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MYTH AS HISTORY

Myth and the Origin of Religion
Vine Deloria, Jr.

Mr.  Deloria, the author of Custer Died for Your Sins and God is Red, was formerly the Executive Director of the National Congress of American Indians.  He attended Iowa State University and Lutheran School of Theology (Illinois), and is a practicing lawyer.

If there were gigantic planetary catastrophes in former times, how should they have been described in order to receive credulous consideration by men several thousand years later?  What format should the ancients have used so that we could give their descriptions serious attention?  Should they have couched their descriptions in mathematical terms?  Described the approaches of comets and planets in the astronomical jargon familiar to us today?  Should they have raised monuments to the forces of change?  Buried "time capsules" for our information?

We tend to project present understandings of the world backward into the ancient records and test their credibility, not by what they describe or narrate, but by what we consider reasonable given our present knowledge of the universe.  Certain ruins used to be thought of as religious monuments; today we call them computers.

"Myth" has become a word like "executive privilege"--meaning whatever the thinker wants it to mean when he has decided how ancient accounts are to be interpreted.  In order to see this aspect of present-day thinking, we will very briefly compare the use of myths by a number of scholars and then distinguish Velikovsky's methods and approach from theirs.
 

Emile Durkheim.  The sociologist, Emile Durkheim, in his famous study of primitive religion, The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life, discussed the early efforts by western European thinkers to interpret the myths of primitive peoples in either animistic or naturalistic terms.  The universe was for primitives either a living creature which had a soul and in which millions of souls lived; or else it was a relatively lifeless entity, with stories arising in an effort to humanize its sterility.

Durkheim promulgated his own theory of myth, which he hoped would bridge the extremes which he felt were represented by these two interpretations of myth and religion.  Approaching myth via religious stories, Durkheim wrote:

"Religious thought does not come in contact with reality, except to cover it at once with a thick veil which conceals its real forms; this veil is the tissue of fabulous beliefs which mythology brought forth.  Thus the believer, like the delirious man, lives in a world peopled with beings and things which have only a verbal existence" (1). (Emphasis added.)

This definition of myth, or at least religious myth, excludes the possibility of extracting from myth any historical reality.  It finds myth to possess verbal existence only, confining it to the realm of ancient intellectualism or psychological phenomena which occur "in here" rather than "out there" in the world of physical existence.  Almost every theory of interpretation of myth since Durkheim, stripped of its rhetoric, accepts this definition.
 

Franz Boas.  Durkheim's reduction of myth to a verbal and quasi-religious reality was echoed by Franz Boas, who focused on the hidden meanings found in myths.  Boas wrote in his essay, "Mythology and Folklore" (in General Anthropology), that "Mythological concepts are the fundamental views of the constitution of the world and of its origin" (2).

The problem with this theory was that it did not get down to specifics regarding particular myths and how they arose.  Were all ancient sources to be equally suspect?  Or only those with anthropological overtones that could be revisited in surviving aboriginal groups?  Were the sacred tales of the Greeks more respectable than those of the Polynesians?  Was the Old Testament a series of myths, or history?

In recent years this interpretation of myth has become dominant, and it would appear that almost every ancient source available has fallen under the general category of myth or the mythological.  Granted that theologians dance fancy steps to maintain the sacredness and "higher" meaning of myth, the meaning that comes across to the man-in-the-street is that myths are a type of fable designed to comfort, admonish, teach and inspire, but certainly do not refer to historic events and incidents no matter how serious the accounts may appear to be.

R. G. Collingwood.  R. G. Collingwood, in his famous book, The Idea of History, appears to dismiss ancient accounts whenever they contain any mention of divinity or the activities of the gods intermingling in human affairs:

"Myth, on the contrary, is not concerned with human actions at all.  The human element has been completely purged away and the characters of the story are simply gods.  And the divine actions that are recorded are not dated events in the past; they are conceived as having occurred in the past, indeed, but in a dateless past which is so remote that nobody knows when it was.  It is outside all our time-reckonings and called 'the beginning of things"' (3).

One would think that Collingwood could use this definition to distinguish between ancient accounts reflecting some historical event and those concerned primarily with making a statement about the origin or constitution of the world.

Such is not the case.  In the same book, when discussing Homer, Collingwood remarks that

"The work of Homer is not research, it is legend; and to a great extent it is theocratic legend.  The gods appear in Homer as intervening in human affairs in a way not very different from the way in which they appear in the theocratic histories of the Near East" (4).

