The Myth of the Eternal Return

In the first section of Chapter 3, “Normality of Suffering,” Eliade describes the practical value of archaic ontology. He notes the ever-present fact of suffering, of which archaic peoples were no less familiar with than their modern counterparts. Archaic ontology functioned as a way of handling the normality of suffering and making it tolerable; one sub-theme of Eliade’s work is the despair caused by the intolerability of suffering in the modern age. Since archaic peoples lived in a universe they believed was governed by divine laws, suffering was tolerable. Though the hardship would still be real, it was “neither gratuitous nor arbitrary” (96). It was part of the way of things, and there were divine archetypes to look to for inspired action in the face of torment and loss. The Indian law of karma is one intriguing instance of this. According to Eliade, karmic debts incurred in previous lives can be repaid through present sufferings. As a result, hardships are not only tolerable but sometimes even welcomed. This ontology provides a method of transforming the nature of pain and loss through meaning.

The general myth of the eternal return, found in so many archaic societies, offers another relief from suffering: “[T]his mythical drama reminded men that suffering is never final; that death is always followed by resurrection; that every defeat is annulled and transcended” (101). This way of thinking contrasts with modern despair in the face of the absurdity of suffering. To the progressive philosopher of history, suffering appears as an absurdity that, optimistically, might be overcome and avenged through later historical events but may, pessimistically, remain utterly meaningless to the end. Even the historicist’s optimistic possibility is still less hopeful than the immediate good reckoned through archaic interpretation. Existentialist philosophy, like that of Sartre, Heidegger, and Camus, at its heyday during Eliade’s time, seems to be a target of the latter’s criticism. While some existentialism affirms the possibility of meaning-making (and even the possibility of faith), Eliade’s work radically contradicts absurdist suggestions that human freedom lies in embracing absurdity; such freedom might have seemed to him an evasive counterfeit of what he considered true transcendence.

In the second section, Eliade finally describes an advancement from archaic ontology toward a philosophy of history. “History Regarded as Theophany” describes a different ontological approach to suffering that the traditional myth of eternal return. Theophany is the manifestation of God (or God’s divinely inspired action) in the human realm. To regard history as theophany is to see God’s hand at work in the history of the world, thereby bringing meaningful reality into historical happenings; it is to accept the reality of miracles. Eliade again makes use of the Hebrew conception of Yahweh. According to Eliade, the actions of Yahweh in Hebrew mythology are the first instance in which the myth of eternal recurrence is transcended. In so doing, the Hebrew conception involves “the idea that historical events have a value in themselves” (104). Whereas in previous archaic ontologies, historical events were of profane time and therefore forgettable and inessential to divinity and the sacred, Hebrew thought brought history into the fold of religion. Eliade writes, “Historical facts thus become ‘situations’ of man in respect to God, and as such they acquire a religious value that nothing had previously been able to confer on them” (104). In other words, rather than dividing time into the sacred and the profane, all time is redeemed as sacred; all situations are of religious value, and all of life is sacred. Eliade wonders whether this may be a general feature of monotheism. That said, Eliade notes that this form of thinking—in which all time is made sacred and there is no profane realm—may be too demanding for most people to submit to it. He likens this to the fact that most Christians find it too difficult to live out genuine Christian ideals; the duality between the sacred and the profane remains essential for most people. In a way, then, most Christians, through their rote adherence to ritualistic action and failure to live in true faith are closer in spirit to archaic religion than to the heart of Christianity.

Still, a “new dimension” of religious experience is made available through this inclusion of history into sacred ontology: faith (109). This is exemplified by the pact between God and Abraham in the Old Testament (the Abrahamic covenant). In archaic ontologies, rituals were part of eternal cycles. Abraham, for instance, is willing to act in a manner that appears absurd—that is, the murder of his son—because of his faith in his God. This experience is a step toward the historical attitude, but, because Judeo-Christianity seeks an end of history in Armageddon, it is still fundamentally anti-historical and has more in common with the archaic ontology than modern philosophy. Eliade reiterates again that this religious experience of faith is still merely a possibility opened to religion, not something that most Christians actually abide in. The default manner of thinking is still, even in the Judeo-Christian world, one of archaic ontology. Eliade writes that between God and Abraham “yawned an abyss” (110), by which he means there was an ontological rupture separating them with fundamental difference. For archaic ontology, there was no such rupture; divine realities were something immediately present. This rupture, or infinite separation, is necessary for the experience of faith.