February 2010
Anthropology of Christianity – AN221
Fenella Cannel
Emma Godshaw
Ethnographic Fieldwork Notes and Ethnography Review
Anthropology field trip to Little Walsingham, Norfolk
27th – 29th February 2010
What I found most interesting
The aspect of our two-day fieldwork trip to the medieval village of Little
Walsingham (‘England’s Nazareth’) that I found most interesting was how the space created
by the Shrine of Our Lady is designed, in particular to be part of a longer journey, which
culminates in a visit to the Holy House. The guidebook, which could be purchased for £1 to
the right of the entrance to the Shrine showed a suggested route (see figure 1) that first takes
the pilgrim, in order, through the chapels on the edges of the Shrine that depict the story of
Jesus. The climax of the journey is reached by entering the Holy House, which is where the
pilgrim is supposed to end their journey. After appearing in a series of visions for Lady
Richeldis, the Holy House was built in the twentieth century to the exact measurements of the
original Saxon Shrine and is a replica of the home in Nazareth of the Holy Family (Joseph,
Mary and Jesus). Within the Holy House is the image of Our Lady of Walsingham that was
copied from the seal of the medieval Priory. It is a place where countless people have
encountered God and felt His call in their lives and I found its significance in the pilgrimage
journey very interesting. When sitting in the Shrine for a couple of hours on Saturday
afternoon, I observed how people moved around and used the space within the Shrine. I did
not feel comfortable approaching or interviewing the people in the Shrine because I felt
interrupting their worship may have been invasive, but by just sitting and observing how
people moved around the space I certainly felt I could understand a lot from this.
I observed three people (who had guidebooks in their hand) following the exact
recommended route. For those who did not know what each area in the Shrine meant and
how it was supposed to be used, the suggested route and guidebook (which I used when first
visiting), certainly helped explain and structure the journey1. However, the majority of
people seemed to wander around the shrine more haphazardly. Some walked around the
chapels systematically, some sat and prayed without visiting all of the Shrine and some
explored the chapels and the inside of the Shrine more randomly. This could be explained by
a number of reasons; perhaps it was not their first time in the Shrine and thus they were not
entering it as part of a logical journey, perhaps they had their own agenda they were
following or maybe they were unaware of the suggested course. Regardless of how
1
Note the entrance we used was not the main entrance to the Shrine.
individuals moved around the main body of the Shrine however, what I found most relevant
was how people tended to go to the Holy House last in their exploration of the Shrine. One
female pilgrim spent around an hour worshipping in the main part of the Shrine before
entering the Holy House where she continued her worship and then left the building
altogether. Another pilgrim purposefully explored the chapels in their set order, and then sat
in the congregation to pray before entering the Holy House last. This pattern of visiting the
Holy House last seemed extremely common with the pilgrims; despite what course they
followed in the lead up, they tended to enter the Holy House at the end of their exploration.
It is thus the significance of the Holy House as the final part of the pilgrim’s journey
that really fascinated me. The suggested route laid out by the guidebook takes the visitor past
the entrance to the side door of the Holy House at the beginning of the passage through the
Shrine, but suggests you should not enter it until the final stage. As well as how pilgrims
moved around the Shrine and visited the Holy House last, the final Sprinkling Service held on
the Sunday afternoon at the closing stages of the pilgrimage also ended with the congregation
turning around to face the Holy House and sing a hymn with words to say goodbye to Our
Lady and the Holy House, demonstrating again its importance in the final stages of the
journey. Once inside the Holy House, it certainly had a feeling of finality to it and I without
doubt found it the most peaceful, reflective and spiritual place in Walsingham (heightened by
the burning incense, quietness and multiple candles). I think the Holy House has a lot of
importance as the final part of the pilgrimage because its presence is what differentiates the
Shrine from other Christian churches - it is what makes Walsingham an important place in
Christian history and thus it feels like a special place to visit. It is a suitable and meaningful
end to an important journey that millions of pilgrims have taken for nearly a thousand years
and I felt privileged to be there.
