Caring for the Body and Spirit of Altars: An Ethical Exploration

Abstract

As spaces of cultural heritage preservation and education, museums are responsible for respecting the communities whose objects live within their collection, as well as the belief systems within which these objects were/are created and used. In the context of heritage approaches to ‘living collections’ there is a whole subset of objects in museum collections that have spiritual power and/or require traditional, sacred, and religious care. This care and what it involves can only be determined through community consultation, from handling, housing, and orientation to ritual use and access. This article attempts to spark further exploration of traditional, spiritual, and religious care within museums, focusing on the example of altars.

Citation: Cieslik, Emma. “Caring for the Body and Spirit of Altars: An Ethical Exploration” The Jugaad Project, Vol. 5, No. 1, 2023, www.thejugaadproject.pub/caring-for-altars [date of access]

The objects that enter museum collections have identities that overlap with and contain traditional, sacred, spiritual, or religious (hereby referred to solely as “sacred”) meaning and power. For this reason, museums are in a unique position to affirm the hybrid identity of these objects as (1) authentic vessels of spiritual meaning and sacredness to believers and (2) physical evidence of cultural and historical movements (Ström 2018, 223-228). For many religious communities, removal of the objects from their practitioners does not negate the objects’ sacred power; rather, it separates them from the stewards who can affirm and acknowledge this power through specialized care. Ethical questions for museum professionals and religious scholars alike arise out of this dual identity of objects, particularly when objects are situated within the museum’s mission and not within the traditions of the religious community (Klassen 2016, 333-352).

While devotees at a Hindu temple may bathe or feed a statue as an animated embodiment of a god, a Christian worshiper pray by rubbing the beads of a rosary, or a Jewish person strap tefillin around their arms and head, these objects transform in a museum to become something else, not meant to be touched. In the last half of the twentieth century, religious scholars have explored how museums as spaces of regulated access affect objects’ sacred identities through museumification, a process by which religious objects are transformed into artifacts of evidence. This could be through the process of identification and classification from a curator and registrar, and then housing and accessibility, to a collections manager and repatriation officer. Many U.S. museums are thus grappling with the consequences of this museumification process, as well as how colonial collection initiatives were historically supported by religious institutions.

Figure 1. One of two altars created by Kumara Kassapa, an individual living within the Buddhist monastic Theravada tradition, currently living in Thailand who runs the account @accanta_santi. Like many Buddhist altars found in the home, this altar contains a Buddha statue in sitting posture, flower arrangements, cups for offering water, an incense holder, and candles. Photo credit: Kumara Kassapa, photo taken in 2023.

Museums were built within imperialistic frameworks that isolated the cultural and religious Other. They are currently positioned at a crossroads where communities who have fought persecution from racist, xenophobic, and homophobic religious and political institutions are calling for the recognition of religiously justified violence and trauma. Museums are increasingly called to reckon with their unethical pasts, and to change their policies surrounding community representation, object care, and visitor services. As the Smithsonian Institution’s adopted policy on ethical return explains: “past acquisitions raising ethical concerns should be investigated and addressed in a manner consistent with current ethical standards.”

One less explored aspect to this is how museums can acknowledge the religious diversity of the communities represented in their collections and in their visiting publics by incorporating care of sacred objects into their collections management policies and procedures. According to the definition of a museum approved by the general assembly of the International Council of Museums:

“A museum is a not-for-profit, permanent institution in the service of society that researches, collects, conserves, interprets, and exhibits tangible and intangible heritage. Open to the public, accessible and inclusive, museums foster diversity and sustainability. They operate and communicate ethically, professionally, and with the participation of communities offering varied experiences for education, enjoyment, reflection, and knowledge sharing.” (International Council of Museums).

To hold to this definition and function in line with the American Alliance of Museum’s (AAM) “Ethics, Standards, and Professional Practices” guidelines, cultural heritage institutions should have a written Collections Management Policy that oversees the stewardship of both living and non-living collections (AAM). A museum’s Collections Management Policy is a document that outlines processes for the acquisition, accession, care, deaccession, and disposal of objects under the museum’s holding, creating a framework for how objects enter, live in, and leave the museum’s care (Malaro, 2005, 23-40). These policies must oversee both the care of living and non-living objects, but how do these policies outline the care of objects defying standard museological classifications, traditionally built within Judeo-Christian frameworks? How is the traditional, spiritual, sacred, and religious care of these objects incorporated into Collections Management Policies, and how can the necessity of this care, as a facet of collections management, be a motivator for community consultation?

