This is, as Glassie would undoubtedly agree, the ground of art. For those of us who accept, always with profound reservations, the context into which we were born, whether village or barrio, skyscraper or farm, true artistic expression and reception are our ways of acknowledging it, critiquing it, celebrating it, informing and reforming it, and finally, merging with it, recognizing ourselves as potent participants in a sacred world. Here, in what Hindus and Buddhists call the Kali Yuga, the Dark Age, we have left behind the long kalpas of time in which enlightenment came to human beings only through arduous ascetic practices. The world is now said to be so complex and confusing, so greedily controlled by the illusionary Lords of Materialism, that a mere glimpse into the heart of compassion is said to be sufficient to still Want, to replace suffocating desire with peace. But now, even that glimpse is enormously difficult to obtain.
People create their own relationships with the sacred and the possibility of peace.
In thinking about the sacred as it attempts to manifest in the institutionalized forms of religious life, we are aware of Catholic nuns who live cloistered lives, not because they devoutly believe in their sacred marriage with the Redeemer, but because they were sexually abused as children and prefer the exclusive company of women. We know of Buddhist teachers who abuse their sacred roles as gurus to aggrandize themselves and betray their students. We know of Muslim prelates who would sooner kill the messenger than hear a message critical of their views. We know of the kind of faith that resorts to Religion as if it were a vending machine. It promotes the expectation that if you devotedly deposit the prescribed prayers, steps, or practices, you can then simply wait for the goodies to fall out, never having to actually confront the terrifying possibility that the process could result in a permanent change in your relationship with yourself and the world.