carnival festival and folk performance

Carnival, Festival, and Folk Performance: Max Harris interview

One aspect of my research on Burning Man Festival dealt with festival

and folk performance. One of the helpful pieces of research I

interacted with was done by Max Harris, Executive Director Emeritus of

the Wisconsin Humanities Council. His first book, Theater and

Incarnation was reissued as a paperback by Eerdmans in 2005. He spent

Fall 2006 as a visiting professor of Religion and Literature at Yale

Divinity School. He is now working on a book called The Feast of

Fools: A History. Max is also a Presbyterian minister and has pastored

churches in England, Virginia, Maryland, and Wisconsin.

Morehead's Musings: Max, I found your academic work very helpful in my

reflections on Burning Man Festival as a form of festival and folk

performance. One of your books that I found most interesting was

Carnival and Other Christian Festivals: Folk Theology and Folk

Performance (University of Texas Press, 2003). I think most readers,

particularly Protestants, would not think of the excess of Carnival

and connect that with a Christian festival. In your book you point out

that Carnival has "often been demonized as pagan or heretical." Can

you sketch the contours of Carnival and its connection to

Christianity?

Max Harris: First, it may be helpful to realize that Mardi Gras in New

Orleans, which informs most American's perceptions of the festival, is

in many ways an exceptional rather than a typical Carnival. Carnivals

worldwide display considerable variety and some are openly religious.

Even in rural Cajun Louisiana, the Mardi Gras masqueraders are

predominantly Catholic and go in faith to church on Ash Wednesday. In

Oruro, Bolivia, the second largest Carnival in Latin America (after

Rio de Janeiro) is held in honor of the Virgen del Socavon (Virgin of

the Mineshaft). After the opening procession through town to the

Virgin's sanctuary, the masqueraders remove their masks and approach

on their knees the sacred painting of the Virgin. There is, I believe

(as I have set out in Carnival and Other Christian Festivals), a

profound theological message about God's acceptance of the

marginalized at work in this Carnival. Historically, I believe

Carnival had its origins in the traditional topsy-turvydom of the

medieval Christmas season, which in turn was grounded in the doctrine

of the Incarnation and expressed in Mary's words in the Magnificat:

"He has put down the mighty from their seat and raised up the humble

and meek. He has fed the poor with good things and sent the rich empty

away" (Luke 1:52-53). During the Middle Ages, the Carnival season

gradually expanded (especially in Italy) to fill the period from

Christmas to the Tuesday before Lent. When those in authority wished

to suppress Carnival's critique of the powerful, they demonized

Carnival by separating it from Christmas, confining it to the last few

days before Lent, and then declaring it a last pagan fling before

Lent. Specifically, they linked Carnival with ancient Roman festivals

such as the Bacchanalia and Saturnalia. While good for hostile

propaganda and, more recently, for attracting hedonistic tourists,

this pedigree has no historical warrant. Whatever Carnival may now

look like in some places, I believe its historical roots are

Christian.

Morehead's Musings: One of the concerns if not fears of both

Protestant and Catholic theologians is syncretism. After some

discussion of Catholicism interacting with Aztec religion, and a few

examples in the Old and New Testaments, you state that "festive

syncretism is not..something to be feared by the Christian

theologian," and your remind the reader that the "folk theology of

fiesta is more likely to reside in its mixed, syncretic, or inclusive

elements." Can you say a few words that addresses the fear of

syncretism where cultural aspects like festival are involved, a fear

that seems to be increasing in the Protestant Christian West in the

context of a vibrant Christianity in the Southern Hemisphere and the

shift to a global rather than Western Christianity?

Max Harris: It is important to realize that there is no such thing as

a Christianity that is not already inculturated, i.e. that is not

expressed in terms of a particular culture. God became flesh in Jesus

Christ at a particular time and place and therefore in the midst of a

particular culture. Jesus was (by divine intent!) not some kind of

generic human being, transcending all cultural expression. He was

Jewish, spoke Aramaic, knew Jewish songs, etc. Early Christians were

hugely influenced, in their mode of articulating and practising their

faith, by the Hellenistic culture in which they lived, and, in their

way of organizing the church, by the Roman imperial model of

hierarchical government. The church still bears strong marks (scars?)