It seems incredible that a scholar would attempt to pass off the Homeric legends as theocratic legend, especially after Heinrich Schliemann demonstrated with pick and shovel that Troy was not a fiction possessing verbal reality only.  Troy was there whether Homeric verse fit into a definition of history or not.
 

Mircea Eliade.  Among the modern thinkers no man has commanded more respect in the history of religions than Mircea Eliade; his ideas have influenced a generation of students.  Eliade finds that myth "is the history of what took place in illo tempore the recital of what the gods or the semidivine beings did at the beginning of time" (5).  His approach is basically that of Boas, but with Eliade's scholarly knowledge the definition verges on a commandment from Sinai.  It is when we turn to his specific interpretation of myths that we are made uneasy.

"In New Guinea," he writes, "a great many myths tell of long sea voyages thus providing 'exemplars for the modern voyagers' " (6).  But Hawaiians and many other Pacific peoples did undertake long sea voyages and were as much at home on a boundless ocean as they were on any island.  The New Guinea myths, if anything, are a fairly accurate account of ancient voyages which can be verified by other data with a high degree of reliability.
 

Carl Jung.  Carl Jung also deals with myth, and his use of myths is quite similar to Eliade's except that it emerges in practical, psychoanalytic techniques of therapy.  Jung frequently uses myths to explain prolonged patterns of psychic behavior.  Of his many definitions of myth, the ones that best fit our discussion have to do with the reality behind myth.  Jung tells us that "myth is not fiction: it consists of facts that are continually repeated and can be observed over and over again.  It is something that happens to man, and men have mythical fates just as much as Greek heroes do" (7).

Myths seem to be pre-established patterns of emotional behavior when Jung uses them; a predestined sequence of actions and reactions that work out an individual's fate.  Jung evidently does not question how myths originate, however, and he remains content to describe the state of his patients according to how far they have progressed through the sequence in which the myth unfolds.  A comparison of Jung's use of Greek myths and Velikovsky's analysis of the Oedipus myth in Oedipus and Akhnaton will indicate how far apart the two men are.  Velikovsky seeks the origin of the mythic story line; Jung is content to see in myths a classic analysis of the manner in which human beings work out their interpersonal relationships.  Jung never answers the question of why Greek myths, of all the myths available, seem to work so well in analyzing human personality.
 

Claude Levy-Strauss.  The most ambitious mythologist in anthropology today is Claude Levy-Strauss, who has developed a theory of "bricolage."  "The characteristic feature of mythical thought," Levy-Strauss writes in The Savage Mind, "as of 'bricolage' on the practical plane, is that it builds up structured sets but by using the remains and debris of events" (8).  Exactly what these "remains" consist of is undetermined.  Levy-Strauss makes a vigorous defense of mythical thinking as having a rigor comparable to modern science, but his defense is nearly as much a defense of anthropology as of the validity and reliability of ancient accounts of incidents and events.

"Mythical thought," he explains in The Savage Mind, "for its part is imprisoned in the events and experiences which it never tires of ordering and re-ordering in its search to find them a meaning.  But it also acts as a liberator by its protest against the idea that anything can be meaningless with which science at first resigned itself to a compromise" (9).

We would have to conclude that myths as we find them have a story line, characters, and a set of descriptive phrases which have been worked and reworked in order to present the best possible tale.  But we note that such well-polished stories are the exception, not the rule.  Even the creation story of Genesis has the sequence out of phase, with the first day and night occurring before the creation of the Sun, Moon and stars, an error that should have been eliminated by the ordering and re-ordering process long before Clarence Darrow pointed it out.
 

Joseph Campbell.  One of the chief mythologists of today, Joseph Campbell, takes a rigidly sociological interpretation of myth that probably well suits many modern scholars in both religion and anthropology:

". . all primitive mythologies serve to validate the customs, systems of sentiments, and political aims of their respective local groups" (10).

Campbell includes the Old Testament under the category of primitive mythology, claiming that "on the surface the books of the Old Testament may appear to have been composed as conscientious history.  In depth they reveal themselves to have been conceived as myths: poetic readings of the mystery of life from a certain point of view" (11).  Campbell seems to have failed to take into account the historical basis of the Old Testament writings, preferring to avoid the issues of historical experience by viewing the accounts as poetic commentaries on life.  A close reading of Kings, Judges and other books would indicate less poetry and more history.
 