I. What makes an object “living”?

Historically in settler colonial countries like the U.S., religion, as an aspect of community identity and sociality, has been closely associated with colonization, forced conversion, and genocide. Associated with this is the idea that museums are neutral spaces, freed from the concerns of responding to racism, sexism, and xenophobia, and also secular, empirical spaces, which many scholars challenge. Acknowledging that this dynamic exists is critical prior to community outreach.

Since “cabinets of curiosity” in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in the United States and Europe, objects that represented a religious “other” were often acquired through force and displayed with the intention of exoticizing non-Christian traditions (Sienna 2019). For this reason, approaching the topic of living objects requires the deconstruction of the Judeo-Christian framework within which museums were built, as well as a critical view of how objects within this framework themselves are considered living (Grill 2016). Think, for example, of tabernacles in Catholic churches—these objects possess, according to the doctrines of the Catholic Church, the living body of Jesus Christ, and in this way are conferred a special identity. How are these objects cared for and managed in museum spaces?

It is also important to acknowledge that not all living objects are necessarily religious but that all religious objects are by their nature living, spiritualized in some way, which is why it is important to incorporate literature on material religion into this discussion. While this identity as “living” may vary based on religious tradition, all these objects are part of living legacies and embody human belief.

Before diving into this ethical exploration, it is important to note that “living” as a term describing an object’s animate being is not universal across traditions, just as the terms “sacred,” “spiritual,” “tradition,” “religious” are not universal descriptors for the type of care. Religion itself is widely contested as institutionalized identities forced onto more amorphous spiritual practices. The concept of “living” has diverse attributes when manifested in objects and is not a notion solely manifested in “non-Western” communities—this idea itself is problematic because relationships between indigenous and settler communities have impacted each community’s religious and spiritual framework over time because of contact.

II. The literature of material religion in museums

In anthropological literature, material religion reflects a concrete phenomenon based on affects, senses, substances, places, artifacts and technologies; the material manifestation of faith and “the myriad ways in which incongruity, the material effect of the collision of the incommensurables, can be transposed into moments, perhaps fleeting moments, of congruence.” (Chidester 2018)

There are several dominant approaches to the study of material religion(1), including focus on symbolism, material disciplines, and phenomenological experience, which continue to focus on the human being and struggle against the bias of materiality in the study of religious practice. Some scholars focus more on the mundanity and mobility of religious objects (Plate 2017) while others explore the social effects of the same as a relation between individual and society (King 2009). In essence, these objects, in one of the most controversial aspects of displaying material religion, have meaning through specific relationships that are themselves highly situated and biased. 

Vernacular religious theory postulates that religion is not a stagnant institution but one of continual interpretation and negotiation (Leonard 2012: 382–94). Vernacular religion focuses not only on which practices and traditions are deemed authentic to the religious community, but rather seeks to study and understand why these traditions are seen as authentic.(2) Vernacular religious theory sheds light on museum practices connected to the continual construction of one’s identity and orientation in the existential landscape, especially exhibitions made in conjunction with or by religious communities that acknowledge authenticity questions, for instance, the way in which Kabbalah is enacted in the Jewish Renewal movement (Weissler 2011: 39–74). 

The curation of displays of religious objects, and through this what the public comes to see as “religion”, is of growing concern for academics and professionals in the museum studies field. There have been considerably more studies on religion in world religion museums(3) with increasing focus on religious themes in museums since the 1990s.(4) In the twenty-first century, museums are one of the primary spaces of comparative religious education, where children and adults alike are taught what religion is, how it varies, and what material forms it takes. That is, as with all other forms of museum representation the narratives created by these world religion museums wield tremendous power. The distinction between the museum and sanctuary, and entertainment and educational spaces has diminished, raising critical questions about museum spaces as places of worship and self-discovery.

What complicates the curation and care of objects is that the museum experience is itself a ritualistic one, depending on processes of enchantment and transformation through interaction, and so especially relevant to a discussion of living objects on display. The modern museum is the product of the Enlightenment, a movement in European history emphasizing human reason over religious belief and devotion. The museum’s architecture style itself represents the “non-religious temple” (Minucciani 2013). Along with its original architectural purpose, many museums are deconsecrated churches, mosques, temples, and other religious spaces.