from this influence. And so on through history: the western European

church expressed itself largely in terms of western European culture;

the U.S. church is distinctively North American. Christianity is

always and everywhere syncretistic, in the sense that it must express

itself in terms of a particular culture. Our calling as Christians is

to do our utmost to distinguish those aspects of our culture that are

incompatible with the gospel from those that can contribute to

legitimate forms of Christian expression. The most damaging example of

Christian syncretism at the moment may well be the conservative

American church's embrace of a political and economic ideology that,

to my mind, is incompatible with Christ's call to care for the poor

and the stranger and to begin the search for peace by turning the

other cheek. Part of the problem is that we only see the other's

syncretism; we are blind to our own.

Morehead's Musings: In chapter 9 of your book you describe some

interesting festive behavior from the 1400s that mocked the

established civic and ecclesiastical order, including that involving

the clergy, and then state that this is not associated with Carnival,

but rather with early Christmas celebrations. I was struck by how much

of this activity from a Christian festival in the past finds parallel

expression in Burning Man Festival in the contemporary period in the

U.S. Can you describe some of the mocking-type behaviors that took

place in early Christmas "reversals of status" as you describe them,

and how this might be connected to the Feast of Fools?

Max Harris: This is the part of my Carnival book that I would now most

like to rewrite! What you find in that chapter is in line with

conventional scholarship on the Feast of Fools, but I am now in the

process of consulting the early sources themselves rather than the

later secondary scholarship. As a result, I am writing a book on the

Feast of Fools that will show that much (most?) of the conventional

scholarship on the subject is inaccurate. To quote one of the few

perceptive scholarly remarks on the topic: "Some of the wilder

excesses said to have been committed [during the Feast of Fools] lay

more in the wishful imagination of later commentators than in fact"

(Nick Sandon, The Octave of the Nativity, London, 1984, p. 69). Some

light-hearted "rites of reversal" remain, however: the repeated

chanting of the Deposuit (the lines from the Magnificat that I quoted

above) during Vespers at the feast of the Circumcision (January 1) in

twelfth-century Notre-Dame de Paris; the orderly processional

admission of an ass to Beauvais cathedral in the early twelfth

century; and a procession through the streets of twelfth-century

Chalons-sur-Marne (now Chalons-en-Champagne) during which clergy and

townspeople joined in a round dance ahead of the procession. (You will

notice that I'm still working on the early material, but I strongly

suspect that the same will hold true when I reach 1400 and beyond.)

So, there were small, merry festive rites of reversal, but they appear

to have been surrounded by orderly liturgy and to have expressed joy

in the good news of the Incarnation. They do not appear to have

descended into disorderly, drunken revels, as so many scholars and

clerical critics have assumed.

Morehead's Musings: While conservative Protestants and Catholics might

be put off by such festive reversals, in your book you mention the

connection between this and various biblical teachings, such as the

Magnificat of Luke's gospel. Can you discuss the biblical materials on

this and help readers make the connection to ancient, and possibly

contemporary festivals of inversion?

Max Harris: In the Magnificat, Mary rejoices in a God who

characteristically overturns privilege and favors the poor and the

hungry. The church, whether Catholic, Presbyterian, or Baptist, has

too often been supported by, sided with, and wanted to belong to the

the rich and the well-fed. There have been wonderful exceptions: the

early desert fathers, St. Francis of Assissi, Gustavo Gutierrez, to

name just three. Many more are no doubt known only by God. But the

Magnificat reminds us of our call to stand with God among the poor and

the hungry. In chapter 3 of my Carnival book, I describe the Fiestas

de Santiago Apostol en Loiza (Festivals of St. James the Apostle in

Loiza), held each July in one of the most Afro-Caribbean communities

of Puerto Rico. The fiestas enact a joyous exodus of the marginalized

from the local seat of power in Loiza to the poorer neighboring

community of Mediania, blessed especially by the presence of the

smallest of three local statues of Santiago. In many ways, I see this

festival as a folk mediation on Luke 14:21: "Go out quickly into the

streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled,

the blind, and the lame."

Morehead's Musings: You also discuss the Feast of Fools as more than

"mere parody of conventional liturgy," stating that it "deserves

respect as a genuine expression of liturgical drama." Can you help us

understand this?

