(Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue) Edmund Kee-Fook Chia (Eds.)-Interfaith Dialogue_ Global Perspectives-Palgrave Macmillan US (2016)

um enical and Inter rel
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INTERFAITH
DIALOGUE
GLOBAL PERSPECTIVES
Edited by
Edmund Kee-Fook Chia
Foreword by
Francis X. Clooney, SJ
Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious
Dialogue
Series Editors
Gerard Mannion
Georgetown University
Washington, D.C., USA
Mark Chapman
Ripon College Cuddesdon
Cuddesdon Oxford, UK
Aims of the Series
Building on the important work of the Ecclesiological Investigations
International Research Network to promote ecumenical and inter-faith
dialogue, the Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue series
publishes scholarship on interreligious encounters and dialogue in relation
to the past, present, and future. It gathers together a richly diverse array of
voices in monographs and edited collections that speak to the challenges,
aspirations, and elements of interreligious conversation. Through its
publications, the series allows for the exploration of new ways, means, and
methods of advancing the wider ecumenical cause with renewed energy
for the twenty-first century.
More information about this series at

http://www.springer.com/series/14561
Editor
Interfaith Dialogue
Global Perspectives
Editor
Australian Catholic University
Melbourne, Australia
Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue

ISBN 978-1-137-59697-0 ISBN 978-1-137-59698-7 (eBook)
DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7
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To
Pope Francis
“Person of Dialogue in Our Age”
FOREWORD
Interfaith Dialogue: Global Perspectives aptly draws together in a single

useful volume representative papers from the international conference in
May 2014 at Australian Catholic University, Melbourne. This judicious
selection promotes a truly Catholic and inclusively interfaith enterprise, as
it addresses issues familiar and central in today’s Catholic Church; and yet
it opens up wider global and interfaith perspectives. Among the 20 dis-
tinguished contributors, the Christian authors are from around the world,
while the contributors from other faith traditions, of the Jewish, Muslim,
and Bahá’í faiths, raise interesting questions about the familiar Christian
teachings, and in this way teach Christian readers how to revisit and appre-
ciate anew familiar doctrines and values.
Due attention is paid to what Christians might learn from other reli-
gions, and consequently new directions in dialogue are also encouraged
and facilitated. As Edmund Kee-Fook Chia notes in his Preface, the col-
lection intends “a glimpse at interfaith dialogue from multiple perspec-
tives”; and so it is that the volume aptly surveys issues of great importance
today, briefly reviewing many of the great issues of our times. Interfaith
Dialogue: Global Perspectives thus maps key issues that will in the next
decades have to be taken up in the distinct but related fields of interfaith
dialogue, the theology of religions and theology of religious pluralism,
and comparative theology. I commend Chia and his colleagues for this col-
laborative achievement, and hope that this volume serves as a useful guide
for all those around the world who are entering the interfaith field today.
Francis X. Clooney SJ
vii
PREFACE
PATHS TO DIALOGUE IN OUR AGE

In our age, when humanity is being drawn closer together day by day, and
the ties between different peoples are becoming stronger, the adherents
of the world’s religions are examining what they have in common and
what draws them to fellowship. Through the praxis of interfaith dialogue
some headway has already been made on this path to peace, understand-
ing, and collaboration. Within Roman Catholicism, the Second Vatican
Council—convened by Pope John XXIII—heightened the consciousness
of the church with regard to other religions. His successor—Pope Paul
VI—had as his first encyclical the 1964 document Ecclesiam Suam (sub-
titled “paths of the church”), where dialogue was promoted as the new
way of being church. The topic of dialogue was given further attention at
Vatican II in the 1965 document Nostra Aetate (NA; “in our age”), which
counselled the church to be in “dialogue and collaboration with the fol-
lowers of other religions” (NA, 2).
Hence, the theme of the International Theological Conference on
Interfaith Dialogue held at Australian Catholic University in May 2014
was “Paths to Dialogue in Our Age.” Beginning with “paths to dialogue,”
it commemorated the fiftieth anniversary of the proclamation of the land-
mark Ecclesiam Suam document. Ending with “in our age,” it regarded
the contributions of Nostra Aetate as starting points for the advance-
ment of interfaith dialogue in our age. While celebrating the bold spirit
of dialogue expressed in these two documents, we were also conscious
that much had changed in the world in the last half century, especially
ix
x PREFACE
within the sphere of interfaith relations. Thus, the conference was hosted
to explore the advances and setbacks of the last five decades and to investi-
gate new paths that can contribute to the well-being of humanity and the
entire cosmos in our age.
NATURE OF THE CONFERENCE

The conference was, therefore, open to exploring the history, theory,
practice, and challenges of interfaith encounters and the opportunities
for dialogue that exist between Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Sikhs,
Buddhists, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians and other
First Nation Peoples, and scholars of other religious communities. It was
also open to discussions on models, proponents, or exemplars of dialogue
from within a particular tradition or within a specific context or period.
Interfaith explorations on such themes as the understanding of the human
person, ethical values, justice, peace, sin, salvation, education, formation,
the role of women and youth, the place of prayer, spirituality, poverty, and
consumerism were also welcomed. Likewise, it welcomed examining con-
cerns such as the possibility of multiple religious belonging; the challenge
of secularism, relativism, or fundamentalism; the practice of cross-textual
or intertextual hermeneutics; methodologies of comparative theology or
religious studies; and discussions about the means and ends of dialogue.
By all accounts the conference was a tremendous success. More than
200 people participated and they had come from more than 20 countries
from around the globe. They included university-based scholars and semi-
nary professors, teachers as well as students, religious leaders and practi-
tioners, members of interfaith networks and of non-faith institutions, and
representatives from governmental as well as non-governmental organiza-
tions. Some were seasoned scholars with dozens of books to their name
while others were only just beginning their academic career. Some had
participated in hundreds of conferences around the world while for others
the May 2014 conference was their very first. The pluralism amongst the
participants invited each person to be especially attentive and respectful of
the other. The conference, therefore, provided the perfect forum for put-
ting into practice the ideals and principles of authentic interfaith dialogue.
While about 50 papers were presented at the conference, it was not
possible to use most of them—even very insightful ones—for the present
book. As should be the case, a volume such as this has to consist only of
essays which, when put together, show some semblance of coherence and
PREFACE xi
thrust. Fortunately, this was indeed possible, but only after soliciting extra
contributions from some scholars who were not present at the conference
but who shared in its goals. Thus, about three-fourths of the chapters
within the volume are written by scholars present at the conference while
the rest are from other scholar friends who willingly obliged. Together, they
represent the best of the scholarship available for the themes addressed.
Not only do the contributors come from more than a dozen countries
located in six continents, they are also adherents of a number of religious
traditions and specialize in very different academic disciplines and inter-
ests. This makes the volume especially global, and readers are assured that
reading the entire text would afford them a glimpse, from multiple per-
spectives, at interfaith dialogue and matters related to the encounters of
peoples of different religions.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
While many members of the Faculty of Theology and Philosophy of the

Australian Catholic University contributed significantly to the success of
the conference, it is without doubt the unstinting commitment and guid-
ance of the executive dean of the faculty at that time, Professor Anne
Hunt, who played the most instrumental role in the overall project. The
conference would not have materialized if not for her vision and support.
Likewise, this volume would not have been possible if not for the generos-
ity of all the contributors, who willingly collaborated in submitting and
reviewing the drafts of their chapters, as well as of the contributors to
the Foreword and blurbs. I would like to specially acknowledge the sup-
port of Gerard Mannion, series editor of Pathways for Ecumenical and
Interreligious Dialogue, as well as the support provided by Phil Getz and
Alexis Nelson of Palgrave’s Religion and Philosophy List. Many thanks to
all for the successful conference and for bringing this book to print.
Australian Catholic University Edmund Kee-Fook Chia
February 2016
xiii
CONTENTS
Part I The Second Vatican Council and Nostra Aetate 1
1 Vatican II and Interfaith Dialogue 3

Michael Louis Fitzgerald
2 Article Four of Nostra Aetate and Christian-Jewish Relations 17

John T. Pawlikowski
3 Jewish Perspectives on Interfaith Dialogue After Nostra Aetate 31

Fred Morgan
4 Response of the Asian Church to Nostra Aetate 45

Part II Islam and Muslims Around the Globe 57
5 Challenges of Muslim-Christian Relations in Nigeria 59

Mukhtar Umar Bunza
6 Impact of State Policies on Interfaith Relations in Pakistan 73

Ali Ahmed
xv
xvi CONTENTS
7 Australian Muslims and the “Innocence of Muslims” 87

Fatih Erol Tuncer
8 Citizenship Between State and Mosque

for Muslims in Switzerland 103
Stéphane Lathion
Part III What Christians Can Learn 117
9 What Christians Can Learn from Shamanic Pneumatology 119

Jojo M. Fung
10 What Christians Can Learn from Buddhism 129

Paul F. Knitter
11 What Christians Can Learn from Indian Religions 143

Michael Amaladoss
12 What Christians Can Learn from Chinese Religions 155

Jonathan Y. Tan
13 What Christians Can Learn from Japanese Religions 169

Emi Mase-Hasegawa
Part IV Methods and Models for Interfaith Dialogue 181
14 Deeper Dialogue with Aborigines and Torres Strait

Islanders of Australia 183
Christopher C. Prowse
15 African Christian Approaches to Other Religions 197

Moussa Serge Traore
CONTENTS xvii
16 Encountering the Other “Other”: A Bahá’í Perspective 209

Natalie Mobini
17 Commonalities Among Renewal Movements Across Religions 223

Roberto Catalano
18 The Promise of Comparative Theology:

Reading Between the Lines 237
Michael Barnes
19 Raimon Panikkar’s Contribution to Interfaith Dialogue 251

Gerard Hall
20 Epistemic Confidence, Humility, and Kenosis

in Interfaith Dialogue 265
Julius-Kei Kato
Index 277
CONTRIBUTORS
Ali Ahmed is a Pakistani Shiite Muslim trained in political science and religious
studies, especially in the fields of religious persecution and genocide studies; he is
a keen observer of the sociopolitical and religious trends in South Asia.
Michael Amaladoss, SJ, is Professor Emeritus at Vidyajyoti College of Theology,
Delhi, India, and Director of the Institute for Dialogue with Cultures and Religions
in Chennai. He was former assistant to the superior general of the Jesuits in Rome.
Michael Barnes, SJ, is Professor of Interreligious Relations at Heythrop College,
University of London. He publishes widely on theology of religions and has acted
as a consultant to the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue.
Mukhtar Umar Bunza is Professor of Social History and Dean of the Faculty of
Arts and Islamic Studies at Usmanu Danfodiyo University, Sokoto, Nigeria. He
also serves as a member of the Peace and Collaborative Development Network.
Roberto Catalano is Director of Focolare’s International Office for Interreligious
Dialogue in Rome. He worked in India for 28 years and lectures at Urbaniana
University, Sophia University Institute, and Accademia di Scienze Umane e Sociali.
Edmund Kee-Fook Chia is a Malaysia theologian who teaches at the Australian
Catholic University. He has taught at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago and
served as executive secretary of interreligious dialogue for the Asian Bishops’
Conferences.
Francis X. Clooney, SJ, is Parkman Professor of Divinity and Director of the
Center for the Study of World Religions at Harvard University. He is also profes-
sorial research fellow at Australian Catholic University and previously taught at
Boston College for 21 years.
xix
xx CONTRIBUTORS
Michael Louis Fitzgerald (Archbishop) served from 1987 to 2006 as secretary

and then president of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue. He was
then appointed papal nuncio to Egypt and delegate to the Arab League. He has
been in retirement since 2012.
Jojo M. Fung, SJ, is a Malaysian theologian teaching at the East Asian Pastoral
Institute and Loyola School of Theology in the Philippines. He researches in the
areas of contextual theology and indigenous spirituality.
Gerard Hall, SM, is a Marist priest and Associate Professor of Theology at
Australian Catholic University. As a student of Raimon Panikkar, he was an invited
member of the International Spirit of Religion Project and has ongoing involve-
ment in Panikkar studies and activities.
Emi Mase-Hasegawa is Associate Professor at J.F. Oberlin University in Tokyo
where she teaches in the field of religious studies. She holds a ThD in Missiology
with Ecumenical Studies from Lund University, Sweden.
Julius-Kei Kato is Associate Professor of Biblical and Religious Studies at King’s
University College, Western University, in London, Canada. He holds a PhD from
the Graduate Theological Union in California, having studied earlier in Rome,
Jerusalem, and Tokyo.
Paul F. Knitter is Emeritus Professor of Theology, World Religions, and Culture
at Union Theological Seminary, New York City. He taught for many years at
Xavier University, Cincinnati, and has been on the International, Interreligious
Peace Council.
Stéphane Lathion is a Swiss historian and specialist in European Islam. He is also
a lecturer and cofounder and coordinator of the Group of Research on Islam in
Switzerland.
Natalie Mobini is the Director of the Office of External Affairs for the Australian
Baha’i community. She holds a PhD from Monash University; she focused on
historical research of the Arab community in Indonesia.
Fred Morgan is Emeritus Rabbi of Temple Beth Israel in Melbourne; Movement
Rabbi of the Union for Progressive Judaism in Australia, New Zealand and Asia;
and Professorial Fellow in Interreligious Dialogue at the Australian Catholic
University.
John T. Pawlikowski, OSM, is a Servite priest and Professor of Social Ethics and
Director of the Catholic-Jewish Studies Program at Catholic Theological Union in
Chicago. He was two-term President and Chair of the Theology Committee of the
International Council of Christians and Jews.
CONTRIBUTORS xxi
Christopher C. Prowse is the Catholic Archbishop of the Archdiocese of

Canberra-Goulburn. He serves as Chair of the Australian Bishops Commission for
Ecumenism and Interreligious Relations and member of the Commission for
Relations with Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders.
Jonathan Y. Tan is Professor of Catholic Studies and affiliated faculty in Ethnic
and Asian Studies at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, Ohio and co-
chair of the World Christianity Group at the American Academy of Religion.
Moussa Serge Traore, M Afr., is a Missionaries of Africa priest from Burkina Faso.
He has served in Rwanda and Mauritania and is Director of the Cardinal Lavigerie
Center for Study and Research in Interreligious and Intercultural Dialogue of the
Catholic University of the Savior, Salvador, Brazil.
Fatih Erol Tuncer serves as Project Officer of the Fethullah Gülen Chair in the
Study of Islam and Muslim-Catholic Dialogue, as well as of the Faculty of Theology
and Philosophy at Australian Catholic University.
INTRODUCTION
The Introduction, by Edmund Kee-Fook Chia, advises that a fundamental

option for those at the margins was employed in the selection of essays for
the volume, aside from ensuring that a global perspective was presented.
Part I of the book discusses the impact of Nostra Aetate on the church’s
relations with religions other than Christianity. Part II looks at Islam and
Muslims from the standpoint of a specific context in Africa, Asia, Australia,
and Europe. Part III focuses on the learning dimensions of interfaith dia-
logue and is aimed at facilitating a listening church rather than a teach-
ing church. Part IV examines specific models and methods for interfaith
engagements.
NATURE OF THIS VOLUME

As indicated in the Preface, the present volume is one of the fruits of an
international conference held at the Australian Catholic University in May
2014. Actually, the idea of hosting a conference arose when we found out
in early 2013 that Archbishop Michael Fitzgerald was coming to Australia
the following year. He had served as president of the Vatican’s Pontifical
Council for Interreligious Dialogue. At the same time Australian Catholic
University was also in discussion with Professor John Pawlikowski, one of
the world’s foremost scholars in the field of Catholic-Jewish dialogue, to
come as a Visiting Fellow. We thus began exploring how we could take
advantage of these two auspicious visits to host an event in the southern
hemisphere for the benefit of the larger international community and
especially for the cause of interfaith relations.
xxiii
xxiv INTRODUCTION
It makes sense, therefore, that this volume begins with the contribu-
tions of Fitzgerald and Pawlikowski, and takes the Catholic Church’s doc-
uments as starting points for reflection. But, it then takes off from there
to include other interests and themes of interfaith dialogue. An important
aim of the volume is to enable more people to read about the concerns
of lesser-known communities across the globe, to hear the voices of those
who are seldom afforded a forum to speak, and to appreciate the concerns
and traditions that are not as often articulated. This fundamental option
for those at the margins together with the global and diverse nature of the
volume is its strengths.
Readers will, therefore, be able to find out more about Nostra Aetate’s
influence from the Jewish and Asian perspectives. They will read about
interfaith relations as presented through the lens of an African Muslim
and also an African Christian living in South America. They will get a
sense of the impact of wars, state and security policies, and socio-political
forces on Islam and Muslims, as well as understand the challenges con-
fronting religious minorities such as the members of the Ahmadiyya and
Bahá’í communities, and also of Swiss and Australian Muslims. Readers
will be taken on a tour of the beliefs and practices of the Japanese and
Shamanic traditions, as well as an exploration of the Chinese and Indian
religions. They will discover how Christians can learn from engagements
with the Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders of Australia, the Karen
tribal peoples of Thailand, and also from the emphasis on inner-personal
transformation of Buddhist social activists. Christians will find out that
certain beliefs and practices of other religions can complement their own
and appreciate that God or the Great Spirit is called Hti k’ja Cauj k’ja by
some and that others regard Ta no Wa as central to living in community.
The volume includes elucidations of the works of the Focolare Movement,
Gülen Movement, and Risshō Kōsei-kai and discusses advances made in
Comparative Theology, as well as the contributions of Raimon Panikkar
to interfaith dialogue and Ken Wilber to theories for appreciating religious
truth claims.
Thus, Part I explores the Catholic Church’s Second Vatican Council
and especially the impact of Nostra Aetate on the church’s relations with
religions other than Christianity. This, of course, is an obvious choice,
as we were commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of the historic coun-
cil in relation to its effect on interfaith dialogue. The section includes
discussions on article four of Nostra Aetate and related documents
INTRODUCTION xxv
(such as Ecclesiam Suam), as well as similar dialogue documents pro-

duced by leaders of the Jewish tradition (such as Dabru Emet) and also
those presented to us by the bishops of the Asian Church (such as the
Theses on Interreligious Dialogue).
Part II looks specifically at Islam and Muslims, no doubt the most
important and urgent dialogue partner for Christianity and Christians in
our age. It explores the religion and the challenges and issues confront-
ing its adherents from the perspectives of scholars living on four different
continents. Thus, the section includes reflections on a variety of aspects
of Islam and Muslims from the standpoint of a specific context in Africa,
Asia, Australia, and Europe. The chapters touch on issues pertaining to
the instrumentalization of religion, especially for socio-political or eco-
nomic objectives, as well as the difficulties Muslims in the West face in
forging their identity or in social participation.
Part III focuses on the learning dimensions of interfaith dialogue and
is aimed at facilitating an ecclesia discens (listening church) instead of an
ecclesia docens (teaching church). Premised on the fact that the present
book will have a greater circulation in the West where more readers prob-
ably come from Christian backgrounds—whether practising or not—or
are more familiar with Christianity, it presents some deep lessons that
Christians can and should learn from other religious and cultural tradi-
tions. Some of these traditions are so different from the beliefs and prac-
tices of Christianity that they can be understood and appreciated only
within the context of their histories and cultures.
Part IV examines specific models and methods for interfaith engage-
ments. Again, this is looked at through different lenses, addressing a vari-
ety of dimensions of interfaith relations. The section includes reflections
on how approaches to interfaith dialogue can learn from ecumenical and
cultural dialogues, as well as the encounters with newer faith groups. It
examines how it can be shaped by advances made in spiritual renewal
movements and the methodology of Comparative Theology and the
practice of Scriptural Reasoning. It also addresses how interfaith dialogue
can be enhanced through reflections on the cosmotheandric vision or by
employing a kenotic approach to religious truths.
In short, the volume contains a lot of critical studies that can benefit
many, especially those wishing to extend their horizons of understanding
into the various issues surrounding interfaith relations, as well as the chal-
lenges confronting peoples of faith from around the globe.
xxvi INTRODUCTION
A WORD ABOUT EACH CHAPTER

Chapter 1, by Archbishop Michael Louis Fitzgerald, discusses Vatican II’s
impact on interfaith dialogue. It begins by stating that the Second Vatican
Council was the first council in the church’s history to explicitly address
the issue of the Catholic Church’s relationship with other religions.
Acknowledging that while a lot of reflections have already been offered on
the five articles of Nostra Aetate, less, however, have been written about
the other documents which contributed to shaping the church’s inter-
religious consciousness. The chapter, therefore, examines some of these,
in particular the papal encyclical Ecclesiam Suam. It also looks at the role
the papacy has played in promoting the ministry of interreligious dialogue
amongst the Catholic faithful, as well as the whole human community.
Chapter 2, by John T. Pawlikowski, OSM, concentrates on Vatican II’s
groundbreaking document Nostra Aetate that provided the impetus for
a substantial renovation of the perceptions Christians have towards other
religions. The fourth article forged a new vision for the church’s rela-
tionship with the Jewish people. The chapter explores the significance of
this, especially its impact on Christian theology vis-à-vis Second Temple
Judaism. It begins by reviewing classical Christian thought which empha-
sized the displacement of the “old” Israel by Christianity (the “new”
Israel). It then discusses the premises undergirding Nostra Aetate 4 and
concludes by examining the developments in Christian theology and bibli-
cal studies in light of the new Christian-Jewish relationship.
Chapter 3, by Rabbi Fred Morgan, focuses on the Jewish perspectives
on interfaith dialogue after Nostra Aetate. Its starting point is that even
though Nostra Aetate is a document of the Catholic Church, it has had a
significant impact on Jewish attitudes to interfaith dialogue. The chapter
begins by reviewing the advances made in dialogue by the Jewish commu-
nity, especially with the rise of the reform and liberal expressions of Judaism
in the early to mid-1800s. It then discusses two different positions on
interfaith dialogue as represented by the works of Rabbi Soloveitchik and
Rabbi Heschel, followed by an examination of the significance of Dabru
Emet. The chapter concludes by advocating that interfaith dialogue be
conferred the status of a “sacred activity.”
Chapter 4, by Edmund Kee-Fook Chia, examines the response of the Asian
Church to Nostra Aetate. Acknowledging that Vatican II’s Nostra Aetate has
had a significant impact on churches throughout the world, it posits that this
is especially true for the church in Asia, the cradle of all the major religious
INTRODUCTION xxvii
traditions. The chapter examines how the Asian Church has responded to
the challenge of interreligious dialogue, as well as identifies the specific con-
tributions it has made in the context of the works of the Federation of Asian
Bishops’ Conferences. It highlights the Triple Dialogue as the priority and
mode of evangelization in Asia. Interreligious dialogue, therefore, entails the
process of inculturation and efforts of integral liberation.
Chapter 5, by Mukhtar Umar Bunza, interrogates the challenges of
Muslim-Christian relations in Nigeria. It begins by suggesting that despite
rather positive Muslim-Christian relations in Nigeria through most of his-
tory, the situation has deteriorated since the early 1980s. Interfaith con-
flicts became frequent occurrences, especially in the heterogeneous states
in Northern Nigeria. These tensions were significantly fuelled by the polar-
ization of the communities into Christians versus Muslims, Northern ver-
sus Southern, settler versus indigene, dominant versus marginalized, and
rich versus poor. The chapter examines these challenges, but only after dis-
cussing the history of the more positive encounters between Christianity
and Islam. The religions certainly have no problem with one another; it is
their adherents who are the problem.
Chapter 6, by Ali Ahmed, evaluates the impact of State policies on inter-
faith relations in Pakistan. Its point of departure is that religious extremism
is ruining Pakistan. The country is collapsing under the weight of violent
jihadists, produced initially to contain the perceived enemies across its bor-
ders. However, analysis shows that the country’s security policies have caused
further domestic conflicts. Pakistan nationalized Islam, resulting in both
Muslims and non-Muslims being victimized. The chapter explores how a
state’s bias towards a particular faith has led to the present state of interfaith
hostility in Pakistan. Its inability to bridle the extremists is ringing alarm bells
in the minds of the non-extremist Muslims and non-Muslims in Pakistan.
Chapter 7, by Fatih Erol Tuncer, begins on the premise that Muslims
are still regarded as a “newly” settled community in Australia. This is attrib-
uted to a certain lack of civic engagement with wider society until recent
times. The chapter investigates the maturing of the voice of the Muslim
community, precipitated in part by the protests to the YouTube video
“Innocence of Muslims.” It discusses how the event brought together
diverse Muslim organizations and how their responses shaped public opin-
ion. It also explores the role of the media in the spread of stereotypes and
promotion of Islamophobia or hatred against Australian Muslims. The
behaviors and attitudes of second- and third-generation Muslims will be
underscored.
xxviii INTRODUCTION
Chapter 8, by Stéphane Lathion, reflects on the issue of citizenship

between State and Mosque for Muslims in Switzerland. As is the case
elsewhere in Europe, Swiss Muslims are confronted with the challenge
of negotiating their identity as active participants of society and faithful
adherents of their faith. Finding the balance between being Muslim and
being Swiss is their major dilemma and which is what the chapter exam-
ines. It does this by looking at the experience of the Turkish Muslim com-
munity of Switzerland, exploring the various waves of migration, looking
at the different Muslim networks and associations, and discussing the mul-
tiple ways individuals express their religious identities in a secular state.
Chapter 9, by Jojo M. Fung, SJ, attempts to find out what Christians
can learn from shamanic pneumatology. Taking seriously the biblical
injunction that the Holy Spirit blows wherever the Spirit wills, the chapter
investigates a shamanic pneumatology in view of discerning correlations
with the Christian faith. On the basis of first-hand research amongst the
Karen tribal communities of Northern Thailand, the author posits that the
people’s spirituality is one of sacred sustainability. This is premised upon
the sustaining presence of the Spirit’s manifestation throughout the whole
of creation, including their ancestors and nature, and creation’s partici-
pation in the power of Ruach Elohim. This leads to an appreciation that
panentheism is the flip side of Theo-en-passim.
Chapter 10, by Paul F. Knitter, probes into what Christians can learn
from Buddhism. In the chapter, the author of Without Buddha I Could
Not Be a Christian explores Buddhist-Christian dialogue from the perspec-
tive of suffering. It begins with an analysis of the Buddhist and Christian
understandings of suffering, the starting point for the teachings of Jesus
and Buddha. It then discusses the shared diagnosis of suffering, examines
the different remedies prescribed, and posits a complementary liberative
praxis between the two traditions. Its thrust is that Christianity invites
Buddhists to a greater awareness of the importance of social transforma-
tion, while Buddhism reminds Christians not to neglect inner-personal
transformation in their pursuit of social change.
Chapter 11, by Michael Amaladoss, SJ, studies what Christians can
learn from Indian religions. Beginning by reminding us that the Indian
subcontinent is the birthplace of many religions, the chapter takes a cur-
sory survey of Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, and Sikhism in view of
examining the specificity in each of the traditions. The thrust of the chap-
ter is to discern elements from each of the religions that we can learn
something to enrich ourselves. From Jainism it would be the doctrine of
INTRODUCTION xxix
ahimsa or non-violence, from Buddhism the teachings on impermanence

and attachment are significant, from Sikhism one learns about reaching
the Absolute that is beyond name and form, and from Hinduism the prin-
ciple of advaita or not-twoness.
Chapter 12, by Jonathan Y. Tan, addresses what Christians can learn
from Chinese religions. The traditional Chinese term sanjiao refers to
the three great Chinese religious traditions of Confucianism, Daoism,
and Buddhism. There is much to learn from them, especially in how they
have interacted with, and transformed each other. The chapter begins by
exploring the advent of the Chinese civilization, examining the founda-
tions and major features of Chinese religions. It then discusses the teach-
ings of Confucius on the ideal moral life and also the Daodejing on the
principal goals of living. The chapter concludes by postulating common
themes that could offer lessons to Christianity, describing Westerners as
“Truth-seekers” and the Chinese as “Way-seekers.”
Chapter 13, by Emi Mase-Hasegawa, looks at what Christians can learn
from Japanese religions. Japanese religiosity is unique in that it is premised
on diversity and pluralism. Most Japanese identify with more than one
religion or engage in the practices of more than one religious tradition.
The popular idea that Japanese are born Shinto, marry Christian, and die
Buddhist encapsulates this sentiment. At the base of this, however, is the
principle of Ta no Wa or harmony of diversity. This, in turn, is at the roots
of koshinto or basic Shinto, which is Japan’s most fundamental religious
spirituality. It is a spirituality founded on religious experience, intuition,
and non-rationality.
Chapter 14, by Archbishop Christopher C. Prowse, examines what
Christians can learn from a deeper dialogue with Aborigines and Torres
Strait Islanders of Australia. Some of the recent developments in ecumeni-
cal dialogue include “spiritual ecumenism” and “receptive ecumenism,”
while interreligious dialogue is engaged in through a fourfold dialogue
methodology. Meantime, the church’s engagement with the Aborigines
and Torres Strait Islanders of Australia continues through the more tra-
ditional and informal indigenous methodologies of relating. The chapter
discusses the various types of dialogue in view of exploring if the methods
used in one can help inform the dialogue of another. Its aim is to search
for methodologies which facilitate a deeper dialogue with the indigenous
peoples of Australia.
Chapter 15, by Moussa Serge Traore, M.Afr., explores African Christian
approaches to other religions. Informing that African Christians have been
xxx INTRODUCTION
coming together in search of an African and Christian approach to inter-

faith relations, the chapter discusses their efforts in view of identifying key
elements in African spirituality pertinent to harmonious and life-giving
relationships. It begins by mapping out the religious terrain in the dif-
ferent regions of Africa, highlighting how the history and context shape
interfaith relations. It then offers an overview of Christian approaches to
other religions and spells out significant features that characterize African
theology. Its thesis is that life, unity, interdependence, simplicity, and
togetherness are essential ingredients to facilitating wholistic interfaith
relations.
Chapter 16, by Natalie Mobini, discusses the encounter of what is called
the other “other” from a Bahá’í perspective. It begins by asking what our
attitudes are towards the other “other,” especially if the “other” adheres to
a new tradition which developed from your own. This is a difficult chal-
lenge confronting the interfaith dialogue movement which the chapter
explores in the context of the Baha’i faith, especially in light of its contin-
ued persecution in the land of its origins. It first lays out the central teach-
ings of Bahá’u’lláh, upon which the direction of its interfaith relationship
is based. Difficulties confounding religion are then examined and alterna-
tive ways of responding to the challenge of diversity are highlighted.
Chapter 17, by Roberto Catalano, seeks out commonalities among
renewal movements across religions. A number of spiritual renewal reli-
gious movements have been developing across religious traditions since
the middle of the last century. Many of them are lay-led and share a num-
ber of other characteristics. The chapter examines the commonalities
across three of these movements representing three different religions.
The first is the Christian Focolare Movement, the second is the Muslim
Gülen Movement, and the third is the Buddhist Risshō Kōsei-kai. The
examination focuses on the understandings of leadership, anthropology,
community, and scriptures as taught by their founders, in view of how they
shape the community’s outreach in interfaith relations.
Chapter 18, by Michael Barnes, SJ, surveys the field of Comparative
Theology which, by method, is both confessional and dialogical. The chap-
ter discusses the promises it holds for a positive theological account of reli-
gious pluralism. It explores this in relationship to the practice of Scriptural
Reasoning and the emergence of theology of religions. The chapter then
examines interreligious reading in the context of the rapprochement
between the church and the Jewish people. It reflects briefly on the dialectic
of textuality and imagination, insisting that reading another religious world
INTRODUCTION xxxi
entails more than reading from the written text; one also has to read the
hidden voices and forgotten traces in between the lines.
Chapter 19, by Gerard Hall, SM, interrogates Raimon Panikkar’s con-
tribution to interfaith dialogue. In the visionary thought of Panikkar, the
call for the actual praxis of dialogue among traditions has become an exis-
tential imperative. The chapter examines his contributions, beginning with
his call for depth-dialogue or what he calls dialogical dialogue. This invita-
tion is premised on his cosmotheandric vision, which postulates that the
divine, human, and earthly realities are interrelated and inter-independent.
It also invites us to trust that a new wholistic experience of reality is emerg-
ing in which every tradition can play its part in the unfolding of a new
experience (revelation) where all will live in harmony and peace.
Chapter 20, by Julius-Kei Kato, advances the need for humility and a
kenotic approach in interfaith dialogue. Interfaith dialogue entails the shar-
ing of truth claims. Oftentimes, these are proclaimed with a certain epis-
temic confidence. Most of these claims are absolute in nature and are not
empirically verifiable and so risk being dismissed altogether. The chapter
investigates the nature of truth claims as commonly found in religious tradi-
tions. It does this in the context of a globalized and hybridized world char-
acterized by a scientific and historical mentality. Its thesis is that the seed
of epistemic confidence has to die in view of embracing a kenotic approach
to religious truths and in the service of a more fruitful interfaith dialogue.
SET YOUR HEART ON FIRE

After having read all the chapters within this volume, it is of course not
expected or desired that readers will necessarily agree with all or most of
the insights and opinions articulated. It suffices that another perspective
in addressing the issues has been presented. Perhaps it might do well for
readers to spend just a minute to consider all the ideas and thoughts from
the chapters and weigh them against the words of the great guru of inter-
faith dialogue Anthony de Mello whose wisdom transcends most of the
perspectives discussed:
Said a traveler to one of his disciples, “I have travelled a great distance to

listen to the Master, but I find his words quite ordinary.”
“Don’t listen to his words, listen to his message.”

“How does one do that?”
xxxii INTRODUCTION
“Take hold of a sentence that he says. Shake it well till all the words drop
off. What is left will set your heart on fire.” (Anthony de Mello, One Minute
Wisdom, 1985)
Australian Catholic University

Edmund Kee-Fook Chia edmund.chia@acu.edu.au
PART I
The Second Vatican Council and

Nostra Aetate
CHAPTER 1
Vatican II and Interfaith Dialogue
Michael Louis Fitzgerald
INTRODUCTION
The Second Vatican Council involved many people, but it was, in particu-
lar, the affair of two popes: John XXIII (who convoked and launched it)
and Paul VI (who brought it to a conclusion). This council was the first
in the history of the church to address specifically the question of the
relations of the church with other religions, resulting in the declaration
Nostra Aetate (NA). Both popes had a role in bringing this about. This is
not the place to go into great detail, but let me just say that John XXIII
introduced the theme into the agenda of the council by asking Cardinal
Bea, the German Jesuit whom he had appointed to head the Secretariat for
Christian Unity, to prepare a short statement condemning anti-Semitism.
Paul VI, for his part, gave his personal backing to the ensuing declaration
and facilitated its passage through the conciliar debates. On August 6,
1964, Paul VI published his first encyclical Ecclesiam Suam (ES) which
was to have a considerable impact on the teaching of Vatican II about
interfaith dialogue.
In this chapter I will indicate, first, how interfaith dialogue came to be
a concern of Vatican II. Second, I will attempt to trace the influence of ES
M.L. Fitzgerald ( )
St Anne’s Church, Jerusalem (Old City), Israel
e-mail: milofitz_17@yahoo.co.uk
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016 3

E.K.-F. Chia (ed.), Interfaith Dialogue,
DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_1
4 M.L. FITZGERALD
on the council’s teaching on this subject. Third, I will show how interfaith
relations are reflected in different documents of the council. Finally, I shall
add some reflections on the role of the papacy in spreading and consoli-
dating what was for many a new teaching.
THE INTRODUCTION OF INTERFAITH DIALOGUE

IN VATICAN II
It is good to remember that NA was a surprise result of Vatican II. It had

not been foreseen in the preparatory agenda. There were, it is true, some
pioneers who were advocating a more open attitude toward the followers
of other religions and the churches in the Middle East and in Asia were
accustomed to living out their Christian faith in a milieu marked by other
religions. Yet, there was in the church at large no strong movement pro-
moting interfaith dialogue (comparable to the biblical, liturgical, and ecu-
menical movements), which could have provided a stimulus for treating
this theme. At the origin of the declaration was the desire of Pope John
XXIII to issue a statement about the relations of the church to Judaism in
order to counter the anti-Semitism that was rife even among Christians.
Because of political and ecclesial circumstances it was decided to broaden
the document to encompass the church’s relations with all religions.
Nostra Aetate begins by taking cognizance of the growing sense of unity
of the whole of humankind, the growth of a “global village” in which the
followers of different religions live side by side. The increase in the contacts
between people of different religions, or at least the heightened awareness
of these contacts, had presented new questions concerning religious liberty
and the legitimate requirements of religious communities. It is not, how-
ever, NA that deals with these questions, but rather Dignitatis Humanae
(DH), the council’s Declaration on Religious Freedom. It is important to
mention this fact in order to remind ourselves that NA is not to be taken in
isolation, but rather must be read in conjunction with the other documents
of Vatican II. It cannot be isolated from Ad Gentes (AG), which deals with
the mission of the church in a world marked by religious plurality. It is
obviously related to Gaudium et Spes (GS), which outlines how the church
relates to the modern world. Above all, it finds its theological foundation in
Lumen Gentium (LG), the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church.
In fact, none of these documents constituted the initial focus of the
council. Before arriving in Rome the members of the council had received
seven schemata, or draft documents, plus about seventy other documents,
of varying sizes and on many different topics, prepared by the Preparatory
VATICAN II AND INTERFAITH DIALOGUE 5
Commissions. It was the schema on the liturgy that provided the first subject
for discussion. This was followed by the schema on revelation, which in fact
was rejected and sent back to be rewritten. A short debate followed on
a document dealing with the mass media, a topic which held much less
importance fifty years ago. Then the long-awaited schema on the church
was introduced to the council members. This too, like the draft document
on revelation, was considered unsatisfactory and an impasse seemed to have
been reached. It was left to Cardinal Suenens, of Belgium, to suggest a
way forward. He proposed that the central theme of the council should
be “The Church of Christ, Light of the World” (Ecclesia Christi, lumen
gentium). This should be tackled in two parts: (i) the church in itself, the
question of its identity; and (ii) the church in its relationship with the world.
This relationship would be essentially one of dialogue: dialogue among its
own members, with other Christians, and with the world at large. This
presentation, which received an enthusiastic reception from the council
members, paved the way for the two major constitutions of Vatican II: the
Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (LG) and the Pastoral Constitution
on the Church in the Modern World (GS). It also indicated the direction
that could be taken by other documents, such as on ecumenical relations
(Unitatis Redintegratio [UR]) and on interfaith relations (NA).1
THE INFLUENCE OF ECCLESIAM SUAM

John XXIII’s health was already failing by the end of 1962 and the close of
the first period of the council. It was under his successor, Giovanni-Battista
Montini (Pope Paul VI), that the council was to continue. Whereas John
XXIII did not attend the sessions of the council and had generally allowed
the council members to get on with their business without his interven-
ing, Paul VI, who of course as Archbishop Montini had been present for
the debates of the first period, played a much more active role. Though
as pope he no longer attended the sessions, he followed the debates on
the documents very closely and was not averse to communicating in writ-
ing his own suggested amendments. At the opening of the second period
he spoke for about one hour, insisting that the church should be the
focal point for the deliberations of the council. This speech was, in fact,
a foretaste of his first encyclical, Ecclesiam Suam, which was made public
between the second and third periods of the council. Paul VI stated clearly
that his aim was “not to expound new or duly developed insights. That
is the proper task of the Ecumenical Council. It is certainly not Our wish
to disrupt the work of the council in this simple, conversational letter of
6 M.L. FITZGERALD
Ours, but rather to commend it and to stimulate it” (ES, 6). Nevertheless,
this “simple” letter of 119 paragraphs had, as has been observed, “a direct
impact on the Council in one important regard, the remarkable promi-
nence it gave to dialogue.”2
In ES, Paul VI proposed three “policies” which he said he would try
to follow in the first years of his pontificate: (i) pondering on the church’s
own being and promoting a lively self-awareness, taking into account both
its ideal image and its actual image (ES, 18–40); (ii) encouraging renewal
or reforms (ES, 41–57); and (iii) fostering the church’s dialogue with the
modern world (ES, 48–119). It can be observed that the question of dia-
logue occupies over half of the letter.
The pope asserted that the church, before tackling any particular prob-
lem, must be clear about its own identity and mission (ES, 18). He thus
gave his full backing to the plan that had been proposed by Cardinal
Suenens and which was being implemented by the council. He himself
stated that the mission of the church was to effect and manifest the two-
way relationship between God and the human person (ES, 19). This could
put us in mind of the opening of LG where the church is defined as being
“a sacrament or as a sign and instrument both of a very closely knit union
with God and of the unity of the whole human race” (LG, 1).
ES goes on to say that in order to fulfil its mission the church needs
to arrive at a fuller understanding of itself (ES, 25). The church, which is
the Mystical Body of Christ, can be considered to be like a person who
grows in self-consciousness. This awareness of self can only come about
through relations with others. Accordingly, the church needs to take into
account that it exists within a changing world. It is, the encyclical says,
“being engulfed and shaken by this tidal wave of change” (ES, 26). This
leads us to the preface of GS: “Hence this Second Vatican Council, having
probed more profoundly into the mystery of the Church, now addresses
itself without hesitation, not only to the sons of the Church and to all who
invoke the name of Christ, but to the whole of humanity. For the council
yearns to explain to everyone how it conceives of the presence and activity
of the Church in the world of today” (GS, 2).
Some say the church should “abdicate” before the “progress” of the
modern world, but the pope insists that the need is to go back to the
mind of Christ as known through Scripture and the Apostolic Tradition.
So for him the first benefit of a deepened self-awareness will be the
renewed discovery of the church’s vital bond of union with Christ
(ES, 35). This dual characteristic of the church—being open to the
world in which it exists but also being rooted in Christ—leads Paul VI

to stress the need for constant reform: “In its pilgrimage through the
world the Church must really strive to manifest that ideal of perfec-
tion envisaged for it by the divine Redeemer” (ES, 41). This puts us
in mind again of the opening sentence of LG: “Christ is the Light of
nations. Because this is so, this Sacred Synod gathered together in the
Holy Spirit eagerly desires, by proclaiming the Gospel to every creature
(Mark 16:15), to bring the light of Christ to all men, a light brightly
visible on the countenance of the Church” (LG, 1). The church must
therefore engage in a “continual process of self-examination and re-
appraisal” (ES, 42), for this will help to infuse “fresh spiritual vigor into
Christ’s Mystical Body” (ES, 44).
It is with this fresh vigor that the church addresses the world from
which it is distinct, but not entirely separate and to which it is certainly
not indifferent, but which it faces with an attitude of neither fear nor con-
tempt (ES, 63). The church’s relation to the world is governed by “this
internal drive of charity which seeks expression in the external gift of char-
ity,” which is what is meant when the word “dialogue” is used (ES, 64).
Then comes an oft-quoted line: “The Church must enter into dialogue
with the world in which it lives. It has something to say, a message to give,
a communication to make” (ES, 65).
This dialogue of the church with the world is rooted in God’s dialogue
with humanity, which forms the history of salvation. Since in this dialogue
of salvation God took the initiative, so the church too “must be the first
to ask for a dialogue with men, without waiting to be summoned to it by
others” (ES, 72). Similarly, God’s dialogue provides the model for the
church’s effort: it does not depend on the merits of those addressed, but
is open to all. As Paul VI says further on in the encyclical, “It [the church]
has no enemies except those who wish to make themselves thus” (ES, 94).
He then goes on to outline the concentric circles of dialogue, going from
the outer circle inwards. There is first, “the entire human race” (ES, 97),
then all “who worship the one supreme God” (and here Paul VI makes
explicit mention of the Jewish people who are worthy of “our respect and
love”), and then other monotheists, especially Muslims, of whom it is said
“we do well to admire these people for all that is good and true in their
worship of God,” to which is added with a broad sweep, “the followers
of the great Afro-Asiatic religions” (ES, 107). Ecclesiam Suam enumer-
ates two other circles of dialogue, that among fellow Christians and that
among Catholics themselves.
8 M.L. FITZGERALD
After taking cognizance of the vastness of dialogue it is necessary to

return to its nature. The pope teaches that this dialogue exerts no pressure,
but takes the form of an ordinary conversation engaged out of human
friendliness. It does not look for immediate results, but is persevering,
starting in small ways and progressing gradually. Yet, it is urgent and not
to be postponed (ES, 74–77). The following are the characteristics of this
dialogue: clarity—the interesting expression “thought transfusion” is used;
meekness—it would be a disgrace if the church’s attitude were marked by
arrogance; confidence—trusting in the good will of all engaged in the dia-
logue; and prudence—with due regard for the persons addressed (ES, 81).
Other conditions are added later. It is said that the dialogue “takes account
of actual experience. It chooses appropriate means. It is unencumbered by
prejudice. It does not hold fast to forms of expression which have lost their
meaning and can no longer stir men’s minds” (ES, 85).
It can easily be seen how relevant all this is to both ecumenical and inter-
faith dialogue. Reference can be made to UR, the Decree on Ecumenism,
when it encourages “every effort to avoid expressions, judgments and
actions which do not represent the condition of our separated brethren
with truth and fairness and so make mutual relations with them more dif-
ficult” (UR, 4). This surely applies also to relations with people of other
religions. Nostra Aetate declares that the church “has a high regard for
the Muslims” (NA, 3) and states that the council “wishes to encourage
and further mutual understanding and appreciation” between Christians
and Jews (NA, 4). In a more general way it had already been stated that
the church “rejects nothing of what is true and holy in these religions”
(NA, 2). Furthermore, it was said that the church “urges her sons [and
daughters] to enter with prudence and charity into discussion and collabo-
ration with members of other religions. Let Christians, while witnessing to
their own faith and way of life, acknowledge, preserve and encourage the
spiritual and moral truths found among non-Christians, also their social
life and culture” (NA, 2). This goes very far and is very different from
treating other religions as enemies that have to be defeated and destroyed.
It concurs with the teaching of the Declaration on Religious Liberty
(DH), which states, “The freedom or immunity from coercion in religious
matters which is the right of individuals must also be accorded to men
when they act in community. Religious communities are a requirement of
the nature of man and of religion itself” (DH, 4).
What is said explicitly of Christian-Muslim relations, which have known
much turbulence throughout history, is also relevant: “The sacred Council
now pleads with all to forget the past, and urges that a sincere effort be
made to achieve mutual understanding; for the benefit of all men, let them
together preserve and promote peace, liberty, social justice and moral val-
ues” (NA, 3). This surely has a wider application and can be considered
as an invitation to Catholics to engage not only in bilateral relations with
Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and people of all religions, but also in
multilateral interfaith dialogues and initiatives.
OTHER VATICAN II DOCUMENTS

The two declarations just referred to, on relations with other religions
(NA) and on religious liberty (DH), had a difficult and eventful pas-
sage through the council. As the draft texts had been prepared by the
Secretariat for Christian Unity they were presented first of all as two chap-
ters of the document on ecumenism. It became apparent very quickly
that they did not fit as an integral part of this document. It was proposed
therefore that the statement on the Jews, together with a mention of other
religions and specifically of Islam, should form an appendix to the docu-
ment on ecumenism.3 Discussion on this text took place during the third
period. It followed the discussion and approval of Chap. 2 of the schema
on the church, entitled “The People of God,” which established the doc-
trinal base for the relations of the church with other religions. In fact, it
would seem that Pope Paul VI, in order to avoid difficulties of a political
nature, had thought of having the statement on the Jews and other reli-
gions incorporated into this chapter. Nothing came of this, however, and
the statement was presented for discussion as an appendix to the docu-
ment on the church, before becoming finally a separate declaration, as did
also the document on religious liberty.4
It is worth recalling what is said about other religions in the chapter on
“The People of God” in LG. First comes a general statement, “All men are
called to this catholic unity which prefigures and promotes universal peace.
And in different ways to it belong [pertinent], or are related [ordinantur],
the Catholic faithful, others who believe in Christ, and finally all mankind,
called by God’s grace to salvation” (LG, 13). In this last group, the first to
be mentioned are the Jews with whom Christians have a special relation-
ship. Then, the text continues, “But the plan of salvation also includes
those who acknowledge the Creator, in the first place amongst whom
are the Muslims; these profess to hold with us the faith of Abraham, and
together with us they adore the one, merciful God, mankind’s judge on
10 M.L. FITZGERALD
the last day” (LG, 16). Robert Caspar draws two important conclusions
from this brief statement. First, Islam is given a special place, being consid-
ered the first among the non-biblical monotheistic religions, and second,
that Christians and Muslims adore the same God, even if they understand
God differently.5
The church is conscious that its mission extends to all peoples, even those
who profess other religions. In expounding the principles of the church’s
missionary activity in AG, the council takes note of “those elements of truth
and grace that are found among peoples” which are to be restored in Christ.
It says that “whatever goodness is found in the minds and hearts of men, or
in the particular customs and cultures of peoples” is to be raised to a higher
level so as to reach its perfection (AG, 9). In order to give witness, Christians
“should be familiar with their national and religious traditions and uncover
with gladness and respect those seeds of the Word which lie hidden among
them” (AG, 11), a statement which is in harmony with the thrust of NA. AG
then goes on to say that “Christian charity is to be extended to all, with-
out distinction of race, social condition, or religion,” and encouragement is
given to cooperate with others in the service of fellow human beings, even
in projects initiated by “non-Christian communities” (AG, 12). Those who
are called to the priesthood must receive a good formation so that “they
will better understand and appreciate the culture of their own people; in
philosophy and theology they should examine the relationships between
the traditions and religion of their homeland and Christianity” (AG, 16).
Those who are attracted by religious life are encouraged to consider “how
traditions of asceticism and contemplation, the seeds of which have been
sown by God in ancient cultures before the preaching of the Gospel, might
be incorporated into the Christian religious life” (AG, 18). This Decree
on Missionary Activity also encourages theological investigation so that the
Christian faith may be explained in relation to the philosophy and wisdom
of the people (AG, 22).
In the Decree on the Training of Priests, Optatam Totius (OT), it is
said of students for the priesthood that they should be “introduced to a
knowledge of whatever other religions are most commonly encountered
in this or that region, so that they may recognize more clearly how much
goodness and truth they possess through the Providence of God, and learn
how to refute their errors and bring the light of truth to those who are
without it” (OT, 16). It is good to see that the positive attitude is men-
tioned first. It is perhaps surprising that nothing similar is found in the
Decree on the Renewal of Religious Life, Perfectae Caritatis, since religious
congregations have often been to the fore in engaging in interfaith dialogue.