Alan S. Watts.  Alan S. Watts, in his book Myth and Ritual in Christianity, advances a definition of myth which all of the previous thinkers should find comforting.  It is under his umbrella that we will conclude our survey.

"Myth," Watts writes, "is to be defined as a complex of stories--some no doubt fact, and some fantasy--which, for various reasons, human beings regard as demonstrations of the inner meaning of the universe and of human life.  Myth is quite different from philosophy in the sense of abstract concepts, for the form of the myth is always concrete--consisting of vivid, sensually intelligible narratives, images, rites, ceremonies and symbols.  A great deal of myth may therefore be based on historical events, but not all such events acquire the mythic character" (12).

Myth and History

The point that seems to escape all of these men is that the ancient sources and accounts which we have in hand today may simply be the way people wrote about the events that affected their lives.  Even with Watts' encompassing definition of myth, we find the old Boas "hidden meaning" or quasi-philosophy about the nature of the universe.  It seems strange indeed that the ancient peoples would spend so much time writing about the inner mysteries of life and find little time to record the events and incidents of their times.  Using the definitions of the various thinkers discussed above, we cannot and will never be able to make any significant statements about the history of the planet, because these thinkers have already ruled out the unusual, preferring to view such accounts as elaborations on religious and philosophical themes.

We are left to wonder whether these men have actually read the myths of the various societies of the past.  In many of the myths there is little effort at national glorification; the sins and shortcomings of the heroes are presented in a rather straightforward manner.  And the failure of these accounts to exhibit the sequence we would expect of stories possessing only a verbal reality leads us to doubt the notion that they have been carefully polished over many lifetimes.  Further, we are confronted with historical facts: many tales of the past, dealing with Troy, Ur of the Chaldees, and other places, are now known to be founded on reality rather than fantasy.

Scholars working with myths seem to rely on two basic assumptions about ancient source materials.  The first is that myths are fundamentally religious in content and origin; the second is that they possess primarily a verbal reality, consisting at best of the "debris and remains" of real historical incidents.

With these two assumptions scholars have a great deal of latitude in interpreting ancient source materials.  When any historical basis is found for a myth, they can proclaim, "Homer was right."  But when the story line verges on the incredible, measured by our present sensitivities, the scholar can fall back on his definition of the "mysterious" nature of human existence and the need felt by ancient peoples to comment poetically on life.

It is precisely at this point in the interpretation of myth that Immanuel Velikovsky has challenged modern thinking.  He has taken the story of the Exodus and asked whether or not such a traumatic event as described in the Old Testament could be a rendering of actual history.  From this basic question he then proceeds relentlessly to amass evidence from every possible science, interest area, and source available.  Weaving and winnowing his way through an incredible mass of materials, he uses one science to critique another, one document to serve as a guide for interpreting other documents.

The Exodus

The result of Velikovsky's method of pursuing, attacking and interpreting the reality of mythological accounts is that one comprehensive explanation of events begins to emerge in which the many individual strands of knowledge are brought together to describe not only a series of events, but the means by which such events could have taken place and the magnitude of the experience felt by ancient peoples.

Starting with, among other things, a book that is considered basically religious (Exodus), Velikovsky finds in complementary sources--the Papyrus Ipuwer and the Naos of El Arish--support for the idea that something spectacular occurred.  Using the Exodus account and cross-checking with these two basic sources, he then proceeds to search for other indications of the reality of the events by posing questions to the; various sciences and receiving answers in return as to both the probability and possibility of events happening in the manner in which they are described.

As this process continues, Velikovsky points out the errors in interpretation, not only of myth, but of the data compiled by other sciences.  The result of Velikovsky's thinking is that a new conception of the nature of the universe comes into being.  Instead of sciences going their separate ways, interpreting data in isolation, the sciences become partners in seeking out the meaning of the universe.  A relationship is established between the recorded experiences of the ancient Hebrews and the Venus probe of the twentieth century, in that they both illuminate the same realities.

Other mythologists have dealt with the Exodus story, and we will choose three to compare with Velikovsky: Martin Buber, Theodore Gaster, and Johannes Pederson.  Each of these men was intimately acquainted with the Hebrew scriptures, the culture of the Hebrews and other Near Eastern peoples, and the history of that region of our planet.

Martin Buber, writing in his book, Moses, defines away the Exodus as a historical event early in his interpretation of the scriptures:

"The Biblical narrative itself is basically different in character from all that we usually classify as serviceable historical sources.  The happenings recorded there can never have come about, in the historical world as we know it, after the fashion in which they are described.  The literary category within which our historical mode of thinking must classify this narrative is the saga; and a saga is generally assumed to be incapable of producing within us any conception of a factual sequence" (13). (Emphasis added.)

