toward the transactional and instrumental, more "magical" than relational. In short, in the temple of Sulis Minerva the lines between magic and religion become blurred.

These lines become blurred in Christian life as well. In many sectors of Christianity, faith can tip toward the magical. By that I mean faith can become instrumental and transactional. Consider "name it and claim it" theology. "Name it and claim it" can take on the metaphysical logic of a hex: "If X, then Y." If I follow the recipe of the hex, then this outcome will happen. Relatedly, if I name and claim this Biblical promise, then this blessing will materialize in my life. Much within the Prosperity Gospel movement has this instrumental, transactional and magical flavor. If X, then Y.

Opposite this view is a different understanding, that my relationship with God, because it is a relationship, cannot be instrumentalized. God is not a tool I can use. Prayer is not a hex, but a conversation. 

Now, is this a fuzzy, blurry line? Yes. When I'm facing illness or a hard decision, might I pray to God for healing and direction? And if so, has the relationship become magical and instrumental? 

Not necessarily. The key, I think, is in Jesus's "Not my will, but Thine, be done." Or the sentiment from the book of James, "If the Lord wills, we will do this or that." And the lovely sentiment at the end of the journey of Psalm 73: "As for me, it is good to be near God." We might ask God for many things, but what we ultimately desire from God isn't an answer to my petition, but the presence of God himself. What is good for us is to be near God. I don't want the hex, I want the relationship.