As an example, one could mention Monastic Interreligious Dialogue.6
It is interesting to note that, according to the Decree on Christian
Education, Gravissimum Educationis (GE), states should not have a
monopoly of schools, since this would be prejudicial to the natural right
of the human person to receive an education in accordance with his or her
convictions. It is said that such a monopoly would be “inconsistent with
the pluralism which exists today in many societies” (GE, 6). The same
document teaches that children and young people should be formed in
such a way that they are open to dialogue with others (GE, 1).
Finally, attention could be called to two passages in the Pastoral
Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes. The
first is a doctrinal statement. It concerns the incarnation through which
the Son of God, becoming man, has united himself in a certain way with
every human being, and who, through his death and resurrection, has
opened up a new path to life. “All this holds true,” the constitution states,
“not for Christians only but also for all men of good will in whose hearts
grace is active invisibly. For since Christ died for all, and since all men are
in fact called to one and the same destiny, which is divine, we must hold
that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners,7
in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery” (GS, 22). This is a key
statement which opens up the possibility of a much more positive attitude
toward other religions.
The second-last article is the penultimate paragraph of the constitution
which elaborates on the idea of dialogue so dear to Paul VI. It states that
“in virtue of its mission,…the Church shows itself as a sign of the spirit of
brotherhood which renders possible sincere dialogue and strengthens it”
(GS, 92). Paul VI’s concentric circles are mentioned but in the opposite
order: dialogue within the Catholic Church first, then among Christians,
then with other believers, and finally it is said that nobody is excluded.
With regard to people of other religions it says that “our thoughts go
out to all who acknowledge God and who preserve precious religious and
human elements in their traditions; it is our hope that frank dialogue will
spur us all on to receive the impulses of the Spirit with fidelity and act
upon them with alacrity” (GS, 92).
It can be concluded, I think, that the relationship of the church to
other religions has not only received, for the first time in an ecumenical
council, special treatment in a specific document, NA, but has permeated
the whole teaching of the council.
12 M.L. FITZGERALD
POPES SPREADING VATICAN II’S TEACHING

Leadership is of vital importance in the spreading of ideas and the changing
of attitudes. The new attitude of respectful dialogue was conveyed by
the popes, not only in their own exhortations, which constantly repeated
the teaching of Vatican II in general and NA in particular, but also by the
example of their actions.
Without the encouragement and holy obstinacy of John XXIII in the
face of opposition, NA would probably never have seen the light of day.
When Pope Paul VI went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land at the begin-
ning of 1964, not only did he embrace Patriarch Athenagoras, he also met
with Jewish and Muslim authorities. When in December of the same year
he journeyed to Bombay to attend the International Eucharistic Congress,
a most Catholic event, he presented himself as a pilgrim. Addressing rep-
resentatives of different religions he had this to say: “This visit to India is
the fulfilment of a long cherished desire. Yours is a land of ancient culture,
the cradle of great religions, the home of a nation that has sought God
with a relentless desire, in deep meditation and silence, and in hymns of
fervent prayer.”8 In the meantime, at Pentecost 1964, Paul VI had set up
the Secretariat for Non-Christians, thus giving his approval to the direc-
tion the council was taking even before the discussion and vote on the
draft version of NA.
Further actions of the pope showed his appreciation for this new attitude
of dialogue with people belonging to other religions. Visiting Uganda in
1969, he took the opportunity to meet with Muslim leaders and, through
them, of greeting “the great Muslim communities spread throughout
Africa.” While commemorating the Catholic and Anglican martyrs of
Uganda, he recalled also “those confessors of the Muslim faith who were
the first to suffer death, in the year 1848, for refusing to transgress the
precepts of their religion.”9 In Sydney, in December of the following year,
he met with representatives of various religions present in Australia and
expressed his happiness at the encounter. On this occasion he said, “As
you know, the Catholic church has wished, particularly during its recent
ecumenical council, to enter into dialogue with the whole world, and espe-
cially with religious people—a dialogue making it possible for us to serve
harmoniously all men without distinction of race, belief or opinion.”10
On Pope John Paul II there would be so much to say. Let me just
mention his visit to the synagogue of Rome and the welcome he gave to
the mosque in Rome at its inauguration in June 1995. It is good to recall
his acceptance of the invitation of King Hassan II of Morocco to address
Muslim youth in Casablanca and, of course, the World Day of Prayer for
Peace held in Assisi on October 27, 1986. This last event, witnessed by
millions on television, was surely a sign to Christians, and to Catholics
above all, that it was both right and necessary to cultivate relations with
people of other religions. I would mention, too, his journey to Turkey early
in his pontificate, where he took the opportunity to say this to the small
Catholic community in the capital, Ankara, and through them to Catholics
everywhere in the world: “I wonder if it is not urgent, precisely today when
Christians and Muslims have entered a new period of history, to recognize
and develop the spiritual bonds that unite us, in order to preserve and pro-
mote together, for the benefit of all men, ‘peace, liberty, social justice and
moral values,’ as the council calls upon us to do (NA, 3).”11
Attention could also be called to John Paul II’s pilgrimages on the occa-
sion of the new millennium. Unable to journey to Iraq in order to walk
in the footsteps of Abraham who left Ur of the Chaldeans in obedience
to God’s call, he held a special commemoration of Abraham, our father in
faith, to which Jews and Muslims were invited.12 He then left for Egypt,
leading a prayer service outside the Monastery of St. Catherine in Sinai,
at the place where Moses received the Ten Commandments, and paying a
visit to al-Azhar where he was received with remarkable warmth.13 There
followed his pilgrimage to the Holy Land, his meetings with religious
leaders of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, his visits to the holy places
including the Haram al-Sharif, and his unforgettable gesture of inserting
a prayer of petition into the Western Wall of the Temple.14 The following
year Pope John Paul II journeyed in the steps of Saint Paul, to Greece,
Syria, and Malta. In Damascus he was welcomed to the Umayyad Mosque
and addressed Muslim leaders there.15
At the closing ceremony of an Interreligious Assembly, “On the Eve of
the Third Millennium: Collaboration between Different Religions,” held
in St Peter’s Square, on October 28, 1999, John Paul II declared: “In all
the many languages of prayer, let us ask the Spirit of God to enlighten us,
guide us and give us strength so that, as men and women who take their
inspiration from their religious beliefs, we may work together to build the
future of humanity in harmony, justice, peace and love.”16
At the beginning of his pontificate Pope Benedict XVI stated clearly
that he would follow in the footsteps of his predecessors in fidelity to the
teaching of NA. He, too, visited synagogues and mosques. He, too, dur-
ing his apostolic journeys, met with representatives of different religions.
Although his speech in the University of Regensburg offended many
Muslims, he continued to meet with representatives of Islamic communities
14 M.L. FITZGERALD
and he repeatedly expressed his respect for Islam. It could perhaps be said
that by stimulating Muslim scholars to suggest the Common Word initia-
tive, this speech brought Christian-Muslim dialogue to a new level.17
POPE FRANCIS AND INTERFAITH DIALOGUE

Pope Francis has not only underlined the importance of interfaith dia-
logue, and in particular of dialogue with Jews and Muslims, in his
Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, but he has also put into prac-
tice his own teaching, receiving Jews in the Vatican, as also a group of
Argentinian Jews, Muslims, and Catholics returning from a joint pilgrim-
age to the Holy Land, and signing himself, in the first year of his pontifi-
cate, the annual letter of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue
addressed to Muslims for Id al-Fitr, the feast at the end of Ramadan, as
also sending a personal letter to Sheikh al-Azhar.18
The members of the Catholic Church, therefore, if they are to remain
faithful to the teaching of Vatican II, and in particular to NA, as well as to
the teaching and example of the recent popes, must continue to reach out to
their brothers and sisters of other religions in order to work together to “pre-
serve and promote peace, liberty, social justice and moral values” (NA, 3).
NOTES
1. John W. O’Malley, What Happened at Vatican II (Cambridge, Massachusetts:
Harvard University Press, 2008), 157–158.
2. Ibid., 204.
3. According to Robert Caspar, who was one of the experts called upon to draft
the text on Islam, Paul VI “took the initiative of personally asking the con-
ciliar commissions to prepare a text on Islam each time there was to be a
mention of the Jews.” See Robert Caspar, “Islam According to Vatican II,”
in Signs of Dialogue: Christian Encounter with Muslims, Michael L. Fitzgerald
& Robert Caspar (Zamboanga City, Philippines: Silsilah Publications, 1992),
235.
4. G. M. M. Cottier, “L’historique de la Déclaration,” in Vatican II: Textes et
Commentaires. Les relations de l’Eglise avec les religions non chrétiennes:
Déclaration Nostra Aetate, Unam Sanctam 61, ed. A. M. Henry (Paris: Les
Editions du Cerf, 1966), 37–78.
5. Caspar, “Islam According to Vatican II,” 237.
6. See Michael L. Fitzgerald, “Religious Congregations and their Contribution

to Interreligious Dialogue,” Centro Pro Unione Semi-annual Bulletin 77
(Spring 2010), 3–8. For further information on Monastic Interreligious
Dialogue (DIM-MID), see its online journal Dilatato Corde, http://www.
dimmid.org.
7. The Latin text has consocientur, which could possibly be translated better as
“sharing” in the Paschal Mystery, in the sense of being beneficiaries of it.
8. “Discourse to Representatives of the Various Religions of India” [Bombay,
December 3, 1964], in Interreligious Dialogue: The Official Teaching of the
Catholic Church from the Second Vatican Council to John Paul II (1963–2005),
ed. Francesco Gioia (Boston: Pauline Books & Media, 2006), §199.
9. “Discourse to the Islamic Communities of Uganda” [Kampala, Aug 1, 1969],
in Interreligious Dialogue, ed. Gioia, §263.
10. “Discourse to the Followers of Various Religions of Australia” [Sydney, Dec
2, 1970], in Interreligious Dialogue, ed. Gioia, §279.
11. “Discourse to the Catholic Community of Ankara” [Nov 29, 1979], in
Interreligious Dialogue, ed. Gioia, §339.
12. See Gioia, Interreligious Dialogue, §1013*.
13. See Gioia, Interreligious Dialogue, §1015*, §1018*.
14. See Gioia, Interreligious Dialogue, §1019*–1033*.
15. See Gioia, Interreligious Dialogue, §1110*–1113*.
16. Central Committee for the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000, Pontifical Council
for Interreligious Dialogue, Towards a Culture of Dialogue (Vatican City,
2000), 15.
17. See “A Common Word” (2007), http://www.acommonword.com/.
18. The exhortation Evangelii Gaudium deals with relations with Jews in §247–
249, with Muslims in §252–253, and with interfaith dialogue in general in
§250–251 and 254.
CHAPTER 2
Article Four of Nostra Aetate and

Christian-Jewish Relations
John T. Pawlikowski
INTRODUCTION
A lot has already been written about the Second Vatican Council’s
Declaration Nostra Aetate, which addressed the church’s relationship with
religions other than Christianity. It is well known that this was the first time
an official church document was making rather positive statements about
other religions. However, what is less known is that the fourth article of
Nostra Aetate has played a significant role in shaping Catholic thinking
in the last five decades. In a plenary address at the 1986 annual conven-
tion of the Catholic Theological Society of America, Canadian theologian
Gregory Baum—who served as a peritus at the council and who contrib-
uted to the drafting of Nostra Aetate—argued that “the Church’s recog-
nition of the spiritual status of the Jewish religion is the most dramatic
example of doctrinal turn-about in the age-old magisterium ordinarium”
to occur at the council.1
To better understand and appreciate the significance of this statement,
one needs to take a look back at the classical theology of the church on
Judaism, especially how Christian theology—beginning with most of the
J.T. Pawlikowski ( )
Catholic Theological Union, Chicago, USA
e-mail: jtmp@ctu.edu

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_2
18 J.T. PAWLIKOWSKI
major church fathers in the second century thereafter—was infected with a

viewpoint which saw the church as replacing “old” Israel in the covenantal
relationship with God. Then, we will need to examine exactly what the
teachings of Nostra Aetate consist of and how they contributed to chang-
ing the theological posture of Christianity in relation to Jews and Judaism.
Jews were now seen as integral to the ongoing divine covenant, as will be
observed when we explore the great strides made in Christian theology,
including biblical studies, since the Second Vatican Council.
It will also be noted that Jesus and early Christianity were deeply rooted
in a constructive sense in the religiosity of Second Temple Judaism, in
particular its Pharisaic branch. Jews were also not held to be collectively
accountable for the death of Jesus and Vatican II did not “forgive” Jews
of the so-called crime of deicide as some newspaper headlines had pro-
claimed. Rather, it argued that there existed no basis for such a charge in
the first place. This is the task of the present chapter. It presents in capsule
form much of the reflections I have done on these concerns over the past
four decades.2
CLASSICAL CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY ON THE JEWISH PEOPLE

Going back as far as the second century of the Common Era we can
already detect that Christian thought was dominated by a position that
the Jewish people had been replaced in the covenantal relationship with
God by the newly emergent Christian community. Christians were now
regarded as the “true” Israel, while the Jews were believed to have for-
feited their claim to the same on account of their failure to acknowledge
Jesus as the expected messiah. Moreover, Christians believed that it was
the Jews who were responsible for the horrific death of Jesus on the cross.
These sentiments gave rise to two dominant trends within Christian theol-
ogy. The first, which can be observed to be more prevalent in Catholicism
(particularly in its liturgy), was centered on the prophecy or fulfillment
motif. Jesus fulfilled the messianic prophecies of Judaism and thus inaugu-
rated the messianic era which Jews had hoped and prayed for before the
Common Era. Unfortunately, according to this trend of thought, it was
their own spiritual blindness that prevented most Jews from recognizing
this fulfillment in the Christ event. As divine punishment for this blind-
ness, Jews were displaced in the covenantal relationship by those baptized
into the “new” Israel.
ARTICLE FOUR OF NOSTRA AETATE AND CHRISTIAN-JEWISH RELATIONS 19
The second trend, more obvious within continental Protestant theol-

ogy, saw “freedom” as the principal consequence of the Christ event. The
thinking here is that it was through his preaching and ministry and in a very
special way through his death and resurrection that Jesus freed humankind
from the “burden” of Jewish Torah, which the Christians believed was
spiritually inhibiting. The whole Jewish covenantal experience of the peo-
ple’s union with God through faithful observance of the Torah precepts
integral to the divine-human bonding forged at Sinai was thus displaced
by the immediate, individual covenantal union between the individual
believer and God through Christ. This theological approach, of course,
was contrasting Judaism as religion of law as opposed to Christianity as
religion of freedom. The prevailing ethos of this description of the Jewish-
Christian relationship was the absolute superiority of Christianity. This
unique relationship enables the Christian to enjoy immediate union with
God through the grace given through Christ without the mediation of
the law. This effectively means that the Christ event totally invalidated the
Torah approach to religion that stands at the heart of Judaism.
Perpetual Wandering
These trends, in turn, gave rise to two basic tendencies which played a
significant role in conditioning the Christian outlook on the issue of the
Jewish people and the land of Israel. The first of these tendencies was the
so-called theology of “perpetual wandering” with respect to the Jewish
people. According to this theology, Christians look upon Jews as forever
relegated to the status of “displaced persons” among the nations of the
world. This thought pattern was perpetuated over the centuries, even
through to the modern period. The noted biblical scholar who in fact
defended Nazism, Gerhard Kittel, and served as editor of the very influ-
ential Theological Dictionary of the New Testament viewed post-biblical
Judaism as largely a community in dispersion. “Authentic Judaism,” he
wrote, “abides by the symbol of the stranger wandering restless and home-
less on the face of the earth.”3
Likewise, the prominent exegete Martin Noth, whose History of Israel
became a standard reference for students and professors alike, argues that
Jewish history reached its culmination in the arrival of Jesus: “Jesus himself
no longer formed part of the history of Israel. In him the history of Israel
had come, rather, to its real end. What did belong to the history of Israel
was the process of his rejection and condemnation by the Jerusalem reli-
20 J.T. PAWLIKOWSKI
gious community.”4 The implications of this, of course, are that the Jewish
people and Jewish tradition no longer have a role to play in the church’s
theological understanding of Jesus’ ministry. Jews, following the lead of
St. Augustine, became seen as “witness people” in terms of divine punish-
ment. Christian theology did not argue for the extermination of the Jews
in the same way as subsequent Nazi ideology. It wanted to insure the
continuity of the Jewish People because of their “witness value.” But they
were to be kept in a miserable state on the margins of society. We see clear
evidence of this theology in such places as the Papal States.5
“Holy Land”
Aside from the “perpetual wandering” tendency is also the theological
tendency amongst Christian theologians to replace a supposedly exclusive
Jewish emphasis on “earthly” Israel with a stress on a “heavenly” Jerusalem
and an eschatological Zion. The emergence of the term “Holy Land” as
the basic referent for this region has been part and parcel of this overall
theological tendency. While this tendency certainly has not exercised the
same disastrous impact on Christian attitudes toward the Jewish people
and their rights to the land, it nonetheless, however more subtly, had the
effect of neutralizing—if not actually undercutting—continued Jewish
claims. The bottom line of this theological approach was without question
that the authentic claims to the land had now passed over into the hands
of the Christians. “Jerusalem,” spiritually and territorially, now belonged
to the Christians. Neither Muslims nor Jews could control the city after
the coming of Christ and it became a holy duty for the Crusaders to return
it to Christian hands no matter what the amount of bloodshed involved.
The origins of this Christian perspective are to be seen in parts of the New
Testament itself. The Letter to the Hebrews and the Book of Revelation
are two key books in terms of the development of this viewpoint.
As with the covenantal displacement and perpetual wandering theol-
ogy, the real growth of this theological outlook on the land took place
during the Patristic era. It began with Justin Martyr in the second cen-
tury. In his famous Dialogue with Trypho, the first major post-biblical
work on Christian-Jewish relations, Justin introduced for the first time
the term “Holy Land” into the Christian vocabulary. He contrasted the
possession of the land under Joshua with the possession to come upon the
return of Christ. In the former case, the possession was only temporary;
in the latter case it will be eternal. For Justin, the approach to the land
promises, though eschatological, was concrete and territorial. But the real
descendants of Abraham were now the Christians not the Jews, something
that Trypho naturally disagreed with. While Christians may not yet have
the land, one day they will. The transfer of ownership has in fact already
taken place. It was this theological vision which eventually would serve as
the backbone of the Crusaders’ drive for the restoration of Jerusalem and
the Holy Land to Christian hands that resulted in the loss of countless
Muslim and Jewish lives.
ARTICLE FOUR OF NOSTRA AETATE

The Second Vatican Council’s Nostra Aetate, the Declaration on the
Relation of the Church with Non-Christian Religions, is considered
revolutionary in that it provided the theological bases for the church to
review and renew its understandings of non-Christian traditions in gen-
eral and Judaism in particular. While the document was addressed specifi-
cally to Catholics, its influence has certainly transcended the bounds of
Catholicism. As is well known, Pope John XXIII made the decision to
include a statement on the church’s relationship with the Jews only after a
historic meeting with the French Jewish historian Jules Isaac. Many bibli-
cal scholars and Catholics engaged in the resistance movements against the
Nazis at that time were hoping that such a statement would be inserted
in what eventually became Lumen Gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution
on the Church. It did not turn out that way as what finally issued from
the council was a totally separate document. The drafting of this new
document was not without its problem though, as the bishops from the
Middle East objected for fear that it might give rise to a perception that
the church was taking sides in the region’s Arab-Israeli conflict. It was thus
decided that the document should be expanded to include reflections on
the church’s relationships with Islam and the other religions. The heart
and soul of the document and its most developed section, nonetheless,
remained article four dealing with the Christian-Jewish relationship.
The first three articles of Nostra Aetate fundamentally refocused
Catholic attitudes toward persons of other religions. While it did not solve
some basic questions such as missionizing people of other faiths nor reflect
in any significant ways on possible theological links with these religious
traditions, it did acknowledge some truth in these religious traditions and
affirmed the value of dialogue with their religious leaders. This represented
a marked contrast with the long-standing outlook within the church which
spoke of these religious communities in a very negative—sometimes even
contemptuous—way, basically regarded them as “enemies” of the church.
22 J.T. PAWLIKOWSKI
That makes Nostra Aetate all the more radical, and especially its section on
the Jews and Judaism.
In article four, Nostra Aetate puts forth three basic affirmations in
order to establish a new vision for the church in its relationship with the
Jewish people. First, it most fundamentally rejected the traditional deicide
charge against the Jews. Jews could not be held collectively responsible
for the death or murder of Jesus. While some Jewish leaders may have
played a secondary role, blame could not be extended to the entirety of
the Jewish community, then or now. This assertion totally undercut the
basis for the perpetual wandering and witness people understanding of
Jews and Judaism within Catholicism. This leads to the second affirma-
tion in Nostra Aetate: Jews remain in a covenantal relationship with God
after the Christ event. Therefore, any Christology in Christianity can-
not base its perspective any longer on a notion of Jesus as the initiator
of a totally new covenant with no ties to the ongoing Jewish covenant.
Likewise, any ecclesiology without positive roots in Judaism is historically
inaccurate. The third major assertion found in Nostra Aetate is meant
to fundamentally reorient the church’s theological understanding of its
relationship with the Jewish people. It declares that Jesus and his disciples
were profoundly influenced by parts of Jewish belief and practice of their
time. Judaism was a very complex religious reality in this period with many
internal disagreements. Jesus appears to stand closest to groups within the
Pharisaic movement.
Thus, with Nostra Aetate, the Catholic Church has certainly shifted
from an essentially negative view of the Jewish-Christian relationship to
one that is fundamentally positive. The 1985 Notes on the correct way to pres-
ent the Jews and Judaism in preaching and catechesis in the Roman Catholic
Church, issued by the Vatican to commemorate the twentieth anniversary
of Nostra Aetate, confirmed the about-face in Catholicism: “Jesus was
and always remained a Jew....Jesus is fully a man of his time and environ-
ment…the Jewish Palestinian one of the first century, the anxieties and
hope of which he shared.”6 This about-face was further confirmed by the
late cardinal and biblical scholar Carlo Martini who wrote in the same vein
as the Notes: “Without a sincere feeling for the Jewish world and a direct
experience of it, one cannot fully understand Christianity. Jesus is fully
Jewish, the apostles are Jewish, and one cannot doubt their attachment to
the traditions of their forefathers.”7 Even a rather conservative episcopal
leader such as Archbishop Charles Chaput of Philadelphia, in an address to
Jewish representatives in that city, emphasized the transformative effect of
Nostra Aetate: “So I believe we really are living a new and unique moment
in Catholic-Jewish relations. And Catholics will never be able to go back

to the kind of systematic prejudice that marked the past.”8
One indication of how thorough the change was on the Catholic side
can be seen in the references the bishops at Vatican II used to support their
argument for a basic turn in the church’s understanding of its relationship
with the Jewish people. Eugene Fisher, who was overseeing Catholic-Jewish
relations for the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, once wrote
that “Nostra Aetate, for all practical purposes, begins the Church’s teach-
ing…concerning a theological or, more precisely, a doctrinal understand-
ing of the relationship between the Church as ‘People of God’ and ‘God’s
People’ Israel.”9 Examining article four of Nostra Aetate we find scarcely
any reference to the usual sources cited in conciliar documents: the church
fathers, papal statements, and previous conciliar documents.
Rather, the declaration returns to Romans 9–11, as if to say that the
church is now taking up where Paul left off in his insistence that Jews remain
part of the covenant after the Resurrection despite the theological ambigu-
ity involved in such a statement. Without saying it so explicitly, the 2221
council members who voted for Nostra Aetate were in fact stating that
everything that had been said about the Christian-Jewish relationship since
Paul moved in a direction they could no longer support. It is interesting
to note that Nostra Aetate never makes reference to the several passages in
the Letter to the Hebrews where the original covenant appears to be abro-
gated after Christ and the Jewish law overturned (Heb 7:12, 8:13, 10:9).
Given the interpretive role of a church council in the Catholic tradition
this omission is theologically significant. It indicates that the council fathers
judged these texts from Hebrews as a theologically inappropriate resource
for thinking about the relationship between Christianity and Judaism today.
REFLECTIONS ON COVENANT
As biblical scholars and theologians probe the implications of this new
vision of Nostra Aetate, two initial approaches have emerged in terms of
understanding the theological relationship between the church and the
Jewish people in a new way in terms of covenantal inclusion. Within each
approach different nuances appear as we move from scholar to scholar.
Yet all affirm a central linkage between Judaism and Christianity. We can
generally characterize the two trends as “single covenant” and “double
covenant” with a few scholars calling for an understanding of the Jewish-
Christian relationship within a multi-covenant framework.10
24 J.T. PAWLIKOWSKI
The “single covenant” perspective sees Jews and Christians as basi-

cally united within one covenantal tradition with its origins at Sinai. This
one ongoing covenant was in no way ruptured through the Christ event.
Rather, the coming of Christ represented the decisive moment when
the Gentiles were able to enter fully into the special relationship with
God already enjoyed by Jews, a relationship they continue to maintain.
Some scholars opting for this approach argue that the decisive features
of the Christ event do impact all people, including Jews, but not in a
way that results in the breaking of already existing Jewish covenantal
ties. Others would have the Christian appropriation and reinterpretation
of the original covenantal tradition in and through Jesus apply primarily
to non-Jews.11
The “double covenant” theory begins at more or less the same starting
point as its single covenant counterpart. Jews and Christians continue to
remain bonded despite their somewhat distinctive appropriation of the
original covenantal tradition. But it prefers to highlight the distinctive-
ness of the two communities and their traditions particularly in terms of
their experiences after the final separation of the church and synagogue. I
have personally favored this view over the years though it certainly needs
qualification. Christians associated with this perspective insist on main-
taining the view that through the ministry, teachings, and person of Jesus
a vision of God emerged that was distinctively new in terms of some cen-
tral features. Even though there may well have been important ground-
work laid for this emergence in Second Temple or Middle Judaism, what
came to be understood regarding the divine-human relationship, and
hence ultimately covenantal relationship, through the Christ event has to
be seen as distinctive.12
In recent years it has become evident that neither the single nor dou-
ble covenantal perspectives adequately address all the important issues, at
least from the Christian side. Clearly, we cannot forge a new covenantal
theology in terms of the Christian-Jewish nexus without explicitly taking
up the Christological question. This is certainly behind the affirmation
in the ecumenical statement A Sacred Obligation, released in September
2002 by the ecumenical Christian Scholars Group on Christian-Jewish
Relations, which underlines—in the title of article six—that “Affirming
God’s Enduring Covenant with the Jewish People has consequences for
Christian understandings of salvation.”13 The accompanying paragraph
spells out further the challenge facing the church regarding Christology:
Christians meet God’s saving power in the person of Jesus Christ and believe
that this power is available to all people in him. Christians have therefore
taught for centuries that salvation is available only through Jesus Christ.
With their recent realization that God’s covenant with the Jewish people is
eternal, Christians can now recognize in the Jewish tradition the redemptive
power of God at work. If Jews, who do not share our faith in Christ, are in a
saving covenant with God, then Christians need new ways of understanding
the universal significance of Christ (no. 6).
One of the best summaries of where we are today in terms of Jesus’

relationship to the Judaism of his time and the implications it carries for
understanding a theology of Christian-Jewish covenantal bonding can
be found in the writings of Robin Scroggs.14 Scroggs emphasizes the
following: (i) The movement begun by Jesus and continued after his
death in Palestine can best be described as a reform movement within
Judaism. Little or no evidence exists to suggest a separate sense of iden-
tity within the emerging Christian community. (ii) Paul understood his
mission to the Gentiles as fundamentally a mission out of Judaism which
aimed at extending God’s original and continuing call to the Jewish
people to the Gentiles. (iii) Prior to the end of the Jewish war with the
Romans in 70 CE, it is difficult to speak of a separate Christian reality.
Followers of Jesus did not seem on the whole to understand themselves
as part of a separate religion from Judaism. A distinctive Christian iden-
tity only began to develop after the Roman-Jewish war. (iv) The later
parts of the New Testament do exhibit the beginnings of a sense of
separation between church and synagogue, but they also retain some
sense of continuing contact with the Christian community’s original
Jewish matrix.15
Today, a consensus is definitely developing that the process of church-
synagogue separation was longer and more complex than we once believed.
Such a picture significantly challenges how most Christians have under-
stood the situation. They were raised, as I was raised, with the notion that
by the time Jesus died on Calvary the church was clearly established as a
distinct religious body apart from Judaism. This understanding was subse-
quently expanded, especially by the church fathers, into what is known as
the adversus Judaeos tradition which had as a theological centerpiece the
total displacement of the Jewish people from the covenant.16 But more
and more, thanks to scholars such as Robin Scroggs, we are coming to see
26 J.T. PAWLIKOWSKI
that many people in the very early days of Christianity did not interpret the
significance of the Jesus movement as inaugurating a new, totally separate
religious community that would stand over against Judaism.
HEBREW SCRIPTURES AND CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY

This growing awareness of the deep-seated linkage between the first-
century church and the Jewish community of the time has had a major
impact on how Christian scholars view both the Hebrew Scriptures (or
Old Testament) and the New Testament. While the issue of how to name
the first section of the Christian Bible has seen considerable discussion,
with some urging a change to “Hebrew Scriptures,” “First Testament,” or
“Tanach” and others insisting that the traditional term “Old Testament”
better reflects the different approach to these writings in the Jewish and
Christian communities, no resolution of the disagreement is in sight.
Nonetheless, most would admit that a major perspectival change is occur-
ring in contemporary scholarship.
For centuries the Hebrew Scriptures were generally seen in their better
moments as a prelude to the New Testament, and in their worse moments as
a foil for supposedly superior insights in the New Testament. To great extent
the selection of liturgical texts from the Hebrew Scriptures was based on this
perspective. Interpretations of passages in the Hebrew Scriptures by Jewish
scholars were generally ignored within the church. The belief persisted that
correct interpretation of the Hebrew Scriptures was possible only through
the lens of the New Testament. The “inferiority-superiority” model of the
relationship between the two testaments affected Christian theology in many
areas, one of the most important being that the “Old Testament” moral
vision was inferior to the moral outlook found in the gospels and epistles.
Slowly we are witnessing a significant change within biblical scholarship
and to a lesser extent within the wider Christian theological community. A
growing recognition is emerging that the Hebrew Scriptures need to be
understood as a positive resource for Christian theology, and not merely as a
prelude or foil, in part because these writings exercised a profound impact on
the teachings of Jesus. There is now an increasing willingness in Christian cir-
cles to include the interpretations of the Hebrew Scriptures by Jewish scholars
in the construction of contemporary Christian theology and to regard these
writings as an indispensable, ongoing resource for the understanding of key
Christian theological themes such as Christology and ecclesiology.
CONCLUSION
In light of the above discussion, the viewpoint of Gregory Baum, cited
at the beginning of this chapter, is definitely confirmed. Nostra Aetate,
in restoring Jews to the divine covenant from a Christian theological per-
spective, opened a radical rethinking of Christian faith identity. Over fifty
years, the major dimensions of this fundamental redefinition have begun
to unfold as scholarly research leads to institutional restatement. How
quickly this process will continue in the coming years, if it continues at all,
remains an open question.
But, for sure, there is evidence of this transformation in the papacy.
The witness provided by both Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI
in addressing Jews in their own synagogues has already become com-
monplace. Recently we also have a strong statement from Pope Francis.
Writing in his Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (EG), he stresses
that the gifts and the call given to Jews are irrevocable, a view he attributes
to the Epistle to the Romans. God’s relationship with the Jewish People
remains intact. As he puts it: “God continues to work among the people
of the Old Covenant and to bring forth treasures of wisdom which flow
their encounter with his word. For this reason, the Church also is enriched
when she receives the values of Judaism” (EG, 249).
NOTES
1. Gregory Baum, “The Social Context of American Catholic Theology,”
Proceedings of the Catholic Theological Society of America 41 (1986): 87.
2. See John T. Pawlikowski, “Fifty Years of Christian-Jewish Dialogue: What has
it Changed?” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 49, no. 1 (Winter 2014): 99–106;
“Vatican II’s Nostra Aetate: Its Impact on the Church’s Theological Self-
Understanding,” New Theology Review 25, no. 2 (Mar 2013): 22–29; “Land
as an Issue in Christian-Jewish Dialogue” CrossCurrents 59, no. 2 (Jun
2009): 197–209; “Reflections on Covenant and Mission Forty Years after
Nostra Aetate,” CrossCurrents 56, no. 4 (Winter 2006–7): 70–94; “The
Search for a New Paradigm for the Christian-Jewish Relationship: A Response
to Michael Signer,” in Reinterpreting Revelation and Tradition: Jews and
Christians in Conversation, eds. John T. Pawlikowski & Hayim Goyen
Perelmuter (Franklin, Wisconsin: Sheed and Ward, 2000), 25–50;
“Christology in Light of the Jewish-Christian Dialogue,” CTSA Proceedings
49 (1994): 120–134; Christ in the Light of the Christian-Jewish Dialogue
28 J.T. PAWLIKOWSKI
(Ramsey, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1982); What are They Saying about
Christian-Jewish Relations (Ramsey, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1980).
3. Gerhard Kittel, Die Judenfrage (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1933), 73.
4. Martin Noth, The Law in the Pentateuch and the Other Stories (Edinburgh:
Oliver and Boyd Publisher, 1966).
5. Nancy Nowakowski Robinson, Institutional Anti-Judaism: Pope Pius VI and the
“Edict Concerning the Jews” in the Context of the Inquisition and the Enlightenment
(Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania: Xlibris Publising, 2003).
6. Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews, Notes on the Correct Way
to Present the Jews and Judaism in Preaching and Catechesis in the Roman
Catholic Church, http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/
chrstuni/relations-jews-docs/rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_19820306_jews-judaism_
en.html.
7. Carlo Maria Martini, “Christianity and Judaism: A Historical and Theological
Overview,” in Jews and Christians: Exploring the Past, the Present and Future,
ed. James H. Charlesworth (New York: Crossroad Publishing, 1990), 19.
8. Archbishop Charles Chaput, “Address to Jewish Leaders” (Jewish Federation
of Greater Philadelphia, Jul 11, 2013), http://archphila.org/archbishop-
chaput/statements/+CJCJewishFederationofGreaterPhiladelphia_
July11-13.pdf
9. Eugene J. Fisher, “The Evolution of a Tradition: From Nostra Aetate to the
Notes,” in International Catholic-Jewish Liaison Committee, Fifteen Years of
Catholic-Jewish Dialogue: 1970–1985 (Rome: Libreria Editrice Vaticana and
Libreria Editrice Lateranense, 1988), 239.
10. Rosemary Ruether and Paul Knitter are two examples of this perspective.
Marcus Braybrooke, in a volume entitled Christian-Jewish Dialogue: The Next
Steps (London: SCM Press, 2000), has argued for further reflection on how
we might relate Jewish-Christian covenantal thinking to the wider dialogue of
world religions. I myself have taken up this important theme as well. See John
T. Pawlikowski, “Toward a Theology of Religious Diversity,” Journal of
Ecumenical Studies 11 (Winter 1989): 138–153.
11. See Franz Mussner, Tractate on the Jews: The Significance of Judaism for
Christian Faith (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984); also “From Jesus the
‘Prophet’ to Jesus the ‘Son,’” in Three Ways to the One God: The Faith
Experience in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, eds. Abdold Javad Falaturi,
Jacob J. Petuchowski & Walter Strolz (New York: Crossroad Publishing,
1981), 76–85.
12. See John T. Pawlikowski, Jesus and the Theology of Israel (Wilmington,
Delaware: Michael Glazier, 1989); “Christology, Anti-Semitism, and
Christian-Jewish Bonding,” in Reconstructing Christian Theology, eds.
Rebecca S. Chopp & Mark Lewis Taylor (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994);
and “The Christ Event and the Jewish People,” in Thinking of Christ:
Proclamation, Explanation, Meaning, ed. Tatha Wiley (New York/London:

Continuum, 2003), 103–121.
13. A Sacred Obligation: Rethinking Christian Faith in Relation to Judaism and
the Jewish People: A Statement by the Christian Scholars Group on Christian-
Jewish Relation (Boston: Center for Christian-Jewish Learning, Boston
College, Sep 1, 2002), https://www.bc.edu/content/dam/files/research_
sites/cjl/sites/partners/csg/Sacred_Obligation.htm
14. Robin Scroggs, “The Judaizing of the New Testament,” Chicago Theological
Seminary Register 75 (Winter 1986), 1.
15. See Wayne A. Meeks & Robert Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch in the
First Four Centuries (Missoula, Montana: Scholars Press, 1978); Robert
Wilken, John Chrysostom and the Jews: Rhetoric and Reality in the Late 4th
Century (Berkeley, California: University of California Press, 1983); and
Anthony J. Saldarini, “Jews and Christians in the First Two Centuries: The
Changing Paradigm,” Shofar 10 (1992): 32–43.
16. See Rosemary Ruether, Faith and Fratrice: The Theological Roots of Anti-
Semitism (New York: Seabury, 1974); and David P. Efroymson, “The Patristic
Connection,” in Antisemitism and the Foundations of Christianity, ed. Alan
T. Davies (New York/Ramsey/Toronto: Paulist Press, 1979), 98–117.
CHAPTER 3
Jewish Perspectives on Interfaith Dialogue

After Nostra Aetate
Fred Morgan
INTRODUCTION
This chapter will review Jewish perspectives on interfaith dialogue over
the past fifty years, since the Second Vatican Council and, especially, the
publication of Nostra Aetate, the document that redefined the Catholic
Church’s relationship with non-Christian religions. Nostra Aetate marked
a watershed in Jewish-Christian relations and also impacted on Jewish atti-
tudes to interfaith dialogue in general.
The chapter will clarify why the Jewish thinkers who will be introduced
say the things they do and in the way they do. I ask these questions implic-
itly: What are they after? What issues within and beyond Jewish tradition
are motivating their responses? Can the reflections they give provide us
with insights into other dimensions of interfaith work? To anticipate my
An extended version of this chapter was previously published as Fred Morgan,

“Jewish Perspectives on Jewish-Christian Dialogue over Five Decades,” European
Judaism 48, no. 2 (Autumn 2015): 3–22. The present chapter is reprinted by
permission of the publisher.
F. Morgan ( )
Australian Catholic University and Temple Beth Israel,
e-mail: Fred.morgan@tbi.org.au

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_3
32 F. MORGAN
conclusions, I think the direction that the Jewish understanding of Jewish-

Christian engagement has taken over the past five decades helps us to
reimagine interfaith dialogue generically as a “sacred activity,” a status it
did not have previously. If I am correct, it becomes incumbent on us to
give dialogue a significant theological weight which is appropriate to the
twenty-first century.
JEWISH ENGAGEMENTS PRIOR TO VATICAN II

Prior to the twentieth century there had been considerable Jewish intel-
lectual activity concerning relations with other religions. Concern with
surrounding religious cultures goes right back to the Torah, the foun-
dation document of Judaism, which is largely concerned with replacing
idolatrous worship with service to the one God whose covenant with
Abraham and the Jewish people (Israel) forms the basis of Jewish belief
and practice. The Torah’s preoccupation with idolatry is carried over into
the early rabbinic period. The authors of the Mishnah devote an entire
tractate, Avodah Zara (Foreign Worship), to relations with non-Jews.
The Babylonian Talmud (in tractate Sanhedrin) introduces the notion of
the seven Noahide commandments (sheva mitzvot b’nei Noach), ethical-
religious obligations incumbent on all people and not just the Jewish peo-
ple, as a way to account for other ethical-religious cultures within a legal
(halakhic) Jewish framework. Medieval and pre-modern scholars rang-
ing from Yehuda Halevi, Maimonides, and Menachem HaMeiri to Jacob
Emden and Israel Lifschutz contributed in significant ways to honing the
Jewish perspective on Christianity and Islam, the other faiths that claim
Abraham as their ancestor.1
The rise of reform and liberal expressions of Judaism in the early to mid-
1800s saw new relationships formed with Christianity. Since the ethos of
Reform Judaism was, and continues to be, to synthesize traditional Jewish
worldviews with post-Enlightenment insights into human character and
civic identity and since many Jews lived, and continue to live, in societ-
ies which define themselves predominantly by Christian culture, the pro-
gressive movements have been at the forefront of interfaith encounter for
over 100 years.2 It is the non-Orthodox world that has been inclined to
accommodate and deal creatively with modernity, including the reality of
religious pluralism in contemporary societies.
The early twentieth-century progressive scholars Claude Montefiore (in
the UK) and Leo Baeck (in Germany and the USA) played significant roles
JEWISH PERSPECTIVES ON INTERFAITH DIALOGUE AFTER NOSTRA... 33
in developing encounters with Christianity. This trend was continued in the

post-War period by American reform thinkers, such as Samuel Sandmel,
and in Israel by Joseph Klausner. They viewed Jesus not as Christ but as
a Jew living in the context of first-century Judea, a quasi-rabbinic figure.
Catholic initiatives during the Second Vatican Council sparked a new
impetus for Jewish leaders to consider the relevance of interfaith activity,
including interfaith dialogue, for Jewish thought (Judaism) and ethnicity
(the Jewish people). The past fifty years have not been a static period; on
the contrary, there has been a sporadic but inexorable movement even
within certain expressions of Orthodoxy toward new understandings of
interfaith engagement.3
“CONFRONTATION” AND “NO RELIGION IS AN ISLAND”

At the time of the Second Vatican Council in the early 1960s, when the
Catholic Church’s relationship with the Jewish people was being reframed,
Augustin Cardinal Bea requested input from a small group of rabbis and
Jewish scholars into the Catholic deliberations on Judaism. This group
included the chief rabbis of Italy and France and a few leading scholars from
American seminaries and universities. Outstanding among them were the
unofficial spokespersons for the Modern Orthodox and the Conservative
(Masorti) movements in America, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik and Rabbi
Abraham Joshua Heschel.
The two men were similar in many respects.4 They both came from
illustrious rabbinic backgrounds in Europe. Though Soloveitchik had
Talmudic (analytical) and Heschel had Chasidic (mystical charismatic)
roots, they were equally pious and observant of Jewish law; they were
both learned in secular as well as Jewish texts, each earning a doctorate in
philosophy from the University of Berlin; both were religious existential-
ists; both raised up many disciples.5 Yet, they were seen to represent two
polar positions with regard to Jewish-Christian dialogue.
On a practical level, the different directions they took in Jewish-
Christian dialogue resulted from a concrete problem, the issue of Christian
mission, an area fraught with historical echoes and misgivings. An earlier
draft of Nostra Aetate contained an ambiguous statement expressing the
eschatological hope for the union of Israel and the church, which the
Jewish consultants heard as a reference to conversion.6 Heschel called
it “spiritual fratricide” and declared that, in a choice between conver-
sion and Auschwitz, he would choose Auschwitz (i.e., martyrdom).
34 F. MORGAN
His response, however, was to take action. In an audience with Pope Paul
VI in September 1964, on the eve of Yom Kippur, Heschel successfully
convinced the pope to delete from Nostra Aetate any expression of hope
for conversion of the Jews.
Soloveitchik’s response came in February 1964, in a talk to
the (Orthodox) Rabbinic Council of America. This talk, entitled
“Confrontation,” was published in the Orthodox journal Tradition later
in the year.7 Though by all appearances the talk was not intended to be
read as a binding decision in Jewish law (p’sak halakha), it was taken that
way by the Orthodox community, and its impact has continued to this
day. On the face of it, Soloveitchik restricts the Jewish engagement with
Christianity to what he terms “the secular orders,” or issues facing us as
participants in a common social-political culture. He does this in order
to prevent any cross-contamination of our distinct religious traditions;
to avoid “trading favours on fundamental matters of faith.”8 It is clear
from the talk that his view of Christianity is influenced by the contours
of Jewish-Christian history; Soloveitchik sees Christianity’s raison d’etre
as mission; it is in Christianity’s very essence to proselytize. Because of
the unequal power relationship between the Jewish and Christian com-
munities, any attempt at theological “dialogue” is bound to collapse into
disputation, in which the Jewish participants would be forced to defend
their Jewish beliefs or their refusal to accept Christian beliefs. Ultimately,
he argues, religious beliefs are unique to their adherents, an articulation
of private, incommunicable faith. In this sense every person of faith is
isolated, “lonely.” It is their “loneliness,” not the specifics of their faith
experience, which is shared with other human beings.
Soloveitchik’s “confrontation” model of dialogue allows for common
endeavors in areas of shared civic or humanistic concern, the areas that fall
under the purview of every secular society concerned with universalistic ends;
but in no case does it allow for theological discussion or personal exchange.
Yet evidently this does not prevent Jews and Christians from learning about
and from one another, in an analytical manner. It has often been remarked
that Soloveitchik himself quotes a wide range of Christian scholars in his
essays, including many of the great names in eighteenth- and nineteenth-
century German philosophy, as well as Kierkegaard, Barth, and Niebuhr.
If that is the case, then these questions naturally arise: What kind of dia-
logue is it exactly that Soloveitchik is rejecting? How are we to understand
Soloveitchik’s reservations, which have had such a powerful effect on the
Orthodox community’s reluctance to enter into dialogue? Ultimately, we
might say, Soloveitchik is concerned to preserve the uniqueness of the
Jewish experience of faith and its expression through Jewish law, while
also acknowledging the universal humanitarian social-cultural issues that
concern us all whatever our religious affiliation simply by virtue of the fact
that we are created “in the image of the divine” (b’tzelem Elohim) and are
called upon to act imitatio Dei, in imitation of the Almighty.
If this interpretation of Soloveitchik is correct, it also reflects Abraham
Joshua Heschel’s concern in his essay “No Religion is an Island.”9 But
Heschel’s working through of the issues evidently led him to a different
stance regarding Jewish-Christian dialogue, as shown by his visit to Pope
Paul VI which resulted in the pope altering the final draft of Nostra Aetate.
“No Religion is an Island” was Heschel’s inaugural lecture as visiting pro-
fessor at Union Theological Seminary in New York in 1965 (Heschel was
the first Jewish professor to serve at the seminary).
Like Soloveitchik, Heschel acknowledges the particularity of Israel:
“The Community of Israel must always be mindful of the mystery of
aloneness and uniqueness of its own being” (Heschel, 5). He raises the
possibility that it would be safer for the Jewish people, especially following
the anguish and loss of the Holocaust, to remain aloof from existentially
charged contact with Christianity. But he also transcends Jewish particu-
larity “in the face of” the challenge presented by Nazism and its “rebel-
lion against the Bible, against the God of Abraham....Nazism resolved
that it must both exterminate the Jews and eliminate Christianity, and
bring about instead a revival of Teutonic paganism” (Heschel, 4). Heschel
declares, “The supreme issue is today not the halakha for the Jew or
the Church for the Christian but the premise underlying both religions,
namely, whether there is a pathos, a divine reality concerned with the
destiny of man which mysteriously impinges upon history....The misery
and fear of alienation from God make Jew and Christian cry together.”
Nihilism, the objectification of human beings, and the absence of moral
absolutes in a secular world are a threat to both Judaism and Christianity,
and neither religion can survive in isolation since we are both part of a
single global society. Heschel goes on, “The primary aim of these reflec-
tions is to inquire how a Jew out of his commitment and a Christian out
of his commitment can find a religious basis for communication and coop-
eration on matters relevant to their moral and spiritual concern in spite of
disagreement” (Heschel, 8). His response to his own question is that it is
the faith experience, which he calls in the spirit of Kierkegaard “fear and
trembling,” that brings people of faith together, despite their differences
of belief and practice. He says, “The first and most important prerequisite
of interfaith is faith” (Heschel, 10; italics in original).10
36 F. MORGAN
Again, like Soloveitchik, Heschel is careful to draw boundaries. He is

concerned that “exposing one’s inner life may engender the danger of
desecration, distortion and confusion. Syncretism is a perpetual possibility....
Interfaith may become a substitute for faith, suppressing authenticity for
the sake of compromise” (Heschel, 11). He is concerned with the way that
Christianity has reacted to Judaism over the centuries, belittling Judaism
rather than paying it its due as the foundation of the Christian understand-
ing of the world. But Heschel’s focus on God rather than religion for its
own sake enables him to conclude, with the prophet Malachi, that all the
nations worship one God, even though we may conceive of God differently
in our systems and each religion may claim to have the final truth. In real-
ity, no religion can claim to have the whole truth. Drawing on Talmudic
tradition, Heschel quotes the adage, “The Torah speaks in the language of
man,” to underscore the mutability of our claims to truth (Heschel, 15).
This act of religious humility or theological pluralism is problematic within
Orthodoxy, but is necessary for Heschel’s argument that Christianity and
Judaism are sufficiently alike that Christians need not seek either to convert
or to denigrate Jews, since we each seek the same worldly ends and play our
distinct roles in God’s eschatological design.11
Given that Heschel and Soloveitchik show so many similarities, how has
it come to be that their writings have given rise to opposite approaches
to dialogue, the great majority of the Orthodox community relying on
“Confrontation” to reject dialogue or engagement with Christianity com-
pletely, and many of the students of Heschel drawing on the spirit of “No
Religion is an Island” to affirm dialogue, at least in principle? One answer,
the answer that I am inclined to offer, lies in the character of the two men.
Soloveitchik was the archetypal Jewish tradition-focused man of faith, an
inward personality and content in pursuing his existential quest for God
through the practice of halakha. He was not tempted to push the bound-
aries of halakha into the realm of the other, to find sanctification in the
risky activity of dialogue. He did not see an intrinsic holiness in encounter-
ing others whose fundamental starting point differed from his own.
It might help to clarify this if we note that his was not a Buberian
approach to God, an approach through relationship. But there was some-
thing of Buber in Heschel’s outlook. Perhaps this came about because both
Buber and Heschel emerged from Chasidic backgrounds; they were activ-
ists who sought holiness in encounter in and with the world. Heschel felt
it incumbent on himself to meet with popes and priests, to march along-
side Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma, Alabama, if it would draw God’s
passionate “search for man,” God’s pathos, into a world that he believed was
thirsting for God’s presence. At the same time, he took seriously the bibli-
cal notion that humanity is created “in the divine image,” that all people
have an instinct for the divine and therefore that “dialogue” is ultimately
no more than every person’s due. It is clear that Heschel’s understanding
of dialogue, which grew specifically out of Jewish-Christian encounter, can
be applied to Jewish engagement with other religious traditions as well.
DABRU EMET AND ITS CRITICS

The thirty-five years between the writings of Soloveitchik and Heschel and
the end of the twentieth century saw a dramatic growth in actual dialogical
encounters between Jews and Christians but few seminal developments
in its theoretical underpinnings. It took some time for the significance of
Nostra Aetate to be appreciated within the Jewish world. A few Jewish
scholars, notably Irving Greenberg and Michael Wyschogrod, responded
to the changing mood expressed in Nostra Aetate and other Christian
interfaith statements by exploring with considerable originality the possi-
bilities for theological encounter with Christianity.12 Some Jewish activists
who work professionally in interfaith relations produced essays based on
their experiences in the field. There were, however, no statements emerg-
ing from the Jewish community comparable to Nostra Aetate. Some
Christian scholars found this frustrating. It confirmed for them the asym-
metric relationship between Judaism and Christianity.
A Jewish scholar, Claude Montefiore, had already expressed the need
for a Jewish statement on Christianity in the early decades of the twentieth
century, but no one took up his call. In his overview of Jewish-Christian
relations in the post-War period, Geoffrey Wigoder quotes at length a
statement by the American Reform theologian Samuel Sandmel which
dates from 1967; but, as Wigoder remarks, this is simply one person’s
view.13 In 1986 Fr. John Pawlikowski wrote, “I think it is vital for Jews to
have some concrete experience in writing a consensus document of this
kind so that there might be better appreciation of the difficulties involved.
Also, Jews cannot continue critiquing the Church’s theological approach
to Judaism without an equal opportunity for Christians to do the same
with a Jewish statement.”14
This is one of the reasons why Dabru Emet is so significant.15 It is the
first attempt by a cross-denominational group of rabbis and scholars in the
Jewish community to produce a theological statement that acknowledges
38 F. MORGAN
the commonalities between Judaism and Christianity, yet also aims to

take Christianity seriously as a distinct religious tradition. The state-
ment was published in September 2000 in the New York Times and the
Baltimore Sun, with 170 signatories. Only a small percentage came from
the Orthodox communities, but it was still an appreciable achievement to
garner such broad support. The statement was met with pleasure by the
Christian world. The reception in the Jewish world was more mixed, with
critics demurring from one or more of the eight propositions that make
up the statement.16
Dabru Emet (the biblical expression from Zechariah 8:16 means
“Speak truth!”) opens with a brief preamble declaring the shift in Jewish-
Christian relations over the preceding decades, especially the change in
Christian appreciation of “God’s enduring covenant with the Jewish peo-
ple.” A reference is made to the time being right for a reciprocal response
from the Jewish community toward Christianity. Dabru Emet then offers
eight propositions:
(i) “Jews and Christians worship the same God.” Echoing the views of many
medieval and pre-modern Jewish scholars, it acknowledges that Christians
worship the God of Abraham and “while Christian worship is not a viable
religious choice for Jews,” it is recognized that Christianity has brought
countless generations into a relationship with “the God of Israel.”
(ii) “Jews and Christians seek authority from the same book—the Bible (what
Jews call ‘Tanakh’ and Christians call the ‘Old Testament’).” The two reli-
gions share similar messages from the Bible, though their interpretations are
different in many respects.
(iii) “Christians can respect the claim of the Jewish people on the land of Israel.”
(iv) “Jews and Christians accept the moral principles of Torah.” Central to this
is a recognition that every human being is “created in the image of God”
and so has an inherent dignity.
(v) “Nazism was not a Christian phenomenon.” The history of Christian anti-
Judaism prepared the ground for the Holocaust, but “Nazism itself was not
an inevitable outcome of Christianity,” and Christians were also destined to
be persecuted. “We applaud those Christians who reject [the] teaching of
contempt [of Judaism].”17
(vi) “The humanly irreconcilable difference between Jews and Christians will
not be settled until God redeems the entire world as promised in Scripture.”
“Christians know and serve God through Jesus Christ and the Christian
tradition. Jews know and serve God through Torah and the Jewish tradi-
tion.” Mutual respect for each tradition’s faithfulness to their revelation is
crucial, and coercive mission of one to the other is unacceptable.
(vii) “A new relationship between Jews and Christians will not weaken Jewish
practice.” The assimilatory effects that Jews fear in a multicultural environ-
ment will not be exacerbated by dialogue with Christianity. Though
Christianity originated within Judaism, it is not “an extension of Judaism”
but has independent integrity.
(viii) “Jews and Christians must work together for justice and peace.”
Theologically, this is linked to the joint performance of redemptive acts that
may contribute towards initiating the kingdom of God.
David Rosen comments that the statement is significant in at least two

respects. First, it acknowledges change within the Christian community,
to the extent that the threatening enemy has now become an ally. Second,
it “recognises a Jewish interest not only in a social and moral relationship
with Christianity, but also in a relationship of theological understanding.”18
The most common criticism of the statement refers to proposition (v),
which says that centuries of Christian anti-Semitism, charges of deicide,
expulsions, and pogroms did not feed directly into Nazi behavior. Many
Jews feel that this lets Christianity off too lightly. On the other hand,
there is a tendency for some among the Jewish community to “indulge in
a ‘triumphalism of pain,’” which, as potent as it is, should not be taken as
“the moral criterion and arbiter, rather than individual responsibility.”19
As I see it, the opening claim of Dabru Emet opens up several sub-
sidiary areas for exploration. To what extent do Jews see Christians as
sharing in God’s covenant with Abraham? Is there space for Christianity
in the covenant at Sinai? For example, from a Jewish perspective is there a
necessity for Christians to see themselves as bound by the seven Noahide
commandments (sheva mitzvot bnei-Noach) and what would this mean in
terms of our interfaith relationship? Because of our interwoven history,
does Christian worship potentially have a deeper meaning for Jews than
simply being considered as “alien worship”?
Similarly, the dialogical encounter between Judaism and Christianity
can act as a model for interfaith relations beyond the two religions, for
example, for dialogue with Islam or among other non-Abrahamic reli-
gious traditions.20 In this regard, Rosen quotes Pope John Paul II: “Jews
and Christians are called [as children of Abraham] to be a blessing for
humankind. In order to be so, we must first be a blessing to one another.”
Alongside these positive interpretations of Dabru Emet, it has suf-
fered serious criticisms from a number of Jewish scholars, most notably
Jon Levenson in an article first published in Commentary magazine in
December 2001. Some of Levenson’s criticisms of Dabru Emet echo the
40 F. MORGAN
concerns of Soloveitchik in “Confrontation.” Levenson is concerned that

the statement is seeking “common ground” through a process akin to
conflict resolution or negotiation, by which important differences may be
massaged out of existence resulting in a syncretistic porridge. This is a valid
criticism, but I believe his use of it to characterize the final proposition
(viii) as an “earnest and anodyne platitude” is facile. He fails to notice that
“work[ing] together for justice and peace” is precisely the domain of civic
and moral behavior that Soloveitchik commends for interfaith dialogue,
the area Jews refer to as tikkun olam (mending the world). Furthermore,
the goals of peace and justice themselves rely on the success of interfaith
dialogue, human beings learning to listen and speak to one another on a
deep level, for their success.21
THE SANCTITY OF INTERFAITH DIALOGUE

The decade and more since the publication of Dabru Emet has seen a
deepening appreciation for Jewish-Christian dialogue, and indeed inter-
faith engagement more generally, among Modern Orthodox scholars,
both in the Jewish diaspora and in Israel. This is clear from the number
of scholars engaged in interfaith work who are offering revised readings
of Soloveitchik’s “Confrontation,” looking to it to shine a more posi-
tive light on dialogue.22 This new wave is beginning to impact on non-
Orthodox streams of Judaism as well, reaffirming the Progressive and
Conservative movements’ commitment to dialogue along the lines put
forward by Heschel.23 At the same time, as these developments are taking
place at the academic level, at grassroots there is an increased wariness
of Christian aims among Jews of all denominations. In large part this is
due to the increase of classic anti-Semitism and the burgeoning of anti-
Zionism in countries around the world. These expressions of hatred make
the Jewish community feel at risk wherever they dwell, even in distant
places like Australia.
From the Jewish perspective, many Christian denominations seem to
have a major stake in promoting human rights as an expression of what
they understand to be the social Gospel. They believe the active pursuit
of social justice has an eschatological dimension in bringing about the
kingdom of God. This is not so far from the belief held by many Jews,
mainly but by no means exclusively in the non-Orthodox movements, that
actively pursuing tikkun olam is underwritten by the Torah as the mission
for the Jewish people. When, however, the social Gospel of human rights is
applied to the Palestinian people to the profound detriment of the Jewish

people, that is, without any acknowledgement of the covenantal relation-
ship between the people of Israel and the land of Israel, the Jewish com-
munity sees this as anti-Semitism in another form, a politicized expression
of theological triumphalism. Several in the Jewish community—including
many who themselves are very sympathetic to the cause of the Palestinian
people and, following the model of Abraham Joshua Heschel, speak out
on their behalf—feel deeply misunderstood when it comes to matters
relating to Israel. They then raise the question: What value has there been
in all the years of dialogue with Christians?
I have argued elsewhere that I do not feel that the success or failure
of Jewish-Christian dialogue should or can be measured by political out-
comes.24 Dialogue is a spiritual activity, not, as Jon Levenson rightly points
out, an exercise in conflict resolution. In many respects, as Aitken and
Kessler suggest, dialogue is its own reward. It is in itself a holy activ-
ity because, as Dabru Emet states, it promotes peace and justice in the
world. Certainly the Progressive movements have acted on this basis and I
think Heschel intuited this when he walked with Martin Luther King, Jr.
I believe that Soloveitchik did not see dialogue in this way, though more
recent interpretations of “Confrontation” would reconsider his position
in the light of contemporary ethical demands. Within the Jewish world a
growing number of scholars and laypeople see Jewish-Christian engage-
ment as a sacred activity that can break down the prejudices and miscon-
ceptions of the past, enable Jews and Christians to become more sensitive
to the values and beliefs that each holds dear, and so contribute to bring-
ing God’s presence into the world. What is true of Jewish-Christian dia-
logue can also be true mutatis mutandis of dialogue between Judaism and
other religious traditions. In our religiously diverse world the way to bring
a sense of the presence of God into our midst is to engage with the other
as a human being like us, created in the image of the divine, whatever their
background, faith, or culture of origin.
NOTES
1. For a more complete list of references and resources relating to the Jewish
perspective on interfaith relations, see the extended version of this essay. For
a review of other religions within halakha (Jewish law), see Alan Brill, Judaism
and Other Religions: Models of Understanding (New York: Palgrave Macmillan,
2010); idem, Judaism and World Religions: Encountering Christianity, Islam,
42 F. MORGAN
and Eastern Religions (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012); Alon Goshen-
Gottstein and Eugene Korn, eds. Jewish Theology and World Religions
(London: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2012).
2. To the best of my knowledge, all the major non-Orthodox bodies have
expressed support for interfaith dialogue but not with theologically formal
statements. For example, for the American Union of Reform Judaism, see
Mark Washofsky, Jewish Living (New York: UAHC Press, 2001), 269–281;
for the Conservative (Masorti) Movement, see Jeremy Kalmanofsky,
“Interfaith Relations,” in The Observant Life, ed. Martin S. Cohen (New
York: The Rabbinic Assembly, 2012), 735ff; for the British Reform
Movement, see Jonathan A. Romain, Faith and Practice: A Guide to Reform
Judaism Today (London: RSGB, 1991), 222–224.
3. See Alon Goshen-Gottstein, “Jewish-Christian Relations: From Historical
Past to Theological Future” Ecumenism 146 (2002): 28–40, http://www.
jcrelations.net/en/displayItem.php?id=1754
4. The source for much of this comparative material is Reuven Kimelman,
“Rabbis Joseph B. Soloveitchik and Abraham Joshua Heschel on Jewish-
Christian Relations,” The Edah Journal 4, no. 2 (2004), www.edah.org/
backend/JournalArticle/4_2_Kimelman.pdf
5. Ibid., 3–4. Kimelman claims that “there is hardly a significant theological
voice in modern traditional Judaism of the twenty-first century in America
who does not count him or herself as a disciple of one, if not both, of them.”
6. Ibid., 6; see also footnote 45 of the article.
7. Originally published as “Confrontation,” Tradition: A Journal of Orthodox
Thought 6, no. 2 (1964): 5–29, and republished in a number of places as well
as online, for example, www.bc.edu/dam/files/research_sites/cjl/texts/
cjrelations/resources/articles/soloveitchik
8. On this phrase, see the important collection of papers online from a 2004
Conference on “Revisiting ‘Confrontation’ after Forty Years,” keynote
address by Eugene Korn, with responses by David Berger, Arye Klapper,
Erica Brown, and Joseph H. Ehrenkranz, as well as Christian respondents,
www.bc.edu/dam/files/research_sites/cjl/texts/center/conferences/
Soloveitchik
9. “No Religion is an Island” first appeared in the Union Theological Seminary
Quarterly Review 21, no. 2 (Jan 1966): 117–134, and was reprinted together
with a series of commentaries in No Religion is an Island: Abraham Joshua
Heschel and Interreligious Dialogue, eds. Bryan Sherwin and Harold Kasimow
(Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1991). It is also available online at
www.cs.auckland.ac.nz/
10. In a later version of the essay delivered to his Conservative colleagues, Heschel
expressed his concern that dialogue can only be undertaken by someone who
is properly grounded in their own faith: “We may not be ready for a dialogue
in depth, so few are qualified.” See Kimelman, “Rabbis Soloveitchik and
Heschel,” 2; and Alon Goshen-Gottstein, “No Religion is an Island:
Following the Trail Blazer,” Shofar: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Jewish
Studies 26, no. 1 (2007): 76, quoting from Heschel’s reworked version,
“From Mission to Dialogue?” Conservative Judaism 21, no. 3 (1967): 1–11.
11. See Meir Soloveitchik, “How Soloveitchik Saw Interreligious Dialogue,” The
Forward (Apr 25, 2003), forward.com/articles/8692/how-soloveitchik-
saw-interreligious-dialogue/. The author refers to Heschel’s claim in “No
Religion is an Island” that truth is not exclusive as a position that Orthodoxy
rejects, and he sees it as validating the stance that Soloveitchik takes against
theological dialogue in “Confrontation.”
12. Irving Greenberg, For the Sake of Heaven and Earth: The New Encounter
between Judaism and Christianity (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society,
2004); Michael Wyschogrod, Abraham’s Promise: Judaism and Jewish-
Christian Relations (London: SCM Press, 2006).
13. Samuel Sandmel, We Jews and You Christians (New York: Lippincott, 1967),
quoted in Geoffrey Wigoder, Jewish-Christian Relations since the Second
World War (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), 72.
14. John T. Pawlikowski, “Christian Theological Concerns after the Holocaust,”
in Visions of the Other: Jewish and Christian Theologians Assess the Dialogue,
ed. Eugene J. Fisher (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1994), 48.
15. Dabru Emet is found online at www.jcrelations.net/Dabru_Emet and in other
sites, and also in the collection of essays which emerged in its wake as a sort of
commentary to it: Christianity in Jewish Terms, eds. Tikva Frymer-Kensky et al.
(Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 2000).
16. An article published online by the Harvard Project at www.pluralism.org/
reports/view/165 has links to several responses, both positive and critical.
Possibly the most trenchant criticisms were marshaled by Jon D. Levenson of
Harvard University, “How Not to Conduct Jewish-Christian Dialogue,”
Commentary (Dec 2001), https://www.commentarymagazine.com/arti-
cles/how-not-to-conduct-jewish-christian-dialogue/. One of the statement’s
most eloquent defenders was David Rosen, then president of the International
Council of Christians and Jews, in an address to the Dutch CCJ in November
2001, http://www.jcrelations.net/. Its title is “Dabru Emet: Its Significance
for the Jewish-Christian Dialogue.” See also James Aitken and Edward
Kessler, “Considering a Jewish Statement on Christianity,” in Challenges in
Jewish-Christian Relations (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 2006).
17. A reference to the title of a book by Jules Isaac, The Teaching of Contempt: The
Christian Roots of Anti-Semitism (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston,
1964). It was Isaac who convinced Pope John XXIII to include a separate
44 F. MORGAN
section on the church’s relationship to the Jews in the Vatican II statement on

interfaith relations, due to the special vexed character of Jewish-Christian
relations through history.
18. Rosen, “Dabru Emet: Its significance.”
19. I refer to this in my pamphlet “Pursuing Interfaith Dialogue: From Security
to Redemption” (Melbourne: CCJ–Victoria, 2009), 7f, under the heading
“Dialogue and Vulnerability,” www.assembly.uca.org.au/rof/images/sto-
ries/…/rabbimorganpursuing.pdf
20. Interestingly, Alon Goshen-Gottstein argues that theological stumbling
blocks inherent in the Jewish obsession with Christianity, which is based on a
complex and destructive history, can only be removed if Jewish theologians
approach Christianity as they would any other religion; in other words, if
Jews cut the Jewish-Christian umbilical cord and adopt a “world religions”
approach to Christianity.
21. A point made by James Aitken and Edward Kessler in their article “Considering
a Jewish Statement on Christianity” (details in note 22 of the article).
22. This is how I read Jonathan Sacks, The Dignity of Difference (London:
Continuum Publishing, 2002). See now the important statement published
on December 3, 2015, and signed by 25 Orthodox rabbis, “To Do the Will
of Our Father in Heaven: Toward a Partnership between Jews and Christians”;
but also the criticisms along the lines of Soloveitchik by David Berger,
“Vatican II at 50,” available at www.tabletmag.com/jewish-life-and-reli-
gion/195761/vatican-ii-at-50/
23. See Jeremy Kalmanofsky, “Interfaith Relations.” It is noteworthy that
Kalmanofsky considers Soloveitchik’s position before opting, as one would
expect from a Conservative rabbi, for Heschel.
24. Fred Morgan, “Dialogue 4 Success,” Gesher: Journal of the Council of
Christians and Jews–Victoria 4, no. 4 (Nov 2013): 14–17.
CHAPTER 4
Response of the Asian Church to

Nostra Aetate
BIRTH OF THE ASIAN CHURCH

Prior to the Second Vatican Council one would not have heard much
about the “Asian Church.” What one would have heard is that there are
many churches in Asia. There was no single entity that could be identified
as the Asian Church. Moreover, even if some of these churches had been
in existence in Asian countries for many centuries, they had a greater affin-
ity to Europe than to Asia. They also looked more like little colonies of
their European mother churches and the bishops and priests of the many
churches in Asia had more contact with and knowledge of their counter-
parts in Europe than in Asia.
This was to change following the renewal of the Second Vatican
Council, at least for the Roman Catholic Church. Not only was an Asian
Church given birth to, it also slowly grew into full adulthood and estab-
lished an identity of its own. Compared with other regional and conti-
nental churches elsewhere around the globe, the uniqueness of the Asian
Church is that it exists in an ocean of many other religious traditions that
are as ancient as they are alive. The capacity to exist harmoniously and
E.K.-F. Chia ( )
Faculty of Theology & Philosophy,
Australian Catholic University, Melbourne, Australia
e-mail: edmund.chia@acu.edu.au

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_4
46 E.K.-F. CHIA
function amicably within a religiously plural context is its chief concern.