Museums are often curated with the intention of inspiring awe in visitors who will view the objects, so the “exhibits tell stories with physical objects that are suggestively religious or spiritual” (Klassen 2013, 333). For instance, the fundamental ritual of walking through the museum space encourages visitors to enact and internalize, in a way, the values and beliefs communicated by the institution, whether it be a public, thematic, or religiously ordered museum (Duncan and Walalch 1980). This focus on the quasi-religious aesthetic encounter of art and architecture conflicts with other expressions of religious attitudes that manifest in these spaces, which Gretchen Buggeln (2012) conceptualizes as the result of the historical relationship between culture, art, and the museum.

Material religion emphasizes a faith grounded in physical objects and rituals with the end goal of connecting, communicating, or reaching transcendence whether through prayer, worship, or devotion. Museums can complicate religious representation by expanding the materials of religion that they highlight in their collection and their exhibitions. Ethical museum care means acknowledging the religious frameworks within which the objects were created and communities where they still possess meaning. As Alison Edwards explained in, “Care of Sacred and Culturally Sensitive Objects,” in Museum Registration Methods:

“The care of sacred and culturally sensitive objects in museum collections is thus not only about preserving the cultural or conceptual integrity of an object in balance with its physical integrity. It is about the responsibility of museums to engage and interpret the past and present in ways that are ethical and promote both knowledge and justice.” (Edwards 2010: 408).

III. Altars as an example of ethical collections management

Communities have identified a diverse library of objects as requiring specific traditional care but for the purposes of this short exploration, only altars are considered. Over the past five years, along with working in collections management in museums, I have conducted extensive research among North American religious communities. My most recent research focuses on the depiction of altars on social media, as a pan-traditional material/visual culture. This past year, I spoke with 29 individuals who post photographs or videos of their altars on Instagram tagged with #altarsofinstagram. From these images, I identified rich descriptive examples from altar creators and users of how their creations are considered living.

The individuals I spoke to identify with a variety of religious traditions, so there is great variation in individual and traditional practices surrounding each altar, providing an example where community collaboration is critical to object care. This example of altars also defies a specific religious tradition, providing examples of diversity in regards to handling, housing, access, and care through a focus on one type of material religion.

To supplement my conversations with altar creators, key stakeholders who would be identifying care practices for their altars (if they were contributed to a museum), I connected with four anthropology and archaeology collections managers at major cultural heritage institutions in the U.S. Midwest and East Coast. These individuals were able to provide examples of past care guidelines, which may apply in the case of these altars. Although I did not specifically ask them about altars, the examples they list are anonymized to respect the privacy of each source community who has required this care. I also draw on my personal experience working in collections management with a focus on religion.

It is important to note before diving into this pointed ethical exploration that the altars created and used by individuals I interviewed are not comprehensive, nor are the individuals who agreed to contribute their insights to this article representatives of religious or spiritual traditions.

1. Ephemerality

The living nature of these altars is deeply connected to their ephemeral elements and directionality, where photography is used to document an altar’s transient place.

This may be a transitory safe space, as many materials that create an altar are ephemeral. Raphael describes them as “a form of transitory art, it’s a prayer and not meant to be framed, you know, or captured because the altars are for that specific moment.” As Ms. Graveyard Dirt (@msgraveyarddirt) , a witch based in Scotland, explains, “altar creation is both a ritual and an offering,” and finished displays have always felt like “ephemeral works of art,” especially when utilizing fresh greenery or perishable decorations or tools. For Georgina Q. (@ginawonder), a Polytheist Hekatean witch, her altars may include both ephemeral and more permanent elements, from amulets, crystals, flowers, wine, water, oils, animal bones, wood, and graveyard dirt, each in proper containers.

Figure 2. One of Teth Dumuzid’s (@lashtal156) altars. As Dumuzid describes, “my altar has become an altar in and of itself. I live in a studio and I keep little ones in different places throughout with one main set up where I do most of my practice in the eastern corner of the room.” There are statues, holy texts, and symbolic items, like those shown above. Photo credit: Teth Dumuzid, photo taken in 2023.