It has remained a mystery to me how Buber can write that on p. 13 of Moses and then devote the next 200 pages to an exegesis which follows the story line of the Exodus remarkably well for a disbeliever.

In describing the passage over the sea of reeds, Buber remarks that a miracle "is not something 'supernatural' or 'super-historical,' but an incident, an event which can be fully included in the objective, scientific nexus of nature and history" (14).  Thus it is that Buber's Moses, obediently following the dictates of YHVH, "comes to the shore, he steps on sands that are barely covered by shallow water; and the hosts follow him as he follows the God.  At this point occurs whatever occurs, and it is apprehended as a miracle" (15).  Such an event would hardly seem capable of producing a religion; people wade in shallow waters quite often without any significant change.

Theodore Gaster, discussing the Exodus story in Passover, fails to venture even as far as Buber:

"It is obvious to any unbiased reader that this story, with its markedly religious coloration and its emphasis on supernatural 'signs and wonders,' is more of a romantic saga or popular legend than an accurate record.  Written down centuries later than the period which it describes, it is clearly more indebted to folklore than to sober fact" (16).

A question which seems never to have occurred to Gaster is the extent to which the Exodus story is really romantic.  When one reads the book of Exodus the Hebrews hardly come off as a romantic group.  They continually backslide, complain bitterly about their lot in the desert, spend most of their time yearning for the good old days in Egypt, and emerge from the pages of Exodus as a group hardly worth saving.  It seems incredible that this story as recorded in Exodus could come from generations of story-tellers embellishing, polishing and glorifying an old migration myth into a romantic epic.

Johannes Pederson, a Scandinavian scholar of no little reputation, wrote a classic study entitled Israel: Its Life and Culture, which is one of the monumental works on the Hebrews.  Pederson comments on the Exodus story in an appendix:

"In forming an opinion of the story about the crossing of the Red Sea, it must be kept in mind, as we have remarked above, that this story, as well as the whole emigration legend, is quite obviously of a cultic character, for the whole narrative aims at glorifying the god of the people at the paschal feast through an exposition of the historical event that created the people.  The object cannot have been to give a correct exposition of ordinary events, but on the contrary, to describe history on a higher plane, mythical exploits which make of the people a great people, nature subordinating itself to this purpose" (17). (Emphasis added.)

I remain at a loss to discover what is "history on a higher plane."  And, although I admire Pederson's work, I am repelled at the idea that the ancient Hebrews were the prototype of the modern advertising agency, recording history solely for purposes of national self-glorification.  Indeed, in reading the Exodus account, we find that the Israelites are always getting in trouble with the Lord.

While Pederson projects a "historical event" as the basis for the paschal feast, he apparently rejects any efforts to discover what that event was, calling into question even the emigration legend which would mean, in realistic terms, that he quite possibly did not believe that the Hebrews were even in Egypt!

The common theme running through the thinking of Buber, Gaster, and Pederson is that it is forbidden to assign the Exodus account any historical basis other than a vague reference to some primeval event which cannot be recovered.  They see in the story, the characters, and the descriptions only a primitive effort at public relations on a theological theme.

When we examine Immanuel Velikovsky's interpretation of the Exodus we find a very careful articulation of the sequence of events, a fine eye for details, an understanding of what the details mean, and a willingness to seek a rigorous confirmation of the theory at different points in the development of the interpretation.  An example of Velikovsky's rigor can be drawn from Ages in Chaos.   He has already demonstrated the parallels between the Hebrew and Egyptian source materials and is recapitulating:

"The story of the darkness in Egypt as told in Hebrew and Egyptian sources is very similar.  The death of the pharaoh in the whirling waters is also similar in both Hebrew and Egyptian sources, and the value of this similarity is enhanced by the fact that in both versions the pharaoh perished in a whirlpool during or after the days of the great darkness and violent hurricane."

Following this summary Velikovsky then pushes his conception of the interpretation of myth to its logical conclusion:

"And yet even a striking similarity is not identity.  The subject of the two records should be regarded as identical only if some detail can be found in both versions, the Hebrew and the Egyptian, that cannot be attributed to chance" (18).

