Archaeology of Gatherings Conference | Institute of Technology, Sligo,

Ireland | October 2013 | Part V

Originally posted online on 4 September 2014 at rmchapple.blogspot.com
(http://rmchapple.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/archaeology-of-gatherings-
conference.html)
Session 5 of the Archaeology of Gatherings Conference, Sligo, October 2013

< Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part VI >

Sunday 27th October was overcast and there had been rain in the night. I will admit to
having been ever so slightly hungover from the festivities the night before and
welcomed the lashings of hot, sweet coffee I was plied with by the excellent folk at The
Glasshouse. On the positive side, at least I knew where I was going this morning and
didnt manage to get lost on the 2km drive to Sligo Institute of Technology.

Edvard Munch's By the Deathbed, 1895 (Source)

The session was chaired by Catriona McKenzie and the first speaker to the podium was
Dr Una MacConville (Sociologist and Visiting Fellow, Centre for Death and Society,
University of Bath, UK) to speak on Gatherings on the Far side banks of Jordan. As
MacConville explained, her title was drawn from The Carter Familys Gospel song
Waitin' on the Far Side Banks of Jordan [song | lyrics]. The aim of the paper was to
examine the perceived presence of deceased relatives gathered round a terminally ill
person in the last days or weeks of life. These are commonly referred to as deathbed
visions and are considered to be relatively common, though their nature as non-
material gatherings makes them difficult to document and capture. Historically, the
phenomenon is well known and is mentioned in a number of medical treatises and
textbooks, including Robert B. Todds 1836 work The Cyclopaedia of Anatomy and
Physiology where they are cited as an indicator of impending death. Essentially,
MacConville is interested in why the ancestral dead play a role in the lives of those still
living. From an archaeological perspective, she draws on ideas discussed by Gabriel
Cooney who has argued that the discovery of isolated pieces of human bones in
domestic contexts may be interpreted as evidence of more porous boundaries
between the living and the dead in the past.

She explained that there is a spectrum of experiences that may be broadly divided into
three categories: near death experiences; near to death experiences; after death
experiences. In the first of these, the near death experiences, the person may
experience a life review and/or meet spiritual beings etc. In these cases the people
return to give accounts of their visions. The near to death experiences can occur
anywhere from 48hrs to one month before death. Many accounts describe them as
transcendental experiences, and they can include individuals waking from comas,
visions, an awareness of their time of their impending death etc. In terms of these
visions, it is relatively common for the person to perceive the previously deceased. For
the most part they are reported as being joyful, though they can be fearful too. These
are particularly difficult to capture as they rely on the willingness of family, friends,
and healthcare professionals to share their stories. After death experiences are
instances where the surviving relatives perceive the presence of a recently deceased
relative. This is a common experience directly after a death, but can persist for up to a
month. This usually takes the form of hearing or smelling the deceased, though it is
less common to experience sightings of the deceased. From my own experience, I can
testify to the power of such visions. In the weeks after my father passed away in
December 2010, I frequently saw him on the street, in crowds, a face in a passing car
or on a bus. I would hasten to add that at no point did I believe that it was really him
as much as I would have liked it to have been. I was fully aware that these were tricks
being played on my mind and very much part of the grieving process, so painfully raw
at that time. For all that level of rationality they were no less powerful and poignant.
MacConville noted that all these forms of experience are common and form a normal
part of death and dying.

Recent research as part of the Capturing the Invisible: Exploring Deathbed

Experiences in Irish Palliative Care project (conducted by Una MacConville and
Regina McQuilla) reported the following results:

Reported by Reported by
Patient Medical Staff
Visions of relatives 45% 10%
Dying dreams/visions 43% 3%
Seeing people/birds/animals out of 32% 6%
corner of eye
Coming out of a coma/alert enough to 31% 27%
communicate

MacConville noted that there are comparable studies (but not many), but that these
concentrate on the near death experiences rather than the broader spectrum of
possibilities. One of these studies, on Australian Aboriginal communities, recorded
visions of pre-deceased relatives or spirits in what they term finishing up. In these
communities people are quite guarded, and there is a reluctance to discuss them with
outsiders for fear of their significance being misunderstood or dismissed. The
Capturing the Invisible project found a similar reluctance when attempting to discuss
the issue with nurses, who were afraid of being ridiculed. In summing up, she spoke of
how these experiences of non-physical gatherings have a long and well-documented
history as indicators of death. Following the ideas of Dr. David Hufford, MacConville
noted the we still do not have a very good cartography of altered states of
consciousness and that choosing to present this paper to a, largely, archaeological
conference was an attempt to help fill in some of the blanks on this map. On a personal
note, I would add that this was a deeply interesting, thoughtful, and moving paper that
was one of my personal highlights of the conference.