Figure 3. One of @alienscty’s most recent altars, featuring an image of Aphrodite, seashells, candles, and branches covered with leaves. Photo credit: Michèle Laverrière, photo taken in 2023. 

Lucidia and Raphael (@shrinarimusic), a musical duo of spiritual healers, consider their altars living, just like Marieke Bommer (@daybyday_ceramics), a ceramicist who creates altars for her label Day by Day ceramics, who likes to add a little vase of dry flowers. Corregan the Crone (@corregan_moon_leopard), a Celtic pagan witch, agrees, considering them living works of art. For her and Teth Dumuzid (@lashtal156), who practices Devotional Gnostic Sacramentalism through a Thelemenic lens, their entire homes are large altars because they are large sacred spaces created with intentionality. Because altars can contain ephemeral material and may be temporary themselves, Instagram also serves another function--documentation. No deconstructed altar can be recreated with objects in the same place and orientation.

2. Orientation

The individuals I spoke to identify in a variety of religious traditions, including monastic Buddhism, Wicca, neo-Paganism, Episcopalism, Greek and Hellenic devotion, folk Catholicism and Catholic Mysticism, Gaelic Polytheism, and more. The variation in beliefs surrounding the preservation of altars is why community and individual consultation should always come first. In these cases, my conversations with these individuals highlighted what materials may need to be preserved or replenished (such as the water, wine, or flowers), and which ways the individual creator would like the altar to face when on display or in storage.

On the topic of orientation, Indonesian demonologist and spiritual conjurer Ki Bajra Ajisatya (@ki.bajra.ajisatya), says? Each altar is pointed in a specific direction,

“There’s an altar that points south and also one that points west. The altars which point south are for Chthonic purpose, for general purpose (linked to macrocosmos), and for the Javanese Southern Sea Kingdom. The one who points west is for Nyi Blorong and Javanese Heirlooms.”

Canadian punk witch Devi (@witchery.and.the.moon), based in Berlin, explains that her main altar is located in her sitting room facing North, “the direction protected by the spirits of the Earth elemental, gnomes and dwarves, symbolic of grounding and coming to center.

3. Housing

The care of ritual tools and utensils utilized by spiritual workers is common among many religious communities, and includes chalices, altar cloths, and pyx in Catholic communities in Italy and medicine pouches and bundles among Pueblo communities in the U.S.? Southwest. As a result of their contact with and use in spiritual ritual, they themselves hold spiritual, sacred, or religious value and may require special care. This may include restrictions related to access and visibility, including utilizing breathable covers or restricted collections areas, as well as identifying (through community consultation) and implementing specific handling guidelines.

Housing itself can be created strategically to regulate object access. All four collections managers I spoke to referenced draping or wrapping objects in muslin instead of plastic, to allow them to breathe. Another isolation or spacing method includes housing the object in a larger mount than necessary. Also, housing must be made to accommodate community access to objects, regular ritual care (ritual feeding of collections in storage, for example, offerings of corn or other food, and smudging of sage), and community guidelines, like storage in natural fibers. Housing must also accommodate specific guidelines surrounding location and orientation, as explored above regarding altars and shrines. One U.S. Northeast collections manager noted that some mount making has been completed by descent communities themselves.

4. Access

Strategic placement of objects in collections is also important to consider. One collections manager from an archaeological museum in the U.S. Northeast noted that she does not open drawers unless absolutely necessary “and it has really only been disturbed to confirm that it was still present a few years ago.” A collections manager from the Midwest noted that their institution has restricted areas of storage, noted with signs. Another collections manager from the Midwest also flagged storage containers and drawers as restricted and included notes about handling guidelines on the outside.

5. Handling and Labelling

Handling is also an incredibly important aspect of care, including who can and who cannot handle the object and under what circumstances. The archaeological museum collections manager noted that several communities have requested that handlers abstain from alcohol for at least three days prior to interacting with an object or that individuals who mensurate do not interact with the objects during their periods. The function of this is two-fold, she explains, “those restrictions are there to keep us,” as museum professionals, “safe from the powerful items we would be interacting with” and uphold community guidelines surrounding object care.

Labelling is also a critical piece of this puzzle. Including instructions on how to access objects, notes on the permanent location or limitations in relation to access and handling, such as those codified by Local Contexts, and ritual feeding information close to the object and in the database is critical. To reiterate, “this is individually recommended by community representatives,” another U.S.? Native American? Midwestern collections manager noted, “so there is no single guideline for this.”