Thus, interfaith relationships feature prominently in the priorities of the
churches in Asia. Vatican II’s Nostra Aetate (NA) is, therefore, the most
relevant document for Asian Catholics and plays a major role in providing
guidance not only to how they relate with persons of other religious faiths,
but also to how they understand what it means to be church or how to
engage in mission and evangelization.
This chapter will explore the impact of NA on Catholicism, especially
within the context of the church in Asia. One could even say that it is the
Asian Church that is the key agent in the reception, as well as elabora-
tion, of the teachings of the declaration. The chapter will, therefore, focus
on how the pan-continental Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences
(FABC) has played a role in giving shape to Vatican II’s vision of the
Catholic Church’s relationship with the religious “other.” Before delving
into this it would be necessary for us to explore briefly the nature of the
ecumenical council and its impact on the worldwide church.
VATICAN II AND THE WORLD CHURCH

The positive effects of the teachings of NA are quite tangible. The fact
that so many interfaith commissions at the levels of parishes, dioceses, and
regional episcopal conferences have sprung up throughout the world in
the last fifty years is an example of its effects. NA, however, has to be read
alongside a number of other fundamental documents of the Second Vatican
Council. In particular, the documents on the church (Lumen Gentium),
and its relationship with the modern world (Gaudium et Spes), its state-
ment on religious freedom (Dignitatis Humanae), as well as on missionary
activity (Ad Gentes), together with NA, constitute the corpus of teachings
on the relationship of the Church ad extra. They provide the vision for its
engagement with the world outside of Catholicism. While prior to Vatican
II the vision emphasized that of a church against or above the world, with
Vatican II the focus has shifted to seeing how the church can best continue
its mission within the world, at once animating it as well as being animated
by it. In other words, the world outside of Catholicism has now become a
dialogue partner. The word “dialogue,” in fact, was first introduced into
the vocabulary of official church statements only during the time of the
Second Vatican Council and specifically with Pope Paul VI’s 1964 encycli-
cal Ecclesiam Suam (ES), where he insists that “the Church must enter into
dialogue with the world in which it lives” (ES, 65).
RESPONSE OF THE ASIAN CHURCH TO NOSTRA AETATE 47
This new openness to the world is but a realization of Pope John

XXIII’s vision of the Second Vatican Council taking on the theme and
program of aggiornamento. Unlike reform councils which are sum-
moned to address a challenge from outside the church (as was Vatican I
in response to the challenge of modernity and Trent in response to the
Protestant Reformation), Vatican II was to be a renewal council, with the
task of bringing the church up to date with the contemporary world. Sri
Lankan theologian Aloysius Pieris posits that reform councils are repre-
sented by a “controlled and graduated process of change that keeps the
institutional set-up of the church intact” while the transformation result-
ing from renewal councils “irrupts from below and works its way up to
the top volcanically.”1 In other words, the implementation of Vatican II
comes primarily through how Catholics at the peripheries interpret and
implement its teachings. The changes discerned will then slowly creep in
to the institutional center, in this case the church in Europe or Rome. This
is another way of saying that the churches from the rest of the world will
be the ones providing leadership to the church in the West in attending
to the challenges of the twenty-first century in the globalized world. This
shift of leadership from “the West to the rest” is in keeping Karl Rahner’s
assertion that the Second Vatican Council was but “the beginning of a
tentative approach by the Church to the discovery and official recognition
of itself as world-church.”2
The World Church is one that transcends the boundaries of Europe
and America; its face is seen most clearly in the non-Western nations of
the global south. Since Vatican II, each of the continents in the south-
ern hemisphere has made a unique contribution to the World Church.
From Latin America we see one face of the irruption of the church from
below, namely, its concern with political and economic issues such as
poverty and oppression, giving rise to what has come to be known as
Liberation Theology. From the culturally diverse tribal-based continent
of Africa it was the church’s engagement with the challenges brought
about by centuries of colonial cultural and anthropological domination
that resulted in the development of theologies of inculturation. The
church’s irruption in Asia, the cradle of all the major religions of the
world, is primarily in the area of interreligious relations and the devel-
opment of theologies of dialogue and theologies of religions. It is in
this context that we will now examine why the document NA was so
meaningful to the Asian Church.
48 E.K.-F. CHIA
DEVELOPMENT OF NOSTRA AETATE

Historically, the idea of a NA document did not even cross the minds
of the bishops of the Second Vatican Council when they assembled in
Rome in 1962. There was no plan to make a pronouncement on any of
the religions other than Judaism. The statement on Islam came as a result
of concerns raised by the bishops from the Middle East—also known as
West Asia—in light of the impending statements the council was making
on Catholic-Jewish relations. These bishops who live in Muslim-majority
nations feared that the statements would be perceived as the Catholic
Church siding with the Jewish people in the tension that was brewing
in the Middle East. Thus, a positive statement was made specifically on
Muslims and the religion of Islam, singling out areas in its teachings and
practices which coincide with Catholicism; it concludes by acknowledg-
ing the centuries of hostilities between the two religions, but “urges all
to forget the past and to work sincerely for mutual understanding and
to preserve as well as to promote together for the benefit of all mankind
social justice and moral welfare, as well as peace and freedom” (NA, 3).
That was in article three, just before the statement on the Jewish people
and Judaism which is article four.
Article two was included at the suggestion of the other bishops from
Asia where most of their churches exist as minorities in countries which
are immensely rich in the worldviews and traditions of the Asian religions.
It begins with a statement on a “hidden power which hovers over the
course of things and over the events of human history,” recognized by
some as that of “a Supreme Being, or even of a Father,” and then goes
on to identify by name the religions of Hinduism and Buddhism, spell-
ing out the essential dimensions of each of these traditions. It then states
unequivocally that “the Catholic Church rejects nothing that is true and
holy in these religions” (NA, 2).
In other words, both articles two and three were afterthoughts, arising
from the draft of article four on Catholic-Jewish relations. The Asian bish-
ops played a substantive role in this in part because of their own contextual
experience of ministering in multireligious cultures and environments.
From a faith perspective one can see in this sequence of events the mean-
ingful promptings of the Holy Spirit at work in the lives of the people of
God in different parts of the globe in an increasingly World Church. As
we have seen in the last fifty years, the teachings of NA have significantly
shaped the direction of the Catholic Church in general and its relationship
with religions other than Christianity in particular.
While it was NA that made the most radical impact on the Asian
Church, it was also the Asian Church that helped map out the trajecto-
ries for the full implementation of the declaration’s principal teachings. In
short, interreligious dialogue is the Asian Church’s unique contribution
to the World Church and its theories and methods continue to be shaped
as more Christians around the globe embrace it as a central element of
being Christian. In evaluating the initiatives and thrusts of the FABC over
the years, Indian theologian Felix Wilfred, who had served as executive
secretary of FABC’s Theological Advisory Commission, concluded that
the word “dialogue” best captures the orientation and theology of the
Asian bishops.3
THE ASIAN CHURCH AND DIALOGUE

Taking the cue from NA, which urges Catholics to reject nothing that is true
and holy in other religions, the Asian bishops, in the statement of the 1970
Manila Asian Bishops’ Meeting, committed themselves “to an open, sincere,
and continuing dialogue with our brothers of other great religions of Asia,
that we may learn from one another how to enrich ourselves spiritually and
how to work more effectively together on our common task of total human
development.”4 Furthering NA’s exhortation for Catholics to “recognize,
preserve and promote the good things, spiritual and moral, as well as the
socio-cultural values” (NA, 2) found among the other religions, the Asian
bishops, in their first FABC plenary assembly held in Taiwan in 1974, testi-
fied that the other religions are indeed “significant and positive elements in
the economy of God’s design of salvation.”5 Conscious that these religions
of Asia have been the source and inspiration for generations of peoples and
have helped in the spiritual development and growth of an entire continent
for millennia, the bishops asked, albeit rhetorically: “How then can we not
give them [the other religions] reverence and honor? And how can we not
acknowledge that God has drawn our peoples to Himself through them?”6
The bishops also counseled that the plurality of religion not only is
to be tolerated but should be accepted as part of God’s design for the
salvation of human beings: “The great religions of Asia with their respec-
tive creeds, cults and codes reveal to us diverse ways of responding to
God whose Spirit is active in all peoples and cultures.”7 They also argue
that “diversity is not something to be regretted and abolished, but to
be rejoiced over and promoted, since it represents richness and strength.
Harmony is not simply the absence of strive, described as ‘live and let live’.
The test of true harmony lies in the acceptance of diversity as richness.”8
50 E.K.-F. CHIA
This brings the discussion to the notion of “harmony.” If there is one

concept or notion which undergirds all of FABC’s theological thrust, it
is harmony. In confronting the realities of Asia, especially its poverty and
injustice as well as its cultural and religious pluralism, the underlying guid-
ing principle which has shaped FABC thought is how things can be made
more harmonious: “At the heart of our vision of life is the Asian reveren-
tial sense of mystery and of the sacred, a spirituality that regards life as sacred
and discovers the Transcendent and its gifts even in mundane affairs, in
tragedy or victory, in brokenness or wholeness. This deep interiority draws
people to experience harmony and inner peace and infuses ethics into all of
creation” (emphasis in original).9
Seen as integral to the church’s mission in Asia, Christian outreach
to members of other religions has a witnessing potential in that it builds
authentic relationships. This is a significant service which the church can
offer to a society where religion is often viewed as sensitive or problem-
atic and sometimes even as source of hostility and conflict. The FABC,
through its Office of Theological Concern, put out a document called
Thesis on Interreligious Dialogue in which it cautions Christians against
becoming “victims either of those who seek to keep [religions] apolitical
and private, or those who seek to instrumentalize them for political and
communal ends.”10 The former are those who advocate strongly for a
separation of “church and state,” a practice alien to Asian cultures where
religion is integral to every dimension of people’s lives. Religion for most
Asians is a way of life, not merely a view of life (a position more character-
istic of doctrine-centered religions such as Christianity which is premised
on religious beliefs and hence orthodoxy, rather than religious actions or
orthopraxis). The latter, the instrumentalization of religion, is also crucial
as religion has often been used and abused by various factions to fuel con-
flict for the purpose of destabilizing social and political structures and in
the process perpetuate enmity and hatred among pluralistic communities.
Reaching out to the religious “other” witnesses to the fact that we not
only have to coexist peacefully with one another but it also states unam-
biguously that we accept them as co-pilgrims on earth journeying toward
God in the heavenly Kingdom. The various religions are seen as integral
in the Asian people’s pilgrimage to God and everlasting life; Christians
believe the church can serve as a pointer or sacrament. FABC’s Theses
on Interreligious Dialogue clearly articulates this: “Dialogue with other
religions…is an integral dimension of the mission of the Church, which
is the sacrament of the Kingdom of God proclaimed in Jesus.”11 Thus,
interreligious dialogue becomes not only a forum to enhance relationships

across faith lines, it is also a ministry and service of the church in facilitat-
ing the building up of God’s Kingdom here on earth, just as in hope we
believe it will be in heaven.
Besides, fostering better relationships across religions can also at times
be critical for the very survival of Asian communities. Interreligious rela-
tions, as history testifies, have oftentimes been problematic or at least not as
congenial as they should be. This is where positive relationships can make
all the difference. While it is the responsibility of all peoples to promote
more productive interreligious relations, Christians can show the way and
serve as bridge-builders across faith traditions. In the Thesis on Interreligious
Dialogue the FABC has this to say: “In Asia today, Christians, though they
are a ‘little flock’ in many places, animated by the Spirit who is leading all
things to unity, are called to play a serving and catalyzing role which facili-
tates interreligious collaboration.”12 As a small community and in view of
its lack of social and political power this catalyzing role of the church could
sometimes be looked upon as attempts at seeking legitimacy or of ingratiat-
ing itself with the majority religious community. But if exercised authenti-
cally and purely in the service of unity for the sake of the larger society, then
dialogue becomes not only effective and fruitful but also prophetic.
EVANGELIZATION AS TRIPLE DIALOGUE

Since its foundation in 1972, the FABC has had ten plenary assemblies,
the most recent was the tenth assembly (FABC X) held in Vietnam in
2012. In a message to his brother bishops at this last assembly, Cardinal
Rosales of the Philippines recounted that it was at the first assembly
(FABC I), held in Taipei in 1974, that “Asia’s bishops, reflecting on the
situation, history and needs of the Asian people decidedly assigned to
themselves the challenges of Evangelization among the people: the Triple
Dialogue.”13 Speaking of evangelization as the Triple Dialogue was some-
thing unique to the Asian bishops, especially in light of the 1974 Synod
on Evangelization which was convoked in Rome six months after FABC
I. In fact, the theme of the FABC I assembly in Taipei, following closely
the theme of the Synod, was “Evangelization in Modern Day Asia.”
The Triple Dialogue takes its lead from ES, but expands on it to urge
Catholics to be in dialogue (i) with the poor, (ii) with the cultures, and
(iii) with the religions of Asia. The Instrumentum Laboris of FABC X
further describes this Triple Dialogue as the three ministries of (i) integral
52 E.K.-F. CHIA
liberation and option for the poor, (ii) inculturation, and (iii) interreligious
dialogue, respectively.14 According to Aloysius Pieris, the process of incul-
turation can never be effected by a mere translation or adaptation of
Christian symbol systems. Inculturation, Pieris contends, “happens natu-
rally....It can never be induced artificially. The Christian tends to appropri-
ate the symbols and mores of the human grouping around it only to the
degree that it immerses itself in their lives and struggles. That is to say,
inculturation is the by-product of an involvement with a people rather than
the conscious target of a program of action.”15
In the context of Asia, inculturation is effected, first of all, through the
dialogue with Asia’s poor, in view of facilitating their integral liberation.
Secondly, because the other religions have their own views of what libera-
tion and salvation mean and because the majority of Asia’s poor owe their
allegiance to these other religions, the process of inculturation—which
entails the church’s dialogue with the poor—must also include the dia-
logue with the religions. In short, inculturation, interreligious dialogue,
and the process of integral liberation are mutually involving ministries, all
of which are integral to the evangelizing mission of the church in Asia.16
The Triple Dialogue has been described as the method of what the
FABC terms “active integral evangelization.” It is the preferred direction
for the church to take in the context of the realities of Asia. It begins with a
renewal in the Asian Christian’s understanding of mission and evangeliza-
tion. In particular, FABC has understood the church’s mission as primarily
about “being with the people, responding to their needs, with sensitive-
ness to the presence of God in cultures and other religious traditions, and
witnessing to the values of God’s Kingdom through presence, solidarity,
sharing and word.”17 Felix Wilfred offers these reflections on this sub-
ject: “In seeking to respond to the challenges of the Asian context, the
Kingdom of God becomes, in the thought of the bishops, a focal point.
It offers the most suitable framework for making sense of their two major
experiences, which are also their chief concerns: the religious and cultural
plurality of the Asian peoples, and the prevalence of massive poverty.” It
follows therefore that “Jesus is relevant to Asia, not because the bulk of
the Asian masses are non-Christians, but because they are poor.”18
This dialogical attitude has shaped much of FABC thinking for the last
forty years. In the FABC X Message the bishops continued to advance the
doctrine of dialogue by asserting that it must be regarded as the “mode of
life and mission” for the church in Asia. They then characterized dialogue
as the “hallmark of all forms of ministry and service in Asia.”19 The fun-
damental element pervading this mode of mission and of being church in
Asia is that of a sensitivity to the context, especially the fact of the presence
of other religions. The Asian bishops’ primary concern has always been
that the church’s presence and existence must be in harmony with the
existence and presence of the many great religions of Asia.
SYNOD OF BISHOPS FOR ASIA

These concerns were clearly and overtly articulated at the 1998 Synod of
Bishops for Asia where, for the first time since FABC’s foundation, the
Asian bishops were meeting together as a group in Rome to discuss the
future of evangelization in the continent. They made a variety of state-
ments regarding their relationship with other religions in their response
to the Synod documents as well as interventions on the Synod floor. The
bishops of Vietnam, for example, reminded the Synod that “from time
immemorial, three great religions—Buddhism, Confucianism, Daoism—
had flourished in this land together with many popular beliefs deeply
rooted in the soul of the Vietnamese people.”20 The Indian bishops added:
“In a country and a continent of many living religions, to be religious
itself means to be interreligious—that is, to live amicably in dialogue.”21
The Japanese bishops emphasized that “in the context of evangelization
in Asia, ‘compassion with the suffering’ has been identified time after time
at the General Assemblies of the FABC as a most important element. In
missionary work among those of other religions, what is more important
than convincing words is the attitude of standing by the side of the weak
and powerless and showing them compassion.”22
Addressing specifically the bishops in Europe, the bishops of Thailand
suggested that “Asian people are satisfied with their own religion, and
feel that they are able to lead their personal and social life in a proper
and peaceful way. If we want to reach the hearts of Asian people, these
are the ways: Evangelization must be a witness showing clearly that the
teaching of Christ brings goodness and peace to the people, to a level
they could not imagine. Evangelization must establish good relationships
with other religions through respect and acceptance of each other’s values.
Evangelization must recognize the traditions of other religions as friends
or even relatives living together. Evangelization must participate in human
and social development to reach and teach the goodness of supernatural
life, as well as of natural life.”23
The Taiwanese bishops went a step further and insisted that “the
Catholic Church can also learn from other religions their hospitality, open-
ness and mild and humble attitude in dialogues.”24 These sentiments were
54 E.K.-F. CHIA
echoed by the Episcopal conference of Malaysia, Singapore, and Brunei,

whose statement had this to add: “The Church can, like the Asian reli-
gions, learn to be more open, receptive, sensitive, tolerant and forgiving
in the midst of plurality of religions.”25 Suggesting that there needs to be a
reappraisal of the church’s attitude toward the other religions vis-à-vis the
Christian theology of salvation, the Korean bishops made this interven-
tion: “We have to study and re-evaluate the meaning and role of the great
traditional religions in Korea. They too play a part in the salvific economy
of God. This understanding is essential for the inculturation of the Gospel.
Ignorance of these religions and their culture, and a sense of superiority
and exclusivism in religion should be eradicated.”26
OPENING MINDS AND TRANSFORMING HEARTS

To be sure, many Catholics continue to be largely ignorant of the beliefs
and practices of other religions. That accounts for why the reception of
Vatican II’s teachings on interreligious dialogue has not been without its
challenges. Indian archbishop Angelo Fernandes, in advocating a thor-
ough updating of theological education in Asian churches, once said:
“Among Christians themselves there are some with fundamentalist atti-
tudes who refuse to accept the Church’s new and positive understand-
ing of non-Christian religions and their place in God’s universal plan of
salvation....Other irrational fears are based on centuries of prejudice and/
or ignorance of other religions. Someone has summed up the position in
two words: arrogance and ignorance.”27 Unfortunately, the attitudes of
arrogance and ignorance have not completely disappeared from the minds
and hearts of many Catholics in Asia as well as elsewhere.
However, an appreciation for the teachings of the council on its rela-
tions with other religions could open minds and convert hearts. The key
to this is openness in learning. Bishop Bunluen Mansap of Thailand has
gone so far as to say that what is needed is that we Christians have to be
“evangelized” by our neighbors of other faiths. This, he believes, is the
first act of evangelization. It is only after being evangelized that Christians
will have the credibility to evangelize others in Asia and elsewhere around
the globe. Suffice to say that this attitude of openness to the religious
“other” and the desire to be involved in the praxis of dialogue are very
much a result of NA’s teachings and the subsequent theological reflections
of the Asian bishops within the contextual realities of the Asian continent.
It is only through the actual praxis of dialogue that minds can be opened
and hearts transformed. In this transformation Catholics can then learn to
appreciate both the similarities and differences across the religions. In the
process they can learn more about the God they believe in and the God
who transcends the boundaries of particular religious traditions. Interfaith
dialogue, in the words of Pope Francis, “can deepen the understanding
and appreciation of the many things which we hold in common.” It can
also, the pontiff continues, “allow us to reflect sensibly and serenely on
our differences, and to learn from them…[and enable us to] overcome
prejudices and unwarranted fears, leaving room for respect, encounter,
and the release of more positive energies for the good of all.”28 This is also
the challenge which NA brings to all of us.
NOTES
1. Aloysius Pieris, “The Roman Catholic Perception of Other Churches and
Other Religions after the Vatican’s Dominus Jesus,” East Asian Pastoral
Review 38, no. 3 (2001): 215.
2. Karl Rahner, “Basic Theological Interpretation of the Second Vatican
Council,” in Theological Investigations vol. XX (New York: Crossroad
Publishing, 1981), 78.
3. Felix Wilfred, “The Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences (FABC):
Orientations, Challenges and Impact,” in For All the Peoples of Asia: Federation
of Asian Bishops’ Conferences, Documents from 1970 to 1991, vol. 1, ed.
Gaudencio Rosales & Catalino G. Arévalo (Quezon City: Claretian
Publications, 1997), xxiii.
4. Asian Bishops’ Meeting (Manila, 1970), “Message and Resolutions of the
Asian Bishops’ Meeting,” in For All the Peoples of Asia, vol. 1, 9.
5. First Plenary Assembly of the Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences
(Taipei, 1974), “Evangelization in Modern Day Asia,” in For All the Peoples
of Asia, vol. 1, 14.
6. Ibid.
7. Seventh Bishops’ Institute for Interreligious Affairs on the Theology of
Dialogue (Tagaytay City, 1988), in For All the Peoples of Asia, vol. 1, 310.
8. Eleventh Bishops’ Institute for Interreligious Affairs on the Theology of
Dialogue (Sukabumi, 1988), in For All the Peoples of Asia, vol. 1, 321.
9. Sixth Plenary Assembly of the Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences
(Manila, 1995), “Christian Discipleship in Asia Today: Service to Life,” in
For All the Peoples of Asia: Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences, Documents
from 1992 to 1996, vol. 2, ed. Franz-Josef Eilers (Quezon City: Claretian,
1997), 1–2.
10. John Gnanapiragasam & Felix Wilfred, ed., Being Church in Asia: Theological
Advisory Commission (Quezon City: Claretian Publications, 1994), 10.
56 E.K.-F. CHIA
11. Ibid., 12.

12. Ibid.
13. Renewed Evangelizers for New Evangelization in Asia: Message of X FABC
Plenary Assembly (Xuan Loc, Vietnam, Dec 16, 2012), 2, http://www.fabc.
org/index_10th_plenary.html
14. Instrumentum Laboris of FABC X Plenary Assembly, Catholic Bishops’
Conference of Vietnam (Dec 10, 2012), http://cbcvietnam.org/Church-
Documents/instrumentum-laboris-of-fabc-x-plenary-assembly.html
15. Aloysius Pieris, “Asia’s Non-Semitic Religions and the Mission of Local
Churches,” in An Asian Theology of Liberation (Quezon City: Claretians
Publications, 1988), 38.
16. See Edmund Chia, “Wanted: Interreligious Dialogue,” Studies in
Interreligious Dialogue 12, no. 1 (2002): 101–110.
17. Fifth Plenary Assembly of the Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences
(Bandung, 1990), “Journeying Together Toward the Third Millennium,” in
For All the Peoples of Asia, vol. 1, 280.
18. Felix Wilfred, “Images of Jesus Christ in the Asian Pastoral Context: An
Interpretation of Documents from the Federation of Asian Bishops’
Conferences,” Concilium (1993/2): 52–53.
19. Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences, “Renewed Evangelizers for New
Evangelization in Asia Message of X FABC Plenary Assembly” (Dec 16,
2012), http://www.fabc.org/index_10th_plenary.html
20. “Bishops Propose New Way of Evangelization for Asia,” Union of Catholic
Asian News, UCAN (Feb 16, 1998), http://www.ucanews.com/
story-archive/
21. “The Catholic Bishops’ Conference of India,” The Asian Synod: Texts and
Commentaries (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2002), 20.
22. “Asian Realities Must Set Agenda for the Synod for Asia,” UCAN (Jul 30,
1997), http://www.ucanews.com/story-archive/
23. “Thai Church Stresses ‘Witness’ as Evangelizing Means,” UCAN (Aug 19,
24. “Taiwan Bishops Respond to Lineamenta of Asian Synod,” UCAN (Dec 24,
25. “Malaysia-Singapore-Brunei: Response to Lineamenta,” UCAN (Dec 17,
26. “Korean Bishops Respond to Synod Lineamenta,” UCAN (Aug 13, 1997),
http://www.ucanews.com/story-archive/
27. Angelo Fernandes, “Dialogue in the Context of Asian Realities,” Vidyajyoti
50 (Oct 1991): 554.
28. “Pope Francis: Interreligious Dialogue can Help End Forms of
Fundamentalism,” Vatican Radio (Nov 28, 2014), http://www.news.va/en/
news/pope-francis-interreligious-dialogue-can-help-end
PART II
Islam and Muslims Around the Globe

CHAPTER 5
Challenges of Muslim-Christian Relations

in Nigeria
Mukhtar Umar Bunza
INTRODUCTION
Nigeria is one of the most populous and plural nations in Africa, in terms
of ethnic, regional, and religious dimensions. Virtually all its peoples are
inclined to religion: Islam, Christianity, or African Traditional Religion.
The country has over 300 different ethnic groups within its borders. Islam
is the dominant religion in the north, while Christianity dominates the
south, and the African Traditional Religious practices are widespread all
over the country.
Interfaith relations in Nigeria, particularly between Muslims and
Christians, have since the early 1980s taken a ferocious dimension, espe-
cially in the heterogeneous states in Northern Nigeria. The unpleasant
encounters experienced in these regions sent shock waves to other parts
of the country, fueling reprisal attacks and vengeance. Extra-religious
forces continue to becloud the situation and inspire conflicts and car-
nage in the name of religion. The struggle between regions for ethnic
or tribal control of the country’s central administration, competition for
the nation’s resources, the marginalization of minority tribes, issues of
M.U. Bunza ( )
Faculty of Arts and Islamic Studies, Usmanu Danfodiyo University,
Sokoto, Nigeria
e-mail: mbunza@hotmail.com

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_5
60 M.U. BUNZA
identity, landownership, income distribution, and the settler-indigene

rights problem have all been portrayed as conflicts between Muslims and
Christians. Exploiting this is easy as most ethnic minorities are also reli-
gious minorities. In the North, Christians are the minorities; in the South,
Muslims are the minorities.
This chapter will examine these challenges, but only after briefly mapping
out the history of some more positive moments of Christian-Muslim relations
in Nigeria. Islam certainly has no problem with Christianity and neither does
Christianity have any problem with Islam. It is Muslims and Christians who
have problems with each other and who are using religion as their weapon.
MUSLIM-CHRISTIAN RELATIONSHIP IN EARLY ISLAM

Islam and Christianity are historically the closest religions, in terms of his-
torical background, theology, and norms. They both have divine revelation
as guiding principles and basis for the practice of their faiths. From the
beginning of Islamic mission, Prophet Muhammad regarded Christians as
allies and protectors.1 As explained in the Qur’an:
Strongest among men in enmity to the [Muslim] believers wilt thou find the
Jews and pagans, and nearest among them in love to the [Muslim] believers
wilt thou find those who say “We are Christians.” Because amongst these are
men devoted to learning and men who have renounced the world; and they
are not arrogant. (Qur’an 5:82)
This Qur’anic verse came to pass during the apex of the Meccan per-
secution of Prophet Muhammad and his followers. Assistance from the
Christian emperor of Ethiopia was provided to Muslims when the entire
world of idolaters in Arabia and Persia combined their forces to exter-
minate them. In the early years of Islam, Prophet Muhammad was pro-
Christian, while the Makkah idolaters were pro-Persian polytheists. The
rationale behind these alliances was that Muhammad showed his closeness
to those who had received revelations like his own and who had a sense
of the divine being. In a letter sent by Prophet Muhammad to the Negus
of Ethiopia, a strong link between Islam and Christianity was emphasized.
The letter reads:
In the name of God the Beneficent the Merciful. From Muhammad the
Apostle of God to al-Najashi [Negus] ruler of Ethiopia. Greetings, I con-
vey to you the praises of God beside whom there is no other deity, the
Sovereign, the Holy One, the source of peace, the Guardian of faith and the
CHALLENGES OF MUSLIM-CHRISTIAN RELATIONS IN NIGERIA 61
watcher [over all creatures]. I testify that Jesus son of Mary is God’s Spirit;
a righteous virgin, she became pregnant of Jesus who is from His spirit and
breath as he created Adam with His hand.2
In response to Prophet Muhammad’s letter, Negus wrote: “Now I have

received your letter in which you mentioned the issue of Jesus. By the lord
of the heaven and earth, Jesus is not more than what you said. We know that
which you sent to us, and we have hosted your cousin and his companions.”3
The protection given to Muslim immigrants by the Christian ruler of
Ethiopia was formidable and explained why the Ethiopian ruler refused to
send those Muslims home, as requested by the Makkan nobles. A similar
response from the Muqauqis of Egypt was received after the Prophet’s
envoy went to him with a message. He said: “Now I have read your letter
and understood what you mentioned in it and that to which you are sum-
moning [the people]. I have honored your messenger and sent you two
maids who are highly regarded in Egypt. I have also sent you clothes and
a donkey to ride.”4
The good relationship between Muslims and Christians encouraged the
holy Prophet to take as his wife one of the two maids sent to him by the
Christian ruler of Egypt. The wife was popularly known as “Maria the
Coptic,” the mother of Ibrahim, the youngest and last child of the Prophet.
She respectfully retained her Christian Coptic title in the household of
the prophet of Islam. The cordial relationship with Christians encouraged
Prophet Muhammad to guarantee a charter to the monks of the monas-
tery of St. Catherine, located near Mount Sinai. The charter governed the
rights and privileges of Christians under the Islamic State. Y.A. Quadri
gives this account:
He [Muhammad] enjoined on his followers to protect the Christians, to

defend their Church, the residence of their priests and to guard them from
all injuries. They [Christians] were not to be unfairly taxed, no Christian was
to be driven out of his bishopric, and no monk was to be expelled from his
monastery. Nor were Christian Churches to be pulled down for the sake of
building mosques or houses for the Muslims.5
Thus, the Prophet entered into a covenant for himself and all those
who followed his teaching to protect Christians and their properties, thus
ensuring their religious freedom. Any Muslim violating or abusing the
covenant would be regarded as a violator of God’s testament, a transgres-
sor of God’s commandments, and a slighter of the Islamic faith. That
62 M.U. BUNZA
was the type of harmonious relationship established with Christians by

Muslims at the inception of Islam.
MUSLIM-CHRISTIAN RELATIONSHIP IN NIGERIA

The relationship between Muslims and Christians in Nigeria followed
the same pattern as that of the history and evolution of the country.
In its unadulterated nature, the relationship was mutual and cordial,
that is, before political and economic competitions came into the pic-
ture. In the history of the Muslim emirates and the wider caliphate of
Nigeria, with its seat located in Sokoto, Muslim relations with Christian
missionaries were attractive and friendly. Non-Muslims were guaranteed
justice and human rights under the Sokoto Caliphate. The Islamic State
founded by Shehu Usman Danfodiyo, together with Abdullah Fodiyo and
Muhammad Bello—two lieutenants and helpers of the Shehu—encour-
aged scholars to write extensively on the treatment of non-Muslims in an
Islamic state, emphasizing their rights. In Diya ul Hukkam, for example,
Abdullahi advocated that non-Muslims must be treated with kindness in
all affairs and be left absolutely free to choose whatever form of worship
they wanted.6
According to John Nengel, it was within this context that the emirs
conducted their affairs with pockets of Maguzawa (non-Muslim Hausa)
settlements within the emirates, as well as with societies in the central
Nigerian Highlands.7 The level of freedom and liberty granted to non-
Muslims in the Sokoto Caliphate is evidenced by the existence of pockets
of non-Muslim elements untouched in the midst of the powerful caliph-
ate. E.A. Ayandele has this to say:
There is no record that captured slaves were being consciously converted to

Islam. In Zaria and Kano Emirates, there were the Maguzawa, indigenous
and pure Hausa people who up to now have refused to embrace Islam.
They were left alone as freemen, both in Habe and Fulani Zazzau. It may
be noted that in Zazzau, the Fulani appointed an official to be in charge
of their [non-Muslim] affairs administratively. Surely if the Fulani Jihadists
[the Caliphate] had wished, the Maguzawa could have been compelled to
become at least nominally Muslims.8
Similarly, Tesemchi Makar affirmed that “some emirs who bordered

with non-Muslim kingdoms offered them protection and in many instances
embarked on war for the defense of their non-Muslim neighbors.”9 In
the 1860s and 1870s, for instance, the Muri Emirate fought several wars
against the Tiv in protection of the Jukuns, a non-Muslim kingdom under
its care. Makar also debunked the view that the non-Muslim areas of the
Middle Belt served as reservoir for the supply of slaves for the Muslim
emirates. The presence of non-Muslims in the emirates, according to him,
was due to the liberal nature of the administration of the areas under the
Caliphate.10 In an article on “Slavery in Pre-Colonial Northern Nigeria,”
Ayandele described the relationship between the Caliphate and non-
Muslim groups as no different from other tribal relationships: “It would
appear that slave-catching should be regarded more as an effect than a
cause of warfare in Northern Nigeria. The wars fought by the stronger
emirates against the smaller and weaker pagan peoples had the character-
istics of many wars in contemporary indigenous Africa.”11
In 1824, Captain Clapperton, the first European Christian visitor,
arrived in Sokoto. The Sultan’s palace accorded a warm welcome to him
and the European explorers, traders, consuls, missionaries, and forces
of conquest. Through Clapperton, diplomatic ties started developing
between the British and Christian empire and the Sokoto Islamic Caliphate.
On March 17, 1824, Sultan Muhammad Bello hosted Clapperton in his
palace, during which their conversations delved into many issues includ-
ing religion, the different denominations within Christianity, history, and
trade. Clapperton narrates this encounter:
He [Sultan Muhammad Bello] asked me a great many questions about

Europe, and our religious denominations. He was acquainted with the names
of some of the more ancient sects, and asked whether we were Nestorians
or Socinians. To extricate myself from the embarrassment occasioned by his
questions, I bluntly replied we were called Protestant. What are Protestants?
Says he. I attempted to explain to him, as well as I was able, that having
protested, more than two centuries and a half ago, against the superstitions,
absurdities, and abuses practiced in those days, we had ever since professed
to follow simply what was written in the book of our Lord Jesus Christ…He
continued to ask several theological questions until I was obliged to confess
myself not sufficiently versed in religious subtleties to resolve these knotty
points, having always left that task to others more learned than myself. 12
The tradition of tolerance and dialogue between Christians and Muslims

was further consolidated by the positive steps taken by some emirs in the
Nigerian areas. Christian missionaries were left free to evangelize in the
Muslim areas of the Caliphate as long as they operated peacefully. That
accounts for why in the Muslim centers of Sokoto and Zaria churches are
64 M.U. BUNZA
found in the heart of these cities. Without the tolerant nature and civilized
disposition of the Muslim emirs and their followers that would not have
been possible. Indeed, it is on record that some very important religious
and political leaders such as the Emir of Gwandu Yahya had openly dia-
logued with Christian missionaries in his palace and studied the Bible on
his own volition.
That unprecedented legacy of tolerance by the Sokoto Caliphate has
remained a source of inspiration and guidance for Muslim leaders in
Nigeria until today. The Sardauna of Sokoto (great-grandson of Shehu
Usmanu Danfodiyo), the first premier of the Northern Region, contin-
ued this legacy and demonstrated it by attending the summit of coalition
of Protestant missions in Nigeria which was held in Jos in 1964. As the
political and spiritual leader of Muslims, the Sardauna made a momentous
speech at the missionary conference. Among other things, he stressed:
[W]e cannot deny that there have been differences from time to time but I
believe that such differences when they occur can generally be settled by tol-
erance and good will; the differences in our religions need be no bar to our
continuing to work together for the good of our people....May I add one
more word and this I do with the utmost sincerity and in full knowledge of
the gravity of what I am going to say. The Christian holds a special place in
the regard of Muslims throughout the world. If I add that in the past there
have been occasions when we have sometimes felt that our regard was not
reciprocated, when intolerance and bigotry were allowed unnecessary rein,
then I do so in the hope that you may all understand that it is my fervent
prayer that these differences can and will be overcome.13
In continuation and sustenance of that positive spirit, the leader of the

Catholic Church, Pope John Paul II, was received warmly by the Sultan
of Sokoto, Abubakar III, at his palace in 1998 and friendly words and
compliments were exchanged, culminating in a commitment to the quest
for tolerance, understanding, and cooperation among the followers of the
two religions.
MAJORITY-MINORITY RELATIONS
There are a number of impediments to the realization of continued posi-
tive and fruitful interfaith relations in Nigeria. The conception or miscon-
ception of one tribe dominating another is one of the biggest problems.
The Ibo and Yoruba tribes of Southern Nigeria, for example, have always
regarded the Hausa-Fulani tribes of the north as the privileged ethnic
entity in the nation’s political and economic affairs since the colonial
period. Ibo Christian scholar Okeke describes the historical circumstances:
The British helped to perpetuate Hausa-Fulani hegemony in Northern

Nigeria partly because the British colonial administration did not have
enough money to rule so vast an area of Northern Nigeria directly, and
partly because they [the British] saw that the Fulani-led emirate government
was quite sophisticated and efficient,…thus, while sovereignty passed into
the hands of the British, the Fulani emirs as agents of the British continued
to rule in the areas they conquered in the 19th century.14
Catholic priest Rev. Mathew Hassan Kukah adds that, as a result, “the
British extended the Hausa-Fulani power beyond the areas they ruled
before the conquest.”15 Unfortunately, this historical tribal divide remains
until today and has been a chief source of conflict between the communi-
ties of the two regions. The late Chief Bola Ige, former Minister of Justice
in Nigeria and a Christian Yoruba from the South, compares the conflict
to the Rwanda crisis where the Muslim North are regarded as “Tutsis,”
while the Christian South “Hutus.” He articulates his frustration:
Since 1960, has our bane not been that the “Tutsis” of Nigeria (who are
minorities in population, in education, in management skills, in the econ-
omy) have held Nigeria at the jugular, scheming political maneuvers that
make them hold onto power at all costs and in all circumstances?…If a coun-
try is multi-lingual, multi-ethnic and multi-religious, its constitution must
be federal. At the risk of being misunderstood it seems to me that the reason
the “Tutsis” of Nigeria cannot understand these simple axioms is that, first,
they are immigrant uprooted groups scattered all over Nigeria without any
defined geographical boundaries; secondly, their culture has been lost to a
“religious” culture which unfortunately does not enable them to appreciate
the culture of other people.16
Such ethnically divisive statements from influential leaders are seen to be

fueling further ethnic and tribal conflicts. Reports suggest that the activi-
ties of the Odua Peoples’ Congress—a militant youth wing of the Yoruba
Descent Association, Afenifere—which Bola Ige participated in founding,
have resulted in numerous unrests and violence especially in the Yoruba-
dominated states of Nigeria since 1999. It is important to state that the
movement comprises both Muslims and Christians, but all of them are
of the same ethnic origin. Ethnic and tribal sentiments run higher than
religion. Most ethnically motivated violence against non-Yoruba ethnic
66 M.U. BUNZA
groups in Lagos, Ibadan, Shagamu, and many other Yoruba cities in

the Southwest are inflicted in the name of defense or for the purpose of
revenge.17 Nnoli offers a description of this:
This arises when, for example, x group correctly or incorrectly perceives

itself threatened by group y. There is a high probability that x’s original per-
ception of threat and danger would be confirmed and will further increase
its “defensive” hostile activity. Soon the exchanges between the two are
caught in an increasingly intense spiral and self-confirming hostile suspi-
cious actions, counteractions and expectations virtually unrelated to the ini-
tial cause of the antagonism, and open the possibility for inter-ethnic [and
religious] violence.18
Even if these conflicts are in the main ethnic, religion is almost always
brought in. For instance, during the Nigerian civil war, the secessionist
leaders are reported to have linked religion to the civil war in order to
win the support of the international Christian communities. The war was
presented as Hausa-Fulani Muslim aggression against the Christian Ibo
even as it was clear that the main issues were economics and politics. The
Nigerian State, which was supporting the Hausa-Falani, was portrayed as
Islamic even though the president of Nigeria himself and most of the lead-
ing commanders were Christians.
STRUGGLE FOR NATIONAL LEADERSHIP

The ferocious rivalry between the three major ethnic groups in Nigeria
for control of the nation’s central administration is another important
factor for understanding the current interfaith conflicts in the country.
As seen earlier, the ethnic division of the country also followed religious
division, thus making it difficult to separate the two. When the Hausa/
Fulani Muslims are fighting for political control of the central admin-
istration it is considered as waging a “jihad” against the non-Muslims.
Similarly, Christians consider it “a crusade” to end the Muslim domina-
tion of the nation’s leadership. In addition, both Muslims and Christians
prefer a president coming from their own religion even if a nominally prac-
ticing one. During the periods of election these slogans are often heard:
“we must have a Christian president” or “Muslims should only elect a
Muslim as president.” These sentiments, promoted even by religious lead-
ers, increase the tension. They may also lead to violence and conflict and,
in the process, draw religion into it: “North versus South always ends up
about Islam against Christianity.”19
The issue of Northern Muslims clinging on to the leadership of the

country has become a complex problem, mixed with religious sentiments.
Senator Chief Arthur Nzeribe was complaining about too much control
of power by a certain ethnic and religious group when he was quoted as
saying: “I strongly advocate a pre-mediated move to redirect the predomi-
nant flow of national leadership and power from the direction of the North
and Islam [to that of the South and Christianity].”20 These moves are also
partly because the Christian elites in the South consider the Muslim politi-
cians as backward with regard to Western education, and generally tradi-
tionalist and conservative in outlook. Furthermore, according to Okeke:
The Muslim North appears in the view of other Nigerian groups as a greedy
and arrogant group and as a cog in the wheel of Nigeria’s progress. This
feeling, has given impetus to the efforts being made now by other [religious
and ethnic] groups to work in concert to end Hausa-Fulani [Muslim] hege-
mony in Nigeria [even through violence].21
POVERTY AND STATE MALADMINISTRATION

The question of why interfaith and inter-ethnic tensions and conflicts
have escalated since the mid-1980s have also to be responded to by look-
ing at the roles played by economic difficulty, unemployment, and pov-
erty. Many energetic youth are unemployed, including those who went
to universities and colleges. Some economic policies embarked upon by
the government of Ibrahim Babangida, such as the Structural Adjustment
Program (SAP) and the devaluation of national currency, contributed sig-
nificantly to falling living standards, increased poverty, and the closing
down of indigenous companies and factories. This, of course, has implica-
tions for the people’s lives, the consequence of which include a heightened
tension among the poverty-stricken masses.
Unfortunately, in spite of the fact that the masses on both the Muslim and
Christian sides are victims of injustice and maladministration, some Christian
elites set the poor masses against the Muslims as a whole, just because many
of those in control of the central administration happen to be Muslims. In
a most politically inciting document of the Northern zone of the Christian
Association of Nigeria (CAN), entitled Leadership in Nigeria to Date, all the
social crises, economic hardships, and sufferings in the Nigerian State, accord-
ing to CAN, were the fault of Muslims. The association made these charges:
68 M.U. BUNZA
Why are the Muslims always grabbing the education ministry? Why? Why?
Has it a motive in Islamization? The direction of the accusing finger is clear.
Who is responsible for the fact that our educational system is in shambles?
The answer is obvious, Muslims!…who is responsible for our debts? Why
are our industries in a ridiculous state today? [Muslims!].22
In addition to such negative sentiments, there is also the contention

that most Nigerians are in poverty except the Hausa-Fulani Muslims. The
propaganda is that they are too busy competing among themselves in
owning houses and cars and that they are doing so without encounter-
ing much hardship.23 This assertion is unfounded as the masses from all
regions and ethnic groups in the country suffer equally from the mal-
administration of the ruling cliques, whose members also come from all
faiths and all ethnic entities in Nigeria. It is these types of misinformation
and misconception, especially if they come from recognized religious lead-
ers or organizations, which have contributed to the misguidance of their
followers. This in turn makes any efforts for inter-ethnic understanding
and cordial interfaith relations sometimes fruitless endeavors.
POLITICAL AND ECONOMIC MARGINALIZATION

Another important factor of consideration in understanding the cur-
rent religious conflicts in modern Nigeria is the persistent outcry of the
Northern Christians of marginalization and oppression by the Muslim
majority in the North. The origin of the problem, they contend, started
since the precolonial and colonial periods when most of the non-Muslim
areas in the North were put under the control of Muslim emirs. As most
of the Northern minority tribes in the Middle Belt and Southern Zaria are
Christians, in most cases the struggle for their “rights” ends up as religious
struggles. Toyin Falola observes:
In general, Christians in the North constitute a minority both in the way

they defined themselves and also because of the dominance of Islam. They
believe that their rights and existence are being denied by the Muslims. Not
only would they continue to fight, they are likely to escalate vigilantism in
the country as they seek the means to protect themselves and to pursue their
rights in aggressive ways.24
Christianity, therefore, has become a weapon of resistance and a tool

with which to fight the Hausa-Fulani Muslims’ domination. The high rate
of religious conflicts in Northern Nigeria could hardly be understood out-

side of this framework. In a study of Middle Belt Christianity by Kashflet,
the revelation was that the church and other religious bodies were the
main avenues for mobilizing people against the threat and danger posed
by other ethnic communities. As a result, he noted, “associations and
organizations for the liberation of the Middle Belt emerged. As early as
1950, the Non-Muslim League was formed, then followed by other simi-
lar organizations in order to serve both the political and religious interests
of their people.”25
It can therefore be suggested that the main reason for the conflicts
between the Hausa-Fulani Muslims and the Christian minorities in most
parts of Northern Nigeria has been the widespread feelings of oppression
by the Christians. This feeling, which continues to be propagated among
the people, especially those whose occupation has been to serve in the
police and military institutions, becomes one of the reasons for retaliatory
violence being portrayed as religious violence. This is why present-day
Kaduna, Plateau-Jos, Nasarawa, Benue, and other Middle Belt states
remain a “war zone” for bloody conflicts between Muslims and Christians.
The vicious cycle perpetuates itself.
This perceived “persecution” and “suppression,” coupled with eco-
nomic and political marginalization, are the main motivating factors for
religious violence in most parts of Northern Nigeria. Quite often, reli-
gious sentiments are used for mobilization of peoples and churches orga-
nize demonstrations in favor of ethnic or tribal wars; such was the case
with the Zangon Kataf crisis. The origin of the crisis was the relocation of
a marketplace, but this was later turned into an interfaith conflict and a
large number of lives and properties were destroyed.
SETTLER/INDIGENE SYNDROME
In states like Kaduna and Jos-Plateau, the challenge to the relations
between Muslims and Christians is due to yet another factor. Here, a
number of conflicts are based on the fact that it is the settler communities
who have become more powerful economically and politically than the
host indigene communities. That the Muslim communities of Northern
Nigeria are more commercially and economically oriented than the indi-
gene Christians has become a source of tension. The Reverend Debki has
this to say about the matter:
70 M.U. BUNZA
The moment a Hausa arrived in your town with his mat on his shoulder,
with no estate of his own; before you realize it he is turbaned as ‘Sarkin
Hausawa’—Chief of the Hausa people of the area. The next thing, you sud-
denly see him dictating on the host people’s political affairs and appear to
be strong and influential within a short time. Their [Hausa Muslim] control
of these two most important things in the North attracted the anger of the
Christian groups.26
These sentiments are not totally unwarranted. In the Plateau state, for
instance, it was assessed that a greater percentage of the economy of the
area is being controlled by Muslims, even in Christian-dominated areas.
In the 1996 election, a Muslim Hausa emerged as Chairman of the Jos
North Local Government Council. This was followed by violence as the
non-Hausas were seeing a “settler” dominating the indigenes. Etannibi
Alemika opines that such inter-ethnic and socio-economic conflicts were
widespread in non-Muslim areas which have an emerging Muslim politi-
cal and economic class: “There was an interaction of ethnic, religious
and political grievances, especially in the light of the festering problem
and trend of classifying people as indigenes, non-indigenes and settler
population in the Middle Belt states, especially in Plateau, Nassarawa and
Kaduna states.”27
With reference to the Jos indigene/settler problem, Danfulani quotes
former president Obasanjo as saying: “[T]he concept of settler and non-
native syndrome has of recent hardened into a theory of ethnic exclusive-
ness and molded and propagated to foist a pejorative meaning to advance
economic and political control among competing elite groups for interests
during democratic regimes.”28
CONCLUSION
As can be seen from the study presented above, there are many funda-
mental issues that hinder congenial interfaith relations in Nigeria—espe-
cially between Muslims and Christians and within the regional entity of
Northern Nigeria. These issues include the polarization of the commu-
nities into Christians versus Muslims, Northern versus Southern, settler
versus indigene, dominant versus marginalized, and rich versus poor. The
complex nature of the country in terms of ethnic, tribal, and regional
composition, coupled with the political and economic rivalry among these
regions and tribes—particularly on the question of leadership and access
to the national wealth—and other forms of marginalization, have resulted

in conflicts being fought under the cloak of religion.
Successive Nigerian governments, as well as non-governmental
organizations and associations, have tried various initiatives and moves
in an effort to end interfaith conflicts and violence. But they have had
little or no success in most cases. Perhaps if and when non-religious
demands cease being fought in the name of religion the peoples of
Nigeria might be able to experience some semblance of true interfaith
dialogue and understanding.
NOTES
1. See Mukhtar Umar Bunza, Christian Missions among Muslims: Sokoto
Province, Nigeria, 1935–1990 (Trenton, New Jersey: Africa World Press,
2007), 118–123.
2. Cited in Ahmad von Denffer, Christians in the Qur’an and Sunnah: An
Assessment from the Sources to Help Define our Relationship (London: The
Islamic Foundation, 1982), 14–18.
3. Ibid., 18.
4. Cited in R. D. Abubakre, “Islamic Nostrum for Religious Tolerance in the
Polity of a Multi-Religious State: The Nigerian Experience,” in Religion,
Peace and Unity in Nigeria, eds. Sams Bab Mala & Zakariyau I. Oseni
(Ibadan: Nigerian Association for the Study of Religions, 1984), 91.
5. See Yasir Quadri Anjola, “Muhammad the Prophet of Peace,” in Nigerian
Studies in Religious Tolerance, eds. C. S. Momoh, M. S. Zahradeen, & S. O.
Abogunrin (Lagos: Centre for Black and African Arts and Civilization, 1989),
388.
6. See Abdullahi Fodiyo, Diyaa’ al-Hukkam [The Light for Governors] (Zaria:
Gaskiya Corporation, 1956; originally written 1805–1808), 6; and
Muhammad Bello, “Usul al-Siyasat,” trans. Isa Mafara, Tarihi Belletin (Dec
1984): 44.
7. John Nengel, “Echoes of the Sokoto Jihad and its Legacies on the Societies
of the Jos-Plateau,” in The Sokoto Caliphate: History and Legacies, 1804–2004,
vol. II, eds. H. Boboyi & A. M. Yakubu (Kaduna: Arewa House, 2006),
191–192.
8. Emmanuel Ayankanmi Ayandele, Nigerian Historical Studies (London: Frank
Cass Publishers, 1979), 71–72.
9. Tesemchi Makar, “The Relationship between the Sokoto Caliphate and the
Non-Muslim Peoples of Middle Benue Region,” in Studies in the History of
the Sokoto Caliphate, ed. Yusufu Bala Usman (Zaria: Ahmadu Bello University
Department of History for the Sokoto State History Bureau, 1979), 452.
72 M.U. BUNZA
10. Ibid.
11. Ayandele, Nigeria Historical Studies, 71.
12. Major Denham, Captain Clapperton, & Doctor Oudney, Captain
Clapperton’s Narrative (1826), 81–83, as cited in Thomas Hodgkin,
Nigerian Perspectives: An Historical Anthology, 2nd ed. (London: Oxford
University Press, 1975), 283.
13. Edmund P. T. Crampton, Christianity in Northern Nigeria (London:
Geoffrey Chapman Publishers, 1979), 214–217.
14. Okechukwu Okeke, Hausa-Fulani Hegemony: The Dominance of the Muslim
North in Contemporary Nigerian politics (Enugu: Acena Publishers, 1992),
16.
15. Matthew Hassan Kukah, Religion, Politics and Power in Northern Nigeria
(Ibadan: Spectrum Books, 1993), 1.
16. Abubakar Siddique Mohammed, Chief Bola Ige and the Destabilization of
Nigeria (Zaria: CEDDERT, 1999), 9–10.
17. See Joses Gani Yoroms, “Dynamics of Ethnic and Religious Conflicts in the
Middle Belt,” in Ethno-religious Conflicts and Democracy in Nigeria:
Challenges, eds. Etannibi E. O. Alemika & Festus Okoye (Nigeria: Human
Rights Monitor, 2002), 25–70.
18. Okwudiba Nnoli, Ethnic Politics in Nigeria (Enugu: Fourth Dimension
Publishers, 1978), 232.
19. Matthew Hassan Kukah, Democracy and Civil Society in Nigeria (Ibadan:
Spectrum Books, 1999), 100.
20. Umar Mohammed Birai, Domestic Constraints on Foreign Policy: The Role of
Religion in Nigeria-Israel Relations, 1960–1996 (Kaduna: Sahab Press,
1996), 30.
21. Okeke, Hausa-Fulani Hegemony, 12.
22. Christian Association of Nigeria, Leadership in Nigeria to Date: An Analysis,
Enlightenment Series 1 (Kaduna: CAN Publicity Northern Zone, 1989), 36.
23. Bee E. E. Debki, The Tragedy of Shariah, Cry and the Voice from Masses:
Kaduna Crisis From an Eye Witness (Kaduna: D. Debki Publisher, 2000),
113.
24. Toyin Falola, Violence in Nigeria: The Crisis of Religious Politics and Secular
Ideologies (Rochester, New York: University of Rochester Press, 2001), 293.
25. N. Kashfelt, Religion and Politics in Nigeria: A Study of Middle Belt
Christianity (London: British Academy Press, 1994), 105.
26. See Debki, The Tragedy of Shariah, 114–116.
27. Etannibi E. O. Alemika, “Sociological Analysis of Ethnic and Religious
Conflicts in the Middle Belt of Nigeria,” in Alemika & Okoye, eds, Ethno-
religious Conflicts, 1–24.
28. See Umar H. D. Danfulani, “The Jos Conference and the Indigene/Settler
Question in Nigerian Politics,” undated draft (AS C Leiden/University of
Jos, Nigeria), 13.
CHAPTER 6
Impact of State Policies on Interfaith

Relations in Pakistan
Ali Ahmed
INTRODUCTION
Religious extremism has landed Pakistan into a quagmire from where the
nation’s escape is increasingly becoming more challenging. Perpetual vio-
lence and deadly strikes by those who have come to be known as “jihadists”
by the international media have pushed the nation to the brink. People of
all faiths, including Muslims, are targeted by these religious extremists
who claim they are seeking to transform Pakistan into a true Islamic state.
Thousands of Pakistanis have died in the past decades in religiously moti-
vated attacks. The worship place of no religion is safe. Hindus, Christians,
Ahmadis, Shiites, and almost anyone who does not subscribe to their ide-
ology are considered heretics and infidels by the jihadists.
In this chapter, I will first discuss the dreams of a secular and pluralistic
state of Pakistan’s founder, Mohammad Ali Jinnah. I then spell out what
went tragically wrong after his death just a little over a year after Pakistan’s
independence. The use of religion as a tool, especially for defense and
security purposes, was its major pitfall. The chapter looks at the subse-
quent Islamization of the state and the recruitment and promotion of
A. Ahmed ( )
Independent Pakistani Shiite Muslim scholar of religion and
society, Sydney, Australia
e-mail: ali.interfaithdialogue@gmail.com

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_6
74 A. AHMED
armed militants by invoking religion. It then examines the consequences

of these state policies on interfaith relations and their impact on members
of minority Muslim groups and those of non-Muslim faiths.
FOUNDING YEARS OF PAKISTAN

Pakistan was not meant to be what it has become today. The founding
father, Mohammad Ali Jinnah, had proposed to establish a progressive,
pluralistic, and inclusive nation where each individual was an equal citizen
of the state irrespective of any consideration. Addressing the people of
Pakistan on August 11, 1947, Jinnah said:
You are free, you are free to go to your temples; you are free to go to your
mosques or to any other places of worship in this state of Pakistan. You may
belong to any religion, caste or creed that has nothing to do with the busi-
ness of the state....In the course of time Hindus would cease to be Hindus
and Muslims would cease to be Muslims, not in the religious sense, because
that is the personal faith of each individual, but in the political sense as citi-
zens of the State.1
Jinnah had clearly chalked out the contours of future Pakistan on the eve
of independence. It was to be a country where all citizens were equal and
their faiths had nothing to do with the state. It was to be a secular state.
But, unfortunately, Jinnah did not live long enough to realize his dreams
of a pluralistic and secular Pakistan. His successors discarded his vision and
embarked on an opposite course. Ardeshir Cowasji argues that Jinnah’s
successors betrayed him by deviating from his vision. His comments:
Once he was dead, those who followed swiftly broke faith with him and
it took them but six months to betray both Jinnah and the people of his
country. They managed to do everything he had warned them not to do,
and those that have followed the followers have succeeded beyond Jinnah’s
wildest dreams in converting his country to quite the opposite of what he
intended and in polluting the minds of its people. It was not to be for better,
but unequivocally for worse.2
Jinnah’s successors began to Islamize Pakistan. In March 1949, the

country’s first Constituent Assembly passed an Objectives Resolution that
was to serve as guiding principle for the future constitution writing of the
new state. The Resolution reads:
IMPACT OF STATE POLICIES ON INTERFAITH RELATIONS IN PAKISTAN 75
Whereas sovereignty over the entire universe belongs to God Almighty

alone and the authority which he has delegated to the state of Pakistan
through its people for being exercised within the limits prescribed by Him
as a sacred trust; The Constituent Assembly representing the people of
Pakistan resolves to frame a constitution for the sovereign independent
State of Pakistan; Whereas the state shall exercise its powers and authority
through the chosen representatives of the people; Whereas the principles
of democracy, freedom, equality, tolerance and social justice, as enunciated
by Islam, shall be fully observed; Whereas the Muslims shall be enabled to
order their lives in the individual and collective spheres in accordance with
the teachings and requirements of Islam as set out in the Holy Quran and
Sunnah; Whereas adequate provisions shall be made for the minorities to
freely profess and practice their religions and develop their cultures.3
The resolution dashed the prospect of Jinnah’s Pakistan and laid the foun-
dation for a theological state. According to Ziad Haider, “the Resolution
injected religion into the core of Pakistan.”4 It categorized the people into
Muslims and others. The resolution was a deadly mix of religion and poli-
tics and was a poison for interfaith relations and harmony. It was, indeed,
the Islamic baptizing of the Pakistani state. Justifying the mingling of faith
and state, Prime Minister Liaqat Ali Khan had this to say:
Islam is not just a matter of private beliefs and conduct. It expects its fol-
lowers to build a society for the purpose of good life....For the purpose of
emphasizing these values and to give them validity, it will be necessary for
the state to direct and guide the activities of the Muslims in such a manner
as to bring about a new social order based upon the principles of Islam.5
ISLAM AS TOOL IN STATE SECURITY

The Resolution was the first step toward the process of nationalizing Islam
at the expense of other faiths, notably Hinduism and Christianity, as well
as Ahmadi and Shiite Islam. It emboldened the extremists in their convic-
tion that Pakistan was born to be an Islamist state. From the very begin-
ning, Pakistani policymakers were actively using Islam as a tool in state
security matters. After attaining independence in 1947, the Pakistani lead-
ers faced certain real and perceived security challenges. They feared that
India was bent on undoing the partition and nullifying Pakistan’s indepen-
dence. Haider observes:
76 A. AHMED
The Pakistan that emerged from the ravages of partition consisted of an

ethnically fractured West and East Pakistan divided by a thousand miles of
Indian territory…looming over this ideological and territorial vulnerability
was the conviction that an irrevocably hostile India was bent on unraveling
Pakistan, as it continued to stonewall on the delivery of Pakistan’s vital and
due share of resources inherited from the British. It was in this atmosphere
of insecurity that Pakistan’s rulers embarked on the process of using Islam
to fortify a nation.6
The Pakistani rulers believed the country’s various ethnic groups could
be united only through Islam. In 1948, Pakistan engaged in a war with
India over the disputed Kashmir territory. As part of its military strategy,
the Pakistan Army invoked Islam and, thus, was able to recruit and trained
jihadists in militancy to fight India. Haider adds: “The government in turn
called on religious scholars to issue supportive fatwas or religious decrees.
This was to be the beginning of a longstanding state policy of using reli-
giously motivated proxies to asymmetrically secure political and territorial
gains vis-à-vis a seemingly hegemonic India.”7 Here, it is important to
note that while using Islam for political and strategic ends, the policy-
makers failed to foresee that promoting religious extremism could have
disastrous consequences for interfaith relations in Pakistan. Because the
jihadists were indoctrinated with an extremist ideology that viewed people
of other faiths as infidels, historians assert that it was the state that had
sowed the seeds of extremism, putting the security of Christians, Hindus,
and other non-Muslims at risk.
Repeating the same policy in the late 1960s, Pakistan’s military regime,
headed by General Yahya Khan, also resorted to using Islam as a tool to
crush a separatist insurgency in the Bengal province. The army raised two
militant groups, Al-Badr and Al-Shams, trained them in warfare, and used
them against the Bengalis.8 These two state-sponsored militias committed
horrible atrocities against the Bengali civilians. They allegedly acted as the
Pakistan Army’s death squads. Al-Badr reportedly killed ten professors of
Dacca University, five leading journalists, two litterateurs, and twenty-six
doctors in Dacca alone.9
In addition, Pakistan also launched military crackdowns against the
Bengalis that killed an appallingly large number of people. According
to Bengali historian Muntassir Mamoon, the Pakistan army might have
killed as many as 50,000 Bengalis.10 The Bengalis, however, claim that
3,000,000 were killed.11 During the military crackdowns, the government
is reported to have painted the political conflict in religious colors.