Climbing Croagh Patrick (Source)

Gatherings of faith: Pilgrimage in medieval Ireland was presented by Dr Louise
Nugent. She began by presenting the idea that pilgrimage in Early Medieval Ireland
was a devotional practice engaged in by all social classes and sectors of society. Her
chosen task was to discuss why and where people went on pilgrimage during this
period. In relation to why people went on pilgrimage (Thanne longen folk to goon on
pilgrimages in Chaucers words), there were manifold reasons. It may be seen as an
expression of faith; seeking the intercession of the saints; it may have been undertaken
at or after a time of crisis. From the 6th century onwards, pilgrimage was undertaken
by clerics as a form of penance, and from the Late Medieval period it was seen as a
mechanism for the gaining of indulgences. Probably the single most important reason
for people to go on pilgrimage was in the hope of a cure for any one of a number of
forms of affliction. Nonetheless, the drawing power of curiosity and adventure, and
the means of creating an intervention into the ordinariness of daily life should not be
underestimated. Unfortunately, there is very little evidence to be gleaned from
the Irish Annals or the Saints Lives. Where there are mentions of pilgrimage to be
found, they are pretty scant on detail and tend to only focus on high status sites and
the high ranking pilgrims, leaving no record of the ordinary many.
Joseph Peacock's The Pattern at Glendalough, Co Wicklow 1813 (Source)
Turning to the where people went on pilgrimage, Nugent wanted to concentrate on
two key sites: the shrine of St. Brigit, in Kildare, and Croagh Patrick, Co. Mayo. The
former is believed to have been founded in the 5th century, though only a few
fragments of the early monastery survive. These include a number of cross slabs, an
undecorated high cross, and a round tower. While there is no evidence for pilgrimage
as early as the 6th century, the earliest extant life of Brigit, the Vita Sanctae Brigidae,
written by Cogitosus around 650, gives details of a shrine for her relics and, more
importantly, contains the earliest account of a pilgrim gathering in Ireland. In
particular, Brigit had a reputation for healing, a facet of her devotion that undoubtedly
drew many pilgrims. European historical sources paint vivid accounts of large groups
of people gathering to celebrate the Saints Day. As an aside, Nugent remarked that
there is a strong correlation between the Saints Day pilgrimage and attacks on their
shrines, intended to maximise the number of witnesses and (presumably) provide
sufficient cover for escape. Pilgrims, especially those seeking a cure, brought offerings
with them, including precious metals, jewels, and coins. Indeed, many pilgrimage sites
grew rich on these offerings. Other forms of wealth donation include animals brought
from home or purchased at the site. A final category of donation included the
deposition of exuvial offerings, including human hair and bone, tape worms, and
kidney stones. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your frame of mind) these
kinds of offerings rarely survive. Commerce and entertainment are also commonly
combined with devotion. However, Nugent argued that the links between monastic
fairs and pilgrimage needs further study.

Croagh Patrick is a mountain in Co. Mayo, in the west of Ireland. It has long been
known as a penitential site, not associated with miracles or any form of healing. The
climb to the summit (764m OD) takes from 1.5 to 2 hours and is usually conducted on
Reek Sunday, the last Sunday in July. Today the summit is dominated by a Catholic
church, opened in 1905. Excavations in 1995 investigated the possible Bronze Age
enclosure/hillfort encircling the summit along with a number of stone huts. The
previous year excavations uncovered the remains of a possible boat-shaped oratory,
radiocarbon dated to the period from 430 to 890 cal AD. Unfortunately, there is no
direct evidence of pilgrimage to the site at this date. The site has certainly been the site
of pilgrimage since prehistory. One of the records of pilgrimage to the site, noted by
Nugent is an entry in the Annals of Ulster for the year 1113 AD when: A ball of fire
[probably lightning] came on the night of the feast of Patrick 17 March on Cruachain
Aighle [Croagh Patrick], and destroyed thirty of those fasting. In conclusion, Nugent
noted that pilgrimage in Medieval Ireland resulted in gatherings of various sizes
large and small at a variety of holy places, united by their faith and the desire to
have a good day out.