Figure 4. An altar created by Corregan (@corregan_moon_leopard), a Celtic pagan witch residing in Kaura Country. Corregan’s matron deity is The Cailleach and she has a large altar or shrine in her living room, but Corregan also has smaller shrines to Brigid, the green Man/Cernunnos/Branwen/Cerridwen. Corregan’s main working altar, which is changed on a seasonal basis, has various symbols of gods. Photo credit: Corregan the Crone, photo taken in 2023.

Altars are just one example of an object that creators and communities have identified as necessary recipients of traditional, spiritual, and religious care. Other examples, specifically those in which communities identify objects as containing spirits, gods, or ancestors are another category to explore, and their guidelines—defined by the creator or community—would also include the attributes mentioned above.

Unfortunately, over the past century, particularly in the early- to mid-twentieth century, many of these objects such as Ere ibeji figures created by the Yoruba-speaking people of West Africa.(5), Shinto sculptures imbued with kami(6), and Ahayu:da, are twin deities, considered the protectors of the Zuni people (Ferguson et al. 1996) as well as altars and shrines, have been stolen, looted, or removed from their original sites under duress. Just as the example of the altar shows, objects with religious, sacred, spiritual, and traditional power—like many other objects—change over time due to age and material. Documentation is a critical piece because even if all pieces of an altar were kept together, it can never be reassembled in exactly the same way, and even when the altar is repatriated, treatment of the specific objects with toxins, such as arsenic or mercury, to prevent pest damage can complicate the objects’ use upon return to communities (Chiwara 2022).

IV.  Recommendations to museum professionals

As of early 2023, the museum field currently does not have a standard guide outlining the traditional, sacred, spiritual, and religious care that surrounds these objects for several reasons. Communities are not monolithic; different members inside the community may have different beliefs surrounding the care of objects in their care, which may also differ from the beliefs of the creator. Identifying who within the community has authority to dictate an object’s care, and if this individual represents the consensus within the community is difficult. Creating a standard guide for museum professionals outlining the care of the above examples is therefore nearly impossible, both because it does not acknowledge diversity of thought and belief within the community and among artists and because it would potentially supersede museums consulting communities first.

Museum expert Alison Edwards identified four critical questions to guide consultations between museum workers and culturally affiliated groups. (1) What objects would communities feel comfortable being displayed or used as part of educational programming and curation? (2) Are any objects in the museums collection critical to current religious and ceremonial practice? (3) What are the communities recommendations for how the objects should be housed (for example, alignment with cardinal directions, placement in specific storage area, use of muslim or breathable fabric for privacy)? (4) Would the community like to utilize the object for ceremonial or ritual use? And does the museum have designated spaces and policies in place to accommodate ritual use and communities leaving offerings (Macuen 2020, pg. 459).

These constraints are the basis on which Marla Taylor and Laura Bryant, along with the Indigenous Collections Care Guide Working Group, are developing the Indigenous Collections Care Guide. The Guide is developing a chapter devoted to “Spiritual Care” with the belief that the first step for museum professionals committed to ethical care, including traditional care of objects, is to be humble enough to accept that they are not the experts in the field, and to cede authority to community leaders. It is important for museum professionals to acknowledge that museums almost certainly house objects for which communities would require traditional care but this connection has not been made. As one collections manager based in the U.S. Northeast argued,

“Without reviewing all parts of a collection with tribal representatives, a museum cannot know if they house and care for items with spiritual, sacred, or religious power. It is not on us to identify that (and pre-identify what could be subject to the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act), it is on the institutions to work with communities to understand collections and respect that identification when tribes make it.”

Shifting a museum’s framework surrounding religious and spiritual belief and interpretation to be more inclusive can also facilitate the creation of diverse religious collections, a subject of increasing interest given the most recent focus of Eli Lilly Foundation Grants, which were awarded to the Smithsonian Folklife Festival focused on Living Religion and The Ozarks (to be held on the National Mall from June 28-July 4 and July 6-9, 2023) and the new Center for the Understanding of Religion at the National Museum of American History (its exhibit space is opening to the public in 2024). As part of my year-long stint working with the Center, I sought to identify objects outside of the traditional bounds of the religious collections that may represent communities outside of Jewish and Christian traditions.