Haqqani argues that the military projected the conflict in Bengal as a
jihad and the army personnel as mujahidin who were fighting against the
enemies of Islam. The state propaganda blamed the Hindus and anti-
Islam forces for the political crisis in East Pakistan. It is further alleged
that, through regular speeches, the army commanders indoctrinated
their troops with the ideology of jihad against the perceived infidels. The
Pakistani military commander in Bengal, General Abdullah Khan Niazi,
frequently quoted passages from the Qur’an and Sunnah (prophetic tra-
dition) in his conversations with his troops.12 On one occasion, General
Niazi proclaimed:
As Muslims, we have always fought against an enemy who is numerically

and materially superior. The enemy can never deter us. It was the spirit of
jihad and dedication to Islam that the strongest adversaries were mauled and
defeated by a handful of Muslims. The battles of Uhad, Badar, Khyber and
Damascus are the proof of what the Muslims could do.13
Analysis shows that the state policy of producing and patronizing jihad-
ists for strategic purposes has polarized the country into the extremists and
the rest of the population. And due to continued state patronage the jihad-
ists always seem to have the upper hand over the rest. Reports suggest that
the military dictator General Yahya Khan, who had ordered the military
crackdown in 1971, made an overt and covert alliance between the army
and religious extremists that lasts to this day. Haqqani writes: “During
the thirty-three months he held power as chief martial law administrator,
Yahya Khan had qualitatively enhanced the alliance between Pakistan’s
security establishment and the Islamists.”14
ISLAMIZATION OF PAKISTAN
The Islamization of the state became even more pronounced in 1974 when
the government declared the Ahmadi sect as non-Muslim. In order to
appease the Islamist parties and secure their political support, the govern-
ment of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto declared the Ahmadis as non-Muslim minori-
ties through a constitutional amendment in September 1974.15 It was a
lethal move since the government was now formally into the business of
defining people’s faith and deciding who was and who was not a Muslim.
This move initiated the institutionalized persecution of the Ahmadis in
78 A. AHMED
Pakistan. But the worst was yet to come because the ugliest nightmares for
sound-minded Pakistanis began in 1977 when General Zia ul Haq took
over as military ruler of Pakistan.
General Zia surpassed all his predecessors in religious bigotry and in
legalizing the persecution of Ahmadis, Christians, Hindus, and others.
Soon after seizing power, Zia embarked on a mission to Islamize Pakistan
and turn it into a true Islamic state. Hussain Haqqani argues:
Undoubtedly, Zia ul Haq went farthest in defining Pakistan as an Islamic

state, and he nurtured the jihadist ideology that now threatens to destabilize
most of the Muslim world. But, in doing so, he saw himself as carrying for-
ward the nation and state building project that started soon after the demise
of Pakistan’s founder Mohammad Ali Jinnah.16
Zia believed that the survival of Pakistan depended on a national

Islamic identity. During his rule, evidence shows that state-sponsored
Islamist religiosity became more pronounced and omnipresent in the
country. The general treated Pakistan as if it was inhabited by Muslims
alone. Nowhere in the entire drama of Zia’s Islamization could we see
any mention of, or reference to, the well-being or empowerment of
those of other faiths. Haqqani cites General K.M. Arif as saying, “It was
a matter of faith with Zia ul Haq to combine politics with religion and
govern an Islamic country in accordance with the dictates of the Qur’an
and Sunnah.” Haqqani then refers to an interview with BBC journalist
Brian Barron in 1978 where General Zia publicly acknowledged that
he had a mission to “purify and cleanse” Pakistan.17 The regime, there-
fore, extended full support and patronage to Islamist political parties,
most of which harbored extremist and paranoid views about other faiths.
Haqqani continues, “Zia ul Haq turned toward the organized religious
parties especially the Jamaat-e-Islami, both for political support and
ideological inspiration. The Jamaat-e-Islami became ‘a pillar of the Zia
regime and an ardent supporter of the general’s Islamic state’.”18 The
Jamaat-e-Islami was the same party that had forced the government
to declare Ahmadis as non-Muslims in 1974. For Zia, the Jamaat-e-
Islami served to underpin his regime. The government also inducted
radical Muslim clerics into state institutions and enhanced their role in
the administration.
In 1984, the regime enacted the Section 295-C law that prescribed
the death sentence for blasphemy. This law enabled the Islamists to perse-
cute especially the non-Muslims in Pakistan. Besides, another law, Section

298, was also enacted that specifically targeted the Ahmadi community. It
prohibited the Ahmadi sect from directly or indirectly posing as Muslims.19
Under the blasphemy laws the Ahmadi faith is blasphemous because its
followers consider Mirza Ghulam Ahmad as a prophet in addition to
believing in all the other teachings of Islam. These laws paved the way for
an institutionalized persecution of the Christians, Ahmadis, Hindus, and
other non-Muslims, and irreparably scarred interfaith relations.
THE AFGHANISTAN WAR

General Zia ul Haq’s most notorious policy, however, was the promo-
tion of violent jihad and the production of armed militants against the
Soviet Union. In 1979 the Soviets invaded and occupied Afghanistan, a
move that stirred the USA to launch a covert war against its communist
rival with the help of Pakistan. Soon, economic and military aid from the
USA and Arab countries started flowing into Pakistan for the purpose of
raising, training, arming, and sending jihadist groups into Afghanistan
to fight the communist Soviet forces. Steve Cole records, “Zia sought
and obtained political control over the CIA’s weapons and money. He
insisted every gun and dollar allocated for the Mujahidin pass through
Pakistani hands.”20
The US aid emboldened Zia, who further committed himself to carry-
ing out the project of Islamizing Pakistan and subsequently strengthening
his hold on power. The country’s intelligence agency, the Inter-Services
Intelligence (ISI), began recruiting and training jihadists who were
sent to Afghanistan while, in Pakistan, according to Haqqani, “The ISI
Directorate’s Internal Wing ran a covert operation of its own, aimed at
bolstering Islamist influence at home and undermining support for oppo-
sition political parties.”21
Furthermore, the government also began rewriting the textbooks of
schools and colleges with an aim, according to historian K.K. Aziz, of
bringing them in line with the Islamist ideological agenda under Zia ul
Haq. Aziz argues that these textbooks supported military rule in Pakistan,
inculcated hatred for Hindus, glorified wars, and distorted the pre-1947
history of the area constituting Pakistan.22
During Zia ul Haq’s rule, Islamic religious seminaries also mushroomed
across the country. In the 1990s Pakistan had approximately 6000 semi-
naries that enrolled a half-million students of diverse ethnicities. Around
80 A. AHMED
1500 of such schools preached jihad and were instrumental in provid-

ing military training to the students.23 Following the Afghan jihad in the
early 1990s, the extremists returned home from Afghanistan and turned
their guns toward the Shiite Muslims. In the following years sectarian
tensions reached unprecedented heights. A senior Pakistani police official
attributed the increased sectarian tension in the country to the return of
“Islamic soldiers” from Afghanistan.24
THE TALIBAN
The policy of using religion for politics in Pakistan has not been restricted to
military regimes alone. Democratic governments have been equally inter-
ested in exploiting Islam for political gain. During the 1990s, Pakistan’s
democratic governments supported and launched in Afghanistan an army
of religious extremists, called the Taliban. Relations between Pakistan
and Afghanistan have for the most part been strained by the issue of the
Durand Line. Afghanistan has a claim over certain territories of Pakistan
which has poisoned the bilateral relations. Using the Taliban as proxy,
Pakistan wanted to suppress the Durand Line and establish trade routes
to Central Asia via Afghanistan. The Taliban captured cities after cities in
Afghanistan, a move which was applauded by the government and reli-
gious parties in Pakistan. With Pakistan’s support, the Taliban captured
almost the entire country by 1999.
The Taliban immediately implemented the strictest interpretation
of Sharia Law ever seen in the Muslim world. They closed down girls’
schools and banned women from working outside the home, smashed
television sets, forbade a whole array of sports and recreational activities,
and ordered all males to grow long beards.25 Charged with the ideology
of jihad and extremism, the Taliban committed the most unimaginable
atrocities in Afghanistan, notably in the city of Mazar Sharif where around
8000 innocent civilians of the Shiite faith were slaughtered in 1998.26 They
also destroyed the 1000-year-old statues of Buddha in Bamiyan Valley of
Afghanistan in 1999 under the pretext that the statues were un-Islamic.
A French scholar, Olivier Roy, has termed the barbaric Taliban rule and
its subsequent downfall as “the failure of political Islam.”27 After the US
invasion of Afghanistan in 2001, most of the extremist fundamentalists
escaped from Afghanistan and focused their activities inside Pakistan.
It looks like Pakistan’s security establishment has, unfortunately, been
under the delusion that it could simply use and then discard the extremist
jihadists as and when it needed. The reality, however, is that the extremists
who were produced as a result of deliberate state policies have now become
the Frankenstein that seeks to destroy the fabric of the very state and soci-
ety that nurtured them. Indications are that the state is now largely unable
to protect its citizens against the deadly attacks of these extremists who
have turned terrorists within their own country. The large-scale persecution
of Muslim and non-Muslim Pakistanis by terror groups seem to be proving
that the policymakers have been unforgivably wrong in their weird security
strategies and calculations.
PERSECUTION OF MINORITY MUSLIM GROUPS

The jihadist ideologies of the extremist groups such as the Taliban,
Lashkar Jhangvi (Army of Jhangvi), Sipah Sahaba (Army of the Prophet’s
Companion), and Jamaat ud Dawa are highly exclusive and incompatible
with most other faiths that exist in Pakistan. These groups consider non-
Muslims as infidels who, in their view, should be either converted to Islam
or simply eliminated. Faith-based persecution is becoming more severe
and people are living under perpetual fear of threat to their lives, honor,
and property.
The Ahmadis, for example, suffer persecution on a daily basis. When the
government declared them non-Muslim in 1974 it marked the beginning
of institutionalized and legalized persecution of the community. Later,
in the 1980s, the Zia ul Haq regime further tightened the noose around
their necks by enacting certain discriminatory laws. Under the blasphemy
laws, the Ahmadis cannot propagate their faith publicly or build mosques
or use Muslim salutations. The Ahmadis face persecution literally in every
field of life, be it in education, business, or the civil service.28
In 2008, at least twenty-three Ahmadi students were expelled from
Punjab Medical College due solely to their faith, while ten other students
were dismissed from schools in Faisalabad city in 2011 for the same rea-
son. Elsewhere, Ahmadi students are deprived admission in professional
colleges and refused accommodation in the attached hostels.29 However,
the worst episode for the Ahmadis came in May 2010 when terrorists
attacked two Ahmadi places of worship in the city of Lahore. They mas-
sacred ninety-four Ahmadis and injured more than hundred.30 A terrorist
group, Punjabi Taliban, claimed responsibility for the attack.
The fate of the Shiite Muslims has been even worse. They are consid-
ered heretics and infidels by the extremists. Thousands have perished in
82 A. AHMED
terrorist attacks across Pakistan since the 1990s. The terror group Lashkar-
e-Jhangvi has repeatedly carried out deadly attacks against the ethnic
Hazaras, a Shiite Muslim community based mostly in the Balochistan
province. The Lashkar-e-Jhangvi issued the following proclamation in
2001: “All Shias are worthy of killing. We will rid Pakistan of unclean
people. Pakistan means ‘land of the pure’ and the Shias have no right to
live in this country. We have the edict and signatures of revered scholars,
declaring the Shia infidels.”31
PERSECUTION OF NON-MUSLIM FAITH GROUPS

Like the minority Muslim groups, the Hindus are also living in fear of
persecution by the extremists. According to the 1998 census, Hindus
make up 2.5 % of Pakistan’s population and are mainly concentrated in the
Sindh province. Decades of state-sponsored Islamization has condemned
the Hindus to the status of second-class citizens. They are subjected to
persecution and forced conversions to Islam. The extremists attack and
desecrate their temples, mostly with impunity. In November 2012, a
group of radicals raided a Hindu locality in Karachi city and desecrated the
Sri Krishna Ram temple, smashing Hindu religious icons, tearing up the
Bhagavad Gita, and looting the gold.32 According to the Pakistan Hindu
Council chief, Ramesh Kumar, the Hindus are picked up by kidnappers
and their daughters subjected to forced conversion to Islam.33 The con-
tinued persecution of Hindus has forced them to leave Pakistan and seek
refuge in neighboring India. In March 2012, an Indian official at the min-
istry of external affairs in New Delhi confirmed that every month eight to
ten Hindu families migrate from Pakistan.34
Similarly, the condition of Christians is no better than other minori-
ties in Pakistan. The religious extremists often invoke the notorious blas-
phemy laws to persecute Christians for a variety of reasons, including
settling personal enmities, grabbing of their lands, jealousy, et cetera. In
August 2009, angry mobs accused a Christian of desecrating the Holy
Qur’an and attacked a Christian locality in the Gojra district. The mob
killed six Christians and burned forty to fifty homes.35 The anti-Christian
violence was incited by the extremist Islamist groups. In November
2010, a Pakistani court handed down the death sentence to an illiterate
Christian woman, Asia Bibi, for allegedly insulting the Prophet of Islam.
Following the court ruling, the Governor of Punjab province, Salman
Taseer, expressed solidarity with Asia Bibi and criticized the blasphemy
laws. This led to Taseer’s assassination by his own bodyguard in Islamabad

in January 2011. Two months later, the only Christian minister in the
federal government, Shahbaz Bhatti, was also gunned down because he
too was critical of the blasphemy laws.36 A radical Muslim cleric promised
500,000 Pakistan rupees to anyone who was prepared to kill Asia Bibi.37
Emboldened by impunity, the extremists again attacked the Christian
community in the Joseph Colony neighborhood of Lahore in March 2013,
torching more than 150 Christian homes.38 The crime was the same: a
Christian had allegedly insulted the Qur’an. The allegation was proven to
be false later. Furthermore, the deadliest attack on the Pakistani Christians
was carried out in Peshawar city in September 2013. Two suicide bombers
struck Christian worshippers following a Sunday morning service in the
historic All Saints Church, killing at least seventy-eight people, includ-
ing thirty-four women and seven children.39 The Tehreek Taliban Pakistan
group condoned the Church attack. Talking to BBC Urdu through the
telephone, the Taliban spokesperson, Shahidullah Shahid, said: “We didn’t
carry out the attack. But, we believe it is according to the Shariah.”40
A NATION BATTLING FOR SURVIVAL

In the Pakistan of the jihadists, there is no room for tolerance and coex-
istence. Religious extremism has wiped out almost all opportunities for
interfaith understanding and harmony in Pakistan. The gory environment
in Pakistan indicates that the Islamization process, especially since the Zia
ul Haq’s military rule, has produced horrible results. Today, the country
is reaping the effects of mixing religion with politics and prioritizing one
faith over the other. Religious extremism has engulfed the entire country
where terrorists are increasingly becoming more powerful. The terrorists
do not spare anyone and target not only the non-Muslims but also the
Shiite sect of Islam and other fair-minded Muslims. Experiences of vio-
lence and mindless bloodshed over the last three decades in the country
have shown that the policy of using religion for political and strategic goals
has led to disasters. The policy of nationalizing Islam and marginalizing
the other faiths has not helped unite the country. Instead, it has wreaked
havoc with the entire fabric of the society. After decades of Islamization,
the country is far from being united as one nation.
The founding father Jinnah’s vision of a progressive, religiously tol-
erant, and pluralistic Pakistan has been lost in the darkness of religious
extremism. Jinnah rightly wanted to keep religion and state apart because
he probably foresaw the perils of mingling the two. Those who followed
84 A. AHMED
after him failed to estimate the cost of nationalizing a particular faith while
neglecting the others. It is because of this that, today, the Pakistani state is
battling for its survival. Therefore, it is time for an assessment and reassess-
ment of the laws and policies that have resulted in the present state of the
country and efforts should be made to save it from total collapse.
NOTES
1. Mahomed Ali Jinnah, Quaid-i-Azam Mahomed Ali Jinnah: Speeches as
Governor General of Pakistan, 1947–48 (Karachi: Government of Pakistan,
1964).
2. Ardeshir Cowasji, “Not the Business of the State,” Dawn (Aug 16, 2009),
http://www.dawn.com/news/484385/not-the-business-of-the-state
3. Safdar Mehmood, Pakistan: Political Roots & Development 1947–1999
(Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2000), 409–410.
4. Ziad Haider, “Ideologically Adrift,” in Pakistan: Beyond the ‘Crisis State,’ ed.
Maleeha Lodhi (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2011), 115.
5. Mohammad Taqi, “Objectives of the Resolution,” Daily Times (Apr 11,
2013), http://archives.dailytimes.com.pk/editorial/11-Apr-2013/
comment-objectives-of-the-resolution-dr-mohammad-taqi
6. Haider, “Ideologically Adrift,” 115.
7. Ibid., 117.
8. Amir Abdullah Khan Niazi, The Betrayal of East Pakistan (Pakistan: Oxford
9. Hussain Haqqani, Pakistan: Between Mosque and Military (Washington, DC:
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2005), 79.
10. Muntassir Mamoon, The Vanquished Generals and the Liberation War of
Bangladesh (Dhaka: Somoy Prokashon, 2000), 89.
11. Kamal Matinuddin, Tragedy of Error: East Pakistan Crisis, 1968–1971
(Lahore, Pakistan: Wajidalis, 1994), 260.
12. Haqqani, Between Mosque and Military, 76.
13. Ibid., 77.
14. Ibid., 86.
15. Human Rights Watch, “Pakistan: Prosecute Ahmadi Massacre Suspects,”
(May 27, 2012), https://www.hrw.org/news/2012/05/27/
pakistan-prosecute-ahmadi-massacre-suspects
17. Ibid., 133.
18. Ibid., 136–137. The citation within is from Seyyed Vali Reza Nasr, “Islamic
Opposition to the Islamic State: The Jamaat-e-Islami, 1977–88,”
International Journal of Middle East Studies 25, no. 2 (May 1993): 261–62.
19. Human Rights Watch, (May 27, 2012).

20. Steve Cole, Ghost Wars: The Secret History of the CIA, Afghanistan, and Bin
Laden, from the Soviet Invasion to September 10, 2001 (London: The Penguin
Press, 2004), 63.
22. Khursheed Kamal Aziz, The Murder of History: A Critique of History Textbooks
Used in Pakistan (Lahore: Vanguard Books Pvt. Ltd., 1993), 188–205.
23. Musa Khan Jalalzai, The Holy Terror: Islam, Violence and Terrorism in Pakistan
(Lahore: Dua Publications, 2002), 76.
24. Ibid., 71.
25. Ahmed Rashid, Taliban: Militant Islam, Oil and Fundamentalism in Central
Asia (London: I. B. Tauris & Co Ltd., 2000), 29.
26. Human Rights Watch, “Massacre of Hazaras in Afghanistan,” HRW 13, no.
1c (February, 2001).
27. Rashid, Taliban, 87.
29. Zofeen T. Ebrahim, “The Lightening Rod that Attracts Most Hatred,” Dawn
(Oct28),http://www.dawn.com/news/669566/ahmadis-the-lightning-rod-that-
attracts-the-most-hatred
31. Khaled Ahmed, “Hunting the Hazara,” Newsweek Pakistan (Mar 11, 2014).
32. Associated Press, “Pakistani Hindus Feel Under Attack,” Dawn (Nov 8,
2012), http://www.dawn.com/news/762491/pakistans-hindus-feel-under-
attack
33. “Killings, Kidnappings & Conversion Haunt Hindus,” Dawn (Mar 6, 2012),
h t t p : / / w w w. d a w n . c o m / n e w s / 7 0 0 6 3 2 / k i l l i n g s - k i d n a p p i n g s -
conversion-haunt-hindus
34. Agence France Press, “Pakistani Hindus Seek Safety in India,” Dawn (Mar
03, 2012), http://www.dawn.com/news/700550/pakistani-hindus-seek-
safety-in-india
35. “Six Killed in Pakistan as Muslims burn Christian Homes,” CNN (Aug 1,
2009).
36. BBC News South Asia, “Q&A: Pakistan’s Controversial Blasphemy Laws,”
BBC (Nov 20, 2012).
37. BBC News South Asia, “Pakistani Christian Asia Bibi ‘Has Price on her
Head’,” BBC (Dec 7, 2012).
38. “Dozens of Houses Torched as Mob Attacks Lahore Christian Locality,”
Dawn (Mar 9, 2013).
39. Ismail Khan & Salman Masood, “Scores are Killed by Suicide Bomb Attack at
Historic Church in Pakistan,” New York Times (Sep 22, 2013).
40. Riaz Ahmed, “TTP Condones Peshawar Church Attack,” Express Tribune
(Oct 5, 2013).
CHAPTER 7
Australian Muslims and the “Innocence

of Muslims”
Fatih Erol Tuncer
MUSLIMS IN AUSTRALIA
Muslim engagement with Australia predates the founding of the nation.
Chinese and Malay Muslim traders and fishermen circumnavigated and
visited the Northern Coast and islands of Australia well before the fif-
teenth century. During the 1860s a large number of Afghan cameleers
arrived to work the camel trains that opened up the interior of the con-
tinent and brought with them the first formal establishment of Islam in
Australia.1 The Afghans played such an important role in exploring the
country’s interior that the famous “Ghan” railway was named in their
honor. Following the Afghans, the 1920s saw European Muslim immigra-
tion under the White Australia Policy, coming from the Balkans, namely,
Bosnia and Albania. However, it was only after 1967 that significant
populations of Muslims from Lebanon and Turkey began arriving, with
Afghan, Somali, and Iraqi refugees following in the 1990s. Most of the
arriving migrants had no English language skills and low levels of edu-
cation due to a range of factors, including displacement. Hence, newly
arrived migrants often found it difficult, or lacked the confidence, to fully
participate in wider society.
F.E. Tuncer ( )
Faculty of Theology & Philosophy, Australian Catholic University,
e-mail: fatih.tuncer@acu.edu.au

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_7
88 F.E. TUNCER
The emergence of second- and third-generation Australian Muslims

signaled a change, not only in civic and social participation, but also in influ-
encing the thoughts and ideas of their own migrant families. Many migrants
who had arrived as part of economic agreements or on account of wars in
their nation of birth, intending on returning to their homeland one day,
began to realize that they now had Australian-born children who knew no
other way of life. This change and realization had an impact on the atti-
tude of Australian Muslims toward society. They shifted their attitudes and
became more active participants and tried to fill the absent Muslim voice.
This chapter will examine this shift, especially in the context of a pro-
test by a small fringe group of Muslims that sparked outrage and elicited
a range of reactions and responses. It will investigate this in the light of
how the incident brought together the various Muslim organizations in
Australia and how solidarity helped in shaping the public response from
the wider Australian community. It will focus on the maturing of the pub-
lic voice of Australian Muslims who are still often regarded as “newly”
arrived migrants by a large segment of society.
THE SYDNEY PROTESTS

The aftermath of the 2012 Sydney protests can shed some light on the
shift occurring amongst Australian Muslims, moving from being uncoor-
dinated and somewhat disengaged to a more collaborated level of social
and public involvement. The protests involved a few hundred young
Muslims, from fringe Islamic groups, who were part of the worldwide
demonstrations that broke out over an offensive and insulting YouTube
video entitled “Innocence of Muslims.” The video was a low-budget anti-
Islamic movie trailer that was written and produced by an Egyptian-born
Coptic Christian and US resident, Mark Basseley Youssef, a man with a
history of criminal convictions and of using different aliases.
The protests caused the normally peaceful streets of Sydney to resemble
scenes from violent demonstrations overseas. News, images, and footages
of protesting Muslims calling for beheadings and displaying offensive
signs, while clashing violently with police riot squad members, were pub-
lished and televised across the nation and the world. To the average person
watching the unfolding of events on their television screens, it seemed as if
protesting Muslims in Australia were one and the same as mobs of protest-
ers overseas who were attacking diplomatic missions and innocent people
all over the world. Newsweek sensationally and outrageously labeled the
Sydney event “Muslim Rage.”2
AUSTRALIAN MUSLIMS AND THE “INNOCENCE OF MUSLIMS” 89
In what can be considered historic for Australia’s very diverse Muslim

population, Muslim organizations from all corners of the nation—in one
voice—were quick to condemn protest violence and to insist that the
protesters only represented a small fringe, a minority of Muslims. The
Australian Muslim response to the Sydney protests helped in shaping a
more considered and educated response from the wider Australian commu-
nity. However, the incident had a major impact on the image of Australia’s
Muslims. Old and young, articulate Muslim academics, journalists, politi-
cal, and community leaders—some through feelings of guilt by associa-
tion—flooded media outlets, with some justifying that the Muslim protests
could have been triggered by deep-seated sentiments of humiliation and
collective anger about a whole host of different issues fueled, for example,
by high rates of unemployment, discrimination in employment, and expe-
riences of racism and of being marginalized through dog-whistle politics.3
It looks as if the video was just an excuse for the Muslim youth’s lament.
A most interesting detail is that many of the protesters had not even seen
the video themselves. One student, Mahmoud Seddik Agha from Sudan,
explicitly said this: “I may not know the details of this video, but I find it
unacceptable that anyone would depict the Prophet in the first place.”4
RESPONSE BY AUSTRALIAN MUSLIM ORGANIZATIONS

The cooperation and complementing collaboration between Australia’s
Muslim community representatives, police force, and some mainstream
media and political leaders in distancing the majority of Australia’s
Muslims from those involved in violent protests was a clear sign of matur-
ing relationships, trust, and integration of Australia’s Muslims. On their
part, the Muslim community leaders—who in the past were accused of
remaining silent and are often the focus of media criticisms—were quick
in condemning the violence, loudly and with one voice. It seemed the
Australian Muslim community had reached a new level of maturity, as if
responding to the well-known Muslim academic Tariq Ramadan’s calls
on Western Muslims to avoid being isolated while living with a “minor-
ity reflex,” and to become fully engaged members of their societies and
to feel comfortable and at home in any society. Through such a response
Australian Muslims demonstrated their claim that Islamic ethics are in line
with the ethical ideals of Western democracy.5
In an official statement dated September 16, 2012, one day after
the Sydney protests, the Grand Mufti of Australia—Dr. Ibrahim Abu
Mohammad—made these observations: “The unwarranted reactions of
90 F.E. TUNCER
attacking innocent people, embassies and public property is a disservice

and a hijacking of the protest, because it will turn us from victims to
aggressors, which is what the makers of this film want. Therefore we
strongly condemn all actions of violence and lawlessness that took place
in Australia. To thwart the efforts of those vile individuals, our Australian
Muslim youth have to protest in a civil manner that breaks no law and
threatens no one.”6 His words strongly condemned the demonstra-
tions from a religious and moral standpoint. He saw the actions as an
abuse of freedom. Dr. Ibrahim Abu Mohammad also offered his support
to the Christian Coptic community who were members of the faith to
which the film-maker associated himself. In a statement which perhaps
further strengthened ties and dialogue between the Muslims and Coptic
Christians, which was the first of its kind in a public forum in Australia, Dr.
Ibrahim emphasized: “We assert that this hateful group of individuals who
happen to be Coptic have sold themselves and their homelands, they do
not represent the Copts of Egypt, nor are they keepers of its churches.”7
That same day, the Islamic Council of Victoria (ICV) and the Islamic
Council of New South Wales, along with twelve other Muslim organi-
zations, issued a press release condemning the Sydney protests and the
provocative film by stating that “such insults do not provide individuals
with the right to react violently against others and retaliate in a manner
as demonstrated by a few of the protestors yesterday.” On September 18,
2012, three days after the protests, a number of Islamic organizations
decided to come together for a second time to organize a media confer-
ence which included a wider cross section of Sydney’s very diverse Muslim
community, including women and youth organizations. They once again
condemned in unequivocal terms the violence that occurred, as well as the
offensive film at the center of the conflict. A statement released during the
conference acknowledged that people caught up in the violent demonstra-
tions were disaffected youth and they promised to provide a greater focus
on developing programs to influence them more positively. They called on
all Muslim religious leaders to address the incident in their sermons dur-
ing the following Friday prayers, asking that they call for calm in line with
the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad. The media statement clearly
distanced Australian Muslims from the demonstrators, urging Muslims
not to attend future demonstrations regarding the film. The media release
was endorsed by twenty-five of Australia’s largest Muslim organizations
from across the states of New South Wales and Victoria, representing the
diversity within the community.
The Victorian Board of Imams and the Australia National Imams

Council called an emergency meeting on September 17, 2012, to discuss
strategies on how they could prevent the possibility of a similar copycat
protest in Melbourne. The president of the Australian National Imams
Council, Sheikh Abdul Azim, identified the lack of education in some
members of the younger generation as the problem behind such pro-
tests. Sheikh Abdul Azim said Muslims enraged by the offensive YouTube
video should remember that they are “Australians first and Muslims sec-
ond” before acting violently against the police or their own community.
The Board of Imams also spoke to principals of Islamic schools, sug-
gesting that they educate their students on why violence is not tolerated
in Australia or within Islam.8 Furthermore, the founder of the Islamic
Friendship Association of Australia, Keysar Trad, who is a social commen-
tator on matters relating to Muslims especially in Sydney, stated that he
was “dumbfounded” as to why people would respond to the film in such
a way, saying: “It’s counterproductive and does nothing to uphold the
prophet’s honour as they claim. In fact it does the exact opposite.”9
All this happened almost a week after the ICV and other Islamic orga-
nizations were harshly criticized by fringe Muslim groups such as the
Al-Furqan Centre which claimed that the ICV was quick to pass judgment
and side with government lines and not “stand” with their Muslim broth-
ers and sisters. Another fringe group, Hizb ut-Tahrir, in a defiant show of
support for the demonstrators, released a statement which described the
Sydney protesters’ actions as “praiseworthy” and encouraged “Muslims to
continue in their noble work” and to answer to criticisms against Sydney’s
violent protest by blaming an anti-Islamic agenda from media and politi-
cal opponents.10 Such groups also criticized Muslims who condemned the
demonstrations. The ABC’s 7:30 program reported on some text messages
directed at Muslims who did not take part in the demonstrations, which
read, “The ummah [Muslim community] needed you and you failed them
so stay silent because your mouth is full of food…. That’s all your [sic]
good at, while your brothers who were innocent were pepper sprayed.”11
The quick condemnation of the Sydney protests by most mainstream
Islamic organizations in Australia reveal the frustration felt by the rest
of the Muslim community toward the protesters who had tarnished the
image of Islam. Associate editor of The Australian Newspaper Cameron
Stewart opined, “If any good is to come out of the Sydney incident, it
may be that it marks a new willingness of mainstream Islamic groups to
attack the more radical elements in their community.” The only exception
92 F.E. TUNCER
in this statement is that this was not a “new willingness,” but in fact a
struggle which has been going on for decades within the Australian
Muslim community. The only difference now is statements are being
made public through mass media at a time when both Muslims and other
Australians are far better equipped to cope with such events, which social
commentator Waleed Aly argues is no longer seen as a crisis but rather a
“watershed.”12
MUSLIM-COPTIC DIALOGUE
On September 17, 2012, the Muslim Public Affairs Council and the
Coptic Orthodox Church of the Diocese of Los Angeles came together
on the steps of Los Angeles City Hall to condemn the YouTube video
and the violent reactions which followed. Bishop Serapion and Dr. Maher
Hathout asserted that the actions of a few do not represent the collective
diaspora Copts, nor do they represent the collective Muslim community.
Bishop Serapion also distanced his community from the Coptic film-
makers by stating that such individuals had ulterior motives and praised
both the Muslim and Coptic communities and also thanked God that
“our relationship with the Muslim community of Southern California is a
good relationship.”13 A day later, in similar scenes, religious leaders of the
Muslim and Coptic Christian communities came together in Melbourne
in what can be described as the first public stand in solidarity between
the two faith communities in Australia. The gathering at the Centre for
Dialogue at La Trobe University was also attended by political figures
such as the Egyptian Consul-General, Mr. Khaled Rizk. Meeting lead-
ers expressed their distress over the Sydney protests and stated that both
communities were one in denouncing the use of any violence, provocative,
and offensive content such as the YouTube video or insulting signs carried
by protesting Muslims. They rejected attempts at the vilification of any
religion and were also one in upholding the right for people to protest
as long as it is done peacefully.14 Melbourne Coptic Orthodox Church
Bishop Suriel emphasized: “I want to say to our Muslim brothers and
sisters that we denounce this video that came out, that was denigrating to
Islam and to Prophet Mohammed.” During the gathering, Sheikh Riad
Galil stressed: “The people who have taken this action, whether abroad or
in Sydney, I don’t think they understand the tenets and the teachings of
Islam,” referring to a verse in the Qur’an, translated as, “Every soul earns
only to its own account; and no soul, as bearer of burden, bears and is
made to bear the burden of another” (Qur’an 6:164).15
AUSTRALIAN MUSLIM RESPONSE

Many young, educated, and articulate Muslims also responded to the vio-
lence, messages of hate, and manner in which the Sydney demonstrations
were carried in every major news outlet. Apart from condemning the vio-
lence, voices from within the Muslim community tried to provide answers
as to who the protesters were, why they felt they had to protest, and why
they were so angry. Waleed Aly, in his opinion piece titled “The incredible
Muslim hulk proves to be no friend of Islam either,” opined that for most
of the protesters who had not even seen the film the video was simply an
excuse as it was not the content but the context which gave meaning to
the protests, a symbol of contempt. Waleed wrote: “This is the behaviour
of a drunkenly humiliated people: swinging wildly with the hope of land-
ing a blow, any blow, somewhere, anywhere.”16 Ed Husic, the first Muslim
to be elected to federal parliament in Australia, wrote an opinion piece for
the Telegraph calling on all Muslims to stop turning the other cheek and
to speak out against unjustified acts: “they are representative of someone.
And this is where turning away will no longer work.”17 He asked for more
conversations within communities to adopt a zero tolerance for the kind
of reaction displayed at the protests. In the same paper, Arwa El Masri,
a mother of three and wife of retired rugby league star Hazem El Masri,
wrote a personal account of how she had to explain protest scenes to her
little children, revealing her fear of matters worsening for Muslims in the
future due to the acts of a few: “If anything makes me angry it is anger that
some Muslims don’t understand the policies of the Qur’an.”18
Bilal Tarawneh, a questioner on ABC’s Q&A program, expressed his
frustration this way: “I and many others from the Muslim community
went to social media straight after and condemned the violence but we
don’t get much focus on us. How do we stop the actions of a few from
painting all Muslims as violent?”19 Rachel Woodlock, an academic at
Monash University, wrote that the majority of the protesters were young
men and women who continue to feel disenfranchised within Australian
society, who suffer from a variety of stressors, such as high unemploy-
ment, discrimination, and other factors, and so “often fall prey to charis-
matic preachers who offer them maladapted solutions.”20 She adds: “The
research on identity politics and groups that take an isolationist view
94 F.E. TUNCER
shows the stigma that comes with being part of that group strengthens
the identity in that group—they have an inverse pride.” Online editor
and journalist Jamila Rizvi, who was out shopping when she witnessed
the scenes of the protests in Sydney’s central business district, said she
was stunned by its ferocity: “I think there really is a small minority of
Australian Muslims, mostly men, who feel very disenfranchised, who feel
very disconnected and alone and feel misunderstood by Australian soci-
ety…. Something like this gives them somewhere to channel their anger,
and that’s incredibly dangerous.”21
CRITICISM OF THE MEDIA

Islamophobia is a reality in Western societies today. Tariq Ramadan attri-
butes this to the increasing visibility of Muslims who, in the West, are
especially physically visible: Muslim women who don the hijab or bearded
men who wear the Islamic cap, the presence of shops that cater for halal
dietary needs, and mosques built to reflect Islamic design and architec-
ture.22 All of these elements can contribute to the perception of Muslims
seeming more forceful and distinguishable than many other diverse groups
in Australia. As a result, public opinion can be easily influenced and shaped
considerably by media and government rhetoric on ethnic communi-
ties and national security. For this reason media outlets and government
spokespeople need to be careful and more considered to present informa-
tion in a way that does not generalize or stereotype a whole community.
While the Australian media did report on the positive steps taken by the
Muslim community in condemning the Sydney protests and in distancing
themselves from the violence, these responses were not covered in any
great detail. Except for major press conferences such as the one in Sydney
on September 18, 2012, and the Muslim-Coptic joint media statement,
most other responses went almost unnoticed. Footages of violent scuffles
and angry chanting, together with terms such as “Muslim riots,” were
repeated over and over, without a detailed description of who was actu-
ally involved. According to Professor in Human Geography and Urban
Studies Kevin Dunn, the “social constructions of identity are given life
through their articulation.”23 This explains why the wider community can
find it difficult to differentiate between Muslims involved in violent pro-
tests overseas, the Muslims protesting in Sydney, and other Muslims who
denounced the Sydney protest.
In fact, many reports across Australia only very briefly mentioned that
a planned protest in Melbourne—to take place almost a week after the
Sydney incident—was scrapped due, in part, to the efforts of Muslim lead-

ers who refused to sanction the demonstration. Ramzi Elsayed, president
of the ICV at the time, said board members had been in discussions with
Ms. Swaybah Javed who was planning the Melbourne protest and said that
they were pleased she canceled it upon their request.24 However, most reports
concentrated on Ms. Javed’s plans to organize a protest through social net-
work and comments about how in Australia “Islamophobia has boiled over
to the point where it is impossible to carry out a peaceful protest.”
Sensationalists, such as Andrew Bolt, used statements like “We let them
in, now they threaten us” when commenting on the protests, attended by
only a handful of protesters who do not even represent 0.1 % of the over
470,000 Muslims living in Australia.25 Other media reports contained
phrases such as “Sydney riots” and “Muslim protesters clash with police”
without giving much thought to the generalizing nature of the chosen
words. Australian journalist Peter Fitzsimons used shock language such as
“take over the Sydney CBD” when referring to Sydney protesters in the
central business district and reiterated that “much of the country now feels
the same” when referring to the well-known racist idea of “If you don’t
like the way we do things here, go back to where you came from.”26 Even
if these statements were directed at only violent fringe groups protesting
in the city, Fitzsimons is irresponsible for demonstrating an “us” versus
“them” attitude, refusing to acknowledge that many of the people pro-
testing were actually young Australians most probably born in Australia.
Journalist and editor for the Telegraph Tim Blair stated this in his newspa-
per blog: “Adorable! Beheading was a major theme at yesterday’s peace-
ful Islamic call for slaughter” and provided a solution for those who had
Western resentment by advising them to “Simply pack up your scimitars,
wrap all of your womenfolk in their favourite freedom sacks, and get the
hell out of Australia.” Political figure Senator Cory Bernadi even linked
violent scenes between Muslim protesters and police in Sydney to mul-
ticulturalism and wrote on his blog: “The naive cling to the romantic
idealisation of the generations of migrants who have successfully settled
in Australia, thinking things will continue just as they have in the past….
They proclaim multiculturalism as a triumph of tolerance when in fact
it undermines the cultural values and cohesiveness that brings a nation
together.”27 All these examples contain overtones of religious and racial
hate of Muslims; Islamophobia easily contributes to already existing racist
attitudes. Kevin Dunn claims that “Muslims are one of the groups that
have suffered from a worrying degree of racist violence in Australia” that
96 F.E. TUNCER
can further inflame feelings of humiliation and disenfranchisement among

some Australian Muslims.28
Samir Dandan, president of the Lebanese Muslim Association, informed
that Muslim organizations received hundreds of messages of hate from a
small “racist” segment of the Australian population following the Sydney
protests.29 Likewise, the ICV’s spokeswoman Sherene Hassan backed claims
that there had been a “surge in obscene hate mail around the state.”30 In a
statement issued by the second gathering of the twenty-five Muslim orga-
nizations at a joint media conference, members explained that since the
protests, several hundred messages of outrage as well as hate were received
by Muslim organizations and that threats made to people and property had
been passed on to the authorities. They appealed to the media and also
politicians to conduct themselves with restraint and responsibility.
Unfortunately, the sensationalist language and demands from both the
media and political figures played into the hands of groups such as Hizb
ut-Tahrir, whose spokesperson Uthman Badar wrote an opinion piece in
the Sydney Morning Herald claiming that Muslim protesters were held to
a hypocritical standard. He compared the events of the Sydney protests
with a party in Perth held on the night of the same day.31 The Perth party
went out of control and resulted with the stabbing of a 19-year-old and an
attack on an ambulance which came to assist the injured. The Perth inci-
dent was picked up by the Chasers program on ABC, which compared the
two incidents sharing the common elements of having hundreds of people
involved, the use of social media to promote the event, bottles and rocks
thrown at police, and special police being called in to control crowds.
When such comparisons were made, one of the hosts Andrew Hansen
commented: “This sounds like it has all the hallmarks of an uprising.”
His co-host, Chas Licciardello, responded sarcastically: “Oh no no, these
weren’t Muslims, this was….” The program then crossed over to a news
snippet from Channel Seven’s Sunrise program where newsreader Natalie
Barr named the incident as “an out of control party.”32 Uthman Badar
wrote: “This [Perth] incident, evidently quite similar, if not worse, than
the Sydney protests as far as objective facts go—received nowhere near as
much media coverage. It was not dubbed the ‘Perth riots.’ Politicians did
not fall over one another to condemn the [Perth] violence…. Parents and
community leaders in Piara Waters were not asked to condemn the behav-
iour, nor did they themselves go out of their way to offer apologies or to
condemn the violence.” He then asked: “Why the difference?” and went
on to argue that Muslims are being demonized and treated with double
standard.33 These feelings and arguments would have had no grounds if
the media had steered away from the use of sensationalist language when
reporting the Sydney protests.
In the aftermath of the protests, there was almost no mention of
grassroots acts of generosity and kindness to police from everyday
Muslims. These acts included the delivery of flowers to police officers by
Muslims such as Zahra Al-Shadidi, who hand-delivered a bunch of flow-
ers to police officers at the Surry Hills police station, and the efforts of
27-year-old accountant Ridhwan Hannan, who started a Facebook group
to raise money for the officers injured during the Sydney protests. These
acts were not only carried out by individuals but also by groups of peo-
ple, such as one group which initiated an event on Facebook called “The
Muslim Community to Thank the Police” and encouraged people to walk
into their local police station to say thank you.34
A MATURING VOICE
The Muslim community’s response to the Sydney protests and its han-
dling by the different agencies marked a new level of cooperation and
mutual understanding which, at this scale, had not been witnessed before.
It seems real progress has been made through the investment of time and
resources in building better relationships, improving the balance of media,
and establishing channels of dialogue between government, community,
police, and media organizations.
In view of all these factors, the Muslim community has become much
more confident and established, at least more than it had been before.
Most Muslims live as ordinary Australians and realize that these issues
are real and have to be dealt with. In time, the Muslim community will
continue to mature and become more established, like other communities
that have had more time to settle in Australia. Increasingly, Muslims will
feel a greater sense of belonging and find greater confidence in themselves
to become more involved in social issues not only pertaining to Muslims
but beyond those concerning Islam, such as those suggested by Ramadan:
“social questions, education, schooling policies, parents’ associations,
health, unemployment, the homeless, delinquency, urban violence but
also social debates, power and race relationships, involvement in parties,
ecology, immigration policies, and international relations.”35
In the aftermath of the Sydney protests Opposition Minister Tony
Abbott claimed that people on the streets of Sydney were not truly
representative of Islam, while the Premier of New South Wales, Barry
O’Farrell, announced that he was “delighted there has been such a strong
98 F.E. TUNCER
statement by Islamic leaders and scholars.” The New South Wales Police
Commissioner, Andrew Scipione, thanked Muslim community leaders for
their “responsible handling of a very bad incident” and Australian Foreign
Minister Bob Carr asked all Australian diplomatic missions to “redouble
efforts” to bridge the gap between Islamic and Western societies.36 It was
clear and consoling that Muslims were not seen as the problem, but rather
an essential part of the solution. They have come of age and are a matur-
ing voice.
Such reactions and comments, which are evidently quite different from
those of the past, are undoubtedly the fruits of dialogue and education.
Through initiatives such as multifaith or multicultural councils set up in
different governmental and police institutions, Islam and Islamic practices
have been recognized as an enriching element of the state. According to
Aslam, this increases “the sense of national loyalty felt by Muslims, because
by having various aspects of their identities supported, people are likely to
feel more comfortable participating in public and political discourse.”37
In part because of feelings of “guilt by association,” Muslims were quick
to respond to the protests. However, there is still much more room for
improvement. Muslims and the media need to work harder to bridge the
gap between them and the relevant organizations need to maintain and
further develop healthier cooperation between themselves, even in times
when there is no crisis, to work towards a more harmonious and united
society.
NOTES
1. Philip G. Jones & Anna Kenny, Australia’s Muslim Cameleers: Pioneers of the
Inland, 1860s–1930s (Kent Town, South Australia: Wakefield Press, 2007).
2. Alexander Hotz, “Newsweek ‘Muslim Rage’ Cover Invokes a Rage of its Own,
” The Guardian (Sep 18, 2012), http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/
us-news-blog/2012/sep/17/muslim-rage-newsweek-magazine-twitter
3. Amy Simmons, “Q&A: Islam and the Film that Sparked Global Unrest,” ABC
News (Sep 21, 2012), http://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-09-18/
islam-and-the-film-that-sparked-global-unrest/4267612
4. The Observers, “Our Observers Explain Why They’re Protesting against
‘Innocence of Muslims,’” France 24 News Program (Sep 17, 2012), http://
observers.france24.com/content/20120917-observers-explain-why--
protesting-against-innocence-muslims-video-movie-film-yemen-morocco-
sudan-lebanon-iraq
5. Garbi Schmidt, “Islamic Identity Formation among Young Muslims: The

Case of Denmark, Sweden and the United States,” Journal of Muslim
Minority Affairs 24, no. 1 (Apr 2004): 31–45.
6. “A statement from the Office of the Grand Mufti of Australia.
Dr. Ibrahim Abu Mohammad Regarding the Anti-Mohammad film,”
https://www.facebook.com/dribrahimsalem/posts/275768365866243
7. Ibid.
8. Sophie Gosper, “Imams Move to Stop Copycat Riots,” The Australian (Sep
18, 2012), http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/nation/imams-move-
to-stop-copycat-riots/story-e6frg6nf-1226476089316
9. Ilya Gridneff, “Police Gas Sydney Protesters,” Sydney Morning Herald (Sep
15, 2012), http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/police-gas-sydney-protesters-
20120915-25yrb.html
10. Ilya Gridneff & Rachel Olding, “Muslim Discussion on Violent Protests
Called Off,” The Sydney Morning Herald (Sep 19, 2012), http://www.smh.
com.au/nsw/muslim-discussion-on-violent-protests-called-off-20120919-
265rk.html#ixzz26sSsq6x9
11. Hayden Cooper, “Texts, Extremist Connections Inflamed Muslim Protests,”
ABC News (Sep 18, 2012), http://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-09-17/
texts-show-origin-of-sydney-protest/4266376
12. Barney Zwartz, “Two Steps Forward, One Step Back,” The Age (Sep 21,
2012), http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/two-steps-forward-one-step-
back-20120920-2699f.html#ixzz27HkYOmhM
13. Abby Sewell, “Local Muslim, Coptic Leaders Condemn Violent Protests,”
Los Angeles Times (Sep 17, 2012), http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/
lanow/2012/09/muslim-coptic-reaction.html
14. “Joint Coptic and Islamic Leaders Press Conference,” Coptic Human Rights
Organization (Sep 17, 2012), http://chro.org.au/index.php?option=com_
content&view=article&id=1051:joint-coptic-and-islamic-
leaders-press-conference&catid=1:latest-news
15. James Bennett, “Melbourne Muslim Leaders Explain why Violent Protests
are ‘Un-Islamic,’” ABC News (Sep 18, 2012), http://www.abc.net.au/
news/2012-09-18/melbourne-muslim-leaders-explain-why-violent-protests
-are-22un/4268464
16. Waleed Aly, “The Incredible Muslim Hulk Proves to be No Friend of Islam
either,” The Sydney Morning Herald (Sep 17, 2012), http://www.smh.com.
au/opinion/politics/the-incredible-muslim-hulk-proves-to-be-no-friend-
of-islam-either-20120916-260e8.html
17. Ed Husic, “Why We Must Stop Turning the Other Cheek,” The Daily
Telegraph (Sep 17, 2012), http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/opin-
ion/why-we-must-stop-turning-the-other-cheek/stor y-e6frezz0-
1226475205615
100 F.E. TUNCER
18. Arwa El-Masri, “The Truth of Islam Unveiled,” The Telegraph (Sep 22,
2012), http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/opinion/the-truth-of-
islam-unveiled/story-e6frezz0-1226479400060
19. “Protests and Palestine,” Q&A, ABC (Sydney, Sep 17, 2012), http://www.
abc.net.au/tv/qanda/txt/s3585292.htm
20. Jamila Rizvi, “Violent Sydney CBD Protests: ‘I’m Scared by What Comes
Next,’” Weblog post on MamaMia (Sep 16, 2012), http://www.mamamia.
com.au/news/muslim-protests-in-sydney-cbd/
21. Ibid.
22. See Tariq Ramadan, Western Muslims and the Future of Islam (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2004); and Schmidt, “Islamic Identity Formation
among Young Muslims.”
23. Kevin Dunn, “Representations of Islam in the Politics of Mosque Development
in Sydney,” Tijdschrit voor Economische en Sociale Geografie 92, no. 3 (Aug
2001): 291–308.
24. Annika Smethurst & Mark Dunn, “Former Member Blows Lid on al-
Furqan,” Herald Sun (Sep 14, 2012), http://www.heraldsun.com.au/
news/victoria/former-member-blows-lid-on-al-furqan/stor y-e6fr
f7kx-1226473756431
25. Andrew Bolt, “We Let Them In. Now They Threaten Us,” Herald Sun (Sep 15,
2012), http://blogs.news.com.au/heraldsun/andrewbolt/index.php/herald-
sun/comments/we_let_them_in_now_they_threaten/
26. Hamish Fitzsimons, “Breakaway Group Targeted by Police,” ABC Lateline
(Sep 13, 2012), http://www.abc.net.au/lateline/content/2012/s3589929.
htm
27. AAP, “Protest Erupts in Sydney over Anti-Islam Film,” SBS World News (Sep
15,2012),http://www.sbs.com.au/news/article/1692871/Tear-gas-fired-at-anti-Islam-film-
protest-in-Sydney
28. Dunn, “Representations of Islam in the Politics,” 293.
29. Rachel Olding, “Muslims Inundated with Messages of Hate,” The Sydney
Morning Herald (Sep 18, 2012), http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/muslims-
inundated-with-messages-of-hate-20120918-263gj.html
30. John Masanauskas, “Islamic Community Reports Surge in Hate Mail since
Recent Violent Protest in Sydney,” Herald Sun (Sep 21, 2012), http://www.
news.com.au/national-news/victoria/americans-must-steer-clear-of-anti-
amierican-protests-in-melbourne-us-warns-citizens/stor y-
fndo4cq1-1226478713490
31. Phil Hickey, “Ambulance Smashed at Out-of-control Party, Teenager
Stabbed,” Perth Now (Sep 16, 2012), http://www.perthnow.com.au/news/
western-australia/ambulance-smashed-at-out-of-control-party-teenager-
stabbed/story-e6frg13u-1226475014440
32. Chasers 2012, “Sydney ‘riot’ v Perth ‘out-of-control party’: Spot the
Difference!,” online video, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hzkI2I57
WXw
33. Uthman Badar, “Muslim Protesters Held to a Hypocritical Standard,” The
Sydney Morning Herald (Sep 24, 2012), http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/
muslim-protesters-held-to-a-hypocritical-standard-20120924-26ggq.html
34. Rachel Olding, “Muslims Try to Right Wrongs after Protest,” The Sydney
Morning Herald (Sep 21, 2012), http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/muslims-
try-to-right-wrongs-after-protest-20120921-26bof.html
35. Tariq Ramadan, What I Believe (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010),
59.
36. See Olding, “Muslims Try to Right Wrongs,” and Joshua Roose, “Sydney
Riots: Protests Show Pain, but a Hint of Progress,” The Conversation (Sep
18,2012),http://theconversation.com/sydney-riots-protests-show-pain-but-a-
hint-of-progress-9641
37. Ghena Krayem, “Multiculturalism and Its Challenges for Muslim Women,”
in Challenging Identities: Muslim Women in Australia, ed. Shahram
Akbarzadeh (Melbourne: Melbourne University Publishing, 2010), 118.
CHAPTER 8
Citizenship Between State and Mosque

for Muslims in Switzerland
Stéphane Lathion
STATE AND MOSQUE

After entertaining the idea of eventually being free from the presence of
Muslims in the economically advanced countries of the Western world,
Europe, and more specifically Switzerland, has finally been forced to
acknowledge that Muslims are here to stay, largely due to births and
naturalizations. Thus, the new enquiry becomes, can Islam develop in
Switzerland or will Swiss Muslims retain their original identity or adopt
rather “exotic” values and behaviors? In fact, for some people, this reli-
gion presents a singularly peculiar character—or worse still a threat—as
Islam is perceived as providing Muslims with unprecedented united group
strength. Muslims are also members of communities that respond to prac-
tically all of their questions and needs, enabling them to live without the
need for any contact outside of their religious communities.
As elsewhere in Europe, in modern Switzerland there are certainly
many ways for Muslims to both practice their faith and participate in the
host societies. They can fall into any of these categories: highly practic-
ing Muslims, practicing Muslims, secular Muslims, cultural Muslims,
S. Lathion ( )
Département de l’instruction publique,
de la culture et du sport (DIP), Geneva, Switzerland
e-mail: <stephane.lathion@edu.ge.ch>