Cargo Cult believers with mocked-up aeroplane (Source)

Next up was Pdraig Meehan to talk about 'Cargo Cults' in the Pacific; Irish Neolithic
parallels? While the earliest known Cargo Cult has been ascribed to the Tuka
Movement that began in Fiji in 1885, this form of millenarianism is most usually
associated with WWII. A large number of these cults emerged independently during
the war as a direct response of both Allied and Axis powers using previously isolated
islands as staging posts and supply bases for their respective war efforts. In response
to this sudden appearance of sophisticated technology and new values, a number of
charismatic local leaders emerged to preside over new ritual forms. These included the
fetishisation of consumer goods and technology (as cargo) and the production of
mocked-up versions of aircraft, radios, and military equipment in locally available
materials. Developing themes introduced by Serge Cassen in terms of the Mesolithic-
Neolithic interface in Brittany, Meehan asks: Could the 'cargo cult metaphor be
applied to the opening act of the Irish Neolithic? Why, for example does the trajectory
of the Irish landnam appear to re-rehearse the French one? In the six centuries after
3800 BC Irish architecture/art ascended the same gradient that of France during the
previous six hundred years. Why is the pottery of the passage tomb tradition so crude
when compared to contemporary vessels in other farming contexts? What is the
significance of the folklore tradition of spinning attached to large swathes of the
European passage tomb tradition? Im ashamed to say it, but my notes on this paper
are peculiarly poor as I struggled to keep up with the fascinating ideas and concepts
that Meehan lay before his audience. Essentially, my understanding is that, as an
island, the Neolithic arrived in Ireland physically and metaphorically in a boat.
Meehan is keen to examine the fate of the indigenous Mesolithic peoples. In Europe
there is evidence of contemporary communities pursuing Neolithic and Mesolithic
lifeways side by side, but that is simply not the case in Ireland. True, there are sites
that preserve evidence of a Mesolithic-Neolithic cross-over like Ferriters Cove, Co.
Kerry, and Carrigdirty Rock, in the Shannon Estuary, but these sites are rare. Meehan
uses the ideas with the cargo cult phenomena to negotiate different aspects of the
Irish Early Neolithic. He concludes that, while there are differences between the classic
manifestation of the cargo cult and our current understanding of the Irish Neolithic,
the approach is not with merit. I would go further and suggest that the cargo cult
metaphor is both and interesting and meaningful intellectual tool with which to
approach this period of Irish archaeology and deserves more serious study and
consideration.

Detail of a relief from an honorary monument to Marcus Aurelius.