My own experience of Little Walsingham
When first entering Little Walsingham, it felt like any normal picturesque English
country village - reached by windy, narrow country roads, its streets of medieval timberframed buildings, cobbled pavements and a high street lined with quaint teahouses and gifts
shops seemed very familiar to me as I spent a lot of my childhood in the Cotswolds. On
closer inspection however, it was obvious that this old-fashioned, pretty village was an
important site for Christian pilgrimage. The gift shops were selling religious mementos for
pilgrims to remember their journey by, the teahouses were busiest half an hour after Church
services finished, many of the medieval buildings housed accommodation for pilgrims and
friendly nuns, priests and pilgrims made up the majority of the community. I quickly left my
skepticism behind, became accustomed to Walsingham and thus felt very separated from the
normal rush of busy London life – we had escaped this and in its place was a space of
reflection, comfort, peacefulness and emotional ease.
I entered the Anglican Shrine of Our Lady Walsingham on Saturday afternoon and
found it very peaceful, contemplative and restful as a space. I first noticed how many Roman
Catholic traditions were present in this ‘Anglican’ church (for example confession boxes and
incense), however for me this was not important. Rather than what was being represented, it
showed the inclusiveness of the place and how what was most important was how the space
inside the shrine felt. This blurring of lines and inclusiveness was echoed in both
conversations I had with pilgrims throughout the weekend – people found it hard to say if
they were Anglican or Roman Catholic and how many of the gifts sold in the Anglican gift
shop were Roman Catholic in nature (for example rosary beads). Additionally this
inclusiveness was emulated by the friendliness of the place as everyone smiled and said hello
to each other when walking around the village. The overriding sense that people saw arriving
at Walsingham as being like returning home further showed the ease to which people entered
the space and associated it with inclusion, effortlessness and comfort.
The Saturday evening healing service was probably the most memorable part of my
time in Walsingham. Although I wouldn’t describe myself as of any religious orientation, it
felt very special to be there and the service was very inclusive. A focus was placed on
making it atmospheric and arousing the senses, for example the use of soft music, intense
dialogue, dimmed lighting and incense, which made it very relaxing, still and emotional. The
priest described the service as ‘easy listening’ which was very accurate – a dramatic,
emotional story of the birth of Jesus told form Mary’s point of view was followed by a period
of meditation/reflection and an opportunity to have a laying of the hands, go to confession
and have a blessing from the priests. It was very inclusive and what to do was explained
clearly - as a result I felt it would be appropriate to get the laying of the hands and have a
prayer said for a sick relative of mine. I would not have felt justified asking for a prayer for
myself but because the option of praying for someone else was given this felt more
acceptable. The service was very different to a ‘normal’ Anglican service, with its focus on
healing, journeying through life and reflection it seemed unusual but also special, which I
think was important to make the pilgrimage seem different to standard religious practices. I
felt touched by the peacefulness of the ceremony and appreciated having the opportunity to
take time to reflect on things I would not usually talk or think about in everyday life. It felt
rather spiritual and emotional, and these were feelings that seemed mirrored by the rest of the
group. We all felt a million miles away from our activity filled, hectic lifestyles in London,
which was welcomed and certainly seen as a positive thing.
Our journey came to a close after the Sprinkling Service on the Sunday afternoon and
we were faced with reentering everyday life. Although our experience was to a certain extent
a watered-down version of the journey a real pilgrim would make, I still felt I understood the
journey as a gradual movement throughout a space with a focus on progress and gradually
arriving ‘home.’ This concept of gradual movement was reflected throughout the whole of
our pilgrimage – the journey to Walsingham itself, the Holy Mile and how the inside and
outside of the Shrine was designed all had a focus on journeying and movements. When
ending our own journeys by returning to London I very quickly fell back to reality but felt
rested and satisfied that I had experienced something very special.