Velikovsky then proceeds to demonstrate that the place named Pi-Kharoti in the Egyptian source and Pi-ha-hiroth of the Hebrew source are identical.  In every case possible Velikovsky sifts the ancient sources to find specific verification of specific details.  This method contrasts sharply with the rather blithe manner in which other thinkers, particularly those we have discussed above, dismiss details and work with the generalities of the story line.

New Attitudes Toward Myth

From a comparison of Velikovsky's approach to myth with that of other scholars, we can derive a few ground rules for interpreting ancient sources, particularly those of an apparently historical nature which have been classified as myths.

Perhaps the first consideration is to recognize that these sources have withstood the critics of their own time and come down to us as respected literature which has had a wide circulation and which has held the imagination of generation after generation of peoples.  That recognition marks Velikovsky as more serious than his fellow scholars in a crucial area--respect for one's sources of information.

The second change in approach is to recognize that we are on a small planet; descriptions of unusual or extraordinary events in ancient sources may quite possibly find verification in contemporary sources, or in alternate sources from other nearby societies.  Velikovsky demonstrates the necessity for an awareness of this possibility in Oedipus and Akhnaton.   Taking the Oedipus myth, he follows its details step by step, setting the actual conditions in Greece against the historical realities of Egypt.  For example, the Grecian Thebes had few gates, hardly the magnificent city of the Oedipus story.  Comparing the family of Oedipus with that of Akhnaton, the political situation in Egypt with the story line of the Greek drama, and examining the role of the Sphinx--revered in Egypt and a stranger in Greece--Velikovsky concludes that the Oedipus story was simply transferred from Egypt to Greece by dramatists who saw the tragedy in the events of the royal house of Egypt.

Recognition of the "planetary" nature of human experiences entails a further acknowledgment that geography changes perceptions of real events.  If the sun can be visualized as standing still in the Canaan region, extending the daylight hours, then it must also remain hidden from view on the other side of the globe.  Attempting to trace out motifs without an acknowledgment of the role of geography in changing the nature of physical phenomena results only in comparing symbolic similarities among the perceptions of human beings, and buttresses the contention that myths express a "higher" history having a verbal reality only.

Given these basic changes in attitudes in approaching myth, we come then to see Velikovsky raising additional questions for the interpreters of myth.  Does the process of myth-building necessarily result in the glorification or embellishment of the details of the story?  Most mythologists seem to feel that the passage of time alters the myth by allowing time for the introduction of editorial comments by succeeding generations.  When one considers the nature of our experiences today, he recognizes that the passage of time usually serves to moderate those experiences, softening them and reducing the story line to the bare essentials.  Can we suppose that an entirely different process of transmission operated in earlier times?

Velikovsky concentrates his efforts in interpreting the story line of myths on the smallest details of fact.  If something appears to have survived generations of story-telling as a factual detail, then he gives it serious consideration.  In the Exodus story, for example, he makes great use of the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night to show the extent of visibility of the cosmic events which characterized the Exodus experience.  Buber, using the same Biblical verses, remarks,

"Quite irrespective of whether volcanic phenomena have or have not exerted any influence here on either the nucleus or the development of the tradition, it is to be felt that the primaeval phenomenon which has found optical expression in the clearly native, unique picture is the belief of the man Moses in the leadership of the God whose voice he heard from the fire" (19).

In other words Buber finds the language poetic and symbolic of the Hebrews' belief in Moses and Moses' belief in his former experience in the revelation of the Burning Bush.  The Exodus is reduced to an ancient legend designed to produce an infinite number of sermon texts, rather than a historical event which grasped and formed the Hebrew nation.  Memories of events are replaced by symbols in Buber's theory of myth; they remain indications of real events in Velikovsky's theory.

The relative constancy of details in myths has a corollary in the relative constancy of the story line.  A myth, for Velikovsky, is not simply a collection of symbols brought together for purposes of edification, glorification and enlightenment, but contains within itself a special sequence in which real events can possibly have unfolded.  In this attitude Velikovsky and Carl Jung find companionship, but for different reasons.  Jung needed the sequence of the myth in order to work out the multitude of psychic relationships which the myth illustrated.  Velikovsky adheres to the sequence of events contained in the myth story line because of his belief that the myth contains a description of real events.  Velikovsky finds no need to violate the sequence of events and details, because to do so would destroy the whole meaning of the story.

