MANY thanks to Mahnaz Rokni, who gave me permission to view her film Forgotten and share stills from it with all of you (including the one in the header). You can check out her other work at her official web site. As always, I am open to suggestions for future topics and grateful to those who have made such suggestions. Feel free to leave a comment below or on Discord!
Welcome back to Sects, Lies, and Videotape, where we discuss religion in film. Normally for this column, the topic of discussion is drawn from a particular film I want to promote (or, more often, deprecate). This time, the opposite happened: I fished for films that would cover a predetermined topic. Someone on the Alternate Ending Discord made an ignorant comment about the Mandaeans, comparing them to the unrelated Star Wars bread-and-circus object The Mandalorian. At the time, I had no idea whether any movies on the Mandaeans existed at all. As with many religious minorities, the most likely scenario was that some Western filmmaker had made a documentary feature. And there are documentaries! But they are not feature-length. Together, they cover a little over an hour of runtime. This is commensurate with a religion that I doubt many readers have even heard of prior to reading this paragraph. So this particular column is more advocacy-based than usual, if only to separate the Mandaeans and the world of light (cinema) from The Mandalorian and the world of darkness (Disney).
The Mandaeans are a tiny, esoteric religious movement whose origins are shrouded in mystery but who have been around for a very long time. The Mandaean religion is older than Islam and possibly as old as Christianity. In their own self-understanding, Mandaeans believe that their religion began with Adam, which was a very long time ago indeed. There are fewer than 100,000 Mandaeans left in the world, divided, until recently, between southern Iran (about 25,000) and southern Iraq (no more than 75,000).
Then, in 2003, some people did something and completely obliterated whatever sense of security Iraqi Mandaeans felt in their own country. By 2005, the increasing instability and sectarian violence led to a full-fledged diaspora to the furthest outposts of Western civilization, the untamed wildernesses of Stockholm, Sydney, and even Manchester. Meanwhile, the Mandaeans of Iran, who live in a country that has not yet been invaded by the United States, eke out a quiet existence.
The three documentaries capture both sides of the Mandaean experience. The first, Faith in Exile (Allison, 2016), was produced by Western academics. Its director, Christine Robins, née Allison, is a professor at the University of Exeter and head of the project The Worlds of Mandaean Priests.* Her film mainly focuses on Iraqi Mandaeans in Australia. It’s a talking head documentary, where the Mandaeans recount their experiences in their own words.
The second documentary, Like a Sugar Cube in a Cup of Tea (Kanakis, 2015), is part of the same project and covers some of the same territory—except this time the focus is on Mandaeans living in Sweden. It is the longest and probably the most informative of the three, since its second half gives a running commentary on a baptism and marriage ceremony. The third, Forgotten (2018), is a Persian-language film written, directed, and produced by Mahnaz Rokni, an Iranian filmmaker. It also documents a baptism and a wedding, but from a completely different perspective—the perspective of Mandaeans still living in their ancestral homeland. The contrast between this film and the other two is instructive. It is also much prettier than the others.
If I want to pique your curiosity about the Mandaeans, I can do no better than to cite a summary of the first Western report about them, by the Italian monk Ricoldo da Montecroce, written in 1290.
The Mandaeans were not Muslims, Jews, or Christians; however, they venerated John the Baptist; they were antagonistic towards Abraham because of his practice of circumcision; they practiced different kinds of immersions in water; they had priests with specific religious attire; they had beautiful books; and they were faithful to their wives. To sum up, they were the strangest population he had ever encountered in the East.
Got your attention? Let’s begin!
Sects!
Mandaeans are the last Gnostics. At least, that is how they are understood by Western scholarship, including Edmondo Lupieri’s aptly-titled Mandaeans: The Last Gnostics or Kurt Rudolph’s Gnosis. All the other religions in Rudolph’s book are long gone, but the Mandaeans remain.
What does it mean to be “Gnostic”? That depends on whom you ask. If you ask Michael Williams or Karen King, they will tell you Gnosticism does not exist. If you ask Irenaeus of Lyons or Epiphanius of Salamis—hard to do, since they’re both long dead—they will tell you that Gnostics are Christian heretics who came in a variety of flavors. Ask anyone in between the second and the twenty-first centuries, and you will get a bewildering number of answers. Some might tell you that the Gnostics are disaffected Jews who turned their backs on their God and their Scriptures. Others might say that Gnostics practiced an earlier, purer, more egalitarian form of Christianity.