Figure 1:
Mapping of The
Shrine of Our
Lady
Walsingham
Chapel 15: Chapel
of the Blessed
Sacrament
Chapel 13: The
Descent of the
Holy Spirit
Chapel 12:
The Ascension
Chapel 14: The
Assumption
Chapel 11: The
Resurrection
High Altar
Chapel 10: The
Crucifixion
Stairs to
Orthodox
Church
Chapel 9: The
Carrying of the Cross
Chapel 5: The
Finding in the
Temple
Chapel 8: The
Crowning
with Thorns
Chapel 4: The
presentation in
the Temple
Chapel 7: The
Scourging
Congregation
Chapel 6: The Agony
in the Garden
HOLY
HOUSE
Holy Well
Chapel 1: The
Annunciation
Entrance we used
Intercessions &
Offerings Box
Suggested
Route
Chapel 2: The
Visitation
Chapel 3: The Nativity
Entrance
Ethnography Review
Joel Robbins - Becoming Sinners: Christianity and Moral Torment in a Papua New
Guinea Society
In the following review of Joel Robbins’ influential monograph ‘Becoming Sinners:
Christianity and Moral Torment in a Papua New Guinea Society’ (Robbins, 2004), I will aim
to present with a “percipient eye” (Geertz, 1988:24), the main arguments and concepts
presented, as well as taking a critical analysis of his work. Firstly, I will consider the core
basis of Robbin’s account, i.e. what he is writing about, rather than how he writes it. Robbins
provides us with a detailed, well-written, engaging and informative ethnography concerning
the somewhat rapid Christianization of the Urapmin, a small community in the far western
highlands of Papua New Guinea. By early 1990 the Urapmin “no longer practiced their
traditional religion” (1) as they had converted rapidly to a “Western form of Christianity
focused on the revivalist and charismatic themes” (2). Robbins challenges us to think about
the process of cultural and religious change and shows us how the community, through
adopting the morals and values of Christianity, are led to live in a world guided by two
cultural systems. Living with one culture that supplies the traditional grounds of their lives
and another, a Christian one that supplies the religious ground, Robbins suggests leads to a
kind of hybridity where the “two cultures contradict each other” (333) and “repel efforts at
synthesis” (333), meaning the two cultures are “brought together but not reconciled” (333).
A focus is placed on how this change took place – he rejects arguments based around
missionization and radical socioeconomic dislocation, and instead proposes an argument
based on aspects of Urapmin culture that may have motivated their efforts to adopt and
somewhat hunt out the Christian revival. For example, Robbins discusses the role of Big
Men (‘self-made’ leaders who guide and influence peoples choices and embraced Christianity
as an innovative way of attracting followers), the Urapmin’s geographical marginalization in
the local area (resulting in a loss of power and humiliation due to changes in the ritual
system) and their traditional moral standing (that made the colonialists want of order and
lawfulness appear attractive to them). Thus, how and why the people of Urapmin seemed to
“grasp a new cultural whole” (3) is demonstrated, which as a result left “many aspects of
traditional culture intact” (3). Taking influence from Sahlin’s structuralist models of change
and Dumont’s work on values, Robbins looks for a model of cultural change that explains
“both how people are able quickly to grasp the logic of the new without sacrificing the
coherence of what came before” (4) and “how they can live with the two-sided culture that
results” (4). The main question considered therefore is how and why they would have taken
part in such a transformation, especially when it was one that taught the Urapmin to “see
themselves in the kind of negative light” (4) through its focus on millennialism and morals.
This focus on millennial notions devalues traditional living and labouring arrangements to
establish the claims of Christian morality and sociality as primary. Robbins shows how
although both sets of ideas deploy similar categories of lawfulness and wilfulness, they relate
to each other and attach values differently, creating a contradiction in cultural orders that the
Urapmin are forced to live with and causing a “struggle to accommodate the traditional
aspects of their lives to the demands of their Christian religion” (36).
Throughout Robbin’s work, he exercises the use of traditional ethnographic data,
such as maps, figures, and photographs. The fieldwork is conducted in a traditional manner
with a focus on participant observation spread over a two-year intensive period. His
fieldwork methods are clearly outlined in the introduction, where he discusses his role as a
researcher and how the community accepted him. He shows why he is confident that his
work in top Urapmin is “representative of what was going on everywhere in Urapmin” (39)
and also how he tried to counteract his analysis from being solely based on men.