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_8
104 S. LATHION
and do-not-care-about-Islamic-values Muslims.1 Models of participation

in society range from that found in the northern European democracies
that encourage the coexistence of identities to the project of the French
Republic aiming to develop each individual in a union of differences.
Nevertheless, there still remains an urgent question: since it seems that
they are not going to leave, do they have to adapt, and if so, how can they
do this? Indeed, are they already doing so?
This chapter examines whether or not the prism of citizenship could be
a useful tool with which to discuss the new Muslim identity in the Swiss
context. It will do this by examining the experience of the Turkish Muslim
community. So, the first part will focus on the situation of this community
in Switzerland from a historical perspective. After this, a framework is pro-
posed in order to facilitate an analysis of the ongoing situation centered on
two spheres of identity: the “State” and the “Mosque.” These two spheres
of identity may be viewed as two pillars upon which the Swiss Muslim
citizenship could be built.
SURVEY ON SWISS MUSLIMS

This “do-it-yourself” task is interesting because it is neither schizophrenic nor
based on a purely defensive attitude. Furthermore, it proposes a way to escape
from the debate of the incompatibility between Islamic religious values and
positive social participation. In fact, young Muslims—those under twenty-
five represent more than 40 % of Muslims living in Switzerland—attend
schools and socialize in a lay, non-Muslim environment.2 Nevertheless, in
most cases, their private life, family life, and their life history remain marked
by a culture characterized by Islamic traditions and values.
The people interviewed in the research carried out by the CFE
(Commission Fédérale pour les Etrangers) in 2005 corroborate these
findings.3 They highlight the need to respect the Swiss legal frame-
work for it allows people to practice their faith without impediment
and equally guarantees the social benefits of respect for the person as
a legal entity (equality before the law), freedom of the individual, and
the right of association. On the other hand, the survey also brought to
light the attachment of Muslims living in Switzerland to Islamic ethi-
cal or religious values: “I would say that in terms of nationality I am
25 percent Turkish, 75 percent Swiss, and 100 percent Muslim.” In
addition, Islam is often expressed as a fundamental point of reference
in the identity of the individual, in their relationship with their family
CITIZENSHIP BETWEEN STATE AND MOSQUE FOR MUSLIMS IN SWITZERLAND 105
and family circle, or more simply forms an element of their human,

spiritual, and personal development.
Today, many Swiss Muslims are born or brought up in the society in
which they now reside, often living with the emotional pain of loyalty to
a family who is seen as being out of step with the social situation outside
the home. The majority of them feel entirely Swiss and have to find an
equilibrium in terms of country of origin or country of residence, mother
tongue or European language, culture of origin or culture they are living
in, religion, otherness, insecurity, rootlessness, emancipation, and so on.4
The challenge is to take the positive elements of these two spheres—
State and Mosque—so that the individual has the means with which to
build an identity as a citizen. This may be lived by sometimes stressing
religious references, sometimes cultural references, and sometimes ele-
ments characterized by a cultural, political, and social context in which the
person develops as a member of the community of citizens.
MUSLIM MIGRATION TO SWITZERLAND

In the Switzerland census of the year 2000, Islam is represented by some
310,800 Muslims (today they are more than 400,000). The total Swiss
population numbered 7,288,000, meaning Muslims represent 4.3 % of the
total population. Of the overall number of Muslims in Switzerland, the
largest number comes from the former Yugoslavia (145,000), then Turkey
(63,000), followed by North Africa and the Middle East (17,000). It is
interesting to note that almost 90 % of Swiss Muslims come from other
European countries. Before 1960, the presence of Muslims in Switzerland
was rare. This was then changed by three waves of immigration: one
economic-based, one family-based, and one politically based.5
The first wave occurred in the late 1960s and was mainly motivated
by economic necessity and largely composed of men coming to work in
Switzerland with no intention of staying permanently. These immigrants
were mostly from Turkey, the former Yugoslavia, and Albania.6 The sec-
ond wave came in the late 1970s, after Switzerland changed its legisla-
tion concerning foreigners, allowing family regrouping. This decision had
direct implications: Islam was no longer only a masculine social fact in
Switzerland, but became one composed of families, women, and children.
This, in turn, had social and urban consequences, for example, on hous-
ing, schools, and in terms of a greater visible presence of Muslims in public
places. The last wave is a political one, composed of foreigners seeking asy-
lum from oppressive dictatorships, civil wars, famines, and other reasons.
106 S. LATHION
More accurately, this is not a wave as much as an ongoing movement since

it started in the 1960s (mainly from the Middle East) and continues to
the present, with the exile of people from the Middle East, the former
Yugoslavia, North Africa, and other African countries.
As elsewhere in Europe, the implantation of Turkish Muslim
communities in Switzerland started during the 1960s, as a response to the
needs of industrial centers. A decline in the number of Turkish migrants
was seen in the mid-1990s, mostly due to fewer naturalizations as a result
of the acceptance by Switzerland and Turkey of “civic bi-nationality.”7
Nevertheless, there is still a huge number of Turks living in Switzerland
today. They do not conform to one preestablished model. They are indi-
viduals trying hard to find a place within the society which generally has
problems with understanding several cultural traits of Muslims. Issues
such as the headscarf, mosques, cemetery, and halal food and the differing
claims on identity, such as those impinging on diversity, gender relation-
ship, and personal and family laws are often controversial. There is the
perception among the larger society that the term “Muslim” refers to an
incomprehensible set of behaviors and values.
MUSLIM NETWORKS AND ASSOCIATIONS IN SWITZERLAND

Officially, Switzerland has ninety-seven registered mosques and/or prayer
halls. Only the mosques in Geneva and Zurich have the type of Islamic
architecture that can be considered mosques, whereas most of the others
are really prayer halls. Some have libraries and/or cafeterias, but these are
rare. Only a few projects are planned nationally throughout the country,
although there are various Muslim associations in Switzerland. Because
of the liberal legislation in this domain, most of the mosques and Islamic
centers in Switzerland are organized as associations.8 Muslim associations
are generally locally structured, but they are also starting to organize
themselves within the framework of the canton or administrative divisions.
The cantons play a crucial role in determining the relationship between
the state and religion. While the federal constitution guarantees religious
freedom to all citizens, local authorities are obliged to respect religious
neutrality and to treat Muslims (as well as other religious groups) on equal
terms. However, cantons are autonomous in their relationship with the
churches and other religious institutions.9
In most cantons, the associations organize themselves into unions (e.g.,
the Union of Muslim associations of the canton of Fribourg), providing
them with more weight to discuss important issues (e.g., construction of

mosques, cemeteries, swimming pools). At the national level, there are two
structures, although they do not in any way represent all the Muslims liv-
ing in Switzerland: “Musulmans et Musulmanes de Suisse” and “La Ligue
des Musulmans de Suisse.” In contrast to other European countries such
as France, the UK, Spain, and Austria, there is no official representation of
Muslims in Switzerland. But since 2007, an interesting dynamic has been
initiated by some local organizations in order to create a representative body
at the national level, namely, the Fédération des Organisations Islamiques de
Suisse. Nevertheless, most Muslim activities really take place within ethnic
and national organizations. Furthermore, Turkish Muslims in Switzerland
are also divided by the ideological and political divisions of their home coun-
try (Dyanet, Milli Görrüs, Süleymanci, and also the Nurcu confraternity).
Among Turkish Muslims in Switzerland, the majority are Hanafite
Sunnis and tend to be very young. They replicate the entire range of
political-religious-ethnic-social sensibilities that permeate modern-day
Turkey. It is worth noting that there is a tenuous difference between the
religious and the nationalist. This helps us understand how citizenship
between State and Mosque could emerge and evolve. In order to appreci-
ate how these associations relate with the Muslim’s construction of iden-
tity, it is useful to categorize the Turkish associations in Switzerland into
three core identities. Firstly, there is a core identity that is referred to as
Islam or the Muslim community, without any explicit reference to ethnic-
ity or nationality. The second core is ethno-religious, driven “essentially
by political movements of the extreme right…Their discourse is always
very focused on the political evolution of the country of origin.”10 The
third core refers to modernity, especially that which is found in Western
Europe, and serves as a model (as much for the individual living in Europe
as for Turkey as a state) toward which the individual leans. This model is
based on the shared values of modernity, such as secularization, the status
of women, and equality of all beyond the beliefs of each individual. It is
advanced as a strategy in a society where the fear of Islam and Muslims
is latent (to say the least) even as it does little to influence other Muslims
outside its core.
An essential element seems to have emerged in this associative pan-
orama since the turn of the century in 2000 that makes it possible to get to
the heart of the subject of citizenship between State and Mosque. This ele-
ment takes the definite settlement of Turkish residents in Switzerland into
account, radically changing the way Turkish residents see the place they live
108 S. LATHION
in, their future, the education of their children, and their relationship with
Turkey. The existence of an associative fabric supported by young Muslims
is important as they are in a better position to relay the aspirations of the
younger generations of Muslims to the local planning councils.11 This also
indicates that their perspective is one which favors positive integration
of Muslims with the locals.12 The Fondation Communauté Musulmane-
Genève is an association characteristic of this trend. It promotes educa-
tional activities (supporting schools, language courses, and other training
courses run by the associations), religious education, and civic responsibil-
ity. Besides, the ongoing political situation in Turkey also offers new per-
spectives to Muslim Turks living abroad in developing a possible modern
identity composed of the integration of religious values and the secular,
democratic environment.
THE MUSLIM INDIVIDUAL IN A CHANGING REALITY

An examination of the evolution of Turkish Islam in Switzerland toward a
Swiss Islam must take at least three points into consideration.13 First, Islam
should be viewed through at least three “objects” of shared commitment,
that is, (i) each Muslim Turk should be considered as an individual, (ii)
there is the field created by other Muslims with whom the Muslim inter-
acts, and (iii) there is the non-Muslim host society. Second, the objects-
subjects of the individual—including the Mosque and the State—change
by adapting to the times and to the context in which they find them-
selves. Finally, as an individual messenger of Islam who has been living
in Switzerland for some time and as a person who has acquired multiple
memberships, it would be presumptuous and misleading to assume that
the factor “Islam” is strong, and above all, stable through one’s life.
Another element that cannot be neglected when speaking about the con-
struction of identity is the way the “other” sees the young Turks and also how
they perceive themselves. For example, the Turkish communities have to fight
against the negative image which the Swiss population has of them. Studies
show that the Swiss media mostly portrays negative pictures of Islam.14 Since
the various terrorist attacks of 2001, 2004, and 2005, there has been a ten-
dency to attribute the problems of Muslim immigrants to their religion. This
ethnicization of what are mostly social problems not only impacts on the way
Muslims Turks are seen by the Swiss population but also impacts on the way
they themselves see their themselves and their future. This certainly does not
help in the construction of a positive Swiss Turkish Muslim identity.
For many years the Turkish communities were only visible from the
outside in the form of associations, culture and language schools, sports
clubs, places of worship, and with only a few of these migrant communi-
ties having libraries and also their own newspapers.15 In the last decade,
however, the growth in the number of kebab signs as well as the number
of Turkish newspapers on sale in public places confirm that there is a
Turkish settlement in the heart of Swiss society. This is, on the one hand,
more visible but, on the other, a visibility that is not a religious sign. Less
visible but just as important in terms of integration is the emergence of
a growing number of private enterprises created by a new type of young
Turkish entrepreneur who offers very specific services to his community in
the form of “halal business” that includes not only food and clothing, but
also more specialized services such as legal help and advice, bank credit,
scholastic support, and jobs. This is a sign that a multifaceted integration
process is happening as religion is no more than one factor among several.
PLURAL WAYS OF LIVING RELIGION

It is not the references of the religion that are evolving but a plurality of
interpretations or ways of living it. The evolution of Swiss Islam involves
both individual adaptation and collective construction. Caught between
a mutating context and intangible references, the application of religion
may well require contextualized interpretations. Observing the diverse
religious practices of Muslim Turks in Switzerland helps in understand-
ing the evolution they are undergoing. The first element found by Farhad
Khosrokavar is the way the young build their religious universe and the
way in which they form and understand their relationship with the sacred
and, equally, their relationship with Swiss society.16 Choice is a vital factor
in this process.
The initial generations have a religion that is above all traditional and
cultural. The younger generations, however, adhere to Islam out of per-
sonal choice and not always in a linear progression through the course of
their life. The story of Erkan, a 35-year-old insurance agent who has lived in
Switzerland for 31 years and who benefits from civic bi-nationality (Turkish/
Swiss), has key moments in his spiritual development that is not atypical:
I had religious instruction from the age of eight to eighteen years of age….
I learnt but did not understand. What is more, between the ages of eighteen
and twenty-four, I was perhaps a bit rebellious because I no longer practiced,
110 S. LATHION
I committed sin in relation to religion, and then one day I suddenly had a
revelation but this was not like me. I did not have this identity, but now the
way I see the world is different, and so I ‘returned’ to my religion and to all
I had learnt in 10 years.17
Another young Turk, 31-year-old Candan who works as an early childhood

educator and also has civic bi-nationality, insists on progressively taking
the opportunity to live as he chooses:
I have not been practicing all the time and the fact that I began to practice,
in my opinion, it came to the point where I was an adult and no longer fol-
lowed fashion, other people… when you are a teenager you live by belong-
ing to a gang or tribe one way or another. Then, little by little came the
realization that I had made choices that really did not make me happy; I had
made them through imitation in order to communicate something.
These young people also try to answer concrete, day-to-day problems

that involve their will to be Muslims in Europe. Unlike the traditional
schools of thought or the fatwas announced in Riyadh or Ankara, they
pragmatically work out answers to their questions before formalizing
them in a more theoretical way.18 These young people are the driving
force behind the transformation in the European Muslim scene. Their
personal experience and the social context have led to reflection and to a
questioning of their faith. This, in turn, leads to a multitude of “practices”
of their religion. Individual religiosity is not expressed once and for all in
a specific form but according to the expectations and preoccupations of
each individual. Mallory Schneuwly-Purdie highlights four types of religi-
osity: spiritual, institutional, social, and intellectualized.19
That means Muslim Turks will not give the same answers to questions
about their religious practices as these depend on the context, the age,
sex, education level, and understanding of the person. For example, the
meaning they give to being Muslim in Switzerland today, their loyalty to
the Hanafite school, or the criteria they use to distinguish practicing from
non-practicing religion (five pillars, forbidden food, headscarf, visiting
mosque, etc.) differ from individual to individual. Individuals fix their
own behaviors (do-it-yourself) and test them. What is key is their ability
to relate and link religious practice to integration and citizenship within
the larger community.
CONTROL OF STATE AND MOSQUE

If individuals feel socially, economically, politically, culturally, and/or
legally marginalized there may be collective reactions.20 In the case of
Muslims, there are two distinct worlds which want to keep the individual
under control, both being kept as far apart from the influence of the other
as possible. On the one hand, there is the State, the modern society (lay
institutions, schools, army, cultural associations, etc.) and, on the other,
there is the Mosque, family, cultural links, Islamic organizations and reli-
gious associations (often representing the country of origin). More than
their parents, the young Muslim Turk is confronted with the influences of
these two spheres. These young people illustrate perfectly the interdepen-
dence of factors through which, as Muslim believers and as Swiss citizens,
they have built their own identity:
I am a Swiss who comes from Turkey and who is Muslim. I feel these three
links very strongly. I cannot say that I am not Turkish. I was born there and
I lived there until I was nine years old. I am full of memories. I sometimes
go back there for holidays. I live in Switzerland out of choice, and lastly, my
life is directed by my faith. So the three are truly very strong.
Young Muslim Turks are also an issue for their two environments,
Mosque and State, both of which want to have more influence in their
identity-building process. The young have to find their way between
parental support, language and culture of origin, moral requirements, and
the contrasting reality of a Swiss/European culture permeated by the val-
ues of non-Muslim young people, as learned through the television, social
environment, school, encounters they have, and other relationships. These
concrete, multiple facets are formative elements in the construction of
their identity. Besides, the social environment in which they develop is also
perpetually changing. Swiss and European legislation increasingly takes
the Muslim presence into consideration in terms of fundamental freedoms
(belief, religious practice, association, etc.) by implementing more specific
measures of recognition or prohibition, or through responses to concrete
problems: the headscarf, mosque, cemeteries, the distribution of halal
food, religious teaching in public schools, and the functions of the imam
and the mosque.
As in other European countries, the state commissions in Switzerland are
working to develop new rules and regulations concerning imams, such as
their importation and language skills. The imams and those who pay them
112 S. LATHION
dread losing their power to influence European Muslims, and also watch
part of their revenues decline. Some undoubtedly fear the emergence of an
independent European Islam, free from ideological constraints and finan-
cially free from an often “expensive” dependence. A European Islam is both
critical of the real-life situation experienced in the Muslim world and socially
and politically committed to European society. As for imported imams, it is
the community’s responsibility to integrate them fully so that they do not
become marginalized, which is always a source of conflict.
A SWISS-MUSLIM IDENTITY
Swiss Islam is a complex reality. The objects-subjects identified above—the
Muslim individual, Muslim community, and the State—are not frozen in
time but are constantly being constructed. Consequently, the main dif-
ficulty will be the ability of each one of these three subjects to accept that
the identity of the Turkish Muslim citizen may emerge and develop from
several sources; that it may be composed of multiple memberships, and a
combination of concrete parameters.21 The individual must manage the
multiple sources well as they are as likely to help in the construction of
identity as to lead them astray. It is the responsibility of Swiss authorities
to offer Muslims the same rights as other citizens, the same responsibilities
in finding the right measure between the primacy of individual rights and,
perhaps, the recognition of certain collective rights.22
For their part, the representatives of the Muslim community will have
to accept the pluralism of influences, the game of competition, and the
influence this has on all members of society.23 Muslims must recognize the
Swiss legal framework and, furthermore, accept that, contractually, their
destinies lie together. Moreover, the three actors—the Muslim individual,
Muslim community, and the State— must not only come to terms with
the reality that the identity of a European Muslim develops to a certain
extent under the auspices of “Islamic” institutions, but also realize that
conclusive answers for Islam could come from its very interaction with
society and the context.
Thus, does citizenship only refer to the legal status of individuals as
defined by a group of laws and responsibilities? In the CFE survey, here
is how 30-year-old Turkish Muslim Mourad, who works at McDonald’s,
expresses it: “If you ask me, being a good citizen means paying your taxes
without criticizing the state, obeying the rules, going to vote, and lov-
ing your country.” But, is this all there is to citizenship or does it not
also include the expression of one’s identity within the political commu-
nity?24 This is what 38-year-old Adem, who comes from Turkey-Kurdistan
and works as a journalist-translator, has to say: “A good citizen is firstly a
good human being.” Sixty-year-old Erol, from Turkey and retired from his
machinery work, concurs: “For me, a good citizen is to be a good person.”
Thus, citizenship also entails the ability to live life congenially with others.
Moreover, citizenship also has to do with belonging to a community
and the desire to share in its aspirations and beliefs together with others.
Thirty-six-year-old insurance agent Erkan, also from Turkey, puts it this
way: “When I speak of additional identity, I have kept my first identity,
Turkish nationality, but I feel I am as Swiss as Turkish…. I would love
to participate in the social, economic, and political life of this country.”
Another Turk, 31-year-old Candan, gave the following answer to the same
question: “Sincerely, I’ve applied for Swiss citizenship in order to have
some sort of peace…. But compared to this, I arrived in Geneva aged
9 and I have been here for more than twenty years. It’s true that these
roads, parks, buildings, speak to me, it’s something that I feel strongly. I
am more attached to here than to Turkey.”
Rethinking citizenship between State and Mosque, therefore, could
help in the management of the cultural diversity of Swiss society. Firstly,
this is the logic of recognition or even a policy of recognition as sug-
gested by Charles Taylor, where the responsibilities of the actors are
clarified so as to facilitate improved mutual understanding. Secondly,
recognition of various cultural rights improves integration of certain
groups while remaining vigilant over the risks of identity fold. In this
sense, the concept of “Obligation of Reasonable Accommodation,” as
stressed by the Canadian researcher Will Kymlicka, is interesting.25 It
provides great perspectives and a new way for dealing with Muslim needs
and demands: dialogue and a search for a minimum consensus accept-
able to both parties.26
The grounded reality shows clearly that the vast majority of Turkish
Muslims living in Switzerland adhere to democratic values (human rights,
separation of church and state, equality of the sexes, respect for the Swiss
legal system), while a large number of those interviewed even hold to
such “Swiss” values as work ethics, punctuality, and recycling trash.
Furthermore, if the growing Muslim population sometimes feels ill at ease
with certain socio-cultural practices (such as the frequent use of alcohol
in everyday or festive situations, the mixing of gender in certain public
places, and relationships of different kinds), they try to find a balance that
114 S. LATHION
preserves their understanding of the needs of their religion. This means

arriving at an equilibrium between the daily imperatives of a society that
relegates religion to private life and the essential elements of religious
practice, without leading to conflict (personal or family).27 Reflection on
participative citizenship is therefore important in overcoming the sup-
posed opposition of religious practice and civic responsibility.
Will the State and Mosque be in a position to suggest a framework in
which this definition of identity operates without conflict? In creating the
best conditions for this Muslim-citizen identity to emerge without too
many problems in the Switzerland of tomorrow, will they understand the
requirements of the Muslim silent majority?
NOTES
1. Typology proposed by Saied R. Ameli & Aarhus Merali, Dual Citizenship:
British, Islamic or Both? Obligation, Recognition, Respect and Belonging
(Wembly: Islamic Human Rights Commission, 2004), 36.
2. Swiss Federal Office of Statistics, Population Survey of 2000, http://gris.
info/statistics.html
3. Survey carried out between January and December 2004 by GRIS (Groupe
de Recherche sur l’Islam en Suisse—Islam in Switzerland Research Group);
the results were published as a report by the Commission Fédérale pour les
Etrangers (CFE)—Federal Commission for Foreigners—in October 2005 as
Matteo Gianni, Vie Musulmane en Suisse. Profils identitaires, demandes et per-
ceptions des musulmans de Suissse (Berne: Commission Fédérale pour les
Questions de Migration, 2005). Note that all interviews used in this chapter
are from this report.
4. Stéphane Lathion, Musulmans d’Europe: l’émergence d’une identité citoyenne
(Paris: L’Harmattan, 2003).
5. Stéphane Lathion, Islam en Europe, la tranformation d’une présence (Paris: La
Medina, 2003).
6. Mallory Schneuwly-Purdie & Stéphane Lathion, “Panorama de l’islam en
Suisse,” Boèce, Revue romande des Sciences Humaines 6 (Apr–Jun 2003):
7–20.
7. Hasan Mutlu & Annemari Sancar, “Stratégies identitaires collectives:
Dynamiques de restructuration sociale des migrants originaires de Turquie en
Suisse,” CEMOTI 30 (Jun–Dec 2000): 223–251.
8. Christoph Baumann & Christian Jaggi, Muslime unter uns: Islam in der
Schweiz (Luzern: Rex Verlag, 1991), 69–73.
9. See Hans Mahnig, “Islam in Switzerland: Fragmented Accommodation in a

Federal State,” in Muslims in the West from Sojourners to Citizens, ed. Yvonne
Yazbeck Haddad (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 72–87.
10. Mutlu & Sancar, “Stratégies identitaires collectives,” 244.
11. Stéphane De Tapia, “La population turque en Alsace: regard sur un islam
importé,” Collectivité locales et pratiques de l’Islam en Alsace (Strasbourg:
ORIV Alsace, Aug 2002).
12. Stéphane Lathion, “Jeunes musulmans en Europe: l’émergence d’une iden-
tité citoyenne,” CEMOTI 33 (Jun 2002).
13. François Jung & Stéphane Lathion, “Vers un Islam européen: ‘bricolage’
entre références et contexte (Towards a European Islam: ‘Do-it-yourself’
between Context and References,” SSMOCI Bulletin 12 (Jun 2001): 10–12.
14. Waseem Hussain, “Feindbild Islam: die Verantwortung der Redaktionen,”
Tangram-Bulletin der Eidgenössischen Kommisión gegen Rassismus 2, (Mar
1997): 22–29.
15. Mutlu & Sancar, “Stratégies identitaires collectives,” 233–234.
16. Farhad Khosrokavar, L’islam des jeunes (Paris, Flammarion, 1997).
17. A reminder that these quotes and the subsequent ones are from the 2005
CFE survey research mentioned earlier in this chapter.
18. Lathion, Musulmans d’Europe.
19. Mallory Schneuwly-Purdie, Etre musulman en Suisse Romande: Une enquête
qualitative sur le rôle du référent religieux dans la construction identitaire
(PhD diss., Université de Fribourg, 2006), 167–185.
20. Sami Naïr, “Inmigración e identidad,” El País (Mar 12, 2001), http://elpais.
com/diario/2001/03/12/opinion/984351607_850215.html
21. Schneuwly-Purdie, Etre musulman en Suisse romande.
22. See Charles Taylor, Multiculturalism and “the Politics of Recognition”
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992) and Will Kymlicka, Multicultural
Citizenship: A Liberal Theory of Minority Rights (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1995).
23. Tariq Ramadan, How to be a European Muslim (Markfield: The Islamic
Foundation, 2004).
24. Will Kymlicka, Ciudadania Multicultural (Barcelone: Paídos, 1996),
246–262.
25. Kymlicka, Multicultural Citizenship.
26. A Swiss scholar, Mahnig, stressed another very similar concept: negotiating
compromise. See Mahnig, “Islam in Switzerland.”
27. Voir “Vie musulmane en Suisse : Profils identitaires, demandes et perceptions
des musulmans en Suisse,” Documentation sur la politique d’intégration
(Berne: Commission Fédérale des Etrangers, 2010, 2nd ed.).
PART III
What Christians Can Learn

CHAPTER 9
What Christians Can Learn from Shamanic

Pneumatology
Jojo M. Fung
INTRODUCTION
Asia abounds in local pneumatologies that serve as sources of inspiration
and solace for the peoples of the marginal rural as well as urban com-
munities of the many religions. This chapter articulates a shamanic pneu-
matology that is engaged in dialogue with these local pneumatologies. It
highlights the fact that the shamanic pneumatology provides the neces-
sary discursive space for the subaltern voices of marginal communities and
especially women to be heard in the perennial struggle against the neoco-
lonial, statist, and global hegemonic powers. This discourse will critically,
yet discerningly, examine the nexus between the “many spirits” of Asia
and the “one spirit” of Christianity.
THEOLOGICAL FRAMEWORK
The articulation of this emergent shamanic pneumatology is premised
upon a theological framework that takes seriously the principles alluded to
by three different, yet related, sources. First, it hearkens faithfully to the
J.M. Fung ( )
East Asian Pastoral Institute and Loyola School of Theology,
Quezon City, Philippines
e-mail: jojodear@gmail.com

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_9
120 J.M. FUNG
recommendation of Pope Paul VI, who advocated that “the Christology

and especially the ecclesiology of the Second Vatican Council should be fol-
lowed by a new study and a new cult of the Holy Spirit, as an indispensable
complement of the conciliar teaching.”1 The shamanic pneumatology
advanced in this chapter, therefore, is at once the new study and the new
cult that Paul VI dreamed about. It is also very much in keeping with the
spirit of Vatican II.
Second, it takes to heart the exhortation of Pope Francis who urges us
to be more open in our reception of the Holy Spirit when, in Evangelii
Gaudium (EG), he proffered this advice: “Yet there is no greater freedom
than that of allowing oneself to be guided by the Holy Spirit, renouncing
the attempt to plan and control everything to the last detail, and instead
letting him enlighten, guide and direct us, leading us wherever he wills”
(EG, 280). Elements of the shamanic pneumatology will certainly chal-
lenge Christians to let go of their preconceived ideas of how the Holy Spirit
works. In so doing, they will be free to appreciate the Holy Spirit in new
ways, including ways not usually associated with the church or Christianity.
Third, this discourse subscribes to three fundamental theses advanced
at a recent conference of the Ecumenical Association of Third World
Theologians (EATWOT) that was specifically focused on the lives and
struggles of the indigenous peoples in Asia.2 They are EATWOT’s clarion
call to (i) imbibe the indigenous “spirituality of connectedness with nature
and the land as our own in our collective effort to heal the earth and pro-
mote collective well-being,” (ii) be able to “look into ancestral/folk faith
traditions as well as other religious texts and traditions, views, beliefs, and
values from our ancestral traditions,” and (iii) accept that “there is a real-
ity beyond this culturally constructed reality,” that is, “the arena of faith,”
a faith that guides the journey of the indigenous peoples in their experi-
ence of the Divine and perennial struggle to create a better future.3 The
plenary session of November 7, 2010, during the Asian Women’s Meeting
of EATWOT was entitled Doing Asian Feminist Analysis. The session,
facilitated by Emelina Villegas and Rini Ralte, saw the participants articu-
lating the Asian-ness of their approach based on a common experience of
colonialism, oneness, and interconnectedness. They identified neocolo-
nialism and patriarchy as the root causes of the domination of women that
is reinforced by religion and that accompanies a spiraling systemic violence
spawned by the dominant development ideology espoused by the global
elite minority. It is an ideology, the women are convinced, that legitimizes
the commoditization of the environment.
WHAT CHRISTIANS CAN LEARN FROM SHAMANIC PNEUMATOLOGY 121
It is the spirit of these principles that informs my own theological

framework. Employing this framework, I will now engage in the following
contextual articulation on a shamanic pneumatology, which is at the same
time, borne of a personal and experiential “lived-understanding” of the
spirituality of the Karen indigenous communities of Northern Thailand.
INDIGENOUS SPIRITUALITY
Let me begin then by reflecting on the insights of other scholars who
have been deeply immersed in the lives and spirituality of the indigenous
peoples. Indigenous communities that are steeped in their traditional
practices, opines scholar of Indian Tribal Theology Yangkahao Vashum,
have a profound regard for the centrality of “the spirits as the media-
tors between God and the world” as it is integral to their belief-systems
that “God relates to the people and world through the spirits.”4 There is,
however, a distinction between the many spirits that are pervasive in the
people’s consciousness. They are generally differentiated as “malevolent
and benevolent spirits such that the malevolent spirits were associated with
misfortune, calamities, and illness while the benevolent spirits such as the
house spirits, fertility spirits and ancestor’s spirits were known for blessing
people with good health, good crops, healthy relationships between and
among people, and a good family and community life.”5
In the same vein and reflecting from the perspective of the indigenous
communities of Northeast India, editor of the Indian Journal of Theology,
Pratap Chandra Gine, believes that the indigenous peoples “are spiritual in
their own rites.” This is largely due to their belief that “the spirit of God
dwells in every human thought and expression, and word and action.”6 It
is therefore a common practice for the indigenous communities to offer
sacrifices to the many spirits in their attempts at appealing to the sacred
powers of God’s spirit, not so much out of fear as out of reverence and
love. Gine further adds that “they worship every good spirit, which they
encounter in their day-to-day life, like the god of the land, the god of har-
vest, the god of the waters, and the god of the animal kingdom.”7 What is
quintessential is that the spirits are revered and venerated for their sacred
power in creating and sustaining the earth and all of creation.
Finally, it has to be clearly understood that this emerging pneumatol-
ogy acknowledges and hearkens to these life-giving kindred spirits—even
those whose presence and activities reside outside of Christianity but under
the prevalent influence of the other faith traditions—as indispensable to
the sustainability of life in cultures, religions, and societies. Moreover, the
122 J.M. FUNG
variety of spirits are believed to be non-exclusively operating alongside one

another. British theologian Kirsteen Kim, who had served as a mission-
ary in India before, made the insightful remark that these kindred spirits
“will be seen and appreciated for what they are, without being rejected
on the one hand or subsumed into Christianity on the other.”8 Christians
themselves are able to come to an appreciation of these spirits where they
discern correlations with the workings of the Spirit of Christ.
KARENITE PNEUMATOLOGY
Much like the spirituality of the indigenous peoples of India, the Karenite
pneumatology also explains the shamanic spirits in relation to their experi-
ences of the spirit world. These cumulative experiences of the community
serve to inform their notions of sacredness and sustainability. The nam-
ing and elevation of the indigenous beliefs in the spirit world can also
be looked upon as an act of solidarity with the indigenous communities
worldwide, particularly in their movement of prophetic resistance against
the colonial and neocolonial imperial missionary Christianity. It is unfor-
tunate that colonial Christianity has and continues to denigrate and erase
the indigenous peoples’ religio-cultural cosmologies of sustainability.9
The Karen relates to the Great Spirit as Hti k’ja Cauj k’ja, whose pres-
ence is mediated through the rituals of the community. The Great Spirit is
experienced in everyday village life, in their ancestral forestland or home-
land. The recurrent expression of the everyday consciousness of the Karen
in the village of Dokdaeng in Northern Thailand with reference to the
Great Spirit, for example, is that “rituals make everything sacred; every-
thing has spirits; everything is sacred.”10 The Karen’s everyday experience
of the sacred has to be situated within the mystique and cosmologies of
the sacred religio-cultural traditions of the indigenous peoples.
While the Karen believes that the Great Spirit is a this-worldly reality,
their understanding of the absolute being, Taj Thi Ta Tau, is cosmic. The
narratives of the few elders, religious leaders like the hif Hkof (local ritual
specialists), S’ra kata (local Karen healers), and also the Karen respon-
dents to my research who are Catholics are worth noting. These narra-
tives reveal that the Karen do not really differentiate between Taj Thi Ta
Tau and Hti k’ja Cauj k’ja or Ywa. According to their anthropomorphic
narratives, Hti k’ja Cauj k’ja is described as this-worldly while Taj Thi
Ta Tau is cosmic. However, it is the cosmic presence of Taj Thi Ta Tau
and the this-worldly presence of the ancestral and nature spirits that make
everything in the world sacred.11
This is the Great Spirit that the indigenous communities understand; it

is expressed in relational terms. The Great Spirit is the power that sustains
the wisdom of the peoples and the various fields of local knowledge; their
cosmologies and knowledge related to the types of forests, rice and land
use, rituals, seeds, soil, taboos, water and rotational farming, and the
months in the cycle of rice production. This pool of knowledge guides
their sustainable management of the biospecies. Besides, the Great Spirit
also ensures the fuller flourishing of their largely agro-based livelihood. The
Great Spirit is the power of resistance mediated through the ritual celebra-
tions. This Great Spirit enables the communities to negotiate the power of
neocolonialism, the nation-state, and patriarchy. These external powers are
at once oppressive and embedded in the dominant development ideology
of both the market and global capitalism, as well as of the nation-state.12
EMERGING PNEUMATOLOGY OF SACRED SUSTAINABILITY

The articulation in this chapter is described as “shamanic” for two reasons.
First, it pertains to the person of the reputable women/men shamans who
play various acclaimed mediatory roles between the community and the
Creator Spirit—as well as with the ancestral and nature spirits—during the
ritual celebrations. Second, the term shamanic also designates the intimate
connection of the spirit world with the shamans, the mediatory symbol
between the multiple worlds. In view of this, the term shamanic can also be
used to designate the state and being (ontology) of the shamans since some
are specifically called to live as shamans and so embody the social role of
mediators on behalf of the peoples in their villages. These shamans believe
that their ontological state is inseparable from their social functions.
Christian theologizing in the context of Asia, therefore, has to assign a
value to the centrality of the spirit world of the Creator Spirit, the bibli-
cal and extra-biblical ancestors, and nature. In this articulation, the spirits
of the ancestors and nature are designated as shamanic spirits for reasons
that these life-giving kindred spirits are revered for sacredly sustaining the
cosmos and anthropos. The use of the Karen word playj, or servants, sug-
gests that these shamanic spirits “share in” and “collaborate with” the
Taj Thi Ta Tau and Ywa. These shamanic spirits are the created spirits
known to uphold the sacred sustainability of creation and human civili-
zation. These kindred spirits are created by God to share in the creative
power of God who is Spirit (John 4:24). This participation is explained in
a primary biblico-theological principle of sacred sustainability and other
related principles as outlined below:
124 J.M. FUNG
(a) Biblico-theological principles of sacred sustainability. The shamanic pneuma-

tology of sacred sustainability builds on the theological insight of sacred sus-
tainability.13 This insight is, in turn, premised on two related biblical principles.
The first presupposes the participation of the shamanic spirits in the sacred
power of the Creative Spirit. The second is a theological understanding of
Yahweh as governing creation in collaboration with the other spirits in sus-
taining and sacralizing the cosmos.
(b) Participation in Ruach Elohim (Spirit of God). A shamanic pneumatology of
sacred sustainability postulates that sustainability of life in God’s creation is
possible because the sustaining presence of the shamanic spirits of the mystic
owner, the ancestors, and nature participate in the power of Ruach Elohim (Ps
29:1, 82:1; Deut 10:17). These shamanic spirits came into existence through
a primordial profundity (creatio ex profundis) when Ruach Elohim (Gen 1:1)
hovers over the waters, transforming the primal chaos (tohu va-vohu, a descrip-
tion of whence the earth was wild and waste)14 into a cosmos that befits all
created beings, including humankind and all biospecies on earth. These sha-
manic spirits are created for God’s salvific purpose of collaborating with
Ruach Elohim to ensure the ongoing sustainability of the cosmos and anthro-
pos. In collaboration with Ruach Elohim, these kindred shamanic spirits suf-
fuse creation with God’s sacred power and goodness (Gen 1:4, 10, 12, 18,
21, 25, 31) to reflect the grandeur and splendor of God. The grandeur of
creation, therefore, is as much a reflection on the primordial and perennial
creativity of Ruach Elohim as it is a recognition of the shamanic spirits that
suffuse creation with a cosmic sacredness. This primordial sacredness alerts us
that the participation of the shamanic spirits in the power of Ruach Elohim
has made the sacred sustainability of life possible in creation.
(c) Ruach Elohim as omnipotent. The pneumatology of sacred sustainability
advocates that sustainability of life is attainable through the omnipotence of
Ruach Elohim that the shamanic spirits participate in. This ruach is present in
creation as the imperishable spirit that pervades everything (Wis 12:1).15 This
ruach fills the heaven and the earth (1 King 8:27; Amos 9:2–3), indeed the
whole world (Wis 1:7). By the act of creation the uncreated creator infused in
everything a living soul or living spirit (Wis 15:11) and thus God’s ruach is
acknowledged for the universal and life-giving and sustaining activity (Job
34:14–15; Ps 104:30) that makes creation sacred.16 By participation in the
creative ruach that suffuses creation, the host of shamanic spirits—presided
over by the omnipresent Ruach Elohim (Deut 10:17; Ps 82:1)—enables the
generational sustainability of life in creation. The participation of these sha-
manic spirits in the power of Ruach Elohim has made the task of sustainability
of creation possible through an assembly of Ruach Elohim and the shamanic
spirits. This collaboration appeals to a few of the Catholic elders and former
religious leaders of the traditional religions. The divine participation of these
kindred shamanic spirits in God’s Creative Spirit has shored up an important
theological nexus between the “many spirits” of the indigenous communities

and the “one spirit” of Christianity.
MYSTICAL NEXUS OF THEO-EN-PASSIM AND PANENTHEISM

In reflecting on all of the above and in praying on the mystical insights
of St. John of the Cross, I came to the awareness, in the words of Pope
Francis in his encyclical Laudato Si’ (LS), “that all the goodness present in
the realities and experiences of this world ‘is present in God eminently and
infinitely, or more properly, in each of these sublime realities is God’” (LS,
234).17 Hence, “the mystic experiences the intimate connection between
God and all beings, and thus feels that ‘all things are God’” (LS, 234).
It was only after a month of praying and more specifically praying in
front of a tree that I fully understood what this insight meant. My journal
entry indicates that praying on “all things are God” had led me to the
personal conviction that “all things are truly God,” which then led me to
also realize that Theo-en-passim (God in all things) and panentheism (all
things subsist in God) are but two sides of the same coin. Here are my
journal entries:
August 27–28, 2015. From 26 to 28, praying on Laudato Si’ no. 234, “all
things are GOD,” in the “earthing” prayer session at the back of Moro
Lorenzo stadium, Ateneo de Manila University campus, Manila, has informed
me that all of creation is so GODLY and DIVINE. Yesterday, I prayed to the
tree in front of me, “speak to me that all things are God.” I heard the tree’s
communication in my innermost being, “I am God indwelling in the tree.”
I responded, “I am God indwelling in me too.” Then I heard the response
from the tree, “we are one.” In today’s prayer, August 28, 2015, I asked all
things in front of me as I sat praying on the sofa in the TV room, “speak to
me that all things are God.” The building, the tree, the chairs, everything/
everyone and all things spoke to me, “I am God indwelling in creation.” I
realized that each created part of creation reflects God indwelling in crea-
tures. God is indeed in all, through all, all in all. I realized that I am living in
such a divine milieu, the insight that Teilhard de Chardin (1969) had realized
in his time. He is truly a geo/cosmic mystic of his time! The divine milieu is
all around me and inside me too. God, Jesus, God’s ruach are the center and
source of this divine milieu, this cosmic sacred web of life.
September 5, 2015. In hearing the voice “I am God” in relation to LS 234

“all things are God,” I now understood that the tree is a creaturely or an
incarnated manifestation of “I am God indwelling in this tree” in the sense
126 J.M. FUNG
of Theo-en-passim. So, like God, I too indwell in the tree and the tree in me,
like a “compenetrative presencing.” At the same time, this tree exists and
subsists in God in the sense of panentheism. In a particularized sense, the
incarnated spirit in the tree is the spirit of the tree. In other words, the tree
has a spirit, an incarnated spirit of God. Theo-en-passim is truly the flipside
of panentheism in the mystical sense that God who indwells in all things has
made it possible for “all things to exist and subsist” in God. The indwelling
of God and the existential subsistence in God make possible the mystical
experience that “all things are God.”
This experience is foundational to understanding panentheism as the

flip side of Theo-en-passim, establishing the “compenetrative presencing”
or “indwelling” of God in creation and creation in God. Panentheism
bespeaks of the indwelling of created realities from the incarnated per-
spective, a theology which postulates that God is already an indwelling
presence by virtue of creation’s subsistence in God. On the other hand,
Theo-en-passim offers an incarnational perspective as the God who suffuses
creation and is an indwelling presence that sacralizes and sustains creation.
This “compenetrative presencing” is crucial to understanding the unfath-
omable and even controversial belief in the pantheon of Asian deities who
are spirits (god/spirit of the kitchen, god/spirit of the sky, god/spirit of
the earth), and who are spirits inhabiting nature (spirit of the trees, the
forests, the mountains, the animals, and the waters).
God’s incarnational presencing “in” creation becomes the incarnated
presence of God who is the life-giving Spirit (John 4:24) in creation. In
the anthropos, God’s Spirit-presence becomes the incarnated spirit of each
particular person; God’s Spirit indwelling in Joan, for example, is an incar-
nated spirit that suffuses, sacralizes, and sustains Joan. This Spirit-presence
is an invisible life-giving principle that is known as the spirit described by
Pratap Chandra Gine earlier in this chapter. In the natural and human
ecology, God’s Spirit-presence in nature and the human habitat is analo-
gously explained as the spirit of the animals, trees, mountains, waters, the
kitchen, the sky, and the earth. This is the mystico-theological insight of
the mystics that is borne of a profoundly intimate inner experience of a
mystical cosmology. This quintessential insight of “compenetrative pres-
encing” has laid the foundation for LS to explain the mystical cosmology
of “everything is interconnected” (LS, 70), “interdependent” (LS, 86),
and “interrelated” as “we human beings are united as brothers and sisters
on a wonderful pilgrimage, woven together by the love God has for each
of his creatures and which also unites us in fond affection with brother
sun, sister moon, brother river and mother earth” (LS, 138).
CONCLUSION
The preceding reflection finds a correlation with the theologies articulated
by subaltern voices in support of the indispensability of the spirit world
of the Creator Spirit, the ancestral, and nature spirits. It lends credence
to the emerging discourse on a shamanic pneumatology that postulates
a mystico-theological nexus between these kindred spirits and the Divine
Spirit. The life-giving kindred spirits created by God participate intimately
in the creative power of Ruach Elohim. This participation further elucidates
the “compenetrative presencing” of God’s Spirit in creation, and creation’s
subsistence in God. Indeed, all of creation and all things are God.
NOTES
1. Pope Paul VI, “General Audience on June 6, 1973,” as cited in Yves Congar,
I Believe in the Holy Spirit, trans. David Smith (New York: Seabury Press,
1983), 173.
2. The conference was attended by 30 Asian members (more women than men)
of EATWOT from the countries of Bangladesh, India, Indonesia, Myanmar,
Pakistan, Philippines, Sri Lanka, and Taiwan. These delegates had come
together for the VII Asian Theological Conference on the theme “Indigenous
Peoples’ Struggle for Justice and Liberation in Asia.” It was held from
November 8–10, 2010, at Good Shepherd Center, Antipolo City, Philippines.
3. These salient points came from the country reports, synthesis, plenary session
(facilitated by Karl Gasper), and concluding session (facilitated by Fr.
Anthoniraj Thumma) after the exposure to the Aeta community located in
Sitio Target, Sapang Bato, Angeles City, Pampanga, which is a province a few
hours north of Manila. The participants from India, Sri Lanka, Taiwan,
Myanmar, Indonesia, and the Philippines then reported on the indigenous
peoples’ situation in their respective countries, highlighting specific issues
peculiar to each country.
4. Yangkahao Vashum, “Jesus Christ as the Ancestor and Elder Brother:
Constructing a Relevant Indigenous/Tribal Christology of North East
India,” Journal of Tribal Studies 13, no. 2 (Jul–Dec 2008): 27.
5. Ibid.
6. See Pratap Chandra Gine 2005, “Tribalism: A New Form of Religious
Fundamentalism—A Challenge for Doing Theology in Asia,” The Journal of
Theologies and Cultures in Asia 4 (2005): 96.
128 J.M. FUNG
7. Ibid.
8. Kirsteen Kim, The Holy Spirit in the World: A Global Conversation (Maryknoll,
New York: Orbis Books, 2007), 176. For further details between the “One
Spirit” and the “many spirits” cosmologies of India and Korea, see pages
67–140.
9. See Jojo M. Fung, SJ, “Sacred Space for Sacred Sustainability,” Landas 26
(2012): 267–290.
10. One elaboration of this belief comes from Chan Kam, a resident in the Karen
village of Maelid, who explained that nature “becomes sacred because the
spirits come and dwell in nature.” Based on an interview in the Karen village
of Dokdaeng on April 15, 2013.
11. See Jojo M. Fung, “The Great Spirit and the Future of Pneumatology,” East
Asian Pastoral Review 50 (2013): 262–277.
12. These ideas were reflected in the reports of Groups 1, 2, and 3 on the second
day, which is November 7, 2010, during the EATWOT’s Asian Women’s
Meeting. The meeting was responding to these three guidelines: (a) identify
and name the root causes of the problems; (b) engage in Asian ecofeminist
theological articulation; (c) reclaim traditions—biblical, history, culture,
stories.
13. See Jojo M. Fung, A Shamanic Theology of Sacred Sustainability: Shamans
and Church in Dialogue for Liberative Struggle (Manila: Jesuit Communications
Foundations INC, 2014), 109.
14. See the works of Everett Fox, The Five Books of Moses (New York: Schocken
Books, 1983), 11.
15. Addison G. Wright, in his commentary on the imperishable spirit in Wisdom
12:1, has described it as “either Wisdom as the agent of God’s immanence
(Wis 1:7; Wis 7:24; Wis 8:1) or the breadth of life (Jdt 16:14) put in creatures
by God (Gen 2:7; Wis 15:11).” See Addison G. Wright, “Wisdom,” in The
New Jerusalem Biblical Commentary, eds. Raymond E. Brown, Joseph
A. Fitzmyer, & Roland E. Murphy (London: Geoffrey Chapman Publishing,
1993), 510–522.
16. The Badjaos of Southern Philippines subscribe to a pneumatology that
describes the absolute creator, known as Tuhan, as one who enjoys radical
transcendence or as “wind.” Therefore, Tuhan is everywhere, be it in the
heavens or the sea or the forest. See Bruno Bottignolo, Celebrations with the
Sun: An Overview of Religious Phenomena among the Badjaos (Manila: Ateneo
de Manila University Press, 1995), 38–57.
17. Cántico Espiritual, XIV, 5, as quoted in Pope Francis, Laudato Si’: On Care
for Our Common Home (May 24, 2015), http://w2.vatican.va/content/
francesco/en/encyclicals/documents/papa-francesco_20150524_enciclica-
laudato-si.html
CHAPTER 10
What Christians Can Learn from Buddhism
Paul F. Knitter
INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE
Interreligious dialogue has become more common today in theologi-
cal circles. Many theologians are engaged in all forms of dialogue and
addressing a variety of topics of concern to the religious communities. In
this chapter I would like to explore one particular form of interreligious
dialogue that has come to occupy center stage for interreligious engage-
ment. It is the kind of dialogue that does not start with what have been
the standard topics for religious conversations: the existence of God, life
after death, and nature of the soul. Rather, it focuses on a concern that
all religions seem to have: what to do about all the suffering that burdens
An extended version of this chapter was previously published as Paul Knitter,

“The Question of Salvation/Liberation: A Double-Belonger’s Perspective,”
in Buddhist-Christian Dual Belonging, eds. Gavin D’Costa & Ross Thompson
(Farnham: Ashgate, 2016), 31–48. The present chapter is reprinted by
permission of the publisher.
P.F. Knitter ( )
Emeritus Professor of Theology, World Religions
and Culture, Union Theological Seminary,
New York, USA
e-mail: pknitter@uts.columbia.edu

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_10
130 P.F. KNITTER
humanity, particularly the kind of suffering that is caused by what some

human beings do to other human beings and to other earth-creatures. And
I’ll focus this kind of suffering-based dialogue in the conversation between
Christians and Buddhists, which has been the interreligious conversation
that has occupied and enriched my life for these past thirty-some years.
So, in what follows, I would like to make a case that Jesus and Buddha,
as they have been and are being understood by their followers, offer: (i) a
common starting point in their quest for truth and liberation, (ii) a shared
diagnosis of the fundamental human problem, (iii) differing remedies for
this problem, and (iv) a complementary liberative praxis.
SUFFERING AS COMMON STARTING POINT

As Jesus and Buddha have been remembered, they both had a common
starting point for their preaching: the sufferings that all humans have to
face—the inadequacies, the perplexities, the insufficiencies, the diminish-
ments, the pains and disappointments that darken human existence. Both
teachers began their missions out of a concern for the sufferings of their
fellow human beings.
Buddha’s concern for suffering is encapsulated in the story of the
encounters that led to his spiritual search. As many may know, Buddha
in his youth as Siddhartha was somewhat of a pampered prince, whom
his father protected from the realities that most people face. But on an
unapproved trip outside the palace, the newly married prince has his
famous four visions or meetings, the first three of which embody the
existential questions that come out of the human condition: the suffer-
ings of sickness, aging, and death. As the first of the four Noble Truths
proclaims, Dukkha, or suffering, pervades all. His whole message can
be summarized in his desire to provide “liberation” and freedom from
such suffering.
Jesus’ concern for suffering embraced the existential anxieties of sick-
ness and fear, but was concentrated on the sufferings imposed on his peo-
ple by the might of the Roman Empire. Here, I am basically following the
“empire-focused” hermeneutic of recent New Testament scholars: Jesus
was a Jewish prophet who was responding to the sufferings of his people
under the oppression of the Romans. Especially from his home context in
afflicted and rebellious Galilee, Jesus witnessed how his people, together
with many people throughout the empire, were hurting. Consistent with
the job description of any Jewish prophet, he felt called to do something
about it. Liberation theologians interpret this as his concern for justice, a
WHAT CHRISTIANS CAN LEARN FROM BUDDHISM 131
concern that was particularized in what they call a preferential option for
the oppressed.1
THE SUBSTANTIAL AND SELFISH SELF

But if Jesus and Buddha view suffering as the common sickness they both
want to address, they also seem to share a common diagnosis. The cause
of most of humanity’s sufferings has to do with what followers of Buddha
and Jesus would call a misunderstood or a malformed self.
Buddhism’s Original Ignorance

The Buddhist diagnosis of the cause of suffering focuses not on the way
things are, but on the way we think they are. Avidya (ignorance) is our
fundamental problem and the root cause of our suffering. Ignorance of
what? Of our true nature as anicca (impermanent) and as anatta (non-
substantial or non-individual). We think we are enduring, individual enti-
ties, and that’s what gets us into trouble. This diagnosis is contained in the
classical Buddhist teachings on the three poisons. The poison of ignorance
or delusion about what we really are will necessarily lead to the poisons of
greed and of hatred.
To protect and augment what we believe to be our ever-threatened
identity, we amass and then cling to as much as we can. “To be” is predi-
cated on “to have.” In our conviction that we must preserve our identities,
we try to hold on to, or cling to, what we have; we seek to acquire more
than what we have; we are intent on defending all that we have, for if we
lose it, we will be diminished. And then, “to have” is maintained by “to
compete” and “to win.” So, easily, everyone is seen as a competitor. And
when they threaten to outcompete us and menace our being-as-having,
they become our enemies. Out of fear, or out of envy, we find ourselves
hating them. Thus, competition trumps cooperation. Our human rights
outweigh our human duties.
Contemporary Buddhists, like David Loy and Sulak Sivaraksa, are
exploring how the three poisons, though they originate in the human
mind, take on or are embodied in social structures that exist indepen-
dently of the human mind. Delusion surrounds us in the consumerism and
advertising that constantly tells us that we cannot “be” unless we “have.”
Greed is built into economic principles that declare that only if everyone is
selfish can everyone prosper. Hatred nurtures a military-industrial complex
that is built on the conviction that our survival depends on conquering
132 P.F. KNITTER
our enemies through weapons superior to theirs.2 So, for Buddhists, we

cause suffering and endure suffering because we don’t know who/what
we really are. The cause is in our minds; but the effects are very real, all
around us.
Christianity’s Original Sin

For Christians, the diagnosis of humanity’s fundamental problem has tra-
ditionally been linked with original sin. According to this doctrine, from
early on—indeed, from the very beginning—something went wrong, got
out of kilter, profoundly out of kilter. The product that God created was
broken, so broken that it could no longer work the way it was intended
to work. It would have to be repaired. This, basically, is how the story of
Adam and Eve has traditionally been understood. From the very begin-
ning, humans messed things up so badly that they created a mess that all
subsequent humans fall into. Indeed, Christians have held that the human
condition, or human nature, is either fallen (in more Protestant terms) or
severely wounded (preferred Catholic terminology).
So, if Buddhists offer a diagnosis of the human problem that is more
epistemological (located in what we think we are), Christians offer a diagno-
sis that is more ontological (describing the way things actually are). Whether
fallen or wounded, humans are born into the world, we might say, with a
“heart problem” (what Augustine called the cor curvatum in se, or “the
heart turned in on itself”).3 We are inherently selfish, not because God made
us that way but because we have fallen away from God’s original designs and
have created a condition into which all humans are born. While traditionally
that fallen condition was thought to have been passed on through procre-
ation and sexuality, today it is understood more sociologically or historically:
we have fashioned cultures in which we are indoctrinated to believe that
security comes through possessions, power, and violence.
A Shared Diagnosis
For both Buddhists and Christians, the cause of suffering has to do with
a misunderstanding or a malfunctioning of what we really are. Our true
identity and reality, and therefore our well-being, are to be found beyond
our presumed or our constructed individual identities. In John Hick’s
analysis of the so-called religions of the axial age, both Buddhism and
Christianity, from different analyses and along different paths, announce
that for human beings to find their “truth” and their “well-being,” they
need to shift from “self-centeredness” to “other-centeredness.”4 We are to

exist as part of a “bigger picture”; we have to find our place and meaning
within a larger reality.
My Buddhist teachers have symbolically pointed to this “bigger pic-
ture” not as God, but as “Emptiness” or “Inter-Being,” or as the infi-
nite expanse of “Space” that is both primordially cognizant/aware and
unrestrictedly compassionate.5 Christians do image this “bigger picture”
as God, but God not as a big Daddy in the sky but, especially among
Christian mystics, as the omnipresent and all-loving Mystery, the Ground
of Being, and the Interconnecting Spirit.6
Though they differ in their images of the Ultimate, both Buddhist and
Christian traditions diagnose our fundamental problem as having to do with
an overly individualized self that needs to be reconnected, notionally or
actually, with what I as a Buddhist-Christian would call the Holy Mystery
that breathes and is active in all of us, that constitutes our true Self, and that
contemporary Buddhists call Inter-Being and Christians call Love.
THE BODHISATTVA AND THE REIGN AS REMEDIES

The preceding paragraphs proffered the thesis that both Buddhism and
Christianity identify suffering as the principal problem humankind has to
deal with. They also diagnosed that the root cause of suffering is human-
ity’s inability to appreciate who they really are. Despite the common start-
ing point and diagnosis, Buddhism and Christianity propose very different
approaches to addressing this human problem.
The Bodhisattva: Wisdom That Bears Compassion