Max Harris: I would no longer even call it a parody. I would now argue

that, at its best, the Feast of Fools was an integral part of the

liturgy of the feast of the Circumcision (January 1), insisting on the

astonishing truth that God not only became human in Jesus of Nazareth,

but (perhaps sotto voce) that God became poor, homeless, and a victim

of unjust social structures. What I will argue when my book is

finished remains to be seen!

Morehead's Musings: Given the connections between Christmas and

Carnival, how was it that the church suppressed "the ecclesiastical

Feast of fools, but its counterparts survived"?

Max Harris: Beginning about 1400, for reasons that I have yet to

establish but which I suspect have more to do with broader cultural

trends than with any real fault in the feast itself, ecclesiastical

reformers began to press for the suppression of the Feast of Fools.

Local cathedral chapters, often with the support of local bishops and

archbishops, resisted. As a result, the Feast of Fools was gradually

transferred from church buildings to city streets, where its

organization was eventually taken over by secular groups. The "fools"

became part of such outdoor activities as the Procession of Our Lady

of the Trellis in Lille and the incipient Carnival in Dijon.

Morehead's Musings: You state that festivals like Carnival "can

display a creative folk theology in dialogue with the official dogma

of the church." You also mention "the festive God of folk theology," a

conception of God and a form of theology all too absent from both

Catholic and Protestant theologies. How might we look more positively

at "popular religious festivals ..as a source of theological wisdom,

otherwise unarticulated and therefore unnoticed by formal theology,

that is worthy of a place alongside sacred text, reason, and

ecclesiastical tradition"?

Max Harris: It's not a simple matter. First, there is the problem of

miscommunication (or lack of communication) between scholars and folk

performers. Scholars are, by and large, trained to read written texts

or to interview informants. Folk performers express themselves with

great sophistication, but they do so in performance rather than in

text or spoken word. As I try to make clear in my Carnival book,

anyone who is truly interested in what folk performers have to say

must acquire a sensitivity to what I call "the signs visible only in

performance." I came to this with some advantage, having a background

in theater, but it still took much practice. In my book, I've tried to

set out some hermeneutic principles for understanding folk

performance, but there is no substitute for close and patient

observance. As for such festivals being a source of theological

wisdom, I mean by this that the traditional sources of theological

authority (sacred text, reason and ecclesiastical tradition) all

privilege those in power in the church: the educated clergy and

theologians are the ones who interpret the sacred text and

establish/guard/reform the traditions. Voices from below are rarely

included in the process. My own theological reflection over the last

twenty years has been significantly influenced by my participant

observation of folk festivals in Spain and Latin America. I've never

had a theological conversation as such with a folk performer, but I've

learned a great deal from watching folk performers in action. And,

part of what I've learned is the blessing of an exuberant joy in God's

love even for me!

Morehead's Musings: After reflection on religious festivals and folk

performance, its connection with the church, and its absence in

America and the West with the strong influences and history of

Protestantism, I wonder whether the rise and increasing popularity of

festival alternative subcultures like Burning Man in the U.S. and

ConFest in Australia might represent attempts by other subcultures to

fill a void not addressed by the churches of Christendom in its

various branches. Your thoughts?

Max Harris: I don't know Burning Man or ConFest first hand, so I'm not

really in a position to comment. They may well be evidence of a

festive gap in American religion (both Protestant and Catholic), but I

have no way of knowing whether they fill that gap in healthy or

unhealthy ways. (My own town of Madison, WI, is famous for its annual

Halloween festival, during which several thousand costumed students

and out-of-town visitors take over the downtown area. I took part one

year: it left me very disappointed.) This festive gap, by the way, is

partly a byproduct of the separation of church and state, which, for

other reasons, I favor strongly. It is effectively illegal in this

country to hold large-scale outdoor communal religious celebrations.

So we hold large-scale secular celebrations (e.g., July 4th, the Super

Bowl), which are, to my mind, poor substitutes for real fiestas! Some

comparatively small Native American, Hispanic, and Cajun communities

in the Southwest do hold outdoor religious festivals, but that's about

it.

Morehead's Musings: Max, thanks again for these thoughts. As I said, I

have benefited greatly from your work, and I hope this interview helps

provide food for thought for others to look at festivals more

positively and to see their significance for church and society.