In truth, we know very little about Gnostics and Gnosticism. All we have are the salacious reports of their opponents and a handful of their writings, denuded of context. The writings themselves—the Nag Hammadi codices—were only rediscovered in 1945. They are a cache of thirteen notebooks written in Coptic, a form of the Egyptian language, that completely reinvigorated the study of early Christianity in the second half of the twentieth century. There were some fortuitous discoveries prior to Nag Hammadi but only one real avenue of research for those wanting a firsthand account of Gnosticism from actual Gnostics—the Mandaeans. Prior to 1945, they were an object of fascination for German New Testament scholars who saw in them a key to the riddle of the origin of Christianity (and the Gospel of John in particular).
As mentioned above, the origin of the Mandaeans is shrouded in mystery. They are described by the eighth-century Syriac theologian Theodore bar Konai, and Muslim writers call them Sabians (an unidentified group mentioned a few times in the Qur’an). Europeans only encountered them in the age of exploration, when they slapped them with the moniker “St. John Christians,” a parallel to the “St. Thomas Christians” the Portuguese stumbled upon in India. Only… the St. John the Mandaeans revered was not John the Evangelist, the purported author of the Gospel, but John the Baptist, the cousin and mentor of Jesus. Also, while Mandaeans practice baptism, worship on Sundays, hold vaguely Eucharistic communal meals, and venerate a banner that looks an awful lot like a cross, they are not Christian. In fact, they have a great deal of antipathy for Jesus, whom they consider a fraud and a deceiver.
So now we get into Mandaean beliefs, which are really interesting, almost like science fiction. They believe in God—Manda de-Hayyi, the Knowledge of Life—but also several other divinities, called the Uthras. Like many Gnostic movements, they do not believe that the highest God is responsible for the creation of the world. It was the work of a subordinate, Ptahil. Unlike other Gnostic movements, the creator is not necessarily evil, even though there are evil cosmic beings, namely the Seven Planets and the Twelve Zodiac Signs, who keep created beings imprisoned in the sublunar world. Their mother is Ruha de-Qudsha, the Holy Spirit, who is also evil.
Mandaeans have a holy book, the Ginza Rabba or Great Treasure, also known as the Book of Adam. It consists of 21 sections in two parts, the 18 books of the “Right Ginza” and—after you flip the book over—the 3 books of the “Left Ginza.”
The Ginza was written in Mandaic, which is a form of Aramaic, similar to the Aramaic used in the Talmud (and different from, say, the Aramaic Jesus would have spoken or the Aramaic in the Bible translations I am supposed to be studying instead of writing this column). Mandaic is written in a unique script different enough from all the other Aramaic scripts that I have to relearn it every time I have a resurgence of interest in the Mandaeans and Mandaean studies.
Adam is a key figure of the Mandaean religion, along with some other familiar biblical names. Adam’s three sons—this is not a misprint—Abel (Hibil), Seth (Shithil), and Enosh (Anush), are all figures of the highest importance in Mandaean mythology. All three, together with Adam, are celestial as well as earthly figures. Noah and his son Shem also figure into Mandaean mythology as the survivors of the Flood, the third cosmic disaster. Two such disasters had already occurred, after which humanity was regenerated from a single couple. A fourth cataclysm—from the air—will close out world history.
The most notable biblical figure to appear in Mandaean sacred history is John the Baptist, who is not considered the founder of Mandaeism but rather its most important teacher. He is much different from the portrait of John in the Gospels. In addition to his change of religion, he is considerably older than Jesus, married, and dies (or does he?) of natural causes late in life. His life coincides with a time of strife between the Mandaeans and the Jews. The Jews allegedly persecuted the Mandaeans and drove them out of Palestine into Mesopotamia. The Uthras then destroyed Jerusalem as punishment. The historicity of this account—I mean, the idea that the Mandaean religion originated in Palestine—is much debated among scholars, and I will not get into it here.
What I will get into is the Mandaean attitude towards the Abrahamic religions. While the people who lived before the Flood get a pass, as do John the Baptist and a few others, Mandaean literature has caustic remarks Moses, Jesus, Muhammad, and even Abraham. The Muslim polymath al-Biruni—incidentally, the subject of another documentary by Mahnaz Rokni—mentions a story circulated among the “Sabians” that Abraham developed leprosy on a sensitive spot, so he cut it off. This was how circumcision—a practice abhorred by Mandaeans—was invented.