Buddha’s remedy for the ignorance at the root of our suffering is con-
tained in the Mahayana ideal of the bodhisattva. We are all called to be
bodhisattvas—persons who have awakened (or begun to awake) to a wis-
dom that includes compassion for all sentient beings. This is a process in
which we wake up to our Buddha nature, to the Inter-Being that contains
us all, to a non-dual Reality in which we are vitally connected to each other
and to everything. This is the wisdom of Inter-Being that naturally and
necessarily becomes and is a compassion for all beings. The subject-object
difference is removed; we are all subjects with each other. We are all held
in, part of, a spaciousness that is all-pervasive, aware, and compassion-
ate. In this awakening, we see the natural goodness in all beings. And in
affirming and responding to this goodness in them and as them, we enable
134 P.F. KNITTER
them to recognize and affirm it in and as themselves.7 We see others in

their true, original nature, no matter how much that nature may be caught
in ignorance and in the poisons that spring from ignorance. And no matter
how much others may hate and hurt us, we cannot bring ourselves to hate
and hurt them. That would be “contrary to nature.” It would contradict
what we know and feel we and they are: we are each other.
Such compassion, of course, will call the bodhisattva to action that
addresses the suffering of others. Shantideva (eighth century CE) has
offered us some of the most simple, yet compelling declarations of what
the bodhisattva naturally feels:
May the pain of every living creature

Be completely cleared away.
May I be the doctor and the medicine
And may I be the nurse
For all sick beings in the world
Until everyone is healed.
May I be an island for those who seek one

And a lamp for those desiring light,
May I be a bed for all who wish to rest
And a slave for all who want a slave.8
The Reign of God: Compassion That Calls for Justice

Jesus’ remedy for our confined and fearful selves was rooted in his expe-
rience of the God of Israel as Abba—a personal God who embraces us
with tender, parental love. Jesus knew that the love he felt from this Abba
was extended to all creatures. His Father was our Father. And he, Jesus,
was understood by his followers to be the vehicle, the embodiment, or
enfleshment of that parental love: “As the Father has loved me, I have
loved you…. That they may be one as you, Father, and I are one” (John
15:9, 17:21).
And yet, this Father-God is not the fullness, or the distinctiveness, of
Jesus’ remedy. For him, “God” could not be separated from “the Reign of
God.” God without the Reign was for Jesus not the real God. Such a God
would be a false God for him.9 The God Jesus the Jew experienced is a
God who wants to bring about a Basileia, a different way of being on this
earth, a different social order, a different way of structuring society. For

Jesus, God and the Reign of God are distinct but inseparable. God is that
which seeks the Reign; the Reign is the expression of God.
Consistent with the message of the Jewish prophets, this new social
order will be marked by justice. To know God, as Jeremiah tells us, is
to do justice (Jer 22:15–16). If for Buddhists, wisdom calls for compas-
sion, then for Christians, compassion calls for justice. And it will be jus-
tice especially for those who have been treated unjustly, the anawim, the
poor, and the marginalized. The Jewish God of Jesus is a God who is alert
to the way some human beings take advantage of other human beings,
and how such unjust acts are translated into unjust policies, unjust laws,
and unjust economic systems. Compassionate toward all, this God had a
“preferential care” for the oppressed. As Sri Lankan liberation theologian
Aloysius Pieris puts it: Jesus announced and was “God’s defense pact with
the poor.”10
The necessity of bringing about justice in the face of injustice is an
explicit call to action—action that will go beyond compassion and will
seek to change the way society or the world works: it is a call for struc-
tural change. So, if the compassion of the bodhisattva calls for an action
addressed to those who are suffering and who are victims of injustice, the
concern for justice felt by the disciple of Jesus calls for action addressed to
the perpetrators of injustice. To express compassion for the oppressed, one
must confront the oppressors.
Clarifying the Differences

Both Buddhists and Christians, we can conclude, prescribe compassion as
the necessary remedy for humankind’s ailments. But each tradition writes
that prescription in different ways. Buddha and his followers are especially
concerned with how we come to compassion. There can be no real, no
lasting compassion without wisdom. Therefore, they stress the need to
train our minds. Spiritual practice is essential. Here, Buddhism shines with
a wide variety of meditational (or for Pure Land Buddhists, devotional)
practices. Buddhism not only holds up compassion-producing wisdom as
a potential for all humans, it offers the practical means for achieving such
wisdom: one must sit daily, have a teacher, and form the habit of mindful-
ness in all one experiences and does.
Jesus and Christians show particular concern for how we practice
compassion. By itself, compassion is not enough. Compassion must take
136 P.F. KNITTER
historical-social form. It must change reality. It must devise policies and

take political action that will bring this world a little closer to the Reign
of God. This is not to say that one response is better than the other. But
they do signal differences in how Buddha and Christ engage the reality of
suffering. Buddha stresses the need to respond to those who are suffering;
Jesus calls us also to respond to those who are causing the suffering.
COMPLEMENTARY BUDDHIST-CHRISTIAN SOCIAL ACTION

As we have seen, there are clear differences in what I am calling the “rem-
edies” that Buddhists and Christians bring to the reality of human and plan-
etary suffering. For the most part, I find these differences to be profoundly,
even necessarily, complementary. In trying to explain what I mean by “com-
plementary,” I arrive at the practical core of this chapter—how a Buddhist-
Christian dialogue about suffering can contribute to the liberation and
healing of our world. Because the thrust of this chapter is on what Christians
can learn from Buddhism, I will spend more time spelling that out. But first,
let’s take a brief look at what Buddhists can learn from Christians.
How Christian Praxis Complements Buddhist Praxis

As already noted, although the fundamental cause of suffering is found
in individual, personal ignorance, the results of ignorance go beyond the
individual. The actions that follow upon my lack of awareness of my nature
as anatta (not-self) are not only my actions; they become society’s actions.
The personal, as feminists tell us, becomes the political, the cultural. We
have already noted how some contemporary Buddhists are recogniz-
ing that individual karma becomes social karma. But if this is so, then we
must also face the reality that the social and political offspring of individual
self-centeredness grows up to be, as it were, bigger, stronger, and more
enduring than its progenitors. Sinful or greed-filled structures remain even
after individuals have been enlightened. To transform the structures of one’s
awareness and thinking does not necessarily change the structures of society.
Transforming oneself is different from transforming society. This implies
that compassion, though necessary, is insufficient. Justice is also necessary.
For Christians, justice identifies how ignorance and ego-clinging
produces social, economic, political systems that enable some people to
take advantage of other people, and that, therefore, bring about an unequal
and an unjust sharing in the goods of this earth. The Christian insistence
on justice reminds Buddhists that as necessary as the stress-reducing
achievement of mindfulness is for living a life of inner peace and

compassion for others, it is not enough to fashion a world in which all
can have peace. We also need social mindfulness as to how our reified,
ego-centric thoughts and fears become reified social or political systems.
What Buddhists call mindfulness needs to be enhanced by what Christian
liberation theologians call social analysis. If Buddhists are to effectively
extend their practice of personal mindfulness to include social mindfulness
and analysis, they will also have to take seriously the Christian liberation-
ists’ call for a “preferential option for the oppressed.”11 The “mindfulness”
that Buddhists so stress as essential to enlightenment must also include
mindfulness of the marginalized, their reality, their experience and feelings
and perspectives. In fact, our social mindfulness will have the privilege of
correcting our personal mindfulness.
How Buddhist Praxis Complements Christian Praxis

If Christianity helps Buddhists to appreciate the need for social mindful-
ness, Buddhism points Christians to the priority of inner-personal transfor-
mation over social-political transformation. Buddhists remind Christians
of something they should know from their own tradition but often don’t:
namely, that if, as Christians insist, we must all be agents of societal change
that will bring this world closer to the Reign of God, we will not be able
to bring about such change around us unless we are also, even first of
all, working on change within ourselves. Yes, the three poisons take on a
systemic reality that exists independently of personal poisons. But I’m not
going to be able to change anything in the system’s poisons unless I am
working on the poisons in my own consciousness. This is not an entirely
new or strange reminder for Christians. They’ve heard its basic message
before—in the call to combine contemplation with action; or even more
profoundly, in the Pauline insistence that grace must precede good works.
And yet, I have come to suspect that the Buddhist insistence on
the priority of inner experience, which I call the “priority of wisdom-
producing-compassion,” is indeed pushing, or luring, Christians toward a
more profound inner transformation. But just what do I mean by “inner
transformation”? To pick up on what I tried to describe earlier (on the
Buddhist remedy for suffering), I would describe this inner transfor-
mation as an experience of the non-dual unity between Emptiness and
Form, between Inter-Being and all impermanent beings, between what
Jesus called Abba and all humanity. Buddhism, I believe, is providing me,
and my fellow Christians, with an opportunity to enter more profoundly,
138 P.F. KNITTER
more self-transcendingly, into the unitive experience signaled in John’s

description of Jesus as “one with the Father” and “one with us” (John 14),
or in Paul’s description—I would dare say “definition”—of a Christian as
someone who exists “in Christ” (Gal 3:21).
This is an experience of God or the Abba Mystery in which God and the
world, or God and we, are distinct but inseparable. I have found that my
Buddhist Tibetan practice, under the guidance of my teacher, is luring me
more deeply into this kind of non-dual, mystical experience. What I mean
by “more deeply” is found in the creative tension between the Christian
preposition “in” and the Buddhist copulative “is”: while St. Paul or St.
John speak of my being “in Christ” or “in the Father,” my Buddhist teach-
ers call me to “be the Space” or they tell me that my “Form is Emptiness.”
I am being called to experience, and then to reflect on, a deeper and more
mysterious non-duality between God and world, between Ultimate and
relative. And when I try to bring this non-dual inner transformation (for
me, not complete but, I hope, in process) to my efforts at, and understand-
ing of, social transformation, I discover that it affects, and often changes,
how I perceive and how I relate to the world of suffering—both those who
suffer and those who cause suffering, the oppressed and the oppressors.
The presence of the Abba Mystery—or in the language of my Nyingma tra-
dition, of all-containing, conscious, and compassionate Space—pervades,
animates, and contains everything and everyone. This is the wisdom gained
in inner transformation, a wisdom that naturally and spontaneously blos-
soms in compassion for all sentient beings.
Inner Transformation of Awakening

Such an awareness of Abba Mystery or of Spacious Presence I have found
to be necessary—a prerequisite—for my liberative engagement with the
suffering world. Why is it necessary? In trying to answer that question,
I will draw particularly on the teachings and writings of my Buddhist
teacher, Lama John Makransky.12 Summarizing and somewhat recasting
his reflections, I believe that Lama Makransky offers three pivotal reasons
why, as he puts it, “social activists” need the inner transformation of awak-
ening to wisdom in order to carry on, perseveringly and effectively, their
efforts to heal the sufferings of our world. These reasons can be gathered
under the rubrics of (1) stamina, (2) humility, and (3) compassion.
1. Stamina: From my own experience as a social and political activist (especially

during the years of the brutal, US-sustained civil war in El Salvador during the
1970s and 1980s) and from what I hear from my wife and her younger col-
leagues in social work, one of the greatest problems in such work is the danger
of running out of gas. In their efforts to change the world and heal its wounds,
activists exhaust their energies. They burn out. The reasons for burnout are
varied, but they seem to fall into two general categories: (i) You can’t break
through human conditioning and (ii) you can’t beat city hall. It is so difficult,
often apparently impossible, to help people to change patterns and addictions
that have, as it were, become part of their DNA through social conditioning—
through what Buddhists would call their causes and conditions. At the same
time, one has to confront the power of the moneyed establishment and the way
it determines policy and opinion through its control of the media and govern-
ment. Because of these two obstacles—and certainly many more—the job
description of a social activist or liberationist seems to hold up an impossible
goal. This is why people burn out.
This is where some kind of a spiritual practice that will foster and sus-
tain our inner transformation and resources seems imperative. To have
begun the process of awakening to what Tibetan Buddhists call the cogni-
zant, compassionate space of Inter-Being, or to what Jesus experienced as
the unconditional love of the Abba Mystery, can assure us that our efforts
are not just our own efforts. Having tasted of the wisdom that reveals to
us that all our efforts are expressions of Inter-Being, or that it is the Abba
Mystery that is active in and as us, or that we are doing what our Buddha
nature or Christ nature necessarily brings us to do—then, as the Bhagavad
Gita tells us, the value of our actions are not determined by their fruits.
The value of our actions is in our actions themselves, for they are also the
actions of Abba. They are forms of Inter-Being.
This deeper experience of the non-duality between the Abba Mystery
and the world that Buddhism has offered me can remind me and other
Christians that even though my efforts to bring the world closer to the
Reign of God fail, the Reign is still already here, right now. Yes, we must
seek the Reign of God and work while the light is with us, but at the very
same time we are assured that the Reign of God is already among us. In
both success and failure, the Reign of God is already alive among us.
2. Humility: Perhaps one of the most difficult virtues for social activists to prac-
tice is humility. In struggling for justice, in resisting those who oppress others,
one needs to be clear, firm, and resolute. Human lives and human rights are at
stake. And so, agents of social justice can be so sure about what needs to be
done, about which policies are causing the exploitation, about who are the
“bad guys.” In their commitment to “speaking truth to power,” activists are so
140 P.F. KNITTER
sure that they have the truth and those in power don’t. I suspect that most
people involved in social activism know what I’m talking about. We become so
certain of our own analysis and our own programs that we end up not listening
to others and missing better opportunities, better programs. And so, it can and
does happen that the “liberators” end up making the situation just as bad as, or
even worse than, it was under the oppressors.
The practice of awakening to an inner transformation alerts activists

to how they cling to their thoughts and feelings and how this can lead
them to absolutize their own ideas and programs. The Buddhist practice
of mindfulness can warn activists that as long as they are still clinging to
ego-identity and their own ideas, there’s a little (or big!) oppressor hiding
in every good-willed liberator. The wisdom that comes from waking up
can remind activists that if they have to “speak truth to power,” they have
to be as humble about what they say as they are strong in saying it. Only
if we do not cling to our truth can we—and others—experience its power.
3. Compassion: Here, I take up what I believe is one of the most urgent, but also one
of the most sensitive, challenges that my Buddhist contemplative practice has
offered my Christian liberation practice. It has to do with the Buddhist claim that
just as inner transformation has a certain priority over social transformation, com-
passion has a certain priority over justice. And I have come to realize that this prior-
ity of compassion applies especially to the way I carry out my “preferential option
for the oppressed.”
What I’m getting at has been gently but sharply stated by Thich Nhat
Hanh in his little book on Living Buddha, Living Christ when he informs
Christians that for a Buddhist, God doesn’t have favorites.13 Therefore,
the preferential option for the poor that is so central to liberation theology
can be dangerous. Nhat Hanh is reminding Christians that just as there
is a relationship of non-duality between Emptiness and Form, or between
Abba Mystery and us, so there is a non-duality between oppressed and
oppressor. Both are expressions of and are held in and by Inter-Being and
Abba Mystery. The actions of oppressor or oppressed are clearly different.
But their identities are the same. That means, also, that my own identity is
linked to both oppressed and oppressors.
Therefore, we do not respond to the oppressed out of compassion and
to the oppressor out of justice. No, we respond to both out of compas-
sion! Compassion for both the oppressed and the oppressor. But compas-
sion for the oppressor will be expressed differently than compassion for
the oppressed. It’s the same compassion, but, as it were, in different pack-
ages. As Lama Makransky puts it, the compassion shown to the oppressor
will be fierce. It will be compassion that confronts, that challenges, that
calls for change. It will name the poisons that cause so much suffering:
greed, hatred, ignorance.14 But the primary motivation for such confron-
tation will not be the necessity of justice, but the necessity of compassion.
Buddhists are telling liberation Christians that compassion has no prefer-
ences. Lama Makransky puts it this way:
To defend those who suffer most intensively against depredations of the pow-
erful is not to decide for the powerless over the powerful but to choose the
fuller humanity in both, and so to confront both differently—challenging the
powerless to discover their power, challenging the powerful by working to stop
actions that not only hurt the poor but also impede their own fuller humanity.15
And when the oppressor sees this, when they realize that they are indeed
being confronted but that the confrontation arises out of compassion,
respect, cherishing, when they hear from their confronter not only that
they are wrong, but also, and primarily, that they are loved—then, perhaps
only then, we have the possibility of changing the structures of injustice,
for then there will be the possibility of a change of heart in the oppressors.
Such a non-preferential option for compassion that extends equally and
clearly to both oppressed and oppressors will be the foundation on which
justice can be built, on which structures can be changed.
CONCLUSION
I hope it is clear now why I do believe that Buddhists and Christians have
much to learn from each other about their shared commitments to relieve
and reduce suffering through social action and involvement. But this is
one instance of the many different benefits that are possible when people
from very different religions sit down to talk with and work with each
other. It is indeed a way of promoting political peace among nations. But
is also a way of deepening the personal peace within our hearts.
NOTES
1. One of the most poignant expressions of this “preferential option for the
poor” is offered in Jon Sobrino’s No Salvation Outside the Poor: Prophetic-
Utopian Essays (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2008).
142 P.F. KNITTER
2. David Loy, “Listening to the Buddha: How Greed, Ill-will and Delusion are
Poisoning Our Institutions,” Transformation: Where Love Meets Social Justice
(May 12, 2014), http://bit.ly/1wE0WL5. Sulak Sivaraksa, The Wisdom of
Sustainability: Buddhist Economics for the 21st Century (Kihei, Hawaii: Koa
Books, 2009).
3. See Matt Jenson, Gravity of Sin: Augustine, Luther and Barth on Homo
Incurvatus in Se (London/New York: T & T Clark, 2007), 37–42.
4. John Hick, An Interpretation of Religion (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1989), 36–54.
5. Tsoknyi Rinpoche, Carefree Dignity: Discourses on Training in the Nature of
Mind (Kathmandu, Nepal: Rangjung Yeshe Publications, 1998), 35ff. and
148ff.; Id. Fearless Simplicity: The Dzogchen Way of Living Freely in a Complex
World (Kathmandu, Nepal: Rangjung Yeshe Publications, 2003), 211–268;
John Makransky, Awakening through Love: Unveiling Your Deepest Goodness
(Somerville, Massachusetts: Wisdom Publications, 2007), 33–68 and
157–200.
6. See Paul F. Knitter, Without Buddha I Could Not Be a Christian (Oxford:
Oneworld Publications, 2011), 18–23; Rita Gross, “Of Fingers, Moons, and
Rafts,” in Religious Diversity: What’s the Problem? (Eugene, Oregon: Cascade
Books, 2014), 101–17.
7. Makransky, Awakening through Love, 69–93.
8. Shantideva, Bodhicaryavatara, trans. Stephan Bachelor (Dharmshala, India:
Library of Tibetan Works & Archives), 10–11.
9. Jon Sobrino, Jesus the Liberator: A Historical-Theological View (Maryknoll,
New York: Orbis Books, 1993), 67–104.
10. Aloysius Pieris, God’s Reign for God’s Poor: A Return to the Jesus Formula (Sri
Lanka: Tulana Research Centre, 1998), 35–44.
11. See Daniel G. Groody, ed. The Option for the Poor in Christian Theology
(South Bend, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007).
12. John Makransky, “How Contemporary Buddhist Practice Meets the Secular
World in Its Search for a Deeper Grounding for Service and Social Action”
and “Compassion Beyond Fatigue: Contemplative Training for People Who
Serve Others.” Available at website of the Foundation for Active Compassion,
http://www.foundationforactivecompassion.org/. Id. “A Buddhist Critique
of, and Learning from, Christian Liberation Theology,” Theological Studies
75 (2014): 635–57.
13. Thich Nhat Hanh, Living Buddha, Living Christ (New York: Riverhead
Books, 1995), 79.
14. Makransky, “A Buddhist Critique,” 648.
15. Ibid., 649.
CHAPTER 11
What Christians Can Learn from Indian

Religions
Michael Amaladoss
INTRODUCTION
Asia is the cradle of all the living, developed, religions of the world. In Asia,
India has been particularly blessed with Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism,
and Sikhism. They are the traditional religions of the South Asian sub-
continent. In contrast to the West Asian religions of Judaism, Christianity,
and Islam, which are regarded as prophetic and monotheist, the South
Asian religions are considered mystic, along with religions such as Daoism
of China. Another contrast that one can evoke here is between cosmic
and metacosmic religions. Cosmic religions tend to divinize the forces of
nature and to relate to them through various rituals, whereas metacosmic
religions seek to refer beyond the cosmic forces to a metacosmic (beyond
the cosmos) Absolute which could be transcendent and/or immanent.
Contemplation and/or love would be the way to reach this Absolute. The
Indian religions listed above can be considered to be metacosmic.
Historians of religions speak of an axial age in the history of the world
and suggest that in that period humans had sought to go beyond the cos-
mic to the metacosmic in understanding themselves in the world context.
M. Amaladoss ( )
Institute of Dialogue with Cultures and Religions,
Loyola College, Chennai, India
e-mail: michamal@gmail.com

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_11
144 M. AMALADOSS
This period is said to have occurred in the sixth to the fifth century
BCE. This was the time of the postexilic prophets like Isaiah and Jeremiah
in the biblical tradition, of Laozi in China, and of the Buddha, Mahavira,
and the Upanishadic seers in India. Christianity and Islam in West Asia
and Sikhism in India came later. So we have a geographical and historical
context of the living religions of the world.
This essay will focus on the Indian religions, though Buddhism has now
become more Asian than Indian, even if it had its origin in India. There is no
intention of presenting each religion elaborately; its focus is on the specific-
ity of each religion from which we can learn something to enrich ourselves.
JAINISM
Jainism goes back to Mahavira (ca. 540–468 BCE), acclaimed as the
twenty-fourth in a line of Tirthankaras (ford-makers or guides). He is
acclaimed as a Jina (spiritual conqueror) who guides people to conquer
the karma–rebirth cycle. Karma is action which is rewarded or punished
according to whether it is good or bad. If the recompense does not hap-
pen in this life, one has to be born again. The whole world, even matter,
is full of life. These lives have to be protected so that they can follow their
own course toward liberation. The fruits of their good and bad actions
get attached to them and have to be got rid of. This is possible through
an ascetic life and austerities. The ascetics take five vows: Ahimsa—not to
destroy any life through carelessness; Satya—to speak only what is pleas-
ant, wholesome, and true; Asteya—to take nothing which is not given;
Brahmacarya—to refrain from sexual intercourse; and Aparigraha—to
have no worldly possessions. One has to control one’s mind, speech, and
bodily movements. Austerities help one both for self-control and for burn-
ing off the undesired effects of action. There is no creator God. Every
living being or jiva is infinite and has to free itself to attain its natural/
original state. In other words, everyone can become divine.1
Jainism is specially known for its nonviolent attitude. The monks cover
their noses and mouths so as not to injure any insects, even invisible ones,
from being harmed when one breathes or speaks. When a monk walks, the
disciples sweep the ground in front of them so that they may not step on
any living creature as they walk. Jainism was an important influence in the
childhood of Mahatma Gandhi for his doctrine and practice of nonvio-
lence. Gandhi made it also a political tool. Jainism has made nonviolence
a value in Indian culture. At a time when peace in the midst of all sorts of
WHAT CHRISTIANS CAN LEARN FROM INDIAN RELIGIONS 145
violence is very much desired and ecological awareness is strong, we can

learn from Jains the practice of nonviolence and the spirit of self-discipline
that it requires, as well as the respect for life in all its forms.
BUDDHISM
The Buddha (ca. 600–400 BCE), though born a prince, encounters people
who are afflicted by incurable illness, grow old, and die. This experience of
human suffering drives him to search for ways of escaping it. Leaving his
palace he comes across sannyasis (renouncers) who are on a similar search.
He engages like them in various austerities. But after some years he finds
that these lead him nowhere. He then adopts what he terms the middle
path between indulgence and renunciation. His meditation finally leads
him to enlightenment. He summarizes this discovery in four principles: (i)
life is full of suffering, not merely physical, but also the uncertainty of life
itself; (ii) the cause of suffering is desire for or clinging to the goods of the
earth and to well-being; (iii) in order to get rid of suffering we have to get
rid of desire; and (iv) to get rid of desire we have to follow the eightfold
path, which is right knowledge, right resolve, right speech, right conduct,
right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration.
The eightfold path will lead us to nirvana or fulfillment. The Buddha
does not keep this discovery to himself, but preaches it to others. He does
not deny or affirm, but he refuses to speak about God.
Though Buddhism was born in India, it slowly spread in the countries
to its south, east, and north, reaching China, Japan, Vietnam, Thailand, Sri
Lanka, and so on. After about a couple of centuries it split into two sects,
namely the Hinayana (small vehicle) and the Mahayana (big vehicle).
These differences need not concern us here. After about nine or ten cen-
turies it slowly disappeared from India. In China and Japan it gave rise to
simplified forms of meditation like Zen, which has become popular across
the world. The three basic principles that seem to govern Buddhist prac-
tice today are (i) achieving egolessness in a life that is in constant move-
ment; (ii) the experience of the mutual interdependence of all beings;
and (iii) the constant attempt to live in the present moment. These three
principles can provide valuable lessons in our lives.
One of the problems we face in life is our attachment to it or clinging to
it. Looking at our own lives and at the lives of others we know that noth-
ing in this world is certain or permanent. Tsunamis, earthquakes, floods,
accidents, wars, known and unknown illnesses, and finally sudden death
146 M. AMALADOSS
make our lives quite uncertain. We cannot really depend on anyone or

anything. Yet, we amass goods that we cannot depend on and that we
cannot take with us, we confide in people whose concern and love for us
is not certain, and we keep aiming at goals that we may never be able to
reach. Selfishness, desires, and attachments enslave us. Becoming aware
of the impermanence of the world and learning to live in it one day at a
time without exaggerated hopes can enable us to take life as it comes and
live it peacefully without expectations and regrets. This does not mean a
stoic acceptance of life with a sense of fatalism. We try to do what we can,
being ready to accept what comes. There is an absence of attachment and
an openness to acceptance.
Often when we are alone, and not busy with something, our mind
wanders. If we stop to notice what we are thinking about, we find that our
minds mostly wander around our past memories or future expectations.
We cannot change the past, of course. But we also cannot stop regret-
ting or imagining that we could have done better. If we are not thinking
of the past, we seem to be imagining the future: about our plans, favor-
able circumstances, and the hope that others may help us. We are in fact
dreaming, knowing very well from our past experience that things do not
work out exactly as we foresee. We are not really ready for the unexpected
that could lead to disappointment, which our dreaming has not prepared
us for. What we should be doing is to live in the present moment, doing
well what we are doing, enjoying it and being fully alive, whether we are
sitting, walking, thinking, working, eating, whatever. We have to be pres-
ent in every moment without regrets about the past and unreal expecta-
tions of the future. This will be a great source of peace for us. We will do
everything well and with concentration. We will be helped to meet any
challenges that we may encounter with full attention and commitment.
Many Buddhist masters do not tire of teaching us this art of living in the
present moment authentically and fully.2
Thirdly, if we stop to think about ourselves we will realize how we are
but a small link in a global chain of events. We are dependent on so many
things and persons. We cannot live without the earth, the light and the
heat from the sun, water and food, trees, birds, and animals. We depend
on other people as we live, walk along the road, shop, or do anything at all.
There is a universal chain of being that is essential simply to keep us alive.
We will not be here without our parents, our coworkers, the great number
of people who keep the world going—teachers, doctors, officers, cooks,
farmers, traders, business people, and even politicians and the police. We
are dependent on people everywhere, all the time. This dependence can
become our strength, if we look on it as collaboration. The universe is a vast

network of mutually dependent beings. We too are contributing to the lives
of so many by how we live and what we do. Bhikku Buddhadasa of Thailand
once said that the world we live in is socialistic.3 We are not monads, all on
our own and self-sufficient. If we want to live well, we have to live together
and help each other. Trying to exploit each other will only lead to violence
and mutual destruction. Buddhism may not talk about God or life after
death in another world, but it teaches us to live in this one without regrets,
illusions, and unrealistic expectations, facing life as it comes.
SIKHISM
Muslim groups from West Asia invaded India from the eighth century
onward and (North) India had become a Muslim kingdom from the elev-
enth century. While conflicts were not absent, there was not only an effort
between Hindus and Muslims to live together, but also mutual spiritual
influence. There were saints like Kabir (1440–1518), who sought to rise
beyond the religious differences to reach out to the one God. He sings:
O Servant, where dost thou seek Me?

Lo! I am beside thee.
I am neither in temple nor in mosque: I am neither in Kaaba nor in
Kailash: Neither am I in rites and ceremonies, nor in Yoga and renunciation.
If thou art a true seeker, thou shalt at once see Me: thou shalt meet Me in
a moment of time.
Kabir says, “O Sadhu! God is the breath of all breath.”4
Guru Nanak (1459–1538) was a disciple of Kabir and founded Sikhism

in an effort to go beyond Islam and Hinduism, while integrating both. A
Sikh is a disciple. The morning prayer of the Sikhs reads thus:
There is one God.

He is the supreme truth.
He, the Creator,
Is without fear and without hate.
He, the Omnipresent,
Pervades the universe.
He is not born,
Nor does he die to be born again.
By His grace shalt thou worship Him.5
148 M. AMALADOSS
Guru Nanak put together a large collection of hymns composed by

himself and others, both Hindus and Muslims. This compilation called
the Adi Granth (original book) became the sacred book of the Sikhs and
was kept in their meeting places. It is honored and the hymns are sung.
The Sikhs have no temples, no sacred images or idols, no special religious
rituals, and no priesthood. All, including women, are considered equal.
Singing the praise of God is their only worship. They have a common
kitchen in the place where they gather that serves food to all who come,
once again affirming the equality of all in the midst of a hierarchical caste
society still prevalent in India. At a certain stage they had to organize and
defend themselves to preserve their identity. Thus they became a warrior
group. They believed in karma and rebirth. Salvation is union with God,
attained through renunciation of one’s egoism and receiving the grace
of God: “Our own past actions have put this garment (body) on us; but
salvation comes only through his grace.”6
The Sikhs can help us to reach out to an Absolute that is beyond
name and form, not attached to any particular religious tradition and not
attained through any ritual observance. Praise is the pure worship of God.
Their attachment to the Book and their imageless and ritual-free meet-
ing places remind us of the Muslims. Their devotional singing assimilates
them to the Hindus. We could even say that Sikhism is a model of an
ecumenical religion.
HINDUISM
Hinduism has a tradition that goes back more than 4000 years. In its begin-
nings it was a cosmic religion, considering natural forces as gods, though
a supreme God above all was recognized. There were rituals to honor and
propitiate the gods for favors asked for or received. There were hymns of
prayer and petition compiled into four volumes called the Vedas. Then
arrived the axial age. Jainism and Buddhism can be seen as protesting tradi-
tions that threw away this celestial “superstructure” and focused on humans
and how they should live. But there was also an orthodox tradition that
sought to go deeper into reality. Some of the sages who led this reflection
put down their thoughts in shorter and longer texts called the Upanishads.
There are more than 100 such texts, though only about 15 are the most
important ones. For example, the Kena Upanishad begins its search thus7:
Who sends the mind to wander afar? Who first drives life to start on its jour-
ney? Who impels us to utter these words? Who is the Spirit behind the eye
and the ear? (Kena 1:1)
It is the ear of the ear, the eye of the eye, and the Word of words, the
mind of mind, and the life of life. Those who follow wisdom pass beyond
and, on leaving this world, become immortal. (Kena 1:2)
There the eye goes not, nor words, nor mind. We know not, we cannot
understand, how he can be explained: He is above the known and he is
above the unknown. Thus have we heard from the ancient sages who
explained this to us. (Kena 1:3)
What cannot be spoken with words, but that whereby words are spoken:
Know that alone to be Brahman, the Spirit; and not what people here adore.
(Kena 1:4)
Another Upanishad, the Brihadaranyaka, also leads us on a quest. King

Janaka questions the sage Yajnavalkya: “What is the light of man?” He
answers: “The sun is his light. … It is by the light of the sun that a man rests,
goes forth, does his work, and returns.” The king pursues: “When the sun
is set, what is the light of man?” “The moon then becomes his light” is the
answer. Questions and answers follow leading us to the fire, the voice, and
finally to the “Soul” and to the Atman—the inner Spirit. Realizing one’s
oneness with this inner Spirit is the goal of one’s search. The union is so
intimate and profound that the duality seems to disappear: “As a man in the
arms of the woman beloved feels only peace all around, even so the Soul in
the embrace of the Atman, the Spirit of vision, feels only peace all around.”8
The Absolute is seen, not as transcendent creator outside creation, as
in some religious traditions, but as an immanent animator. The search for
the Absolute, therefore, should lead us within our own selves. The Katha
Upanishad has this to say:
Concealed in the heart of all beings is the Atman, the Spirit, the Self; smaller
than the smallest atom, greater than the vast space. The man who surrenders
his human will leaves sorrows behind, and beholds the glory of the Atman
by the grace of the Creator….
He is the Eternal among things that pass away, pure Consciousness of
conscious beings, the ONE who fulfils the prayers of many. Only the wise
who see him in their souls attain the peace eternal….
There the sun shines not, nor the moon, nor the stars; lightning shines
not there and much less earthly fire. From his light all these give light, and
his radiance illumines all creation.9
150 M. AMALADOSS
The Isa Upanishad proclaims:
Behold the universe in the glory of God; and all that lives and moves on
earth. Leaving the transient, find joy in the eternal… The Spirit filled all
with his radiance. He is incorporeal and invulnerable, pure and untouched
by evil. He is the supreme seer and thinker, immanent and transcendent. He
placed all things in the path of eternity.10
The Upanishads are not philosophical texts, but stories of a discovery

often expressed in symbolic language, sometimes ambiguous. The phi-
losophers who came later tried to understand more clearly the Absolute
in relation to the world. Some thought that the Upanishads preached
monism—the Absolute is the only reality; everything else is an illusion.
Others thought that the world is related to the Absolute as the body to the
spirit in humans. Still others advocated a dualism between the Absolute
and the world. What is important to realize is that in comparison with a
Western tradition that looks upon the Absolute—God—as a creator out-
side creation the Hindu tradition affirms that the Absolute and the world
(creation) are not two realities that are totally different from and opposed
to each other like the Creator and creation. The world is so totally depen-
dent on God that it is not real in the same way as the Absolute, which is
the REAL. The Absolute and the world are not one reality. But at the
same time, they are not two, that is, they are one complex reality. This is
the principle of advaita (not-two). Human ignorance leads us to think
that we are totally different from the Absolute. This is egoism and self-
centeredness. Realizing our total dependence on the Absolute and living
freely, this dependence on and oneness with the Absolute is freedom, joy,
and fulfillment—this is best understood through the body–soul analogy.
Hinduism has a very strong Bhakti tradition, experiencing the love of
God for us and our love for God. There are thousands of devotional songs
in the many languages of India. They sing and live this union with God.
Loving devotion affirms a relation that denies any sort of monism. At the
same time, it seeks to go beyond any dualism. Nammalvar, a Tamil poet of
the ninth century CE, sings: “My Lord who swept me away forever into
joy that day, made me over into himself and sang in Tamil his own songs
through me.”11 The translator-commentator of the songs speaks of this as
“mutual cannibalism.” Here’s another of these songs:
My dark one stands there as if nothing’s changed, after taking entire into his
maw all three worlds, the gods, and the good kings who hold their lands as
a mother would her child in her womb—and I by his leave have taken him
entire and I hold him in my belly for keeps.12
This is neither monism nor dualism, but communion in relationship.

In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna—God-in-human-form—shows Arjuna his
divine form: “If the light of a thousand suns suddenly arose in the sky,
that splendour might be compared to the radiance of the Supreme Spirit.
And Arjuna saw in that radiance the whole universe in its variety, standing
in a vast unity in the body of the God of gods.”13 Such an experience of
communion is not foreign to Christianity, though popular experience is
characterized by dualistic and devotional ritualism. The traditional texts
often referred to are Jesus saying “I and the Father are one!” (John 10:30)
and Paul’s teaching that “[i]t is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who
lives in me” (Gal 2:20). Paul tells the Athenians that “[i]n him we live and
move and have our being” (Acts 17:28), while Jesus himself says this of
the apostles: “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be
in us” (John 17:21). If we try to contemplate God, three-in-one, we real-
ize that the intimacy of this communion is beyond our imagination. And
when we participate in the Eucharist and eat the body of Christ, could we
not recall the “cannibalism” of Nammalvar referred to above?
YOGA AND ENERGY

The Hindu tradition speaks of four ways or margas of reaching out to
God: jnana (knowledge or intuition), bhakti (love and devotion), karma
(action), and yoga (psychophysical discipline). Yoga is sometimes prac-
ticed by itself as a nontheistic system seeking self-integration through pos-
tures, breathing, and concentration of the self, mind, and body. Zen is a
Buddhist variation of this. Yoga is also used as a preparation for the other
margas. It has eight “limbs”:
(i) The five abstentions: ahimsa (nonviolence), satya (truthfulness), asteya

(nonstealing), brahmacarya (chastity), and aparigraha
(nonpossessiveness);
(ii) The five observances: sauca (purity), santosha (contentment), tapas (auster-
ity), svadhyaya (self-reflection), and iswara-pranidhana (contemplation of
God);
(iii) Postures of the body (asana);
(iv) Breathing exercises (pranayama);
(v) Withdrawal of the senses from external objects (pratyahara);
(vi) Concentration of the mind on a single object (dharana);
152 M. AMALADOSS
(vii) Meditation (dhyana);

(viii) Liberation (samadhi).
From the sixth stage onward the focus is on God or the self. The ethical
preparation of the first two stages is useful for anyone. The postures and
breathing exercises are widely used to improve bodily health and even to
cure diseases. Meditative concentration can focus on anything—a flower,
a flame, an image—that can integrate the mind. Anyone, therefore, can
use this method for their self-improvement, which is why it is so widely
practiced in the world today. Yoga may have been known in the ancient
Middle East and used by some Christian groups too.
There is one element of yoga that we could pay particular attention to
today. In the West, when people think of humans, they tend to think of
the body and the spirit (soul). Some may deny the spirit. Yoga points to
a third element that is normally ignored, namely, the energy field. The
yogic masters speak of the seven chakras or energy nodes in the body, of
the circulation of this energy, of the link that we have with the cosmos,
with the others, and with the divine through our energy. There are heal-
ing systems like Pranic healing or Reiki that are used today as alternative
therapies. If energy can be used for healing, it can also be used for hurting
others. Energy is not something material that you can measure and weigh.
So scientists are distrustful of it. It is not “spiritual” either. We can feel it
in our breath, in our body, in nature, and in others. I know personally that
it can be experienced and I also know many people who can witness to
its healing effects, both healers and the healed. It is religiously neutral in
itself. Of course, it can be used to hurt or to heal. According to its use it
becomes bad or good energy.
Emotions and energies were not unknown in the West. But the exclu-
sive focus of science on matter and of philosophy on reason has ignored
and marginalized the power of energy. This is certainly something that
we can learn from India and the East. Not only Hinduism, but also vari-
ous forms of Buddhism—the Tibetan, the Chinese, the Japanese—and
Daoism deal with energy. In an ecological age we can explore how energy
links us to the cosmos, which is also full of energy.
THE SECULAR AND THE SACRED

The Buddhists of the Mahayana tradition have a saying, “nirvana is sam-
sara.” Nirvana is the state of liberation that one wants to attain. Samsara
is the state that one is normally in. These are not two different worlds.
Going from samsara to nirvana is not like going from earth to heaven.
If one can control one’s desires and one’s egoism and live in the present
moment in tranquility one has attained nirvana. Thus, samsara properly
lived is nirvana. The secular becomes the sacred.
In the Western tradition the world is seen as God’s creation. God is
up above in heaven and the world is outside God. The clockmaker is not
the clock. Once made, the clock functions on its own. Modern scientists
studying the world see it functioning as a machine, understandable in terms
of the various forces that keep it in dynamic equilibrium. They do not need
an outside force—God—to keep it going. Such a self-sufficient world may
eventually deny God altogether. The secular does not need the sacred.
In the Eastern tradition, however, God is not outside the world. God
is in it, immanent, in its depths. One does not need to move from earth
to heaven, but can experience Reality in its depths. Becoming aware of
and experiencing God as deeply immanent in the world is to experience
the secular as the sacred. Rabindranath Tagore, a Nobel-laureate Indian
poet, writes:
Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads! Whom dost thou wor-
ship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all shut? Open thine
eyes and see thy God is not before thee!
He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and where the path-
maker is breaking stones. He is with them in sun and in shower, and his gar-
ment is covered with dust. Put off thy holy mantle and even like him come
down on the dusty soil! Deliverance? Where is deliverance to be found?
Our master himself has joyfully taken upon him the bonds of creation; he is
bound with us all for ever.14
Such a perspective is not absent in the West. Christians believe that God
became incarnate in Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ himself told his disciples
that he can be encountered each time we feed the hungry, care for the sick,
clothe the naked, visit the people in prison, and so on (Matt 25:31–46).
Saints like Francis of Assisi and Ignatius Loyola sought and found God
in all things. But this is not part of popular awareness. We distinguish
between life in the world and seeking God through prayers and rituals. We
do not seek to encounter God in the other(s) and in the world. A believ-
ing Christian scientist like Teilhard de Chardin saw the whole evolutionary
movement of the world as a Christogenesis. But he did not, unfortunately,
represent mainstream Christianity.
154 M. AMALADOSS
CONCLUSION
This brief exploration of Indian religions has shown us the dimension of
divine immanence, which may lead, at the limit, to ignoring it altogether.
The Buddha did not want to take this step. That was why he did not want
to talk about God at all, neither affirming nor denying God! The Hindu
tradition affirms our advaitic oneness with the Absolute. In the process
the Indian religious traditions tend to focus on life in this world, well
lived, rather than on a Transcendent that we have to reach out to through
rituals. The secular becomes the sacred. I think that this is something
worth reflecting upon and living.
NOTES
1. L. Pereira, “Jainism,” in Religious Hinduism: A Presentation and Appraisal,
by Jesuit Scholars, eds. Joseph Neuner & Richard De Smet (Allahabad: St.
Paul Publications, 1968), 189–196.
2. Thich Nhat Hanh, Our Appointment with Life: The Buddha’s Teaching on
Living in the Present (New Delhi: Hind Pocket Books, 1997).
3. Bhikku Buddhadasa, Dhammic Socialism (Bangkok: Thai Inter-Religious
Commission for Development, 1986).
4. Rabindranath Tagore, Poems of Kabir (New Delhi: Rupa Publication, 2002),
1.
5. Kushwant Singh, trans., Hymns of the Gurus (New Delhi: Penguin Books,
2003), 3.
6. L. Pereira, “Sikhism,” in Religious Hinduism, 269.
7. Juan Mascaro, trans., The Upanishads (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books,
1965), 51.
8. Ibid., 133–134.
9. Ibid., 59, 64.
10. Ibid., 49.
11. A.K. Ramanujan, trans., Hymns for the Drowning (New Delhi: Penguin
Books, 1993), 85.
12. Ibid., 150.
13. Juan Mascaro, trans., The Bhagavad Gita (New Delhi: Penguin Books, 1994),
90.
14. Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali (Madras: Macmillan Publishing, 1913), 6–7.
CHAPTER 12
What Christians Can Learn from Chinese

Religions
Jonathan Y. Tan
CHINESE RELIGIONS
The term “Chinese religions” is often used as generic shorthand to
encompass the various religious traditions that emerged in China more
than 2000 years ago. Throughout China’s long history, these religious
traditions have interacted with and transformed each other such that the
boundaries between them have become fluid and porous, with significant
mutual interactions and sharing that have resulted in hybridities, multiple
belongings, and multiple border crossings. The traditional Chinese term
sanjiao (Three Ways), which refers to the three great Chinese religious
traditions of Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, best epitomizes this
complex reality. More often than not, multiple belonging and multiple
border crossings are exemplified by the ability of many Chinese people
to practice any one or more, or even all three, religious traditions at the
same time. For example, one could be a Confucian in public life, a Daoist
practitioner searching for good health and immortality, offer sacrifices to
local deities for good fortune, and call on Amitabha Buddha to be rescued
to the Pure Land to begin one’s dharmic journey toward enlightenment.
J.Y. Tan ( )
Department of Religious Studies,
Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, USA
e-mail: jonathan@jonathantan.org

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_12
156 J.Y. TAN
More importantly, these multiple belongings and border crossings

highlight the complex realities that are, at best, inadequately captured
and described in the term “religion.” Strictly speaking, the category of
“religion” (zongjiao, literally “ancestral traditions”) is a “Western” neolo-
gism that was first introduced into the Chinese lexicon in the nineteenth
century via Japan, where the term was coined by the Japanese to cat-
egorize the “Western” religion of Christianity as a separate legal entity.1
Historically, the Chinese used terms such as dao (way), jiao (teachings),
and jia (house or family) to label various “indigenous” Chinese “religious”
traditions, reserving the formal term zongjiao (religion) for “Western”
religion in general, and Christianity in particular. For ease of discussion,
we will use the term “religion” as convenient shorthand to discuss the
indigenous Chinese religious traditions in this chapter.
HISTORICAL ORIGINS
The Chinese civilization arose contemporaneously with the Egyptian,
Babylonian, and Indus Valley civilizations, and before the birth of the
Greek civilization, the cradle of European philosophy. For thousands of
years, the Chinese civilization has prided itself as the Zhongguo (Middle
Kingdom), the center of the inhabited world, “a civilized oasis surrounded
by what was thought to be a cultural desert.”2 This civilization traces its
earliest beginnings to the primitive Chinese settlements that first emerged
during the Neolithic period (ca. 5000 BCE) and evolved in sophistication
during the Bronze Age (ca. 3000 BCE). Archaeological excavations of
burial sites from these periods have uncovered graves arranged hierarchi-
cally, with primitive amulets and statues found at some sites and remains
of sacrificial offerings found at others, highlighting the emergence of rudi-
mental rituals for the dead.
By the Shang Dynasty (ca. 1766–1046 BCE), these rudimental rituals
evolved into rituals of divination involving jiagu (oracle bones) that were
performed by shamans who inscribed questions to the spirits on pieces
of tortoise or oxen bones using the earliest form of the Chinese script.
Although some of the questions were addressed to either the supreme
deity Shangdi (the Most High Lord) or other lesser deities of the wind and
grain, celestial bodies, mountains, and rivers, the majority of the questions
were directed at the ancestors of the Shang ruling family, complement-
ing the Shang ruling house’s sacrificial offerings to their ancestors and
Shangdi.3 This state-sanctioned religious framework that was built upon
ancestor veneration and sacrificial offerings was continued by the Zhou
WHAT CHRISTIANS CAN LEARN FROM CHINESE RELIGIONS 157
dynasty (1046–259 BCE), which introduced a cult of ancestral offerings

and sacrifices to Tian (Heaven).
The foundations and major features of Chinese religions emerged
during the tumultuous period of the Baijia (Hundred Schools), strad-
dling the latter part of the Spring and Autumn Period (722–481 BCE),
the twilight years of the Zhou dynasty, and the Warring States period
(481–221 BCE), when Zhou rule collapsed and feudal states vied for
power. This was a period of terrible suffering for the ordinary folk caught
in the cross fire of marauding armies. The old cultural-religious order
had collapsed and created a spiritual vacuum. Philosophers and scholars
from rival schools, the so-called Hundred Schools, offered competing
solutions to the existential questions on human suffering and social dis-
order. Promoters of the two emerging traditions that came to be called
Confucian and Daoist debated with each other and with other rivals such
as the Legalists, Mohists, and the Naturalists.4 During this chaotic period,
classic texts such as the Confucian Analects Lunyu and the Daoist classics
Daodejing and Zhuangzi were written.
CONFUCIANISM
Undergirding the Chinese civilization and shaping the worldview of
the Chinese people for more than two millennia is the ru (literati) or
“Confucian” tradition. The term “Confucianism” was first coined by the
Jesuit missionaries as a neologism for the venerable, all-encompassing tra-
dition rooted in the socio-ethical precepts and philosophical norms gov-
erning human conduct and social relations in Chinese antiquity that the
Jesuits took for granted as having been taught by the historical Kongzi
(Confucius) (551–479 BCE). Beginning with its preeminent position as
the officially sanctioned philosophical-religious and sociopolitical system
during the Han Dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE), the impact of Confucianism
has been felt far beyond the borders of China, shaping the worldviews of
diverse East Asian societies over the course of two millennia.
Strictly speaking, there is no exact Chinese equivalent of the term
“Confucianism,” which is used to translate the ru or “literati” tradi-
tion of China. Unlike the Jesuit missionaries, the Chinese never saw fit
to coin a single term to describe the diversity of competing schools that
have been referred to as rujia (literati family), rujiao (literati teachings),
ruxue (literati learning), or simply as ru (literati). While the ru tradition
itself predates Confucius, the ethical vision of Confucius and his follow-
ers has come to define and enrich the ru tradition, with Confucius being
158 J.Y. TAN
honored within the Chinese tradition as zi (Master), zongshi (Ancestral

Teacher), xianshi (First Teacher), and zhisheng (Great Sage). The efforts
of the Jesuit missionaries to canonize Confucius as the “founder” of
Confucianism had more to do with missionary strategies than being an
accurate description of the ru tradition in its sociohistorical setting. In
the absence of other more appropriate terms, the terms “Confucian” and
“Confucianism” will be used in this discussion as convenient labels for the
ru tradition accordingly.5
The many schools of thought within Confucianism converged around
the existential quest for the ultimate values that shape human living from
emperor to peasant. The responses that Confucius and his successors
articulated reveal a focus on authentic relations that form the cornerstone
for familial harmony and social cohesion. Confucius and his disciples ide-
alized a person who is adept at relating to others and able to trust in
the validity of these relations for familial and social harmony. According
to Confucius, the perfected Confucian is always and everywhere fully
human in relation to others within the wider world of humanity seek-
ing to embody the ultimate and highest virtue of human living. In the
Analects, Confucius called this ideal person a junzi (exemplary person)
and the highest existential virtue that this exemplary person embodies
ren (humanness). The Confucian wulun (Five Relations) expresses suc-
cinctly the kernel of the interconnected webs of familial, communal, and
social relationships that undergird the foundations of a Confucian soci-
ety: parent–child, ruler–subject, husband–wife, elder–younger sibling,
and friend–friend (Mencius 3A:4). The first four relations are hierarchi-
cal relations, while the fifth is a relation of equals. Within the Confucian
conception of society, there are no strangers in society. Indeed, the most
basic relation is friend–friend, which is a relationship among equals. The
Five Relations reveals that the hierarchical ordering of familial relations is
the principal foundation upon which complex interlocking human rela-
tions in the Chinese society are constructed. Before a person is able to do
great things in society, that person must first be a proper spouse, parent,
child, sibling, subject, or friend to another.
The Incipient Goodness of Human Nature

Unlike Christianity, which takes the fallen human nature in need of
redemption as its starting point, the Confucian tradition, beginning with
Mencius, begins with the premise that benxing (original human nature)
at one’s birth is good but underdeveloped. While Confucius himself
never delved into renxing (human nature), Mencius asserted that at birth
the benxing comprises the four virtuous tendencies of commiseration,
shame, deference, and preference that are incipient, underdeveloped, and
fragile. For him, an infant is not born as an “individual,” but rather into a
framework of familial and sociocultural relations, which shape and nurture
that infant’s benxing. With proper education and self-cultivation, these
original tendencies can mature and blossom into the four cardinal virtues
of ren (humanness), yi (appropriateness), li (propriety), and zhi (wisdom)
in a fully developed renxing (human nature) (see Mencius 2A:6).
Mencius’ rationale for his understanding of human nature was simple
but elegant: he argued that the spontaneous and instinctive impulse of
every person, however morally reprehensible, to save a child about to fall
into a well is evidence of the presence of latent goodness inherent in that
person, suggesting the presence of goodness in human nature (Mencius
2A:6). Correspondingly, Mencius insisted that selfish desires do not con-
stitute the essence of benxing, explaining his position in the parable of “Ox
Mountain” (Mencius 6A:8). In this parable, the Ox Mountain is a meta-
phor for the totally evil person, devoid of any virtue. Just as it is natural for
trees to grow on a mountain, so it is natural for incipient moral shoots to
develop into moral virtues even in an evil person. Just as the constant fell-
ing of trees by axes and eating away of young shoots by cattle reduces the
mountain to a hopeless barrenness, so too the preoccupation with selfish
thoughts and deeds destroys the incipient moral shoots in a person, pre-
cluding them from blossoming into virtues. Just as new shoots spring up
if the mountain is left alone by woodcutters and livestock to rejuvenate, so
too new moral shoots spring up and blossom into virtues in an evil person
when given an opportunity to do so. Insofar as axes and livestock are not
essential to the original nature of the mountain, selfish desires too do not
constitute the benxing of a person.
This Mencian idealism would come to define the optimism of the
Confucian tradition that celebrates education as a means of developing
human nature to its full potential. It perceives the human being not in
terms of static ontological essentialism, but as a dynamic “becoming”
striving toward wisdom and sagehood. In other words, the Confucian
tradition rejects an essentialist understanding of personhood in favor of a
relational perspective that celebrates the progressive maturing of human
nature within an interlocking matrix of “reciprocal relations” that, over a
lifetime, defines one’s character.
Within the Confucian tradition, the concept of ren, often trans-
lated as “humanity” or “humanness,” refers to the attribute of “being
160 J.Y. TAN
fully human,” in contrast with barbarians or animals acting on instincts.

