Sacred Longings: Re-enchanting the World in Richard Beck’s Hunting Magic Eels

Clack! Clack! Clack!

A man was striking a well-seasoned crab with a mallet. He was middle-aged and sitting alone at a booth in a seafood joint north of York, Pennsylvania, on Sherman Street. This was the kind of place perfectly suited for men and women coming off a long day’s work to eat quality food at a suitable price. I watched the man, who was immersed in this ritual of extracting—and eating—crab meat.

The image—a man hunched over his plate of crabs—sticks with me because of how his meal occupied his whole being. In my many discreet glances over at him, I could not help surmising that he was involved in a religious—some might say, liturgical—experience. His whole attention was devoted to his plate. In that 45 minutes or so of dining in the restaurant, he did not look up once. To me, this was the embodiment of someone singularly devoted to a task that required work, but that you might even say was  sacramental, connecting the divine to the ordinary.

In his recent book, Hunting Magic Eels: Recovering an Enchanted Faith in a Skeptical Age (2021, Broadleaf Books), Richard Beck explores the theme of perception and how current assumptions about the good life assume disenchantment, or lacking an understanding of the supernatural realm. Beck, a professor of psychology at Abilene Christian University, begins the book by describing a trip he made to Wales. He visited an abbey with a well where eels were supposedly kept in the Middle Ages. If a person threw a token into the well, that person’s romantic future could be predicted, depending on the eels’ response. The legend of these eels drew pilgrims to the well for many centuries, but then came the Protestant Reformation and modernity followed, enhanced by the Enlightenment, and the well no longer carried its enchanted power.

For Beck, the problem with the West is that guiding principles are steered by scientific naturalism, the belief that the physical is all there is. However, Beck makes the point that a lot of what drives people—desire and love—is more fundamental to who we are as opposed to mechanistic or rational understandings of nature.

Beck references novelist Marilynne Robinson to illustrate this point: “The Lord breathes on this poor gray ember of Creation and it turns to radiance—for a moment or year.” What Robinson is getting at is attending to God’s explicit presence. Of course, even in our milieu, where “Science” is the defining prism of existence, there is enchantment, which Beck defines as being purposeful about the sacred ability to “see and experience” God in the world. Beck is careful not to pit science against religion but is simply turning modern assumptions upside down, so that God is at the center of that which moves the “sun and other stars” as Beck says (quoting Dante).

Beck accurately points out that we still desire things to fill up the God-like void. He calls this the “Ache.” All sorts of consumeristic rituals have replaced what is traditionally called religion. Examples of this include fitness culture, where as long as I can get the right Peloton bike, then everything else in my life will fall in line. Wellness communities then form around this almighty bike that can unlock the secrets of a flourishing life.

Tara Isabella Burton in her book Strange Rites: New Religions for a Godless World (2020, Hachette Book Group) remarks that the rise of “nones,” or those who do not subscribe to an institutional religion, still find a lot of meaning and identity in online “communities” and gathering places. Of course, this affects those who do adhere to Christianity as well. In some ways, it is easier to stay home Sunday morning to buy and sell materials on Etsy or Amazon than to belong to a church where you cannot choose the other congregants you worship with.

Modern rituals such as these still do not quench the Ache that Beck discusses. Because our world is devoid of a united underlying purpose and the adventure of mystery, it is difficult to find solutions to nonmaterial problems: belonging, love, and validation.

However, societal forces outside the church are not solely to blame. Partaking of the sacraments, namely Communion, allow for a space where heaven touches earth. By simply believing that the bread and wine are symbols, the church itself is participating in a disenchanted understanding of creation. As Beck points out, “God is everywhere, but when He is everywhere, He tends to be nowhere.”

The culprits of this disenchantment have as much to do with events that occurred outside the church as inside. The downplaying of the sacraments in many churches does not allow for there to be a sacred space where Christ can shine through. As Beck points out, God is everywhere, but when He is everywhere He tends to be nowhere.

How can we overturn modern assumptions that are true, good, and beautiful but that seemingly leave out the enchanted realm? Beck uses the example of the burning bush in Genesis. Moses was busy with another task and had to “turn aside” to focus on the bush. Like the bush, the world is completely transfigured by God but is not combusted or destroyed.

Thinking back to the crab-eating gentleman today, I wonder what thoughts were going through his mind as he was bent over the crabs with his mallet. Was it a sacramental liturgy for him? Did he delve into a deeper consciousness from that experience? Or was he just eating crabs? Based on his posture, how could he have not experienced enchantment?

[See below if you are interested in 1) an extended excerpt or 2) a list of books for further reading on this topic.]

Author Tony McClure taught upper school history for four years at Logos Academy in York, PA. Since then, he is a lifelong learner who is a Pittsburgh resident and lover of 3D puzzles, movies and books.