These types of scurrilous stories are not uncommon in religious polemics. Roman writers like Tacitus claimed the Jews were expelled from Egypt because of leprosy. Jews claimed that Jesus was the son of an adulteress and a sorcerer. Christians claimed that Muhammad drank himself to death in a pigsty. The Mandaean narratives continue in this vein with a sort of biblical “counter-history.” The one I find most arresting is that the Mandaeans identify the Egyptians at the time of the Exodus as their ancestors and commemorate those who drowned in the Red Sea every year.
Before turning to the films themselves, I want to say something about Mandaean artwork. First up are the Mandaean magic bowls, the oldest (third to sixth centuries CE) relics of the Mandaeans in any form. These bowls were intended to catch demons prowling about, like rat traps or the Ghostbusters’ containment unit. They were very popular. Jews made them too.
Next, Mandaean drawings have an unmistakable quality, where divine beings are represented in a highly stylized manner. Calling them stick figures sounds derogatory, but I don’t know how else to describe them. I have little to say about the matter (because, frankly, I do not know much), but I could not write a column about Mandaeans without showing an example.
Last, Mandaeans are known for their metalwork. This is covered at the end of Rokni’s film Forgotten. Hers is the only film to consider this aspect of Mandaean culture, so I am putting it here.
NOW, let’s get to the movies!
Lies!
Almost nothing of what I just wrote above appears in the documentaries. There is no mythology, almost no history, no scriptures, no magic bowls, and only a cursory discussion of the Mandaic language and what Mandaeans believe. Nothing is said of the hostile attitude the ancient Mandaean writings show to the great Abrahamic prophets or what modern Mandaeans think about this issue.
Instead, the three films focus on two main issues: rituals, especially baptism and marriage, and social issues facing Mandaeans, especially Mandaeans in the diaspora. The two documentaries produced by The Worlds of Mandaean Priests directly address the threat of assimilation. In both cases, women (and women are the star of these films) express doubts that the Mandaean religion will survive the current generation. Younger relatives and friends of friends estimate an expiration date within their lifetimes.
Small numbers and endogamy don’t help (you cannot convert to Mandaeism; you have to be born into it from two Mandaean parents), but the objection that comes up time and again in the documentaries is social mores. Each of the women independently mention the ritual inspection of prospective brides prior to marriage, where three women not related to the bride check to see if her bag of chips is still fresh. If the seal has been broken—and if it has, this will become public knowledge immediately—the woman can still marry, but in a less elaborate ceremony reserved for widows and other used goods.
For some reason, Mandaean women chafe at the idea of strangers poking at their genitals. One of the interviewees in Faith and Exile, Sally Farhan, dismisses the practice (which is already mentioned in the oldest European reports about Mandaeism) as an innovation that has nothing to do with her religion.
She furthermore asks what woman would want to be with a man who permits such a practice (her mother, interviewed separately, expresses the hope that she might find a good Mandaean man).
Bella-Bashyer and Khamail Sabbar—two sisters living in Sweden—make the same complaint and add that there is a complete double standard. The boys are allowed to do whatever they want, and no one checks their naughty bits.
On the ritual side, both Sugar Cube and Forgotten document a Mandaean baptism and a Mandaean wedding, one in Sweden and the other in Iran. The differences are stark. In Forgotten, the baptism and wedding are outdoors. The baptism takes place in a river.
In Sugar Cube, both events take place indoors in what is officially a Mandaean community center but has the appearance of a public swimming pool.
The wedding, held in the same space, is also modest. I feel particularly sorry for the bride, who looks like she is sitting on the floor of her laundry room (the clothes, belonging to her and the groom, are supposed to represent intimacy and the intertwining of their two lives).
It’s rather less glamorous than what you get back in Iran.
I do not have much to say about the marriage ritual, but baptism, as practiced in the diaspora, is at odds with religious tradition. Mandaeans are obligated to be baptized and perform other purification rituals in “living” (that is, flowing) water, meaning, basically, rivers. Under current conditions, this is impossible.
First, there is the scarcity of water in some diaspora locations. Second, the quality of the water, both its properties (cold) and its potability (not recommended), are inhibiting factors. Baptisms require both entering the water and drinking it, which, following the Industrial Revolution, might have the opposite of the intended “life-giving” effect.
Second, unlike Christianity with its extremely lax, do-it-yourself baptisms—anyone can baptize anyone else using any body of water—Mandaeans require the presence of a priest. And this is an additional problem, because the number of priests is small, even relative to the small number of Mandaeans. We’re talking double digits here.