Photo: John Pollini (Source)
The last speaker in this session was Dr Candace Weddle [also: here](Anderson
University, South Carolina). Her chosen topic was to be: Blood, Fire and Feasting: The
Sensory Experience of Greco-Roman Sacrifice. Im going to be perfectly honest and
say that I had the good fortune to get into conversation with Dr Weddle during the
drinks reception on the Friday night and learned a little about the paper she was to
present. I have no particular love of Greek and Roman history and archaeology, but I
was captivated by the approach to the topic of sacrifice. Even after having discussed
the topic informally at length, I was immensely keen to hear this paper. The paper was,
in part, based on her PhD thesis Making sense of sacrifice: Sensory experience in
Greco-Roman cult and on a recent published paper (Weddle 2012). She began with an
image of a relief from a monument to Marcus Aurelius. The relief depicts a sacrifice
to Capitoline Jupiter and is dated to the period from 176-180 AD. The piece shows the
curly-headed bull being led to slaughter at the hand of the curly-bearded Marcus
Aurelius. Weddle explained that there is abundant evidence for Greek and Roman
sacrifice. Theres no lack of evidence for the practice and ritual of even large-scale
animal sacrifice. However, there is significantly less research on the experience of
ritual sacrifice on the sounds, sights, and smells of being part of the experience.
Weddle pointed to the Marcus Aurelius relief as having mute clues to all of these facets
of the experience as it shows the presence of musicians, a burning brazier, the press of
participants and spectators, along with the very real presence of the bull himself. In
2008, as a means of experiencing and recording the closest modern equivalent of this
Classical sacrifice, Weddle attended the Kurban Bayram in Istanbul, Turkey. She
describes her approach as an autoethnographic experience. This modern Islamic
sacrifice is known as Eid al-Adha ( ) in Arabic, meaning the Festival of the
Sacrifice. It commemorates the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son, (Isaac in
jewish and christian mythology; Ishmael in the islamic equivalent) to please his deity,
before being magically provided with a sacrificial lamb instead. The story is found
in Genesis 22:1-19 of the Hebrew bible and in verses 37:99-109 of the qur'n. Weddle
describes the Kurban Bayram experience: For a period of several days, sacrifices of
various animals are carried out, as well as communal meals at which the meat from
those sacrifices is consumed. The sacrificial area I visited was designated for the
slaughter of large animalsthat is, cows and bulls. (2012, 142). Weddle describes an
open area of c.5x10m where small numbers of cattle at a time were allowed to mingle
with spectators prior to slaughter. Some had been blindfolded using portions of feed
sacks, tied with rope at the back of the head. The sacrificial process had been on-going
since 6am and by the time she arrived, around midday, approximately 90 animals had
been killed. Thus, the scene was directly comparable to the ancient sacrificial offering
of a hecatomb of 100 bulls (although the ancient sacrificial roster could also include
sheep, pigs, and puppies, the hecatomb was only ever comprised of bulls). Contrary to
her initial expectation, the animals were quite docile: The smells of the slaughtering
did not seem to agitate them in any way, nor were the ones with their eyes uncovered
bothered by the activity around them. Occasionally, an animal would become confused
or panicked, as was the case when one of the blindfolded animals stepped into and
caught its foot in a wheelbarrow, but in general, the waiting animals were calm and
made only the normal sounds of animals in proximity to one another; the people
produced far more clamor than the animals. (2012, 143).

At one end of the area, a shipping container had been set up as a temporary slaughter
stage or platform, and a number of people were engaged in the process of skinning and
butchering of the carcases. A PVC pipe was used as a makeshift drainage system to
convey blood into an adjacent refuse pit. The pit was c.6m deep and dug against one
of the concrete retaining walls of the enclosed area. The pit contained large quantities
of blood, contents of the digestive systems, along with tails, and hooves. Some, but not
all, stomachs and entrails were being saved for further use, and the remainder were
dumped in the pit. By the time she arrived, the concrete wall was heavily covered in
blood, stomach contents, and excrement. Weddle noted that the smells were
overpowering, but that the majority of this derived from the offal, while the blood was
less odorous than she had expected. Another unexpected aspect was experience of the
blood itself. It was thicker and of a more vibrant colour than she had expected, and its
sound as it fell was just like rain. At the end of the sacrificial period, the refuse pit was
sealed and all traces of the activities were removed. Weddle notes that, despite the
conclusion of the ceremonies, the sensory experiences did not end there. She revisited
the site some 50 days after her first experience. Although separated from the contents
of the pit by several metres of soil and rubble, there was still a distinct odour of blood
and manure. The wall that had been so heavily covered had been cleaned, but the smell
remained. Weddle argued that this should be something we consider when
contemplating the day-to-day experience of sacrificial altars. Reflecting on her
presuppositions before attending the Kurban Bayram, Weddle noted that she had
expected to see agitated animals, though this was not the case. Her experience, backed
up by research into animal welfare, indicates that cattle are largely impassive at the
sight of blood. Grandin (2007) has shown that it cattle react to blood as an unexpected
and novel item (in the same manner as being confronted with a piece of balled-up
paper), rather than as a fear response. However, if one does panic for whatever
reason it is likely to cause others to react in a similar fashion to the blood of that
particular animal. Although not fully understood, it appears that it may be related the
release of a fear-related pheromone. This reaction was also known to the ancient
Greeks and Romans and there was a persistent belief that a panicking animal could
negate the value of the entire sacrifice. Another lingering scent was that of the animal
manure at the Kurban Bayram site. Even 50 days later, the dung that had not been
cleaned up was still producing quite a stink. Weddle pointed out that, on average, a
cow or bull produces some 32kg of manure per day. When this is scaled up to the size
of a hecatomb, this leaves us with some 3,200kgs of waste to be cleared away. She also
wryly noted that this form of evidence is missing from the historical and literary
record, as ancient poets didnt write about the clean-up crews.