Additionally, his knowledge and study of the local language, Tok Pisin, strengthened his
position as an ethnographer. Aside from how Robbins chooses to organize, select and present
his text however, we also need to consider how far he makes uses of literary techniques, or
rhetoric. In contemporary work, this matter of rhetoric is what makes ethnography seem
interesting, readable, and often fascinating, based on how it is written. As an anthropologist
writing in a contemporary timeframe, Robbins plays attention to these concepts, producing
therefore ethnography that I believe Clifford Geertz would describe as “thick description”
rather than “thin description” (Geertz, 1973:6). Where I believe Robbins ethnography falls
rather short here however is in his lack of use of the emic approach to ethnography. The use
of personal narratives would have acted as a form of emotive description of certain
individual’s experience of the conversion process and would, I think, have added a great deal
to his study and supported his arguments greatly.
Theoretically, Robbins ethnography holds an important place. He shows in the
conclusion how his account can make progress towards theorizing globalization, through its
exploration of the “different types of relations cultures can contract with one and other” (37).
His analysis thus provides substance to the notion of hybridity and additionally allows us to
talk about the “internal structure of cultural mixtures and the stakes involved in living within
them” (37). It is also the first full-length ethnography on Christianity in this region, which
thus makes it an important contribution to the Anthropology of Christianity. As Becoming
Sinners narrates with empathy and insight the religious struggles in one community, it paves
the way for further cultural studies on becoming Christian (in particular in the Pacific), and
thus makes a significant contribution to the study of both cultural change and Christianity that
is important not only for anthropologists but also for historians of religion and theologians.
Furthermore, this ethnography provides substance for Robbins’ later article entitled
‘Continuity Thinking and Christian Culture’ (2007), which criticises the Comarroff’s
influential work ‘Of Revelation and Revolution’ (1997). Robbins criticises the Comarroff’s
emphasis on cultural continuity when what would have been best fitting is a focus on
discontinuity. He suggests anthropologists tend to “sideline Christianity” (Robbins, 2007:5)
and “emphasise cultural continuity as opposed to discontinuity and change” (ibid), which
often becomes a problem where Christianity is concerned due to its focus on radical change.
Anthropologists thus “become suspicious and often explain away the Christian elements of
their cultures” (ibid) – something that ‘Becoming Sinners’ demonstrates need not be the case.
Consequently Robbins is not shy to focus on the discontinuities of religious change in
Urapmin society, as it is these he sees as most obvious. Perhaps however the model he
proposes is too general to apply to the whole of Christianity – after all the conversion he is
discussing in Urapmin is to Pentecostalism, which has a charismatic, millenarian character
focused on being ‘born again.’ Robbins interest in idea of radical change that Pentecostalism
certainly provides is thus justified, but I am wary of whether he can apply this model to the
whole of Christianity, where denominations vary hugely in their emphasises on radical
change. Therefore to see his ethnography as exemplary of “Christian culture” (27) is possibly
a bit misleading.
To conclude, I hope to have shown throughout this review of Robbin’s ethnography,
‘Becoming Sinners’ (2004), the main arguments and concepts presented. Throughout this
review I have also considered his use of literary techniques, i.e. considering how he writes
rather than what he writes, which I feel adds a great deal to our understanding of this
ethnography and also allows us to critique his ethnography on substantive grounds.
Ultimately, I feel Robbins creates a very fluent, imaginative and endearing ethnography,
which presents the arguments in an accessible way and which as a reader, left me intrigued
about considering other communities that have experienced this type of ‘rapid’ conversion
that the Urapmin have.
Bibliography
Please note that where I have included references with only a number in brackets, for
example: (19), I am referring to the main ethnography of this essay:
Robbins, J. (2004): Becoming Sinners: Christianity and Moral Torment in a Papua New
Guinea Society. University of California Press, Berkeley.
Comarroff, J & J. (1997): Of Revelation and Revolution: the dialectics of modernity on a
South African frontier. University of Chicago Press, London.
Eriksen, TH. (1995): Small Places, Large Issues: An Introduction to Social and Cultural
Anthropology. Pluto Press, London. Pp. 36.
Geertz, C. (1973): Thick Description: Towards an Interpretive Theory of Culture. In
Geertz, Clifford, The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books. pp. 6.
- (1988): Works and Lives: The Anthropologist as Author. Cambridge: Polity. pp.
24.
Robbins, J. (2007): Continuity Thinking and Christian Culture. Current Anthropology,
Volume 48, No. 1, Feb 2007.