The difference between Velikovsky and Jung is very real, because where Velikovsky welcomes and even relishes specific details within the sequence of events, Jung tends to concentrate on the general format of the story line to the neglect of the details.  Place names, descriptions of natural phenomena, and the possibility of independent verification by use of multiple sources fascinate Velikovsky, whereas they are relatively unimportant to Jung once he has chosen the version of the story line that is acceptable to his needs.

Velikovsky's concentration on details of the story in the sequence in which they occur points to an additional change of attitude.  Specific details must be compared and verified if at all possible.  Myths must be taken in their completeness as we find them, and the details of the story must not be automatically considered to be elaborations, poetic license, or later additions, unless independent proof that they are such can be obtained.  The details of the myth must be confronted in all their inconsistencies or apparent inconsistencies if we are to learn what reality stands behind the myth.  This requirement alone could force a new vision of the nature of ancient source materials.

Velikovsky's method creates the possibility of illuminating inconsistencies in myths by adding new materials from other sources or by viewing the descriptions of the stories in a new light.  Thus the story of Joshua and the Sun standing still appears to be a poetic flight of fancy of the first magnitude until one understands that if the story is correct, then a major displacement of cosmic dimensions must be involved.  Recognition of the nature of this displacement requires that one view the planetary nature of human experience and look on the opposite side of the globe for confirming accounts.

An excellent index for evaluating the relative merits of the various approaches to myth would be the extent to which apparent inconsistencies are resolved.  This requirement is much preferable to the current scholarly tendency to declare that inconsistencies are either later additions or glosses in the original material.  Most probably such an attitude simply indicates what the scholar does not know; his interpretation has at best a verbal or ideological reality of his own construction.

We come, then, to the question of what myth really is.  As we have seen in our discussion, most thinkers dealing with myth seem to feel that myth represents a religious reality or an attempt by people less sophisticated than ourselves to explain the origin or constitution of the world.  This attitude seems to hold for thinkers from Boas to Levy-Strauss, from Durkheim to Watts.  By combining the knowledge of various sciences and by giving the ancient accounts the utmost respect as conveyors of a historical reality experienced or perceived by people of ancient times, Velikovsky has thrust the question of the origin of religion forward for other thinkers to confront.  He has taken the Exodus from its contemporary status as a glorification myth to the much more exalted status of a fairly accurate recording of an important planetary event.

The conclusion that must be drawn is that religions most probably do not originate from the speculations of generations of poets, no matter how profound.  In ancient times a great many of them most probably originated from the experiences of a group of people surviving a spectacular planetary event.

It seems doubtful that the other theories of the origin of religion, which see religious beliefs and practices beginning as a result of poetic story-telling, can withstand the rigorous methodology of investigation and interpretation Velikovsky utilizes in developing his thought.  The burden of proof should be shifted from Velikovsky, who uses ancient sources for data, to those who so blithely dismiss the details of myths and present their own interpretations--interpretations which reflect a "verbal" reality unrelated to events on our planet.

REFERENCES

(1)       E. Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life (Collier Books, 1961), pp. 99-100.

(2)       F. Boas, "Mythology and Folklore" in General Anthropology, ed.  F. Boas (New York: D.C. Heath & Co., 1938), p. 619.

(3)        R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History (Oxford University Press, 1956), p. 15.

(4)        Collingwood, The Idea of History, p. 22.

(5)        M. Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane (Harper Torchbooks, 1957), p. 95.

(6)        Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane, p. 98.

(7)        C. G. Jung, Psychology and Religion: East and West, essay entitled "Answer to Job" (Pantheon Press, 1958), p. 409.

(8)        C. Levy-Strauss, The Savage Mind (University of Chicago Press, 1962), pp. 21-22.

(9)        Levy-Strauss, The Savage Mind, p. 22.

(10)      J. Campbell, The Masks of God--Occidental Mythology (Viking Press, 1964), p. 95.

(11)      Campbell, The Masks of God, p. 9 5.

(12)      A. S. Watts, Myth and Ritual in Christianity  (Beacon Press, 1968), p. 7.

(13)      M. Buber, Moses (Harper Torchbooks, 1958), p. 13.

(14)      Buber, Moses, p. 76.

(15)      Buber, Moses, p. 77.

(16)      T. Gaster, Passover (Henry Schuman, 1949), p. 29.

(17)      J. Pederson, Israel: Its Life and Culture (Oxford University Press, 1959), vol. 3-5, p. 728.

(18)      I. Velikovsky, Ages in Chaos (New York: Doubleday, 1952), p. 43.

(19)       Buber, Moses, P. 76.

PENSEE Journal IX

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