The National Museum of American Religion, currently in development in Washington, D.C. to open in 2026, is also striving to diversify its collections, stating that it will incorporate objects that highlight Islamic, Hindu, and Buddhist religious histories to the extent that these religious traditions intertwine with American religious history. The Museum strives to educate “the public about the impact of America’s fragile experiment with religious freedom on the United States and the lives of people who have made this country their home” and “seeks to inspire civil dialogue and debates about this complex and moving story, while also challenging assumptions and understandings about religion’s impact on history and contemporary life.”(7)

After developing active consultations with communities, museums should incorporate culturally-sensitive procedures into their standard policies, like Collections Management Policies. As a northeastern collections manager explained, “the need to be mindful of non-traditional care (from a museum perspective) that may be necessary to a steward of these items.” This arises because of long-term engagement with community leaders but like the Indigenous Collections Care Guide, museums must acknowledge that no two communities are going to ask for the same care, nor should museums assume that communities in relationship with one another will request the same care. Instead, museums should ensure their policies are inclusive of non-traditional belief systems and that they (and the subsequent specific collections care procedures) are open-ended, emphasizing the primacy of community consultation.

Based on this literature survey, conversations with museum professionals, and my own experience in this field as a collections care specialist and religious scholar, shifting the religious framework within which museums function and foregrounding source community guidance is the best way to develop storage, handling, and conservation protocols. This perspective is not new—the Art Institute of Chicago and the Osaka Municipal Museum of Art consulted monks to perform ceremonies and prayer sessions on Japanese Buddhist sculptures. These practices have become critical to collections care and in doing so demonstrate how “an object in the care of a museum does not necessarily lose its religious meaning if it remains connected to the community and its conceptual significance remain emphasized.” (Mino 2004).

V. Conclusion

Religion itself is an expansive topic that in many ways affects kinship, gender roles, power, legacy, birth, death, and transition rituals in communities around the world, so the object’s relationship to the tradition may not be immediately evident once decontextualized or separated from its community.

This article set out to explore the unique history of living collections and how museums can best approach their role as caregivers for the living within their storage facilities. What are the ethical responsibilities of collections managers and curators when caring for living objects? How have museums navigated this controversy in the past and how can they improve this care in the future?(8) Finally, what can museums do to continue providing ethically-informed care moving forward?

Connecting with source communities both in the museum’s country and around the world as well as foregrounding an object’s religious identity and affiliation are key steps that museum professionals can take to seek out and create management practices that acknowledge the “living” nature of these objects. In a field that is increasingly grappling with the legacies of harm and trauma that its institutions have inflicted (and in some ways continue to inflict) on source communities, this focus on living religious objects is essential to acknowledging its complicated past and improving for the future.

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Endnotes

1. Birgit Meyer, David Morgan, Crispin Paine, and S. Brent Plate, "The origin and mission of material religion," Religion 40, no. 3 (2010): 207-211.

2. See Illman (2019) and Ochs (2007).

3. Crispin Paine (edited by), Godly Things: Museums, Objects and Religion. Leicester University Press, London, 2000.; Beier-de-Haan, Rosemarie and Jungblut, Marie-Paule, eds. Museums and Faith, Museé d’Histoire de la Ville de Luxembourg, Luxembourg, 2010.

4. M. O’Neill, Making Histories of Religion, in G. Kavanagh (edited by), Making Histories in Museums, Leicester University Press, London-New York 1996.; O’Neill, M. “Religion and cultural policy: two museum case studies”, in International Journal of Cultural Policy, no. 17, 2 (2011): 225-243.

5. Babasehinde A. Ademuleya, "The concept of Ori in the traditional Yoruba visual representation of human figures," Nordic Journal of African Studies 16, no. 2 (2007): 212-220. https://njas.fi/njas/article/view/67

6. “Shinto Deity,” Denver Art Museum, Accessed September 15, 2021. https://www.denverartmuseum.org/en/edu/object/shinto-deity.

7. “Understand America As You Never Have Before,” The National Museum of American Religion, accessed November 15, 2021. https://nmar.org.

8. This topic of human remains, and how they are considered living, is a key piece of this discussion, but due to the depth and intentionality required for these conversations, it is not covered in this article.