The Shuowen jiezi (second-century Chinese dictionary) suggests that
etymologically the Chinese character for ren comprises the character for
“person” and the number “two,” indicating perhaps a relational quality
that marks the “human” character of persons in community.6 Herbert
Fingarette expresses this succinctly as follows: “For Confucius, unless
there are at least two human beings, there can be no human beings.”7
Confucius himself defined ren as ai ren (loving people) (Analects 12:22),
emphasizing the “interrelationality” and “intersubjectivity” of human liv-
ing, where one is always “one among many” and seeking to achieve full
humanity in one’s relations with others. For him, ren is the highest moral
virtue and the totality of all moral virtues embodying an ideal moral life.
In practical terms, ren embodies yi (appropriateness), li (ritual propriety),
and xiao (filiality).
Yi (Appropriateness)
The term yi is commonly translated by Western scholars as “benevolence,”
“morality,” or “moral.” However, traditional Chinese dictionaries, for
example, the Ci Hai (Sea of Words), translate this term as “right,” “fit-
ting,” or “proper.” Etymologically, the word comprises the ideograph of
yang (a sheep) above the ideograph for wo (the first person pronoun),
which can be translated both in the first person (“I” or “me”) or the third
person (“we” or “us”). Sinologists think that the ideograph for yi repre-
sents a community doing something proper or fitting by sacrificing a sheep
(see, e.g., Analects 3:17).8 On this basis, the term yi, “appropriateness” or
doing something “proper” or “fitting,” undergirds other virtues such as
propriety and filiality, enabling one to do what is proper and fitting in rela-
tion to others: The Master said, “Junzi (exemplary persons) understand
what is yi (appropriate), petty persons understand only what is of personal
advantage” (Analects 4:16). It also forms the basis for the Golden Rule
in the Analects: “Do not impose upon others what you yourself do not
want” (Analects 12:2, cf. 15:24).
Li (Ritual Propriety)
The term li refers to the ritualized norms of proper conduct regulating
all aspects of human interactions according to relations of position and
rank in family and society. For Confucius, li is the proper expression
of sincere emotion, distinguishing the civilized person from barbarians

who give free and undisciplined vent to their emotions. He condemns
empty and formalistic displays of rituals (see Analects 3:12), insisting
that li must combine the “external” aspect of performing the proper
ritual form with the “internal” disposition of heartfelt inner attitude.
Indeed, Analects 2:7 criticizes empty and insincere ritualized displays
of filiality toward one’s parents. There is no separation or contradiction
between external propriety and inner disposition. The goal of propriety
is social harmony:
Achieving he (harmony) is the most valuable function of observing ritual li

(propriety). In the way of the Former Kings, this achievement of harmony
made them elegant, and was a guiding standard in all things large and small.
But when things are not going well, to realize harmony just for its own sake
without regulating the situation through observing ritual propriety will not
work. (Analects 1:12)
Xiao (Filiality)
For Confucians, the proper relational ordering of society as a human mac-
rocosm takes the family as its inspiration and starting point. Society is
ordered and harmony is promoted at all levels based on xiao (filiality),
the source of order and harmony within a family. Filiality is defined as the
primacy of the parent–child relations in the indivisible personal, social, and
religious realms of one’s life. For Confucius, filiality undergirds one’s obli-
gations of reverence, obedience, and love toward one’s parents when they
are still alive, venerating them with the proper rituals when they are dead,
and perpetuating this veneration by producing descendants (see Analects
2:5). At the same time, filiality is more than merely giving material sup-
port to one’s parents. It also involves one’s cultivation of proper respect-
ful and reverential inner dispositions toward one’s parents that Confucius
described as follows:
Ziyou asked about xiao (filial conduct). The Master replied: “Those today
who are filial are considered so because they are able to provide for their
parents. But even dogs and horses are given that much care. If you do not
respect your parents, what is the difference?” (Analects 2:7)
162 J.Y. TAN
It does not mean an uncritical obsequiousness: The Master said, “In

serving your father and mother, remonstrate with them gently. On seeing
that they do not heed your suggestions, remain respectful and do not act
contrary. Although concerned, voice no resentment.” (Analects 4:18)
Ancestor Veneration
Ritually, filiality is expressed through ancestor veneration offered by son
to father, by scholar-gentry to Confucius as ancestor par excellence, and
by emperor to his ancestors and to Tian (Heaven) for the well-being of
the nation. The practice of ancestor veneration as a ritualization of fili-
ality became a defining characteristic of Chinese culture and the corner-
stone of the Chinese family. Ancestor veneration rites in China have a long
unbroken historical tradition supposedly dating from as far back as the Xia
Dynasty (ca. 2090–1600 BCE), although much of the ritual repertoire first
emerged during the Shang Dynasty (ca. 1600–1100 BCE), developed dur-
ing the Zhou Dynasty (1122–256 BCE), and was further refined during
the Han Dynasty.9 These ancestor veneration rites involve a complex inter-
play of deep-rooted religious, spiritual, and sociological factors across all
levels of society. At the domestic level, ancestor veneration rites were per-
formed by living family members in honor of their deceased family mem-
bers. At the village or city level, the village chieftains or city officials would
perform rites in honor of the chenghuang (God of Walls and Moats), the
local patron deity of that village or city. Confucian literati performed ances-
tor veneration rites in honor of Confucius as zongshi (ancestral teacher) par
excellence in wenmiao (Confucian shrines of learning). At the highest level,
the emperor, as tianzi (the Son of Heaven), and his court performed the
official rites to tian (Heaven) for the well-being of the whole nation.
DAOISM
The other principal religious tradition that emerged during the Baijia
(Hundred Schools) period is the Daoist tradition, representing a contrast-
ing approach, which advocated a naturalistic philosophy that emphasized
the artificiality of human institutions, and promoted the abandonment
of worldly pursuits in favor of an accommodation with the natural flow
of things in the world. The starting point of the Daoist tradition is the
Daodejing, which is traditionally attributed to Laozi (literally, Old Master).
According to the Han Dynasty historian Sima Qian, Laozi was weary of
living and heading Westward in search of wisdom, so he penned down his
philosophy in a work that would be later known as the Daodejing at the
request of the frontier guard, the “Keeper of the Pass.”
The Daodejing begins by waxing lyrical about the Dao (Way) as a name-
less, infinite, spontaneous, eternal, cyclical, and ever-changing cosmological
essence. The Daodejing presents the Dao as the matrix of potentialities and
actualities that encompasses all actualities that exist and all possibilities that
could happen, but excludes all impossibilities (Daodejing 1). It asserts that
the Dao simultaneously embodies both “being” and “nonbeing” in a con-
stant, cyclical, and evolutionary flux of production and destruction, rather
than a static, once-for-all production (Daodejing 42). It understands the Dao
as the unnamable ultimate reality that defies all attempts at categorization,
the source for everything that existed, exists, and will exist (Daodejing 25).
The Daodejing also advocates as the principal goal of living the attain-
ment of wuwei (actionless action), which it links with the Dao, the begin-
ning and end of one’s existential quest. It suggests that wuwei is not
understood as the total lack of activity, but “active inactivity,” that is,
spontaneous, nondeliberate, and nonpremeditated activities that would
enable the Dao to run its course and unveil all potentialities to their fullest
without deliberate human interference. The Daodejing perceives wuwei as
modes of living that seek to flow with the Dao in bringing manifest forms
into actuality from the primordial flux of potentiality. Hence, wuwei is the
opposite of “calculated or intentional action” that limits the fullest range
of potentialities (cf. Daodejing 38).
This quest for wuwei is also emphasized in a later Daoist classic by
Zhuangzi (ca. 370–286 BCE). Like the Daodejing, the text of Zhuangzi
champions a naturalistic lifestyle of harmony with the Dao, the imperma-
nence of wanwu (myriad things), and therefore the insignificance of all
human action in the world. Rather than wasting time chasing after fame,
wealth, or power, Zhuangzi challenges one to focus instead on the harmony
of oneself with the Dao. For example, Zhuangzi claimed that he would
rather be a living tortoise dragging its tail in the mud than a gilded but dead
tortoise venerated in an ancestral shrine (Zhuangzi 17:11). This exemplifies
what Zhuangzi was concerned with, that is, doing what comes most natu-
rally and spontaneously—wuwei—in harmony with the Dao, and a tortoise
dragging its tail in the mud best exemplified that natural ordering.
Moreover, within the Daoist cosmology, yin–yang are two opposite but
complementary energies that make manifest and differentiate the wanwu
(myriad things) that emerge into existence from the undifferentiated,
164 J.Y. TAN
primordial Dao. The popular symbol of yin–yang reveals the cyclical

nature of the Chinese worldview—life undergoes cycles of production and
destruction. The dynamic interaction of yin and yang gives rise to cycles
of production and destruction, from which the universe and its diverse
forms of life—wanwu—emerge. At the height of the cycle of production
of one phase, and before the cycle of destruction begins, the seeds for
the next cycle of production of the complementary phase emerge. From
the constant intermingling of yin and yang, the myriad things—wanwu—
emerge in space, time, and history (cf. Daodejing 42). In general, the
Daoist cosmological thought maps all phenomena in pairs of bipolar
complementary opposites according to the yin–yang matrix, for exam-
ple, male–female, odd–even, active–passive, sun–moon, hot–cool, and
production–destruction.
LEARNING FROM CHINESE RELIGIONS

There is much that Christians can take to heart from the practitioners
of Chinese religions, Confucians and Daoists alike. For the longest time,
Christians of all persuasions and stripes have fought pitched battles over
which side possesses the Truth with a capital T, vis-à-vis the others who are
branded “heretics.” It goes without saying that the obsession for Truth
with a capital T has resulted in religious wars, persecutions, and blood-
shed in defense of what is perceived to be the true essence and substance
of Christianity, the ontological integrity of the divinity and humanity in
Jesus, as well as the singular and normative path to salvation.
In his characteristic blunt style, the late Angus C. Graham argued that
the crucial question for the Chinese “is not the Western philosopher’s
‘What is the truth?’ but ‘Where is the Way?’.”10 David Hall and Roger Ames
have coined the terms “Truth-seekers” and “Way-seekers” to describe the
Western and Chinese philosophical worldviews respectively. According to
them, Western Truth-seekers “want finally to get to the bottom line, to
establish facts, principles, theories that characterize the way things are,”
while in contrast, Chinese Way-seekers “search out those forms of action
that promote harmonious social existence,” because “for the Way-seekers,
truth is most importantly a quality of persons, not of propositions.”11
While it seems that Confucianism and Daoism are polar opposites,
there are common themes that could offer lessons to Christianity. First,
the major existential, philosophical, and religious questions for both
Confucians and Daoists always center on discovering the ultimate values
which shape human living: “What does it mean to be human as opposed
to barbarians or animals?” “What makes life worth living as humans?”

“What are the ideals and virtues that are needed to inspire everyone from
ruler to ordinary citizen to participate in the creation and maintenance
of a harmonious and civilized society?” “Where are these ideals and vir-
tues to be found?” “What is the way [dao] to these ideals and virtues?”
“How does one seek and attain the way [dao]?” Both the Confucian and
Daoist traditions may answer these questions in their own way, but these
existential questions are just as pertinent for all Christians as they are for
practitioners of Chinese religions. The responses to these questions that
Confucius and his successors, on the one hand, and Laozi, Zhuangzi, and
their followers, on the other, formulated reveal a common and shared
dynamic, relational understanding of “knowing” in Chinese thinking that
is not concerned with discovering the truth via the abstract, essentialist
conceptualizations of the natural world that have undergirded the Greek
philosophical quest that became part of Christianity.
In their own ways, practitioners of Chinese religions, be they Confucians
or Daoists, strive to “know” [zhi]12 the “way” [dao] of living one’s life
adeptly, negotiating around obstacles and challenges, as well as seizing
opportune moments. While the Analects and the Daodejing may debate
on the specifics, they perceive human living as a constant striving in the
dao (way), calling for a dynamic and relational approach to “knowing”
[zhi] that is not concerned with discovering the Truth via abstract, essen-
tialist, and metaphysical conceptualizations, but with knowing how to be
adept in one’s relations with others. For Confucians, this refers to one’s
relations with the universe and natural order; for Daoists, it means how to
make use of the possibilities arising from these relations, and how to trust
the validity of these relations as the cornerstone for familial, social, and,
ultimately, universal harmony.
David Hall and Roger Ames explain it succinctly when they point out
that “in the West, truth is a knowledge of what is real and what represents
that reality,” while “for the Chinese, knowledge is not abstract, but con-
crete; it is not representational, but performative and participatory; it is
not discursive, but is, as a knowledge of the way, a kind of know-how.”13
For example, for Confucians, knowing how to be a ruler or a parent is
not knowing the proper behavioral qualities that define an ideal-type ruler
or parent in the abstract, but knowing how to relate genuinely to one’s
subjects or one’s children, to fulfill one’s responsibilities toward them,
and in turn to earn their respect, deference, and their trust. Likewise,
for Daoists, knowing is letting go in the spirit of wuwei, so as to achieve
the fullest opportunities and surprises that the Dao might bring. When
166 J.Y. TAN
Confucians speak of realizing the fullness of renxing (human nature), they

challenge Christians to live up to Jesus’ injunction to do unto others what
one wants to be done to them (Matt 7:12, cf. Luke 6:31), the very point
that Confucius makes in Analects 12:2 and 15:24. The call to achieve
the highest virtue of ren (humanness) is as applicable to Christians as it
is to Confucians, that is, Christians are also challenged to be fully human
in relation to others, and seeking the ultimate, existential values within
human living, even to the extent of loving one’s enemies and giving one’s
life for others.
Finally, the challenge of the Daoist tradition to seek balance and har-
mony with the universal natural order is especially apt for Christians in
today’s world, which is witnessing the rapid breakdown of the earth’s frag-
ile ecological and environmental framework.14 The Daoist’s call to seek
harmony with the natural order as exemplified in the Dao and the balance
of yin–yang could inspire Christians to realize that the universe and the
created order in Genesis 1 are given to humanity who serve as caretakers
and stewards on behalf of the Creator, and not for wanton destruction as
the result of unmitigated greed and exploitation.
NOTES
1. For an in-depth discussion of how the category of “religion” was created in
nineteenth-century Japan, see Jason Ananda Josephson, The Invention of
Religion in Japan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012).
2. Julia Ching, Chinese Religions (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1993), 1.
3. For further discussion, see David N. Keightley, Ancestral Landscape: Time,
Space, and Community in Late Shang China, ca. 1200–1045 B.C. (Berkeley,
California: Institute of East Asian Studies, 2000) and his earlier groundbreak-
ing work, Sources of Shang History: The Oracle-Bone Inscriptions of Bronze Age
(Berkeley, California: University of California Press, 1978).
4. For an overview of the major debates and controversies during this period,
see A.C. Graham, Disputers of the Tao: Philosophical Argument in Ancient
China (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court Publishing, 1989).
5. For critical discussions on this point, see Paul A. Rule, K’ung-Tzu or
Confucius: The Jesuit Interpretation of Confucianism (London: Allen &
Unwin Books, 1986) and Lionel M. Jensen, Manufacturing Confucianism:
Chinese Traditions & Universal Civilization (Durham, North Carolina: Duke
University Press, 1997).
6. Cited in Roger T. Ames & Henry Rosemont, Jr., The Analects of Confucius:
A Philosophical Translation (New York: Ballantine Books, 1998), 48.
7. Herbert Fingarette, “The Music of Humanity in the Conversation of

Confucius,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 10, no. 4 (1983): 331–356, quoted
in Ames & Rosemont, Analects of Confucius, 48.
8. See discussion in Ames & Rosemont, Analects of Confucius, 54–55.
9. For discussions of the historical origins of ancestor veneration, see Emily
M. Ahern, The Cult of the Dead in a Chinese Village (Stanford, California:
Stanford University Press, 1973); Maurice Freedman, “Ancestor Worship:
Two Aspects of the Chinese Case,” in Social Organization: Essays Presented to
Raymond Firth, ed. Maurice Freedman (Chicago: Aldine, 1967), 85–103;
Arthur P. Wolf, “Gods, Ghosts and Ancestor,” in Religion and Ritual in
Chinese Society, ed. Arthur P. Wolf (Stanford, California: Stanford University
Press, 1974), 131–182, and Wei Yuan-Kwei, “Historical Analysis of Ancestor
Worship in Ancient China,” in Christian Alternatives to Ancestor Practices,
ed. Bong Rin Ro (Taichung, Taiwan: Asia Theological Association, 1985),
119–133.
10. Graham, Disputers of the Tao, 3.
11. David L. Hall & Roger T. Ames, Thinking from the Han: Self, Truth, and
Transcendence in Chinese and Western Culture (Albany, New York: SUNY
Press, 1998), 105.
12. Interestingly, the ideograph for zhi (knowing) comprises the characters for shi
(arrow, which is derived from an arrow pointing upward) and kou (mouth,
which depicts an open mouth). In other words, zhi (knowing) means “speak-
ing which hits the target,” a metaphor pregnant with significant relational
implications. In the Sinic mind, “knowing” is not a privatized, solitary, or
even psychological act of apprehension in the abstract, but a “relational” act.
One truly “knows” only when one is able to “speak” aptly or appropriately
about the matter to the people around oneself.
13. Hall & Ames, Thinking from the Han, 104.
14. For detailed exploration of this topic, see N.J. Girardot, James Miller, &
Xiaogan Liu, eds. Daoism and Ecology: Ways Within a Cosmic Landscape
(Cambridge, Massachusetts: Center for the Study of World Religions,
Harvard Divinity School, 2001).
CHAPTER 13
What Christians Can Learn from Japanese

Religions
Emi Mase-Hasegawa
RELIGIOSITY IN JAPAN
Like most developed nations in Europe, religion plays only a minor role in
the public sphere in Japan. The Japanese people do not engage in culture
wars on the basis of religious beliefs. Religion is basically considered a pri-
vate affair and mostly regarded as a subjective matter. Insiders even claim
that Japan is one of the most secularized countries in the world. If one
were to ask what people living in neighboring countries know about Japan
one would hear words such as Manga, Karaoke, and Sukiyaki, all of which
are pop-culture phenomena. Not too many will mention religion, as the
Japanese are not perceived as particularly religious people. If indeed one
were to ask a Japanese youth if they believed in God or were a religious
person, the response would be negative.
Yet, population surveys reveal that Japanese are very religious people:
more than 80 % of the population identify with Shinto and another 70 %
with Buddhism. If one were to count the number of people claiming alle-
giance to one religion or another one would end up with a figure which is
twice that of Japan’s population!1 The Western mind might not understand
how this can be so but most Japanese embrace the beliefs and practices
E. Mase-Hasegawa ( )
Faculty of the Humanities, J. F. Oberlin University, Yokohama, Japan
e-mail: emhase@obirin.ac.jp

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_13
170 E. MASE-HASEGAWA
of more than one religion. They participate in what Western scholars call
multiple religious belonging. The orthodox Christian might regard this
as heretical but that’s how it has been for people in Japan for generations.
A popular way of expressing Japanese religious life is echoed in this
statement: “A Japanese is born as a Shinto, married as a Christian, and dies
as a Buddhist.” Along with the Shinto and Buddhist religious traditions,
Daoist and Confucian elements also play an important role in the lives of
the people, especially when it comes to ritual celebrations. The Japanese
observe a number of rituals and celebrate many festivals every season and
at various stages of their lives, all of which are aimed at enhancing their
spiritual experiences. Even as these rituals and celebrations are part of the
world’s religious traditions, many Japanese are not aware of their religious
significance or do not care much about the religious dimension.
There is something peculiar about the Japanese religious sensitivity. The
best way to explain it is to categorize religion into two different streams:
institutional and noninstitutional. The former usually has its roots in a
founder, has a history, a set of dogmas, and official teachings while the lat-
ter is devoid of most of these elements. Institutional religions developed
into systematized organizations and are known today as world religions
such as Buddhism, Christianity, or Islam and are generally mutually exclu-
sive. On the other hand, noninstitutional religions remain by and large
local and are known more as animism, natural, or indigenous religions and
are generally nonexclusive in that they can accommodate the practices of
other traditions with relative ease. Shinto belongs to the latter and is an
indigenous religion of Japan.
JAPANESE RELIGIOUS PRACTICES

Since most Japanese are born into the Shinto tradition, it remains their
primary religion of allegiance. The Shinto worldview is able to encompass
other worldviews and so one finds its practitioners complementing the
tradition with religious practices of other traditions. It appears to Japanese
who grow up Shinto that the tradition is embedded within the culture and
is certainly not an entity that exists outside of it. Being Shinto is simply the
“way” one is expected to live life; it is not looked upon as a “religion” as
such. It is a tradition inherited from ancient times, fostered, and nurtured
over generations, and has become part of what it means to be Japanese.
On New Year’s Day, for example, the Japanese people visit Shinto
shrines and pray for prosperity and happiness for the rest of the year. On
auspicious occasions such as when children celebrate their third, fifth, or
WHAT CHRISTIANS CAN LEARN FROM JAPANESE RELIGIONS 171
seventh birthday, or when a youth turns 20, they make it a point to visit
Shinto shrines with their families to offer thanksgiving and to pray for
longevity. On other occasions people also visit shrines to pray for suc-
cess in entrance examinations, for good fortune, for road safety, a good
marriage, an easy birth, or simply for worldly profit. When they purchase
a new house, a new car, or a new computer, a Shinto priest is asked to
administer oharai (purification). In order to protect themselves from evil
spirits, people buy a talisman from the Shinto temple and carry it around
wherever they go.
When young people in Japan reach adulthood and wish to get married
many turn to the church and arrange for a Christian wedding. Although
they are not baptized or have no intention of embracing the Christian
tradition, they want to marry in a church or, if none is available or will-
ing, at a wedding chapel resembling Western-styled churches. Even those
who wed outside of real Christian churches have a wedding ceremony
structured according to Christian rites where the bride puts on a white
fluffy dress and the presider is normally a white European man playing the
role of a Christian pastor. “Pastors” with blonde hair and blue eyes can
be expected to charge more for their services! Thus, even as Christianity
is still regarded as a foreign religion, it has become rather attractive to
the younger Japanese on account of its being associated with the West
and its modern thinking and modern flavors. To be sure, Christianity has
contributed much to the development of modern thought patterns in
Japan. Ideas and concepts taught in the many private Christian universi-
ties, such as freedom, gender equality, and education, have been embraced
quite readily by Japanese society. Japanese are also eager to learn more
about Christianity in the universities even though they themselves are not
Christians. These Japanese who take an interest in Christianity could be
regarded more as cultural Christians.
On the last day of the year, December 31, the Japanese people visit tem-
ples to hear the gong of the bell, which is sounded 108 times. The belief is
that this is done in order to cleanse the person of any worldly desires and as a
reminder that one’s end may come very soon as well. At the end of their life
most Japanese turn to Buddhism. Funeral arrangements are mostly done
by the Buddhist temple and according to Buddhist rites and the memorial
services which follow are diligently observed. It is in these final periods of
life that family bonds and tradition become vital. If a woman marries the
eldest son of the family she and her husband are the ones who have to take
over the responsibility of caring for the family grave. Most Japanese families
have their graves in the temple. In order to be buried with the family one
would need to take on the family’s religion, which in most cases and for this
purpose is Buddhism. Twice a year, during spring and autumn, people visit
the family grave and venerate their ancestors.
This practice applies even to those who have already converted to
Christianity. In fact, it is not uncommon to find Christian graves in
Buddhist temples! Take the case of Kenichiro Mochizuki (1932–2007),
for example. He was a renowned Christian pastor who spent many years
as a missionary and devoted most of his life to building a theological semi-
nary in Thailand. After returning to Japan he taught at the Christian-
affiliated Keisen University and began leading groups of students for Asian
study tours. He was completely Christian by Japanese and international
standards. But when he passed away in 2007 his son decided to bury him
in the Hoshoji Buddhist temple. His Christian wife and widow naturally
agreed to abide by the son’s decision. Relationships and family ties take
precedence over institutional religious affiliation.
As can be seen from the discussion above, Japanese religious life is char-
acterized by a symbiosis of several religions. It does not necessarily mean
that the Japanese accept all of what each of the religions stand for. They
may accept some beliefs and practices in a particular tradition while not
accepting others. What is important is how each of the religious rituals or
ceremonies which the person participates in provides meaning to life and
assists in the daily living of the Japanese journeying from cradle to grave.
THE CONCEPT OF GOD

The concept of God is generally more familiar to people in the West than
in the East. Westerners are inclined to ask ontological questions, such
as “Does God exist?” “What is God?” “What kind of person is s/he?”
“Is God good?” The church may provide answers to these questions and
proffer formulae in helping Christians understand the idea of God, for
example that God is “the father who art in heaven,” a personal being, the
omnipotent and transcendent one, and one who is at the same time “cre-
ator of heaven and earth.”
This Western concept of God with personal attributes was introduced
to Japan when Christianity came to the country in the sixteenth century.
The Western Christian missionaries actually encountered many difficulties
in their attempts at preaching and teaching the idea. They were hoping
that their efforts would enable the Japanese to understand and appreciate
the concept of God. But this is not how the Japanese think about God,
nor are the questions mentioned earlier normally the questions which the
Japanese ask of one another. In fact, as in most cultures in the East, the
concept of a personal and omnipotent God is all but absent in Japan. To
ask questions about God or God’s nature, therefore, is simply meaningless
to the Japanese.
In the Eastern world, as in Japan, most people do not try to conceptu-
alize God or to formulate doctrines about God. Questions and formulated
doctrines about God can be useful for intellectual debates, but to the
ordinary Japanese, they are totally irrelevant. The emphasis in Japan, as in
many parts of Asia, is on religious experience and not so much on criti-
cal reflection and ideas or statements about God. Universal doctrines or
grand theories about God or the universe are alien to the Japanese mind
and psyche. What is more important is that they sense the extraordinary
power of what the West calls God intuitively without the need for cogni-
tive theorizing. As a philosopher and comparative religion scholar once
pointed out, “the Japanese are willing to accept the phenomenal world as
absolute because of their disposition to lay a greater emphasis upon intui-
tive sensible concrete events, rather than upon universals.”2
This difference is partly due to the difference in the understanding of
what can be regarded as “God from above” and the experience of what can
be regarded as “God from within.” Western ideas about God are usually of
the former type and emphasize a God whose nature is to demand loyalty
and who is characterized as the absolute, almighty, and transcendent one.
Such theologies do not easily find a place in the land of Japan and therefore
such concepts about god, or what is translated as kami, are meaningless
in the Japanese cultural context.3 Instead, what resonates more with the
Japanese worldview is that kami is part and parcel of human existence.
As a Japanese Christian I have come to realize that my institutional faith
places me in a minority position within my own culture. I, thus, appreciate
learning about faith in general from my friends of other faiths. I begin by
acknowledging that in Japan, as in many other parts of Asia, the concept
of God is vague. This is unlike what we know in Christianity. I have also
come to realize that the value of the belief in only one God, one Truth, or
one Religion has its basis in the monotheistic worldview which Christianity
subscribes to. This is not necessarily the case for those residing outside of
the Judeo-Christian worldview. For sure, the people of Japan have been
shaped quite differently and that accounts for why they are uncomfortable
with exclusiveness when it comes to matters of faith and religion.
In fact, within the Shinto tradition people believe in the existence of as
many as “eight million gods,” even as there is no clarity about what this
belief means. However, it has to be hastily mentioned that the divine is
coherent, but certainly undefinable, uncountable, and unutterable. That

accounts for why, when discussing Japanese religions and beliefs, a lower
case “g” is usually used in the spelling for god. This is because using capi-
tal letters for God or Truth would implicitly force people into thinking
that they refer to a particular entity. Moreover, this entity would then also
be considered as having the same meaning or value for everyone or that
one common goal is being pursued by all peoples. This is not necessar-
ily the case when Japanese talk about god or religion. A foreign scholar
describes what Japanese Christian educator Nitobe Inazo (1862–1933)
has to say about this subject: “The faith of Japanese is not intellectual
assent. It begins in instinct, gains volume by sentiment, and grows in
strength by emotion.”4
In a plural-value orientation, one experiences harmony in diversity and
the concept of God might be expressed as mu/emptiness/fullness/open-
ness/harmony. Truth is “not one, not two.” Consequently, people are
tolerant of those who name the divine differently as kami, Buddha, God,
or even a syncretism of gods and buddhas, expressed in the Japanese lan-
guage as Shin-Butsu. He/She/It is like an all-embracing life force.
KOSHINTO AND NONRATIONALITY

It is in the context of this subjectivity to matters of religion and faith in
Japan that one can appreciate that koshinto (basic Shinto) is the fundamen-
tal Japanese religious spirituality.5 Koshinto is the most basic religious ele-
ment in the Japanese religio-cultural context and it is the spirituality which
lies at the core of Japanese sensibility. Moreover, it also constitutes the
primary continuum in the country’s religious history, as well as informs
the Japanese traditional lifestyle. In short, koshinto serves as the founda-
tion that underlies the nation’s ethos and religious heritage.6
One of the principal elements of koshinto is its nonrational approach to
religion. This raises problems for the Western scholarly enterprise espe-
cially when questions about the concept of the divine are brought forward
for discussion. The Western Christian concept of God, defined as creator,
redeemer, ruler, and almighty father and revealed through the historical
figure of Jesus Christ, differs drastically from the vague concept of god
prevalent in Japanese religiosity based on the koshinto idea of kami. The
Japanese approach to kami, the divine, borders on the conventional and
advocates that kami is discerned primarily through feelings and not so
much through an intellectual search for truth. Furthermore, if viewed
through a Western lens, the description of the multiplicity of kami seems
to point to a pluralistic syncretized nature of the divine. This, of course, has

no resonance with the objective divinity as presented by Christian theology.
The foundation of Shinto, therefore, is intuition and emotion, rather
than doctrine and theology. It can be said that the Japanese actually “feel”
kami or the divine through their experience. The concept of kami is,
therefore, an emotional knowledge that the people of Japan have learned
to appreciate and respect. It is not to be defined or described by using
one’s mind, but is felt and experienced within the deep recesses of one’s
heart. In fact, kami, Buddha, god, and human beings are all part of a
huge life force, which can be absorbed into nature and into the universe.
From the perspective of the Japanese form of Buddhism there is no strict
boundary between parts and whole. For Japanese Buddhism the task of
life is for the person to be absorbed into the wholeness of the divine or the
universe. They are all integrally connected. A well-known religious phrase
which expresses this Japanese spiritual religiosity is Soumoku kokudo shik-
kai jobutsu, which can be translated as “grass, trees, land, and everything
will become Buddha and will be redeemed.”
While the concept of kami is extremely ambiguous in Japanese, the
more theoretical it becomes, the less attractive it appears. This sentiment
is given credence by observing the attitude of the Japanese toward other
religions. The Japanese accept and adapt to foreign religions quite easily
and according to their own religious sensibility. They choose and apply
whatever is suited to their own religiosity, even though they may not be
aware of the theology behind some of the practices. They accept and syn-
thesize new religious insights but do so without the need for systematizing
them. Kenneth J. Dale, who served as a missionary in Japan for 45 years,
has this to say:
Perhaps more important than the Japanese religions themselves is the nature
of Japanese religiosity, or the manner of perceiving religion. The common
Japanese approach is to perceive religion as being non-rational. It is not a
matter of truth but a matter of feeling. Doctrine and theology are secondary
to intuition and emotion. One should choose a religion on the basis of what
appeals to emotional inclinations.7
As can be seen from the preceding discussion, the Japanese place greater
emphasis on religious experience and feelings and not so much on religious
beliefs or doctrines. One might even say that Shinto is doctrinally and ethi-
cally amorphous. It is without absolutes and sees no contradiction between
what may appear to be opposites, such as primitive animism and modern
science. Its basis on experience implies loyalty to and encounters with

sacred spirits. In return, the sacred spirits will provide for the needs of the
practitioner, which means taking care of their welfare on earth. Salvation in
the Shinto tradition is evidenced by the happy and healthy life.8
HARMONY OF DIVERSITY
The many different religions have been coexisting very well in Japan on
account of the Ta no Wa (harmony of diversity) principle. This peaceful
coexistence continues even today. Historically, this principle of harmony
has been grounded in Japanese culture since the reign of Prince Shotoku
(593–607). When he accepted Buddhism into the Shinto-based country
he made “harmony” a fundamental spiritual base for the people of the
nation. He advocated the idea of unity in harmony in order to encourage
the Japanese to accept each other’s beliefs and practices and did all he
could to foster a Japanese spirit.
It is in the same spirit of Ta no Wa that one sees many Japanese going
to shrines, temples, and churches today to participate in worship. We
are talking about the same person going to all of these religious places
without any hesitation. They see no difficulty in belonging to more than
one religious tradition or no inconvenience in participating in all their
practices. Most Japanese have learned to respect an individual’s religiosity
and regard religions as dynamic entities that should be transformed with
people and culture over time. As cultures and people grow, elements of
new religious practices may be added into their communal and personal
spheres of spirituality. Kenneth Dale opines:
One of the reasons for this syncretistic phenomenon is that many strata of
religious traditions exist. As new strata were added, they did not replace the
old, but were simply an addition. So today there is still the primitive strata of
Shintoism, plus the strata of Buddhism, plus the strata of Confucian ethics,
plus the Christian influence, etc.9
The diversity of religious expression is sustained in society and in peo-

ple’s lives through the principle of harmony, which in turn resonates well
with a plural-value orientation. Ta no Wa has played an important role in
maintaining peace and harmony in the Japanese religio-cultural situation
and religious pluralism in Japan is not a theory to be expounded upon but
is exercised daily by people actually respecting the adherents of religions
other than their own. The Dutch Catholic missionary priest and scholar of
Japanese religions Jan Van Bragt (1928–2007) describes this disposition

of harmony as follows:
In reality, the relationship between various religions in Japan is a peaceful

coexistence but each religion has an absolute lack of interest in the other
religions. It is as though Japanese walked silently up to Mt. Fuji from differ-
ent directions and when they reached the top, they were still silent and paid
no attention to each other, looking in different directions.10
Charging that the Japanese are totally uninterested in each other’s reli-
gion may sound a bit harsh. I am more inclined to see the phenomenon
not so much as the Japanese climbing up the mountain from different
directions but as digging into the ground where they each stand. In the
process of digging the Japanese seek spiritual liberation in their own reli-
gious traditions. Yet, this does not imply that they are not interested in
discovering how others are experiencing life or searching and responding
to the Divine. It is when each person reaches deep into the ground that
they will realize and appreciate the harmony in diversity that is ever pres-
ent, for it is there that all of us encounter the universality of human spiritu-
ality. In my own journey through life I have encountered many wonderful
people from different religious traditions, such as Zen Buddhist monks,
Dominican sisters, Muslim imams, Jewish rabbis, and so on. It is from
these numerous friends of other faiths that I have learned a lot more about
spirituality even as I, myself, continue to dig deeper into what it means
to be a Japanese Christian. It is my testimony therefore that by “digging
deeper” we are enabled to reach out and this is the fundamental and uni-
versal way of pursuing “religiosity” for many Japanese.
ENDO’S DEEP RIVER

By way of conclusion let me now provide an illustration of what has been
discussed about Japanese religiosity through a glimpse at the works of the
famous Japanese Roman Catholic novelist Endo Shusaku (1923–1996).
His last novel, Fukaikawa (Deep River), which was published just 3 years
before his death, adequately captures many of the sentiments of koshinto
and Ta no Wa. The novel is about four Japanese tourists on a tour to
India. Through the metaphor of rivers leading to the ocean Endo sought
to convey his understanding of the theology of harmony in diversity to
his readers. Toward the end of Deep River Endo portrays the image of a
Japanese Buddhist man standing by the Ganges River “looking toward the
river’s flow” while chanting the Amida Sutra for the repose of the soul of
his friends and other comrades who had died in the war.11 Standing beside
him is an Indian girl “who kept her large black eyes fixed on him and did
not move a bit.”12
This scene can be interpreted as Endo’s attempt at discussing the har-
mony that can be found in religious diversity. Firstly, religious experience
is personal; it has to be experienced individually and cannot be shared or
taught by others as such. Secondly, while experiencing one’s own religios-
ity, it is important to realize that others are standing nearby; their faith
experience, no matter how diverse, must be respected as well. Thirdly,
while Endo makes no explicit mention of salvation, he does present the
image of people standing by the river, watching as it flows toward the
ocean. According to British scholar of religion Ursula King, the ocean is
often used in connection with religious diversity in the sense that differ-
ent religions are seen as different rivers, each following a different course
but all ending up in one and the same ocean which is their common goal
and ultimate home, however it is understood.13 In Deep River Endo thus
describes the journey to final destiny or of salvation and hope for eternity.
Every deep river is all-embracing and leads everyone to the mighty ocean.
Endo’s intention is clear; he is not describing the ocean as “God” or as
“One.” Instead, every drop of water within the deep river finally becomes
a part of the ocean. This is very much like the mystic path one follows to
purify one’s own ego and self-centered desires in order to find one’s true
nature, which basically culminates in unity with the ultimate. However,
it is for each individual to conceive what the image of the endless ocean
refers to. It is indeed a world of different dimensions. This is pluralism at
its heights. It is what Japanese religiosity represents. However, it is a plural-
ism that does not exclude. Instead, it is a harmony of diversity, Ta no Wa.
NOTES
1. Kenneth Dale, Coping with Culture: The Current Struggle of the Japanese
Church, no. 3 (Tokyo: Lutheran Booklets, 1996), 36. Dale has this to say:
“Most Japanese are both Buddhist and Shinto at the same time. According to
the Yearbook of Religions compiled by the Ministry of Education for 1993
(numbers under one hundred thousand deleted): Shinto—116,900,000;
Buddhist—89,900,000; Christian—1,500,000; other—11,300,000; total—
219,700,000. The surprise comes when this total is put alongside the total
population of Japan—about 125,000,000!”
2. Hajime Nakamura, Toyojin no Shii Hoho [Oriental Ways of Thinking] (Tokyo:

Shunju sha, 1962), 350.
3. I have adopted the term kami as the translation of God into Japanese in this
chapter. See Suzuki Norihisa, “On the Translation of God,” Japanese Religions
26, no. 2 (Jul 2001): 132.
4. Dale, Coping with Culture, 50. Nitobe Inazo was a Japanese Christian educa-
tor, writer, and statesman and served as undersecretary-general of the League
of Nations. He was greatly influenced by the American Quaker tradition. He
sought Christianity for the Japanese people and tried to harmonize Christianity
with Eastern thinking. He was, however, not attached to the orthodox teach-
ing of Christian doctrines, such as the doctrine of Atonement, but put more
weight on enabling people to see the inner light in every human being. His
book Bushi-do (1899) is widely read among Japanese people. The term is
used to describe the spirit of the samurai (warriors) of Japan. Some of their
chief virtues are justice, courage, politeness, benevolence, honor, loyalty, and
self-control.
5. Emi Mase-Hasegawa, Christ in Japanese Culture (Leiden: Brill Publishing,
2008), 28–44.
6. Dale, Coping with Culture, 40. Also, Dale states that Shinto is the “civil reli-
gion” of Japan and “is referred to as the national faith of Japan.”
7. Ibid., 2.
8. Ibid., 40.
9. Ibid., 36.
10. Jan Van Bragt, “Shoshukyo taiwa no Shomondai” [Problems on interreligious
dialogue], in Shukyo to Bunka [Religion and Culture], ed. Nanzan Institute
for Religion and Culture (Tokyo: Jinbun Shoin, 1994), 51.
11. Shusaku Endo, Fukaikawa (Tokyo: Kodan-sha, 1993), 325.
12. Ibid., 326.
13. Ursula King, Christ in All Things (London: SCM Press, 1997), 102.
PART IV
Methods and Models for Interfaith

Dialogue
CHAPTER 14
Deeper Dialogue with Aborigines

and Torres Strait Islanders of Australia
Christopher C. Prowse
PERSONAL OBSERVATIONS
At present I find myself on two commissions of the Australian Catholic
Bishops Conference. I am a member on the Aboriginal and Torres Strait
Islander commission and also the Chair for Ecumenism and Interreligious
Relations. When these different groups meet it is often on the same day
or alternate days. Upon reflection, the agendas and discussions of one
commission sometimes seem to meld into the agendas and discussions
of the other. Of course, one word summarizes the common purpose and
methodology of both these commissions: dialogue. Without the seminal
documents of the Second Vatican Council and other foundational teach-
ings put forth by the church about 50 years ago, it is hard to imagine that
these two dialogue commissions would even exist today.
In this chapter I will discuss my experience of ministering to the peo-
ple through the various commissions as pastor and bishop. I will then
explore the methodologies employed in ecumenical as well as interreli-
gious dialogues, in view of comparing them with, as well using them for,
the engagements we have within the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander
C.C. Prowse ( )
Catholic Archbishop of Canberra and Goulburn, Australia
e-mail: reception@cg.org.au

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_14
184 C.C. PROWSE
commission. My working question is: can the methods of one form of

dialogue enrich the process of another? I believe they can and, indeed, am
hopeful that they will be mutually enhancing. Even as their aims and goals
may differ, I am convinced that the sharing of methods can help move
each of the dialogues to a deeper and more meaningful level.
ECUMENICAL AND INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE

When we think of ecumenism, immediately the openness to the “impulse
of this grace” (UR, 1) attitude of the Decree on Ecumenism, Unitatis
Redintegratio (UR), comes to mind. This is the grace of the new attitudes
embraced by Christians of various denominations, fostered by the Holy
Spirit, in trusting that the restoration of unity among all Christians is pos-
sible. Likewise, when we think of interreligious dialogue, the assertion of
Nostra Aetate (NA) that “the Catholic Church rejects nothing of what
is true and holy in these religions” (NA, 2) immediately comes to mind.
This has become the watershed statement in the last 50 years, energizing
efforts and activities of interreligious dialogue throughout the world. The
guiding norms, characteristics, and commitment to dialogue as expressed
in Pope Paul VI’s Ecclesiam Suam (ES) have also paved the way forward
for the Catholic Church’s relations with the modern world in general.
Paul VI realized “how vital it is for the world, and how greatly desired by
the Catholic Church, that the two should meet together, and get to know
and love one another” (ES, 1). It is in the spirit of these three overwhelm-
ingly positive documents that the ministries of ecumenical and interreli-
gious dialogue have been taking place over the years. More recently, Pope
Francis summarized such breathtaking advances in the Catholic Church in
Evangelii Gaudium (EG) as “social dialogue” and reminds us that these
are aspects of evangelization and contribute toward peacemaking in the
world: “For the Church today, three areas of dialogue stand out where
she needs to be present in order to promote full human development and
to pursue the common good: dialogue with states, dialogue with soci-
ety—including dialogue with cultures and the sciences—and dialogue
with other believers who are not part of the Catholic Church” (EG, 238).
Although similarities abound, the two dialogues are, on one level,
completely different. Ecumenism, on the one hand, attempts to scruti-
nize historic divisions among Christians. Its ultimate aim is unity among
Christians, attempting to move toward fulfilling the Master’s command
“that they may all be one” (John 17:21). It searches for the truth tran-
DEEPER DIALOGUE WITH ABORIGINES AND TORRES STRAIT ISLANDERS... 185
scending historic divisions via a “change of heart and holiness of life, along
with public and private prayer for the unity of Christians” (UR, 8). On the
other hand, interreligious dialogue is a means whereby different religions
seek ways of mutual understanding and peacemaking, especially in practi-
cal areas of shared support. Nostra Aetate urges Catholics to enter “with
prudence and charity into discussion and collaboration with members of
other religions” (NA, 2). Despite such fundamental differences in the
aims of these two different dialogues, a seminal question remains: can the
methodologies used in both these dialogues assist each other in achieving
their different aims? A follow-up question would be: can these methodol-
ogies be transposed to other forms of dialogue, such as the dialogue with
indigenous traditions, and produce fruitful results? Perhaps this is already
happening, albeit indirectly.
Returning to the situation in Australia, it is perhaps not until one par-
ticipates in international conferences and is called upon to give an account
to the state of dialogue in one’s own country that one realizes, indeed,
that much progress in all types of dialogues and methodologies has taken
place in one’s own country. Evidence of this progress includes hearing new
migrants to Australia remark and marvel at the relative respect Australians
give to peoples of different nationalities and religions. They note the safety
that their families feel in Australia and the lack of violence issuing from reli-
gious conflicts and intolerance. Such stability is a blessing but it must not be
taken for granted. Peacemaking is a perpetual task and a common challenge.
At the same time we must be wary that Australian egalitarianism can also
give way to naive sentiments of “sameness” that respect difference only on
a superficial level. Prudence in these different dialogue approaches, some
spontaneous and some structured, must be the hallmark of such endeavors.
In regard to ecumenism in Australia, my own personal observation is
that it is talked about and discussed at quite an academic level in the big
cities but, in fact, it is practiced and lived out on a daily basis in the close-
knit neighborhoods of rural Australia. As a bishop visiting my people, I
have sometimes been surprised at the ecumenical cooperation in some-
what small and isolated rural towns. There seems to be a real city–rural
difference here. Those in the cities seem to meet their ecumenical dialogue
partners in meetings, conferences, and specifically shared projects. Those in
rural areas, however, are constantly in touch with their ecumenical friends
in their small neighborhoods, local shops, and practically helping each
other on their farms and in times of tragedy. The missing demographic
in both situations, however, seems to be young people. Often ignorant
186 C.C. PROWSE
of their own faith, their attitude toward people of different Christian or

religious persuasions can sometimes be syncretistic and relativistic. It is
without doubt an area that requires greater scrutiny and attention.
ABORIGINAL AND TORRES STRAIT ISLANDERS

My experience has also shown me that dialogue with Aboriginal and
Torres Strait Islanders is quite different from ecumenical or interreligious
dialogue. It is largely at meetings and conferences and friendships with the
Aboriginal Catholic communities that I have formed my opinions. To the
Anglo-Celtic mind, such gatherings seem to be organized in a sporadic
and piecemeal fashion. Detail to the particular seems to overshadow the
focus on principles and methodology. Friendship seems imperative. A fam-
ily atmosphere pervades. Respectful care and identity is strong. Meetings
can meander like a river in the Australian landscape. The pain of recollect-
ing one’s sad past, or the retelling of present hardships of our suffering
indigenous people, could sway the meeting away from its agenda toward
a compassionate focus on the testimony shared. While amongst largely
Catholic Aboriginal people I am with, there are periods of comfortable
silence and respectful listening. It is an atmosphere of a people attempt-
ing to reclaim their cultural links, which have largely been taken away
from them. It seems as though I am in friendly dialogue with survivors
of a fragmented cultural identity. There is an evident love of the Catholic
faith and respect for its leaders. There are valiant attempts to try to bridge
their ancient culture with their Christianity. Love of music, art, dancing,
and family are spoken of often. Failed political attempts at reconciliation
and the repeated inability or unwillingness of others to truly listen to
Aboriginal issues related by Aboriginal people are often lamented.
My own dialogue posture is generally one of respectful listening. I need
to check my anxiety to rush toward practical conclusions and strict adher-
ence to agenda items. Building friendship is easy in the midst of such
wonderful people. On leaving the meeting, I may feel, on one level, that
nothing much was achieved. On another level, however, I feel that I have
been given something of a gift. I feel that I know Australia better in some
way. I become more aware of the real Australian issues that still remain
and the traps that will ensue if a unilateral “quick fix” solution is deter-
mined as the way forward. Clearly, reconciliation with our Aboriginal and
Torres Strait Islander Australians holds the key to enhancing maturity in
our ancient yet young island continent. It is a long road ahead. A real
commitment to dialogue based on genuine friendship is essential.
METHODS IN ABORIGINAL DIALOGUE

The personal observations above indicate vast differences between
ecumenical/interreligious dialogue approaches and dialogue with
Australian indigenous peoples. On the level of dialogue methodology, can
one form of dialogue learn from the other? The first issue I will address
is whether the sporadic and deeply personal storytelling “methodology”
of Aboriginal dialogue has anything to offer to the more structured and
formal methodology of ecumenism/interreligious dialogue? An ini-
tial response to this may be negative. Yet, is dialogue simply a matter of
exchanging ideas and strategies? Isn’t its aim also to open up the horizons
of peoples’ minds to embrace greater respect for and tolerance of each
other? These attitudes and values are the necessary building blocks for
creating bridges between different faith groups. Without respect and the
awareness of goodness surrounding all people of goodwill, the first steps
toward true dialogue cannot be taken. Once this step has been achieved,
hostilities and ignorance will surely diminish and an arising humility and
mercy in the dialogue partners may build unexpected bridges of unity.
When I ponder on such possibilities I recall a little pastoral “rule” that
was offered to me some years ago by a wise Jesuit after a lifetime of observ-
ing human nature. These are his words of wisdom: “When power meets
power, there is a power struggle. When power meets vulnerability, there is
alienation. But when vulnerability meets vulnerability, there is intimacy.”
Thus, when I listen to the heartfelt vulnerabilities of my Aboriginal and
Torres Strait Islander friends, I believe I receive the gift of real dialogue
intimacy. It is something that calls forth my own vulnerabilities as a human
person. There is an empathy and deep understanding shared. It is com-
passion; a suffering with. It is a gift of God. I believe it is real dialogue
because a true friendship arises between peoples. There is a social com-
mitment growing here. The hope of a resulting true and lasting peace is
anticipated. A transcendence that silences the dialogue-partners may arise.
It is a feeling that this type of dialogue is a gift of God.
Surely this is a deep dimension to dialogue methodology that could
enrich ecumenical/interreligious dialogue. Perhaps our ecumenical meth-
odologies are not deep enough to truly touch the human hearts of the dia-
logue-partners. Studying various texts from different religious traditions
together has its value but is that process enough to truly reach the hearts
of our dialogue-partners? It may inform but does it truly form new hearts?
Does this lead to a kind of “ecumenical fatigue”? It is not that good inten-
tions are absent; quite the contrary. However, after great efforts over
188 C.C. PROWSE
many years of commitment, have certain types of dialogue become too

superficial and therefore exhausting for participants?
It takes courage to become vulnerable to others. This is where I have
found indigenous peoples to be so trusting. It is like the Emmaus scene
in the Gospels (Luke 24:13–35). The two men share their vulnerabilities
after Calvary as they move away from Jerusalem. In their suffering and
despair appears the Risen Lord. Gradually they recognize that it is the
Son of God himself who is their pilgrim companion. Their “hearts burn
within” (Luke 24:32) in this mystical experience. They are forever trans-
formed in hope by their intimate encounter or dialogue with the God of
all intimacy and love. They hurry back to Jerusalem and start afresh.
METHODS IN ECUMENICAL DIALOGUE

Let me now turn the cart around and address the second issue: can the
dialogue with Aboriginal Australians be enriched by what has been learnt
in ecumenical/interreligious dialogue over the past 50 years? Here, the
methodology of dialogue is more systematic and structured. It perhaps
simply puts into words and explains the experiences with the Aboriginal
Australians discussed above. Doing so can at least help us appreciate bet-
ter our dialogue experiences. We shall now look at some of these methods
which can help us analyze the experience of dialogue with the indigenous
peoples of Australia.
The expression “spiritual ecumenism” has been used since Vatican II’s
Unitatis Redintegratio (UR) as a fundamental principle in ecumenism.
The pioneering ecumenist Abbe Paul Irenee Couturier (1881–1953) is
acknowledged to have coined the expression. In essence, the term suggests
that ecumenism is first and foremost a matter of the heart and not simply
of the head. The insight is based on the understanding that ecumenism
can only be approached on the basis of continual conversion. The Vatican
document states: “This change of heart and holiness of life, along with
public and private prayer for the unity of Christians, should be regarded as
the soul of the whole ecumenical movement, and merits the name, ‘spiri-
tual ecumenism’” (UR, 8). In this method it is not a matter of a dialogue
that seeks to convert one interlocutor to the faith of the other. Rather, the
essence of the dialogue is to convert us all to God. Cardinal Walter Kasper,
in his summary booklet A Handbook of Spiritual Ecumenism, stresses the
need to return always to the essence of this ecumenism—spiritual ecu-
menism. Even if the harvest from our various world dialogues seems little
and frustrating, there must be the belief that the Holy Spirit is alive in the
midst of our efforts toward unity. In Kasper’s words:
The work of ecumenism, therefore, is rooted in the foundations of Christian

spirituality, requiring more than ecclesial diplomacy, academic dialogue, social
involvement and pastoral cooperation. It presupposes a real appreciation of
the many elements of sanctification and truth wrought by the Holy Spirit
both within and beyond the visible boundaries of the Catholic Church.1
Returning to our search for a deeper dialogue with Australian Aboriginal

persons, can this attitude/methodology of spiritual ecumenism be trans-
ferrable to indigenous dialogue? I could imagine a response in the nega-
tive. Some may say that you cannot easily transfer the methods of religious
dialogue to what is largely cultural dialogue. There is some truth in this.
However, it must also be noted that in every culture there is a dimension
of religion. The transcendent values and practices of religion permeate a
culture and give it a “soul.” Secularist Australia would struggle with this
understanding. Australians too rapidly marginalize religious sentiment of
any kind from cultural understandings. I believe this has been one of the
reasons that dialogue with Aboriginal persons has struggled in Australia.
Regardless of affiliation with any particular Christian or religious belief,
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders are universally known to have a very
spiritual culture. How else could one understand the Aboriginal dream-
time, their song, artistry, and dance?
Spiritual ecumenism posits that the ongoing movement of the Holy
Spirit causing conversion in the human heart is central to dialogue. I have
heard so many times from my Aboriginal friends somewhat similar senti-
ments in regard to reconciliation with indigenous people in Australia. The
spending of huge amounts of Australian money on projects to assist in
reconciliation has so often been of little use. Altruistic in concept but with
little understanding of the profoundly spiritual Aboriginal culture, and
with little consultation, such projects are doomed to failure. They are not
deep enough in design. The societal response here is not linked to trans-
formation of attitudes but the quest simply to change societal structures.
The true and deep lasting conversion of hearts is not on the agenda. The
methodology of spiritual ecumenism may be just the societal medicine
needed. It is certainly worthy of deeper reflection.
More recently, a newer methodology in ecumenism has emerged called
“receptive ecumenism.” Its originator is Professor Paul Murray from
the University of Durham. Premised on the assumption that previous
190 C.C. PROWSE
ecumenical methodologies have become largely shallow, Murray proposes

a new model of ecclesial learning. He suggests that rather than simply
clarifying issues and learning about the other, what is really needed is to
learn “from” the other. It is “receptive” in that it is about a readiness to
receive something. In receiving and learning something new about the
other, I am the better for it. I learn about myself in receiving wisdom from
the other. My church is renewing itself in learning from our ecumenical
partner. For that to truly happen, each needs to be docile and prepared
to change. This is not easy. When I have been involved with this meth-
odology in ecumenical dialogue groups, I have found it refreshing. It is
quite different from simply reading about the other from academic books
or essays. Although significant, it is no substitute for person-to-person
contact. In listening attentively to the other, I can enter into a deeper
friendship, which is at the heart of dialogue. In the presence of my ecu-
menical partners, I ask these questions: What can I learn from them that
will nourish me in my Catholic life? What can they learn from the Catholic
faith that will deepen their own life of faith? Returning to the topic of the
chapter, I now ask, Can such a methodology, consciously articulated, assist
in a deeper dialogue with Australia’s first peoples?
The very first aspect for such a methodology to function is to engage
personally with Aboriginal peoples. Over the years I have often found
that so many wonderful Australians have never sat down and entered into
a dialogue with the First Australians. This may be the case even if there
is a considerable knowledge about Aboriginal matters gleaned from the
enormous corpus of books, articles, and social media about them. There
is a reasonable knowledge about them but not the sort of learning from
them that comes from personal contact. I know from my personal expe-
riences with Aboriginal peoples that I have learnt so much from them
that has enriched my life. For example, I once had the opportunity of
celebrating Mass with a group of Catholic Aboriginal people over the
Easter period. The Mass was celebrated outside, near a large bonfire. To
hear them reflect on the Mass afterward was a wonderful experience. The
cosmic dimension of the sacraments and Christianity came alive for me.
There was no profound academic theology, but a profound theology aris-
ing from a people in touch with nature and the environment. I had never
thought of all of creation giving praise to God in the way they envisioned.
Reflections such as the whistles of the birds praising the Lord, the bon-
fire showing forth the warmth and light of our loving God, the beams
of the morning sun dispelling the darkness of the night of absence from
Jesus were all so helpful to my prayer. I was learning from them about my
own faith. Their friendship with me made me receptive to learning more.