This leads to the third problem. Ideally, the faithful are supposed to be baptized at least once every Sunday, and some purification rituals require innumerable baptisms. The reality is much different. One of the Sabbar sisters gets baptized every year, but Sally Farhan has only been baptized twice in her life (which, admittedly, is twice as often as most people are baptized).
It is regrettable that none of the three documentaries addresses the Mandaic language and the Mandaean scriptures because this is another issue facing the modern community. Mandaic is a dialect of East Aramaic, spoken by hardly anyone outside of the clerical class. We only hear it in a couple of instances in the documentaries. One is during certain prayers.
Another time, we hear the Mandaic language in an interview with a cantor named Asaad Askeri—not even a professional singer, we are told—who performs a brief recitation.
The Mandaeans in the documentaries speak Arabic, Persian, and English. The Ginza has only been translated, so far, into Latin, German, Arabic, and English, the last two only in this millennium. There is a serious gap between ethnic Mandaeans and knowledge of their language and, hence, their religion. The documentaries do not address this gap. Nor are some of the basics of the Mandaean religion explained for the casual viewer. The singer above mentions Hibil Ziwa (the celestial Abel), but the reference is not clarified. The only time the Ginza is present is when we see some holy books casually lying on the podium of a Mandaean bishop (ganzibra).
In other words, if you are inclined to make a documentary about the Mandaeans, there are still many issues left to address.
Videotape!
Documentaries are the red-headed stepchild of the film industry. There are some exceptional ones out there, but it’s not the type of film most would seek out in theatres. The big problem is the aesthetic one. It is probably easier to make a mediocre documentary than any other type of film. You just point the camera at one or more talking heads. The makers of Faith in Exile literally did just this. They are academics like myself. I would have done the same thing. Sugar Cube is a little more interesting to watch. Its recording of rituals-in-progress has some anthropological value. As a cinematic object, Forgotten is the most accomplished of the three. It was clearly made by a cineaste rather than a stuffed-shirt academic.
The test that many film critics (including AE’s own critic-in-residence) apply to the documentary form is whether reading an article on the same subject would be more interesting. The issue here is that it is both difficult and expensive to find reliable information about the Mandaeans. I have acquired a tiny library, including sacred texts and secondary studies, for a small fortune. Since most of the books are written by specialists, it is also tough to find something that is accessible to general audiences. My own personal recommendations would be the books of Lupieri and Rudolph cited above as well as their articles about the Mandaeans at the Encyclopaedia Iranica.
Another key text is Lady Ethel Drower’s The Mandaeans of Iraq and Iran, the book that first taught me about the Mandaeans. Lady Drower was the wife of a diplomat who used her husband’s post abroad (Iraq, 1921–1947) as an excuse to pursue her own interests and write a bunch of books (this was fashionable at the time). Her literary output on the Mandaeans was an incredible achievement. The one I’ve linked above focuses on their rituals and folklore and is highly readable.
If you happen to know German, you are in luck, because Mark Lidzbarski translated a bunch of Mandaean sacred literature, including the Ginza and the Mandaean Book of John, and they are in the public domain. The latest edition and translation of the Book of John, by Charles Häberl and James McGrath (a personal acquaintance), is available through Open Access, which is academic parlance for free. However, if you want an English version of the Ginza (whether the abridgment or the full version), you must pay.
Apart from the new editions of primary sources, these books are a bit long in the tooth. They also tend to be antiquarian in orientation, even if Lady Drower’s sources were living Mandaeans. The Western scholar most interested in contemporary Mandaeans is probably Jorunn Buckley, who even appears briefly in Faith in Exile.
She has dedicated her scholarly life to this subject, but her books are unfortunately expensive. If you want to know more about how modern Mandaeans live, right now, two of the documentaries are freely (and legally!) available on YouTube. To my knowledge, Rokni’s film is not yet generally available, but as she is now a friend of the column, I hope it will be available in the near future.
*She is a professor of Kurdish and, more logically, a specialist of the Kurdish-speaking Yezidis. There is, gratifyingly, at least one feature film about them (about the thing that put them in the news this past decade), and it will appear in this column the second I can find it.
Gavin McDowell is a Hoosier by birth and French by adoption. He received his doctorate in “Languages, History, and Literature of the Ancient World from the Beginning until Late Antiquity” and is currently investigating Aramaic translations of the Bible. He is supremely unqualified to talk about film. For more of his unprovoked movie opinions, see his Letterboxd account.