Turning to discuss the divergences between ancient and modern sacrifice, Weddle
notes that one major element missing from the Kurban Bayram experience is the smell
of burning. In ancient sacrifice the offering was divided into elements
of sacra and profana. The profana items were for human consumption,
but sacra material was burnt on an outdoor altar. Sources differ on the theological
mechanism by which this functioned, some saying the smoke fed the gods, while others
argued that it was a signal to draw the attention of the deities. In closing, Weddle
argued that this combination of innovative and traditional research pathways have the
ability to add new dimensions to our knowledge and understanding of past societies
and the physical experience of ancient sacrifice.

Christopher Lee in The Wicker Man (Source)

In reviewing my text above, I realise that Ive already dedicated approximately 60% of
this post to this one paper. Without prejudice to any other speaker at the conference,
I have to say that this was my absolute favourite presentation there. A large part of my
delight in this paper stems from my own interest in attempting to reconstruct and
imagine the forms of activity that occurred at archaeological sites, but are not
amenable to record or recovery. For example, in the past I have endeavoured to use
the sacrifice scenes from the movie The Wicker Man (the 1973 original not the
egregious 2006 Nicholas Cage remake) as an intellectual tool to explore this form of
activity at the Middle Bronze Age ritual site of Gransha,
Derry~Londonderry [also here]. Thus, finding someone who shares some of my more
obscure and ephemeral research interests is a rare treasure not to be squandered. For
my part, Ive just spent too long watching movies, but Weddle has gone out and
literally and metaphorically stood in the firing line, close to the flowing blood and
guts. Though, in my defence, attending the Kurban Bayram sacrifice is much feasible
and more socially acceptable than attempting to recreate a large burning wicker
sculpture, replete with human victims, in some windswept field outside of Belfast. A
serious outcome of this paper was to make me think more about the autoethnographic
aspect of this form of research. At the time of the conference, I was preparing to
undertake (and document) a firewalk [see here]. As a direct influence of this paper, on
the night of the firewalk, I paid particular attention to those non-recoverable aspects
of the experience the sound of the crowd, the smell of the fires that would have
played important roles for the participants of such a ritual, but would leave little if any
physical trace. I was also delighted to find that I was not uniquely influenced by
Weddles paper. In the time since, the organising committee for this fantastic
gathering have made moves to publish a volume of the presented papers. As part of
this process, I was approached by James Bonsall with a view to setting down some of
my memories of the Portumna 85 Scout camp as an appendix to the main paper on
the geophysical signatures of festivals (see PartIII). I was delighted to find that his
email came with the instruction to keep Weddles paper in mind and pay close
attention to recording sights, sounds, and smells. I think that these are ideas and
research methodologies that deserve greater currency in Irish archaeology (and the
profession generally) and, I hope, that readers who have persevered to this point will
now share this view!

As was the usual format for this conference, the session concluded with a group
question-and-answer session, followed by refreshments.

Note
puppy sacrifice was remarkably rare and only ever carried out for one specific god,
probably Hermes. Even still, the only place it was definitely carried out was at Lydian
Sardis.

References
Grandin, T. 2007 Livestock Handling and Transport. 3rd ed. CABI Publishing,
Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Weddle, C. 2012 'The Sensory Experience of Blood Sacrifice in the Roman Imperial
Cult' in Day, J. (ed.) Making Senses of the Past: Toward a Sensory Archaeology.
Center for Archaeological Investigations, Occasional Paper No. 40. Southern Illinois
University, Carbondale. 137-159.

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