Hopefully, from my ministry among them, they too were deepening their
own Aboriginal Catholic faith. Is this not the essence of receptive ecumen-
ism that is applied to the dialogue with indigenous peoples? Could this not
be a new path to dialogue? Is it not simply the articulation of an attitude
already present in some ways but not really reflected upon systematically?
METHODS IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUES

New paths to dialogue methodologies can be found not only in the field
of ecumenism. Even in the extended dialogues taking place between
religions, especially since Vatican II, newer methodologies are develop-
ing. An immediate question arises. When the majority of Aboriginal and
Torres Strait Islanders are, in fact, already Christian, can these interre-
ligious methodologies even be used? I intend to place this reservation
to one side in this chapter and proceed in the affirmative, albeit in an
introductory manner.
A most significant post-Vatican II document on interreligious dia-
logue, Dialogue and Proclamation (DP), recalls and expands upon the
four different types of dialogue methodologies already discussed in an ear-
lier document, Dialogue and Mission.2 I will offer my reflections on the
methods outlined in DP in the context of my experience of dialogue with
Aboriginal Australians:
i. The dialogue of everyday life (DP, 42a). Here, a neighborly spirit is nurtured
and trust is promoted. From this everyday sharing of lives, a readiness to dis-
cuss various religious beliefs and experiences is fostered. I am personally aware
of this already happening over many decades in, for example, Christian
Aboriginal mission stations throughout Australia’s outback. Aboriginal
Catholic Ministry centers, found mainly in large Australian cities, are also mak-
ing a great contribution toward promoting everyday relationship between the
indigenous Australians and other Australians.
ii. The dialogue of action (DP, 42b). Some combined action to advance a social
good in society is suggested with this type of dialogue. For example, I am
aware of people of goodwill joining many Aboriginal initiatives in protesting
against various violations of basic human rights (e.g., land rights and govern-
ment interventions on Aboriginal lands). These may involve joining protest
marches or assisting in educating the public on particular Aboriginal
concerns.
iii. The dialogue of theological exchange (DP, 42c). This type of dialogue involves
the establishment of groups that directly seek to understand the religious and
192 C.C. PROWSE
spiritual heritage of the dialogue partners. Over the years, such dialogues have
frequently taken place. I recall being involved in a “Reconciliation Circle”
established to educate the general public on the Aboriginal understanding of
land and culture and to make comparisons with other models from society.
iv. The dialogue of religious experience (DP, 42d). Here, people share from their
own religious traditions aspects of prayer, ceremonies, and ways of worship.
This happens with Aboriginal dialogue too. For example, I once spent some
days on Aboriginal land. Before doing so, I met the elder of the land and asked
permission to go onto their land. Not only was permission granted but we had
a wonderful exchange of what the land meant for her people for millennia. I
could discern many theological links with my own Catholic biblical heritage
regarding the significance of the land. It was a profound exchange.
As we can see from the presentation above, the four methodologies

for advancing interreligious dialogue may also provide new panoramas
for appreciating the fruits of dialogue with Aboriginal and Torres Strait
Islander people.
THE PROPHETIC EXAMPLE OF POPE SAINT JOHN PAUL II

The above exploration for possible newer paths of dialogue with indig-
enous people is not simply a future hope. Seeds of this have already been
planted in more recent decades. Surely, a very good example of this can
be found in the pastoral visitations of Saint John Paul II to indigenous
peoples of the world during his long pontificate (1978–2005). A helpful
book that summarizes the significance of most of the speeches the pope
made to indigenous peoples of the world was written by Canadian Jesuit
Michael Stogre in 1998. Entitled That the World May Believe, the book
states that “John Paul II is the first pope to recognize the uniqueness of
aboriginal peoples.”3 This new understanding, according to Stogre, was
precipitated by a growing Vatican ecological awareness and the fact that
indigenous peoples themselves have so persuasively articulated their own
perceptions of land to a world more ready to listen.
I believe the landmark speech John Paul II gave to the Aboriginal
and Torres Islander People of Australia in Alice Springs on November
29, 1986, is one of the best examples in recent Roman Catholicism of
the church beginning to employ new methodologies in dialogue with
indigenous peoples.4 Many of the newer methodologies showcased earlier
in this chapter are foreshadowed in the style, tone, and content of this
remarkable speech still revered by so many Aboriginal people. For this rea-
son alone, I believe that John Paul II has offered us a prophetic example
for future dialogue with indigenous peoples, especially in Australia. I now

present the following observations for consideration regarding the pro-
phetic contribution this speech may offer to future new and deeper paths
to dialogue with the First Australians.
Whether the dialogue be named “receptive” or “spiritual,” the attitudi-
nal foundation must be respectful and humble. Arrogance and patronizing
tones are simply not appropriate to begin a fruitful dialogue. John Paul II
exhibited remarkable respect and humility in his encounter with the First
Australians. First, he took the effort and travelled to Alice Springs, located
in the center of Australia. He went to “their” place. Second, he did not
address his comments on Aboriginal issues to politicians. Rather, he spoke
directly to the Aboriginal peoples gathered in great numbers. Third, the
tone of his comments was hopeful and respectful. He was fatherly and
familiar with their suffering. He searched for the presence of the Holy
Spirit in their culture. It encouraged a change of heart and was directed
inward to all the listeners. These are surely characteristics of the methodol-
ogy of spiritual ecumenism.
In a manner reminiscent of what later writers would describe as char-
acteristic of the receptive ecumenism methodology, the pope articulated
some of the aspects of Aboriginal culture that he admired. He wanted
to share what he had learnt from their culture and not simply describe
Aboriginal culture. He highlighted the importance of Aboriginal songs,
stories, paintings, dances, and languages. He spoke of their “spiritual
closeness to the land” and “a quietness of the soul” taught by “the silence
of the bush.” He indicated that there are many “points of agreement”
with the Christian Gospel.
Noted in the pope’s speech were even some elements of the “dialogue
of life” methodology occurring in the peoples’ history as well. Only this
time, it was expressed negatively, as the encounter of the Aboriginal peo-
ples with the new culture largely from England, Scotland, and Ireland
from 1788 onward was more akin to a “monologue of death.” John Paul
II noted the huge difference between the two cultures and regretted that
this resulted in land dispossession, racism, and marginalization. The pope
then highlighted the “dialogue of action” taking place through the wit-
ness of teachers, doctors, professionals, and simple folks who showed
the “good example of their charity and fraternal solidarity” (no. 9). The
speech then notes that a type of “dialogue of theological exchange” was
also taking place through the ministry of Christian missionaries, especially
those working in health, education, and social services. In a truthful man-
ner he states:
194 C.C. PROWSE
Whatever their human frailty, and whatever mistakes they may have made,
nothing can ever minimize the depth of their charity. Nothing can ever
cancel out their greatest contribution, which was to proclaim to you Jesus
Christ and to establish his Church in your midst. (No. 9)
There are also other important statements that the pope made toward
the end of this remarkable speech that encouraged a kind of “dialogue of
religious experience.” He remarked that the Gospel “invites you to become
through and through Aboriginal Christians” (no. 12). He explained that
the Gospel must be allowed to “seek out the best things of your tradi-
tional ways…you will come to realize more and more your great human
and Christian dignity” (no. 13). Aboriginal people I know were delighted
with the challenge offered to all Australians when he concluded as follows:
You are part of Australia and Australia is part of you. And the Church herself
in Australia will not be fully the Church that Jesus wants her to be until you
have made your contribution to her life and until that contribution has been
joyfully received by others. (No. 13)
In summary, John Paul II has prophetically offered us, among many

other contributions, a way forward regarding dialogue methodologies
regarding indigenous peoples. These peoples remain some of the most
highly marginalized groups in the world. A dialogue that works to bring
them toward the center of life’s opportunities is to be given great priority.
As shown in the example of the pope’s speech to Australia’s First Peoples
in 1986, religious dialogue is a wonderful place to start in this particular
expression of solidarity.
CONCLUSION
This chapter, introductory and panoramic though it is, has attempted to
raise the question as to whether the newer methodologies now showcased
in ecumenical and interreligious circles of the world can be applied to
dialogue with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples of Australia.
I have chosen the recent methodologies of spiritual ecumenism, receptive
ecumenism, and the four forms of interreligious dialogue articulated by
the Vatican. In this chapter there has been an attempt to describe briefly
each methodology and to begin an application to the Australian setting. I
have suggested that the seminal and prophetic speech of Saint John Paul II
gives encouragement to make such applications. I believe that there exists
considerable promise in further exploring with prudence such links and

applications to further the dialogue with the First Australians.
The international need to deepen dialogue with all indigenous peoples
of the world is important given the desperate poverty of so many of these
marginalized peoples. The growing ecological sensitivities present in our
world and the increased capacities of indigenous peoples to articulate their
joys and sufferings may suggest that the present is an opportune time to
advance this dialogue to deeper levels.
NOTES
1. Walter Kasper, A Handbook of Spiritual Ecumenism (New York: New York City
Press, 2006), 12.
2. Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, Dialogue and Proclamation:
Reflection and Orientations on Interreligious Dialogue and the Proclamation of the
Gospel of Jesus Christ (May 19, 1991), http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pon-
tifical_councils/interelg/documents/rc_pc_interelg_doc_19051991_dialogue-
and-proclamatio_en.html
3. Michael Stogre, That the World May Believe: The Development of Papal Social
Thought on Aboriginal Rights (Montreal, Canada: Editions Paulines, 1992),
185.
4. John Paul II, To the Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders in Blatherskite Park
(Alice Spring, Australia, November 29, 1986), https://w2.vatican.va/con-
tent/john-paul-ii/en/speeches/1986/november/documents/hf_jp-ii_
spe_19861129_aborigeni-alice-springs-australia.html
CHAPTER 15
African Christian Approaches to Other

Religions
Moussa Serge Traore
INTRODUCTION
A few years ago, African Christian scholars and missionaries initiated a
search for a specific African and Christian approach to the world’s religions.
They did not intend to invent a new approach. They simply wanted to
make their contribution to the reflection on interfaith relations. This chap-
ter discusses their efforts, recognizing that there is much from the African
context that can contribute to the global discussion on interfaith dialogue.
It begins by mapping out the religious terrain in the different regions of
Africa and then presents the various positions adopted by African Christians
in negotiating the fact of religious plurality in the continent. In so doing, it
builds on the history of African Christians’ reflections in view of identifying
key elements of the African Christian contribution to interreligious dialogue.
IN SEARCH OF AN AFRICAN CHRISTIAN APPROACH

In 2010, some 52 persons from 27 countries across Africa, represent-
ing 12 Christian denominations, met in Accra, Ghana, for an interna-
tional academic conference on “The African Christian and Islam.” The
M.S. Traore ( )
Cardinal Lavigerie Center for Study and Research in Interreligious and
Intercultural Dialogue, Catholic University of the Savior, Salvador, Brazil
e-mail: serge.traore@fubrightmail.org

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_15
198 M.S. TRAORE
conference is believed to be the first of its kind in Africa.1 Its aim was
“a critical African Christian reflection on Islam in a quest for a balanced
theological and biblical engagement with Muslims in light of Africa, the
collective African experience and heritage.”2 These reflections continued 2
years later with a second conference held in Nairobi, Kenya. This time the
focus broadened to include African Christian reflections on the principles
of interfaith relations in general. It followed the publication of the 2012
document Christian Witness in a Multi-Religious World, jointly issued by
the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, the World Council of
Churches, and the World Evangelical Alliance.3
The specific African Christian contribution to the reflections on inter-
faith relations is not engaged in against the abundant and scientific work
already done by Western Orientalists. The aim is not to distance themselves
from the existing studies by non-African scholars. If Africa is really, as
Pope Benedict says, the “spiritual lung” of the world, then African theolo-
gians certainly have much to say about interfaith relations.4 Moreover, it is
clear that today “the centre of gravity of Christianity has shifted inexorably
southward to Africa, Asia, and Latin America.”5 A typical Christian today
is no longer a Western European but most probably a young Nigerian,
Korean, or Brazilian. The search for an African Christian approach to
interfaith relations would hopefully help the universal church formulate
more relevant orientations about interfaith encounters. Africa has much to
say in this area as it has always been a land of multiple religions.
THE MULTIRELIGIOUS TERRAIN OF AFRICA

The religious map of Africa is made up of African Traditional Religion,
Christianity, Islam, and a great variety of new Religious Movements
of diverse origins. There are a few adherents of Asian religions such as
Buddhism, Hinduism, Sikhism, Daoism, and so on. Among the African
Christians, the Orthodox churches deserve special mention. They are,
according to the Instrumentum Laboris (IL1994) of the 1994 African
Synod, “the older Churches truly indigenous to Africa, which have sur-
vived through almost 2000 years of historical vicissitudes” (IL1994, 82).6
The New Religious Movements are a syncretism of Christianity or Islam
with African Traditional Religion, while the African Traditional Religion
remains “the religious and cultural context from which most Christians in
Africa come and in which they still live” (IL1994, 101). There are many
types of African Traditional Religion since religion is often associated
with tribal identity. Nevertheless, “there seems to be sufficient common
AFRICAN CHRISTIAN APPROACHES TO OTHER RELIGIONS 199
features in traditional religion in Africa to justify the usage, ‘African

Traditional Religion’, in the singular” (IL1994, 101). Most African schol-
ars, according to Laurenti Magesa, “now see African Religion as one in
its essence. Although its varieties cannot be denied, there is a basic world-
view… which fundamentally is everywhere the same.”7 Nevertheless, the
church acknowledges, “what has to be dealt with in concrete dialogue
situations are the various forms and expressions of religion in the different
traditional societies and ethnic groups in Africa” (IL1994, 101).
The nature of the encounters between people of different religions in
Africa greatly depends on its context. Most Christians in Africa are mem-
bers of Western Christianity, but there are also some communities of
Eastern Christianity, especially in Egypt and Ethiopia. This distinction is
important because Roman Catholics and Eastern Catholics do not enjoy
similar relationships with Muslims in Africa. Eastern African Christians,
such as the Coptics in Egypt, have problems relating with Muslims on
account of events in history. They had welcomed Muslims as saviors at
one point in history, only to have these saviors later turn into persecutors.
In North Africa, Islam is generally the dominant and state religion.
There is no openly known indigenous traditional religion but there may
be some pre-Islamic mentality that survived. Christians are few. They are
essentially foreigners—Europeans, sub-Saharan Africans, and Lebanese—
who are mainly students, workers, or immigrants seeking to cross over to
Europe. The few who are North African Christians do not hide themselves
as such, but do maintain a discrete presence. As the church’s presence
in North Africa is ancient, it is generally tolerated. The guiding princi-
ple is that they are prudent in the expression of their faith. Christians
persevering in that very ancient presence live peacefully among Muslims.
The church is part of the society’s history, maintaining places of wor-
ship (kanisat) and offering daily Christian liturgical celebrations. There
are also Christian monasteries and hermitages that are highly venerated
by Muslims. Christians cultivate friendships with their neighbors through
cultural centers or libraries that promote the local culture and intellec-
tual creativity. They provide social services through charity organizations,
such as women promotion centers, nutritional centers, medical centers,
schools, institutions providing care for the vulnerable, the poor, and
the marginalized. They also participate in interfaith networks and other
social groups. They bear witness to their Christian life without treading
on Muslim religious sensibilities. Most of the Catholic workers, espe-
cially those working in international institutions or companies, maintain
excellent working relationships with Muslims and many have gained their
200 M.S. TRAORE
respect for their virtues, competence, and diligence. But there are also
poor Christians, especially from the sub-Saharan countries, who have been
tragically exploited and trafficked. In order to survive, many have become
drug dealers, alcohol brewers and drinkers, and prostitutes, thus present-
ing themselves as vehicles of immorality and failing in their Christian wit-
ness. Some do turn to the church in times of trouble.
In the Sahelian countries (Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, etc.),
Islam is the dominant religion but African Traditional Religion is also pres-
ent and deeply rooted in the people’s way of living. Islam is thus practiced
through these local traditions and Islamic confraternities are important.
While Christians are a minority, they share the same traditions, cultures,
and tribes with the other believers. There is freedom of worship and even
freedom of religious proselytism. Christians are generally identified by the
locals as Westerners, Europeans, or even “white people.” There are lively
Christian communities, with public devotional celebrations like pilgrim-
ages in which even people of other religions participate. There are radio
stations broadcasting religious messages. Many of the educated adminis-
trative public functionaries are Christians, giving Christianity a generally
good name. Christian charity works, in the areas of social, health, and edu-
cation, are open to all. Christian schools are very often the best schools in
these countries and it is not rare to hear well-educated Muslims acknowl-
edging proudly that they have gone through those Christian schools. In
some areas, Catholics and Muslims together manage a common local proj-
ect of development and in general there is also a great deal of solidarity
between members of different religions. Conversion from both sides is
happening and mixed marriages are frequent, thus establishing hetero-
geneous interreligious families. Many Christians continue to participate
freely in the common tribal and local religious celebrations. They also
participate in the practices and rituals of the African Traditional Religion,
especially in times of crisis or when in need of specific favors.
The regions in Africa that have a more or less balanced number of
believers who adhere to Islam and Christianity—for example, the coun-
tries of the coast of western Africa such as Benin, Côte d’Ivoire, and
Nigeria—are generally characterized as countries having an “Islamic
North” and a “Christian South.” African Traditional Religion is also pow-
erfully present in the background. The various religious communities are
well established and well organized and religious identity is a key factor
in political organizations. All enjoy the freedom of religion, but there are
open or underground religious tensions between the two dominant tradi-
tions. Christians live with the logic of reciprocal treatment, “you do me I
do you” (a Nigerian expression). Each religious community is protective

and defensive and there is a lot of self-affirmation and the building up of
religious pride. The apologetic spirit is thus very strong and, in general,
charity works are designed exclusively by and for members of one’s own
faith community. Nevertheless, there are also many interreligious efforts
to diffuse the latent tension between the different religious communities.
In Christian-dominated areas like central and southern Africa,
Christians live with the feeling of being at home. They even call the
region a “Christian Country,” but religious freedom is guaranteed by law.
The Catholic Church is well established after the model of the European
churches. It is a powerful social and economic institution, sometimes the
first landowner of the country. Christians often establish an atmosphere of
“it is normal to be Christian and abnormal to belong to other religions.”
They sometimes harbor feelings of superiority, to the extent of ignoring,
neglecting, and depreciating others. Others are marginalized or marginal-
ize themselves in order to protect their own faith. The Catholic Church
in some of these areas is self-centered and concerned mainly with ad intra
mission activities only.
THE AFRICAN CATHOLIC CHURCH AND INTERFAITH

RELATIONS
Since the time of independence of the African countries in the 1960s,
these particular African churches have been going through processes of
reflection aimed at seeking to define their own identity and mission in the
different contexts. The theologies of these reflections can be discerned
by studying the documents of the two special synods for Africa: the first
in 1994 and the second, 15 years later, in 2009. The theme of the 1994
synod was “The Church in Africa and her Evangelizing Mission towards
the Year 2000: ‘You shall be my witnesses’ (Acts 1:8).” According to its
Instrumentum Laboris, the object of the synod was “to assist the Church in
Africa to deepen… her commitment to the mission of evangelization, tak-
ing into account her history and development as well as the whole cultural,
social, political, and economic context in which she lives” (IL1994, 1).
The theme of the 2009 synod was “The Church in Africa in Service to
Reconciliation, Justice and Peace: ‘You are the salt of the earth… You are
the light of the world’ (Matt 5:13–14).” Both synods took up the issue
of interfaith relations seriously, considering it integral to the ministries of
evangelization and reconciliation.
202 M.S. TRAORE
The African Catholic Church views interfaith dialogue as a means to

bring the good news to all strata of humanity, people’s culture, values, and
thought patterns. The church invites African Catholics to create a new
African culture, a culture illumined by the Gospel. Since most Africans
discover Jesus through interfaith encounters, Catholics should bear wit-
ness to the Gospel in word and deed by living a truly Christian life. They
have to be credible by their way of living. For an African, life and only
life is the quintessence of the being. Therefore, Catholics are called to
proclaim the hope of life to other believers. They should also live a life of
hope and, in the words of the Lineamenta of the 2009 synod, “following
the example of Christ, the Word of life, Christians are called to speak only
life-giving words that take flesh, create unity and make the world more
human” (Lineamenta 2009, 73).8 Interfaith relations in Africa, therefore,
are about speaking life-giving words. The encounter between the Jewish
Jesus and the Roman centurion is meaningful to the African context (Matt
8:5–13). It is about uttering life-giving words, words which gave life to
the centurion’s slave and to himself.
The African church believes that the ideal relationship between people
is one that draws people together as brothers and sisters into the same
family of God in which each one—and their religion—has its value and
place. Such a family is to be built up by the efforts of all as “we are bound
to give to one another the best there is in our respective faith” (Message
1994, 23).9 This is essentially expressing the depth of God’s love. In such
a heterogeneous nonexclusive family of God the principle of reciprocity
and respect for religious freedom should be lived fully. Each member has
the right and duty to express explicitly their religious conviction. Bound
up in the same family, believers will care for one another by responding to
human suffering, as well as by an unfailing commitment to peace, justice,
and life. They shall share the same joys and hopes, pains and struggles, and
work together to better our world. It is a common responsibility given to
us by the one God, Father of us all.
THE HOMOOUSIOS MIND

The way we think determines our relationships with others. The African
way of thinking is based on the conviction that there is a “homoousios”
(one indivisible substance) dimension hidden within different religions
that makes life-giving relationships possible. Thus, we can say that Africans
have a homoousios mentality. They see things as clearly different, and yet
related. They can distinguish between them, but cannot definitively
separate them because nothing stands by itself. Differences are part of

the African’s daily life. Families, clans, tribes are all differential particulari-
ties. Yet Africans know that with the other they have something in com-
mon, something that gives life. Everything is intermingled and seems to
flow from one undivided substance. This African mindset enriches the
reflection on interfaith relations.
A biblical-theological foundation of such a mentality can be seen in the
concept of Jerusalem as the mother of all peoples, as articulated in this
verse of the Psalms: “[A]nd of Zion it will be said: ‘each one was born
in it’… ‘all my springs are in you’” (Ps 87). Interestingly, the liturgical
translation of the same psalm reads: “But of Zion it shall be said, each one
was born in her… in you all find their home.”10 Dialogue does not start
with affirming one’s identity against the other. It starts with discovering
and seeking the one undivided substance of life, the Zion where we are
all born into.
VITOLOGY AND THEOLOGY OF LIFE

The African mind and spirituality are grounded on and destined toward
life. Theologians such as Nkemnkia speak of African theology and phi-
losophy from the perspective of “vitology.”11 Likewise, theologians such
as Magesa speak of African spirituality and morality from the perspective of
“abundant life.”12 Consequently, for Africans, interfaith dialogue is not a
mere intellectual discussion about the state of the world. It is about giving
life to people who are perishing, threatened by destructive forces. Dialogue
is, therefore, destined toward life. Unfortunately, history is replete with
death-dealing forces. We are still experiencing violence, just as it was at the
time of creation, beginning with Cain and Abel (Gen 4:1–17).
An African sees interfaith dialogue as a means to master death and foster
life. Since life overflows only through unconditional relations, the relations
between people will be possible only in dialogue with the other. Many ways
have been proposed to make this happen. Unfortunately, they have not
been successful because people are still, like Cain, “very angry” (Gen 4:5)
at one another. For an African, what is missing is the homoousios mindset,
the one indivisible substance that makes life-giving interactions possible.
What is really at stake is our living together. Theological reflections should
aim ultimately at improving the life of people in a society through a “right
way,” a life-giving way. We have to “shift energy from abstract academic to
living issues.”13 We have to meet in such a way that our relationships bring
fullness of life to one another and to the whole world.
204 M.S. TRAORE
YOU-WITH-ME RELATIONSHIP
A real difficulty in interfaith relations is that people have a “you-and-me”
relationship. We live next to one another, but we never live together. This
“you-and-me” relationship has led many to situations of “you-against-me.”
The life-giving relationship that is needed is a “you-with-me” relationship.
It says “you are different from me but we have something that binds us
and makes us live together.” If we do not have such a deep relationship
between ourselves that is living-with and not living-and, it is because we
do not enjoy such a relationship with the originator of our being, the
Divine Reality. From an African perspective, life, harmony, and the whole-
ness of creation demand a deeper relationship between the Divine Reality
and the created reality. It is a you-with-me relationship. This harmony
includes all creatures. It is “the unity of the community—equally the liv-
ing, the living-dead [or the remembered-dead] and the yet-to-be-born—a
unity that is the community’s life in its fullest sense.”14
For Africans, relationship is never an individual matter because an
African is incapable of perceiving himself/herself without others. The
African defines himself/herself as “I am, because we are; and since we
are, therefore I am.”15 In the Lucan account of the healing of the centu-
rion’s slave the Jewish Jesus never physically met the Roman centurion.
The centurion sent his friends, some Jewish elders, to Jesus. The elders
accepted to intercede for him because the centurion, although a foreigner,
had become part of them. The Jewish elders and the Roman centurion
had some sort of a homoousios relationship that made the outpouring of life
possible. The elders and Jesus were filled with the presence of the physi-
cally absent centurion. In dialogue, the other is not outside of us; we carry
within us the presence of the other.16
THEOLOGICAL SIMPLICITY
Religion is not about form, the visible. It is about the unseen that sustains
the visible. It is about the spirit that drives millions of people to be the
way they are. A striking element about the African Traditional Religion
is the simplicity of its shrines. Most shrines are simple, in the corner of
a home, testifying that religion is inside the person. When something is
really inside you, you do not need big expensive structures to show it
to the world. Some religions present themselves with heavy sophisticated
structures which also lead to sophisticated theological systems that have
become almost incomprehensible to believers.
For Africans, there is a need to meet at the core of their existence,

that is, the relationship of unity of the divine, the ancestors, the spirits,
the living, the living-dead, and the world. Theological simplicity is that
deep life-giving theological thought which is centered on the essential,
the spirit and life: “It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The
words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life” (John 6:63). Thus a
theology of simplicity is grounded on the spoken word, the oral tradition
of each religion. That tradition represents the best of the collective con-
science of the people. From an African perspective, for fruitful interfaith
dialogue to take place, religions have to be theologically simple. There
must be some sort of self-emptying in the way the letter of Paul to the
Philippians describes:
Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was
in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be
exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in
human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and
became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross. (Phil 2:5–8)
SYMBOLIC LANGUAGE
Language is a key issue in interfaith dialogue. Many of the difficulties
we have in interfaith relations are related to language that others do not
understand. Language is about meaning, just as religion is about meaning.
Religious language is basically symbolic. Africans express themselves
through such symbolic and mythical language. The Roman centurion in
Luke 7 discussed above was using such language when communicating
with Jesus. In reality, the centurion wanted to meet Jesus in order to con-
fess his faith. The servant’s sickness is symbolic of his desire to encounter
Jesus. Biblical scholars suggest that the story is not about healing, though
healing plays a role. It is about the faith of a gentile: The point of this story
is Jesus’ affirmation of the centurion’s faith in verse nine, not the report of
the healing that concludes the story.”17
The demythologization of religions has impacted religious theologi-
cal reflection. Mythical language could bring to interfaith relations more
depth as “it is a form of symbolic language that expresses the truths of
human existence in a way that rational language cannot.”18 The myth-
ical language that most Africans are initiated into and educated in has
the advantage of grasping the mind and provoking silence. The person
206 M.S. TRAORE
is seized by the story. They are kind of hypnotized and taken up to the
spiritual realm, resulting in a deeper encounter.
One powerful means that the Catholic Church has with regard to the
symbolic language that Africans can easily understand is the theological
concept of sacraments as efficacious signs of God’s presence. It gives a
sense of being so incorporated in Christ that wherever Catholics are,
God is present and Christ is in their midst. When this is presented to
our dialogue partners interfaith relations is taken to a deeper and more
spiritual level. The encounter of “sacramentalized” persons becomes a
divine encounter.
HEALING AND JOURNEYING TOGETHER

For Africans, interfaith relations have been deeply marked by the painful
memories of violence, slavery, colonization, and wars. There cannot be
real dialogue without some sort of forgiveness or purification. The healing
of the memories must take place first. Vatican II, in Nostra Aetate, pleaded
with all “to forget the past and to work sincerely for mutual understand-
ing” (NA, 3). However, it is not enough to ask forgiveness without real
reconciliation, which can only be done through ritual purifications that
are meaningful to all. In that sense, the 1986 Interreligious World Day
of Prayer for Peace in Assisi, Italy, organized by Pope John Paul II, was
a powerful moment of healing through a common ritual of prayer. For
Africans, words of forgiveness are not sufficient to take away sin. There
must be some sort of common ritual to take away the destructive ele-
ments. There is a need for some sort of deep reconciliation that builds up
trust among believers.
Upon healing we can then journey together as co-pilgrims. We can
then walk together with other believers and walk humbly. The other is
part of me and is leading me to the fullness of life. Journeying together
demands that we recognize the beauty of others and accept to live with
others. This capacity to adapt or adjust to the other is a key issue in the
African traditional system of education. The person is taught how to adapt
to all situations, all milieus, all people, and all animals and even to plants.
It is not just for survival sake. It is the essence of life. Journeying together
also means seeking fulfillment together. That is why in Africa, Muslims
are very welcome in Christian schools. They are given the opportunity to
seek fulfillment together with their fellow Christians. Catholic missions are
places where Muslims and Christians alike seek fulfillment together.
All of this is to witness against a culture of interfaith violence and death.

The Message released by the bishops of the 1994 synod is unequivocal about
this: “God does not want to be an idol in whose name one person would
kill other people. On the contrary, he wills that in justice and peace we join
together in the service of life. As servants of his Life in the hearts of men and
in human communities, we are bound to give to one another the best there
is in our faith in God, our common Father” (Message 1994, 23).19
CONCLUSION
The African Christian reflection considers interfaith dialogue as a means,
and only a means, destined to give life to people. This life depends essen-
tially on life-giving relationships between people of different faiths and
traditions. Life-giving relationships needed today are “you-with-me” rela-
tionships. The most relevant way of establishing this is to simply jour-
ney together as pilgrims, thirsting for the divine together, and striving to
become closer to the source of abundant life.
Relationships between believers are still significantly determined by his-
torical, painful encounters. African wise men propose that those involved
humbly sit together under the baobab tree to reflect on and seek together
the best way forward. Religions need to undergo purification through a
healing of the painful collective memories in order to look together beyond
the accidentals of human life and fix their eyes on the essential. Believers will
never hold the same ideas but they can be and think together. All believers,
however, are companions of a common journey toward fulfillment.
NOTES
1. John Azumah, “Introduction,” in The African Christian and Islam, ed. John
Azumah and Lamin Sanneh (Cumbria, United Kingdom: Langham
Monographs, 2013), xi.
2. Ibid., xii.
3. Christian Witness in a Multi-Religious World: Recommendations for Conduct
(November 10, 2011), http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_
councils/interelg/documents/rc_pc_interelg_doc_20111110_
testimonianza-cristiana_en.html
4. Pope Benedict XVI, Homily: Eucharistic Celebration for the Opening of the
Second Special Assembly for Africa of the Synod of Bishops (Vatican Basilica,
October 4, 2009), http://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/homi-
lies/2009/documents/hf_ben-xvi_hom_20091004_sinodo-africa.html
208 M.S. TRAORE
5. Philip Jenkins, The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity

(New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 2.
6. Instrumentum Laboris: Special Assembly for Africa of the Synod of Bishops
(April 10–May 8, 1994), http://www.vatican.va/news_services/press/
sinodo/documents/bollettino_13_speciale-africa-1994/documenti/13_
speciale-africa-1994_instrumentum-laboris.html
7. Laurenti Magesa, African Religion: The Moral Traditions of Abundant Life
(Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1997), 16.
8. Lineamenta: II Special Assembly for Africa—The Church in Africa in Service
to Reconciliation, Justice and Peace (Vatican City, 2006), http://www.vati-
canva/roman_curia/synod/documents/rc_synod_doc_20060627_
ii-assembly-africa_en.html
9. Message: Special Assembly for Africa (May 6, 1994), https://www.ewtn.com/
new_evangelization/africa/synod/message.htm
10. The Divine Office: The Liturgy of the Hours—The Prayer of the Church (Nairobi:
Paulines, 2009), 1000.
11. Martin Nkafu Nkemnkia, African Vitology: A Step Forward in African
Thinking (Nairobi: Paulines Publications Africa, 1999).
12. Magesa, The Moral Traditions of Abundant Life.
13. Lamin Sanneh, Piety and Power: Muslims and Christians in West Africa (New
York: Orbis Books, 1996), 80.
14. Magesa, The Moral Traditions of Abundant Life, 65.
15. John Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy (New York: Frederick A. Praeger
Publishers, 1969), 108–109.
16. Moussa Traore, “Biblical Reflection: Luke 7:1–10—Healing the Centurion’s
Slave,” in The African Christian and Islam, 442.
17. R. Alan Culpepper, “The Gospel of Luke Introduction, Commentary, and
Reflections,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. 9, ed. Leander E. Keck et al.
(Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996), 156.
18. Magesa, The Moral Traditions of Abundant Life, 36.
19. Message: Special Assembly for Africa.
CHAPTER 16
Encountering the Other “Other”:

A Bahá’í Perspective
Natalie Mobini
INTRODUCTION
I present this chapter not as a theologian, but as a Bahá’í practitioner and
an active member of a number of interfaith dialogue networks. I am also
a historian by academic training and inclination and so will take seriously
the data from history which I believe can inform contemporary dialogue
endeavors. Taking to heart the principle that it is people, not belief sys-
tems, who engage in dialogue, I will preface this chapter by introducing
myself and reflecting briefly on my own personal journey in religion and
especially in the activity of interfaith relations.
With that as background, I will then discuss important aspects of the
Bahá’í faith in view of presenting its approach to relating with people of
other faith traditions. Reflecting on the Bahá’í teachings and practices will
enable me to raise critical questions for those of us engaged in interfaith
dialogue, especially in relation to how we deal with those who are “other”
than our own tradition. In particular, what are our attitudes toward the
other “other,” that is, someone who belongs to a new religion that has
N. Mobini ( )
Office of External Affairs for the Australian Baha’i
Community, Canberra, Australia
e-mail: Natalie.mobini@bnc.bahai.org.au
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016

E.K.-F. Chia (ed.), Interfaith Dialogue, 209
DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_16
210 N. MOBINI
developed or evolved from within one’s own religious tradition? This, I

believe, challenges many of our principles of interfaith dialogue.
MY JOURNEY IN RELIGION
I had not had much in the way of a meaningful religious upbringing. My
parents had been involved in various Protestant churches when they were
young but gradually drifted away from the church. As a teenager my main
religious encounter was with Islam, as I pursued studies in Indonesian lan-
guage, culture, and history. I was also encouraged by a Hindu teacher to
“throw your heart out in front of you and see where it lands.” I reached a
point where I felt compelled to acknowledge that I did not have an exclu-
sive faith in Christianity, if that meant denying any validity to the other
spiritual paths.
Looking back, part of the initial appeal of the Bahá’í faith was that
it offered a way of acknowledging that each of the great religions con-
tained truth. But I was also drawn to the mystical writings of Bahá’u’lláh.
Eventually, acknowledging that He was, as He claimed, the return of the
prophets of the past was not difficult for me. The Bahá’í faith has been
present in Australia since 1920, attracting a small but active and cohesive
membership. I first encountered it in 1990 and formally became a mem-
ber toward the end of the same year. I have thus been a Bahá’í for well
over two decades, virtually all of my adult life.
By throwing in my lot with the Bahá’í community, in some senses I
became an “other” in my own society. This is a strange experience, one
which I expect is shared by other Australians or Americans who have
become, say, Buddhist, Muslim, or Hindu. As a Bahá’í you are not physi-
cally different; there is no dress code or other outward marker of your reli-
gious affiliation. And I didn’t feel particularly different either. But there
are some situations in which you cannot help but stand out. For example,
Bahá’ís don’t drink alcohol and we fast for a 19-day period every March,
abstaining from food and drink from sunrise to sunset. Bahá’ís are also
not permitted to gamble—an activity which is commonplace in Australian
society—or participate in partisan politics. Such requirements do make you
feel an “other” in certain social situations. But at the same time, it seems
strange to be part of a religious community that speaks about “reach-
ing out to mainstream society” when I feel I have never really left the
mainstream. The whole experience makes one wary of simple and binary
concepts of the “other.” There are multiple “others,” and the “other” is
ENCOUNTERING THE OTHER “OTHER”: A BAHÁ’Í PERSPECTIVE 211
also a much more plastic concept than is often assumed. This is a theme to
which I will return in the final section of the chapter.
My first experience with interfaith dialogue, in a formal sense, came
in the late 1990s, when I was asked to represent the Bahá’í community
at meetings of the Sydney chapter of the World Conference on Religion
and Peace (now known as Religions for Peace). I remember attending
one of its meetings on September 12, 2001, after waking to the news of
the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in New York. The Jewish
representative commented to the group: “Everything has just changed.”
And, as we know, interfaith dialogue activities burgeoned after that, not
only in North America but all over the world as well. Alongside many
one-off events and projects, my enduring involvement has been with
the Australian Partnership of Religious Organizations and the Women’s
Interfaith Network. A highlight of my interfaith journey was participation
in the 2009 Parliament of the World’s Religions in Melbourne, a week-
long extravaganza with a program the size of a small telephone directory,
which lived up to its billing as the world’s largest global interfaith event.
Through interfaith dialogue I have made valued friendships with peo-
ple I would never otherwise have met. In the process I have also learned a
great deal about other religions that I would not otherwise have known.
It is important, however, that the learning does not stop with me. I have
always been committed to taking what I learn back to my community,
where my fellow Bahá’ís have become accustomed to me pointing out
stereotypes, generalizations, or just plain misinformation about other reli-
gions and their followers. I believe, however, that the interfaith movement
has a significance that extends beyond the personal encounters and the
breaking down of barriers of misunderstanding between their followers. I
believe it can pave the way toward a new understanding of religion’s pur-
pose and its role in our society.
THE BAHÁ’Í FAITH AND INTERFAITH DIALOGUE

For those who are unfamiliar with it, the Bahá’í faith is an independent reli-
gion which originated in Persia—present-day Iran—in the mid-nineteenth
century. Its core teachings revolve around unity and oneness: the oneness
of God, the oneness of religion, and the oneness of the entire human fam-
ily. The prophet and founder of the religion, Bahá’u’lláh (1817–1892),
is considered by Bahá’ís to be the most recent, but not the last, in the
series of messengers sent by God to guide and educate humanity. All the
great religions are thus recognized as divinely inspired and part of God’s
212 N. MOBINI
will and purpose for humankind. This belief makes interfaith dialogue a
natural arena for Bahá’ís and the Bahá’í community in all parts of the
world has been actively involved in movements of interfaith dialogue for
many years. Bahá’u’lláh was exiled from Iran in 1852 due to his religious
teachings. He spent the remainder of his life as a prisoner of the Ottoman
Empire, exiled successively to Baghdad, Istanbul, Edirne, and ultimately
to the prison city of Acre in the Holy Land, where he passed away in 1892.
His shrine is a place of pilgrimage for Bahá’ís from around the world and
the Bahá’í World Center is located in nearby Haifa.
As mentioned above, Bahá’í theology considers the founders of all
the great religions to be messengers of God, sent to different peoples
at different times in order to reflect God’s attributes and convey God’s
unfolding guidance to humanity. Abraham, Moses, Krishna, Zoroaster,
Buddha, Jesus, and Muhammad are named as some of the past messengers
or “manifestations” of God. It is believed there have been others whose
names are lost in the mists of time. Bahá’u’lláh is considered to be the
most recent, but not the last, in this line of prophets. It is central to the
Bahá’í teachings that distinctions should not be made between the mani-
festations of God. Bahá’u’lláh has this to say: “All the Prophets of God,
His well-favoured, His holy, and chosen Messengers are, without excep-
tion, the bearers of His names, and the embodiments of His attributes.”1
Elsewhere, he also taught this: “Know assuredly that the essence of all the
Prophets of God is one and the same.”2 While their essence may be the
same, of course this is not to say that there are no differences between
the teachings of God’s messengers, still less between the religions they
inspired. The diversity of teachings across the religions is considered to be
reflective of the differing requirements of their respective ages and con-
texts. In the words of Bahá’u’lláh: “For every age requireth a fresh mea-
sure of the light of God. Every Divine Revelation hath been sent down
in a manner that befitted the circumstances of the age in which it hath
appeared.”3 Similarly, Bahá’u’lláh continues:
There can be no doubt whatever that the peoples of the world, of what-
ever race or religion, derive their inspiration from one heavenly Source, and
are the subjects of one God. The difference between the ordinances under
which they abide should be attributed to the varying requirements and exi-
gencies of the age in which they were revealed. All of them, except a few
which are the outcome of human perversity, were ordained of God, and are
a reflection of His Will and Purpose.4
It is important to realize that the Bahá’í understanding of the oneness

of religion involves a recognition that not only are all religions divinely
inspired, but that they collectively constitute the progressive revelation of
God’s will and purpose for humanity. In other words, there is a sense in
which they are all part of religion writ large. Bahá’u’lláh instructs: “This is
the changeless faith of God, eternal in the past, eternal in the future.”5 It
also needs to be recognized that our capacity to know God and to under-
stand God’s will and purpose is limited. God is considered “the unknow-
able Essence,” and the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh frames this concisely: “Far
be it from His glory that human tongue should adequately recount His
praise, or that human heart comprehend His fathomless mystery.”6 In
short, God’s ways are mysterious and God’s will often inscrutable.
Given this theological background, it is natural for Bahá’ís to partici-
pate in interfaith dialogue. Bahá’u’lláh repeatedly exhorted his followers
to “consort with the followers of all religions in a spirit of friendliness and
fellowship.”7 It is therefore obvious why the Bahá’í community has been
a vigorous promoter of interfaith activities from the time of its inception.
The Bahá’í House of Worship in Sydney, for example, has hosted numer-
ous interfaith worship services since it was opened in the early 1960s.
Such associations promote unity and concord between people, creating
cherished partnerships and relationships as well. But, most of all, they
reflect what Bahá’ís see as the true purpose of religion, which conflict,
hate, and enmity distort: “That the diverse communions of the earth, and
the manifold systems of religious belief, should never be allowed to foster
the feelings of animosity among men, is, in this Day, of the essence of the
Faith of God and His Religion.”8
BAHÁ’ÍS AND REFLECTION ON RELIGION

Beyond its value in building unity and understanding, however, there has
been an active effort in recent years to articulate, from a Bahá’í perspec-
tive, the deeper purpose of involvement in interfaith dialogue, the direc-
tion it might take, and the potential contribution it can make in addressing
the needs of humanity at the present time. There are two key documents
in which these questions are considered by the Universal House of Justice,
the elected international governing body for the Bahá’í faith. Because the
directives of these documents help to set the framework for the contribu-
tion Bahá’ís seek to make in this field, I will explore them in some detail.
The first document is The Promise of World Peace, a statement issued to
“the Peoples of the World” in October 1985. This was immediately prior
214 N. MOBINI
to the 1986 International Year of Peace and so the message analyzes the
prospects for establishing world peace. Observing that “no serious attempt
to set human affairs aright, to achieve world peace, can ignore religion,” it
dedicates one of its four sections to this subject.9
First, the message openly acknowledges the failings of religion. It
condemns religious fanaticism as a representation of “spiritual bank-
ruptcy,” noting that “one of the strangest and saddest features of the cur-
rent outbreak of religious fanaticism is the extent to which, in each case,
it is undermining not only the spiritual values which are conducive to the
unity of mankind but also those unique moral victories won by the partic-
ular religion it purports to serve.”10 Second, the message identifies conflict
and strife between religions as a barrier to peace and goes on to observe
that increasing numbers have come to view religion and religious institu-
tions as simply irrelevant. At the same time, the message affirms religion’s
value and indispensability to social order. It points out that religion’s sub-
stitutes—consumerism and materialistic ideologies—have failed to satisfy
the spiritual needs of humanity and quotes one of Bahá’u’lláh’s sayings:
“Religion is the greatest of all means for the establishment of order in
the world and for the peaceful contentment of all that dwell therein.”11
Noting the “remarkable movement towards ecumenism by which mem-
bers of historically antagonistic religions and sects seem irresistibly drawn
towards one another,” the message called on all religious leaders to work
together for the advancement of human understanding and peace and to
humbly submerge their theological differences “in a great spirit of mutual
forbearance.”12
A further message addressed by the Universal House of Justice to the
world’s religious leaders in April 2002 explores the role and purpose of
interfaith dialogue in greater detail and sheds more light on what this call
might mean. This message, too, reiterates the power and importance of
religion by regarding it as “the seminal force in the civilising of human
nature.”13 I believe this is a principle that all those engaged in dialogue
will agree upon: interfaith dialogue is important because religious faith
is important. The message has this to say on the issue: “Religion, as we
are all aware, reaches to the roots of motivation. When it has been faith-
ful to the spirit and example of the transcendent Figures who gave the
world its great belief systems, it has awakened in whole populations capaci-
ties to love, to forgive, to create, to dare greatly, to overcome prejudice,
to sacrifice for the common good and to discipline the impulses of ani-
mal instinct.”14 The message further asserts that in every age religion
has “cultivated the good, reproved the wrong, and held up…a vision of
potentialities as yet unrealized.”15
But, of course, history tells us that the record of religion is flawed.
For example, returning to the theme of peace, the message observes that
“tragically, organised religion, whose very reason for being entails service
to the cause of brotherhood and peace, behaves all too frequently as one
of the most formidable obstacles in the path; to cite a particular painful
fact, it has long lent its credibility to fanaticism.”16 The message urges
serious consideration of the challenge this poses for religious leadership.
Preoccupied with sectarian dogmatism, it suggests, religious institu-
tions have failed in their responsibilities toward their followers, stifling
the investigation of truth and leaving believers exposed and vulnerable to
the influences of fanaticism, terrorism, and materialism. Turning to the
rise of the interfaith movement, dating back to the first World Parliament
of Religions in 1893, the message observes that it seemed to offer the
promise of overcoming religious prejudice and creating new relationships
between the world’s religious communities. But despite the many develop-
ments in the interfaith movement over the past century, it has so far failed
to live up to this promise: “The greater part of organised religion stands
paralysed at the threshold of the future, gripped in those very dogmas and
claims of privileged access to truth that have been responsible for creating
some of the most bitter conflicts dividing the earth’s inhabitants.”17 At the
grassroots, on the other hand, the followers of many religions, inspired
by the encounters they have been having with one another as a result
of the enormous transcultural migrations of the past century and a half,
have shown the ability to move beyond the exclusive truth claims that had
polarized them in the past:
It is evident that growing numbers of people are coming to realise that the
truth underlying all religions is in its essence one. This recognition arises
not through a resolution of theological disputes, but as an intuitive aware-
ness born from the ever widening experience of others and from a dawning
acceptance of the oneness of the human family itself. Out of the welter of
religious doctrines, rituals and legal codes inherited from vanished worlds,
there is emerging a sense that spiritual life, like the oneness manifest in
diverse nationalities, races and cultures, constitutes one unbounded reality
equally accessible to everyone.18
The message calls upon the religious leadership to confirm this per-
ception, renouncing “those claims to exclusivity or finality that, in wind-
ing their roots around the life of the spirit, have been the greatest single
216 N. MOBINI
factor in suffocating impulses to unity and in promoting hatred and vio-

lence.”19 This is essential, it argues, for interfaith discourse to contribute
meaningfully to healing the ills that afflict humanity. The message further
adds that until this occurs, we will live with the constant danger posed
by increasing religious prejudice, against which mere appeals for mutual
tolerance will never be enough. While this position may seem challenging
to some, Bahá’ís are far from alone in proposing that recognizing the
truth which other religions share is essential to moving forward in inter-
faith dialogue. For example, in a recent article in Gesher, the official jour-
nal of the Council of Christians and Jews (Victoria), Catholic priest Rev.
Dr. John R. Dupuche argues that genuine interfaith dialogue requires us
to abandon the assumption that the other is wrong and uninspired. It calls
instead for what he describes as “a presumption of truth in the other,”
without which, Dupuche argues, our dialogue is merely civil or polite, and
ultimately deaf. He writes:
In the area of interfaith, the act of listening is an acknowledgment that the

other may have something revelatory to say to us. It is the admission that
one’s understanding of the divine message needs to be enhanced by what
has been divinely revealed to the other. Thus it is a mark of deep respect.
Any other attitude is just civility which in the end is extremely insulting
because it asserts ever so subtly that the other has not been touched by the
hand of God and has nothing valuable to contribute.20
A significant part of the challenge of accepting the truth in other reli-

gions lies not so much with those already involved in the dialogue process,
but with those leaders who have yet to engage with it meaningfully. Until
there is at the heart of the interreligious discourse the recognition that
we all share in the truth, I believe this challenge will remain part of the
“unfinished business” of the interfaith movement.
ENCOUNTERING THE OTHER “OTHER”

Having sketched an outline of a Bahá’í approach to interfaith dialogue, I
now turn to one of the most critical challenges that lies before us. I have
termed this as the challenge of encountering the other “other.” Before I
elaborate on what this refers to, let me first put forward a proposition:
the binary distinction between “self” and the “other” as often used in
interfaith dialogue circles is far too simplistic. This is because we have a
variety of dialogue partners and so there are many who can be classified as
the “other,” and it is a fact that dialogue is invariably easier in some cases
than others. For example, newer religions often have embedded within
their core texts and teachings an approach to the traditions that had come
before them. In the case of Islam, for example, the Qur’an clearly delin-
eates a framework for how Muslims are to relate to the adherents of earlier
monotheistic traditions or what it calls the “People of the Book.” In other
cases, the newer and older traditions have been living side by side for so
long that they have had to come to an accommodation with each other
over the years. But then, there is the other “other.” This is often a newer
faith, perhaps one that arose from within one’s own tradition. It may be
viewed as controversial or theologically suspect by adherents of the older
tradition. It is here, I believe, that we are most challenged in dialogue,
both within our traditions and as an interfaith movement as a whole.
As a Bahá’í, I come to this question mindful of the experience of the
members of my own religion in Iran, where Bahá’ís have found themselves
to be a prime example of the other “other.” History shows that new reli-
gions are rarely welcomed—or, rather, they are embraced enthusiastically
by their followers and reviled by those who do not accept them. This was
certainly the experience of the early Bahá’í movement in Iran, where the
claim of a new divine revelation was condemned by those who did not
accept it as heresy or apostasy against the belief that Prophet Muhammad
is God’s final messenger. Many early followers were put to death and per-
secution ebbed and flowed over the ensuing century and a half. Since the
1979 revolution in Iran, however, the isolation of Bahá’ís as the other
“other” has been a systematic policy of the government. For starters, the
constitution of the Islamic Republic of Iran specifies Zoroastrians, Jews,
and Christians as the only recognized religious minorities. This pointedly
excludes the Bahá’ís, in spite of the fact that Bahá’ís are numerically the
largest non-Muslim group in the republic. As the other “other,” the stipu-
lated rights of religious minorities are denied to them. A fatwa published
by Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Khamenei, reissued in 2013, goes so
far as to describe Bahá’ís as najis or unclean and urges Iranian Muslims
to avoid all dealings with them.21 Should contact occur, the Muslim must
undertake ritual purification.
In the early years of the Iranian revolution, scores of leading members of
the Bahá’í community were executed or disappeared, and hundreds more
were arrested. Even today, well over 80 Bahá’ís are being held in Iranian
prisons. They include the ad hoc national leadership group for the commu-
nity, five men and two women, who have been sentenced to a prison term of
218 N. MOBINI
20 years. Across the country, Bahá’ís are subject to a comprehensive range

of privations, including the confiscation of community property and holy
places, desecration of cemeteries, raids on homes and community gather-
ings, fire-bombing and sealing of business premises, denial of access to many
professions, and systematic exclusion from university education. Many have
experienced death threats, assaults, unexplained violent deaths, and even
murder. The official media defames them in the most repulsive ways.
SIGNS OF HOPE
Clearly, the case of the Bahá’ís in Iran is an extreme one, but it is sadly far
from unique. In fact, my suspicion is that all of us have other “others” in
our own interfaith relationships as well. They might not be violently per-
secuted, but dialogue with them is much more difficult and problematic,
for theological, historical, political, or other reasons. It may be Bahá’ís,
or Mormons, or Falun Dafa, or Brahma Kumaris, or Pagans. How do we
learn to manage the encounter with these other “other”? Are we obliged
to try? Or are we going to engage in dialogues only with people who fit
into our doctrinal view of the world?
Beyond the challenge for individuals and their traditions, the case of
the other “other” also gives rise to important questions for those involved
in interfaith organizations and programs as a whole. How do we deal
with situations where, due to underlying theological or other differences,
one partner doesn’t accept another as a religion at all? Do we allow the
established group to set the ground rules, or the one who was involved
in our dialogue first? Do we allow all comers to participate and to define
themselves, possibly risking the withdrawal of more established and con-
servative groups? Can we play a role in trying to facilitate the encounter
with the other “other”? I don’t have definitive answers to these questions,
although my own experience has been that I have learned from everyone
who has participated in dialogue. But I do believe interfaith dialogue has
reached a point where we can and must discuss and learn about these
issues together.
I mentioned at the outset that I am, by training and inclination, a histo-
rian. One place I believe we can learn from is our collective past. The sim-
ple fact that members of religions that have historically lost thousands of
lives in religious wars fighting against one another can now come together
at interfaith conferences and gatherings shows that prejudice can be over-
come and that anything is possible if people are open to one another.
In 1893 the then Archbishop of Canterbury, Edward White Benson,

refused to attend the first Parliament of Religions, of which he said, “I do
not understand how that one religion can be regarded as a member of a
Parliament of Religions, without assuming the equality of other intended
members.” Today, we live in a world where the Chief Rabbi of the UK
can address the Anglican Lambeth Conference. Doing just that in 2008,
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks observed:
For me to stand here counting as I do the Archbishop of Canterbury and

the Archbishop of York as beloved colleagues, is a signal of hope for our
children and the world they will inherit. Many centuries ago the Jewish sages
asked, who is a hero of heroes? They answered, not one who defeats his
enemy but one who turns an enemy into a friend. That is what has happened
between Jews and Christians: strangers have become friends.22
We can also learn from the example of inspiring leaders, such as Pope
John Paul II, who—in 2001—became the first Pontiff ever to visit and
pray in a mosque. In his speech at the Umayyad mosque in Damascus he
said he hoped Christianity and Islam would now “find new ways, at the
start of the third millennium, to present their respective creeds as partners
and not as adversaries.”23 To show that change is possible even in what is
presumed to be the darkest places, I will add two examples from Iran. In
2013, Mohammad Nourizad, a former hardline conservative columnist,
defied more than a century’s teaching about the uncleanliness of Bahá’ís.
He visited the home of a Bahá’í child whose parents were imprisoned for
their faith. He apologized to the 4-year-old boy and, in an act of great
cultural significance, accepted food and drink from the boy’s hands and
kissed his feet. He then published photographs on his blog, thereby—in
the words of noted Iranian lawyer Mehrangis Kar—throwing “the whole
contemporary political and social history of Iran into turmoil and chal-
lenge.”24 Nourizad—who said he was following the example of Pope
Francis washing and kissing the feet of a young female Muslim prisoner—
subsequently encouraged his compatriots to visit the homes of Bahá’ís and
eat with them, thereby challenging the theology of the ritually unclean.25
An even more significant act took place a year later. Ayatollah Abdol-
Hamid Masoumi-Tehrani—a senior Shia Muslim cleric in Iran—presented
to the Bahá’ís of the world, and particularly to those in Iran, a beautiful
calligraphy that he had prepared from the writings of Bahá’u’lláh. The
excerpt that he chose to illuminate reads thus:
220 N. MOBINI
Consort with all religions with amity and concord, that they may inhale from
you the sweet fragrance of God. Beware lest amidst men the flame of foolish
ignorance overpower you. All things proceed from God and unto Him they
return. He is the source of all things and in Him all things are ended.26
Ayatollah Masoumi-Tehrani subsequently announced on his web site

that he had offered the gift as a “symbolic action to serve as a reminder
of the importance of valuing human beings, of peaceful coexistence, of
cooperation and mutual support, and of avoidance of hatred, enmity, and
blind religious prejudice.”27 No doubt he would say that his action was
simply reflecting the true teachings of Islam, which is that tolerance of
every religion—even of the other “other”—is upheld by the Qur’an. Here
is a constructive and principled voice that may well influence many aspects
of life for Bahá’ís not only in Iran but in other countries as well.
Inspired by such examples and historical trends, I believe we all need to
undertake the painstaking task of searching deep within our traditions to
reexamine claims of exclusivity and to find that which will enable us to view
the other, and even the other “other,” in a new and more positive light. By
questioning religious doctrines that inhibit association and understanding,
we can certainly come to a new understanding of religion’s role and pur-
pose in bringing all people together as members of one humanity.
NOTES
1. Bahá’u’lláh, The Kitab-i-Iqan: The Book of Certitude (Wilmette, Illinois:
Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1950), 103–104.
2. Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh (Wilmette, Illinois:
Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1976), 78.
3. Ibid., 81.
4. Ibid., 217.
5. Bahá’u’lláh, The Kitab-i-Aqdas: The Most Holy Book (Haifa, Israel: Bahá’í
World Center, 1992), 85.
6. Bahá’u’lláh, Writings of Bahá’u’lláh, 46–47.
7. Bahá’u’lláh, Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh Revealed After the Kitab-i-Aqdas (Haifa,
Israel: Bahá’í World Centre, 1978), 22.
8. Bahá’u’lláh, Writings of Bahá’u’lláh, 287.
9. Universal House of Justice, The Promise of World Peace (Haifa, Israel: Bahá’í
World Centre, 1985), 4.
10. Ibid., 6.
11. Ibid., 5.
12. Ibid., 19, 11.

13. Universal House of Justice, To the World’s Religious Leaders (Haifa, Israel:
Bahá’í World Centre, 2002), 4.
14. Ibid.
15. Ibid., 6.
16. Ibid., 1.
17. Ibid., 3.
18. Ibid., 5.
19. Ibid.
20. John R. Dupuche, “Silence and Dialogue,” Gesher: Journal of the Council of
Christians and Jews–Victoria 4, no. 4 (Nov 2013): 53.
21. “Ayatollah Ali Khamenei Issues Edict against Baha’i Faith in Iran,” Huffington
Post (Jan 8, 2013), http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/08/01/iran-
bahai-fatwa_n_3687872.html
22. Zaki Cooper, “The View from the United Kingdom,” Gesher 4, no. 4 (Nov
2013): 30.
23. “Pope John Paul II Enters Mosque; Pleads Peace,” ABC News (May 6,
2001), http://abcnews.go.com/International/story?id=81117
24. Mehrangis Kar, “A Historic Kiss,” Rooz 2500 (Jul 24, 2013), http://www.
roozonline.com/english/news3/newsitem/archive/2013/july/24/
article/a-historic-kiss.html
25. Philip Pullella, “Pope Francis Includes Women, Muslims for First Time in
Holy Thursday Rite,” Reuters (March 29, 2013), http://blogs.reuters.com/
faithworld/2013/03/29/pope-francis-includes-women-muslims-
for-first-time-in-holy-Thursday-rite
26. “In an Unprecedented Symbolic Act Senior Cleric Calls for Religious
Co-existence in Iran,” Bahá’í World News Service (April 7, 2014), http://
news.bahai.org/story/987
27. Ibid.
CHAPTER 17
Commonalities Among Renewal Movements

Across Religions
Roberto Catalano
INTRODUCTION
Much has already been written on the contribution offered in recent years
by spiritual renewal religious movements which have become vehicles for
interfaith dialogue. For the Catholic Church, the phenomenon started
in the years before the Second Vatican Council, developed in the last 50
years, and remains very much alive and is still growing today. It is impor-
tant to note that similar processes are also taking place within religions
other than Christianity and that this is happening all over the world and
not only in Europe.
This chapter discusses the groundbreaking efforts of three contemporary
renewal movements of three different religious traditions. The Christian
An extended version of this chapter was previously published as Roberto

Catalano, “Gülen, Focolare, and Risshō Kōsei-kai Movements: Commonalities
for Religious and Social Renewal,” Claritas: Journal of Dialogue and Culture 4,
no. 1 (Mar 2015): 42–61.
R. Catalano ( )
Focolare’s International Office for Interreligious
Dialogue (Rome), Urbaniana University (Rome),
and Sophia University Institute (Florence), Italy
e-mail: <catalano0805@gmail.com>

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_17
224 R. CATALANO
Focolare Movement founded by Chiara Lubich is the first, the Muslim

Hizmet Movement with Fethullah Gülen as its founder is the second, and
the third is Nikkyō Niwano’s Risshō Kōsei-kai Buddhist movement. Some
of these spiritual renewal movements have not been given the attention
they deserve. Their contribution to interfaith dialogue, in particular, is an
interesting phenomenon. The fact that this is taking place within different
religious traditions is of historical importance.
RENEWAL MOVEMENTS IN DIFFERENT RELIGIOUS

CONTEXTS
In the middle and final decades of the last century, a good number of the
new Catholic renewal movements were born by a reawakening of lay-
men and, more often, laywomen within the Catholic communities. They
enriched the Catholic Church, taking as their priorities some of the great
social and ecclesiological issues.1 While each of these movements has par-
ticular characteristics, they have distinguishing marks that can be con-
sidered as common denominators. For example, practically all of them
are constituted by groups of mainly lay Catholics following a charismatic
leader. They propose a radical commitment in living the whole gospel
even as they identify their charism with a specific aspect of the evangeli-
cal message. They provide for the formation of their members, focusing
on the spirituality advanced by their charismatic founders. Finally, they
have an ecclesiological perspective which often seems to downplay the
local realities (especially parishes) in favor of the more specifically universal
dimension of the church (dioceses and, above all, the pope). Together,
they present a rich variety of patterns which makes them a true galaxy
within the Catholic Church.
These movements were born in different cultural and geographical
areas of the church. Initially, most began in Europe, but later others arose
in Asia, South America, Africa, and North America. Many have shown
great mobility and a remarkable capability of spreading out to different
parts of the world where they are often successful in taking roots in the
respective cultural and religious contexts. In a relatively short span—50 to
70 years—they often establish bridges among followers of different reli-
gions. Two examples are the Sant’Egidio Community and the Focolare
Movement. They pursued a sort of practical theology, which enabled them
to meet the growing quest for ecumenical and interfaith dialogue, and to
COMMONALITIES AMONG RENEWAL MOVEMENTS ACROSS RELIGIONS 225
address issues such as justice, world peace, religious freedom, and social
integration in a broken and hurting world.
It may come as a surprise to find that within the folds of religions other
than Christianity there has been a similar phenomenon. Among those that
are particularly active in the field of interfaith dialogue we can mention the
Mahayana Buddhist movement Risshō Kōsei-kai, the followers of Imam
W.D. Mohammed among the African-American Muslim communities,
and the Hizmet Movement in Turkey, which takes its inspiration from
Said Nursi and Fethullah Gülen. Of course, we cannot ignore the Swadyay
Movement in India, the Fo Guang Shan Movement and the Dharma
Drum Movement in Taiwan, and the Gandhian Movement that not only
moved India toward independence but also offered a new approach to
Hinduism. There is a great variety of these organizations that continue to
be born in different geographical, cultural, and religious contexts.
This hails a new phase, which some scholars have dared to compare
with what Karl Jaspers defined as the “axial periods” in humanity’s history.
This chapter discusses some of these advances, with special attention on the
Focolare Movement, Risshō Kōsei-kai, and Gülen Movement. They are widely
acknowledged as being on the forefront of the interfaith dialogue venture.
TRANSNATIONAL PHENOMENON
Many of these organizations have become transnational and cross-national
phenomena, where interfaith and intercultural dialogues are central to
their mission. Such attitudes make them capable of working in the area
of peace-building and the promotion of individuals, communities, and
society at large.2 This explains the growing interest shown toward these
religious movements by social analysts, political scientists, and actors in
diplomatic relations. Their inclusive models of behavior and networking
expertise represent a new approach to socio-religious critical situations.
They make good vehicles of peace and dialogue, not only among indi-
viduals but also among communities. They are strategically positioned for
facing today’s critical problems.
This context gives them a deep religious foundation and a remarkable
capacity to play an important and, at times, decisive role in peace-building
processes, in conflict resolution, and in supporting encounters among cul-
tures and followers of different religious traditions. Their members are
deeply motivated by long-term religious commitments that have deep spir-
itual roots, which enable them to facilitate constructive rapport and social
226 R. CATALANO
relations among different groups. These movements become, therefore,

transnational actors and play an important role in helping religion to
regain center stage even in Europe, where for several centuries it has been
relegated to the private sphere of life. The transnational impact of religious
organizations is often considered a “soft power,” as it is well apart from the
political and economic influences of the day.3
CHIARA LUBICH AND THE FOCOLARE MOVEMENT

Within the Catholic world the Sant’Egidio Community and the Focolare
Movement have played significant roles in the cause of dialogue. Sant’Egidio,
among its many other activities, had the merit of continuing the commit-
ment to the “Prayer for Peace” called by Pope John Paul II in 1986. The
Focolare has been active on different fronts, basing its experience of dialogue
on its faith in the vital spiritual dimension of unity promoted by its foundress.
Chiara Lubich was the foundress of the Focolare Movement. In 1977 in
London, she received the Templeton Award for Progress in Religion. She
considered that experience as the starting point of her opening up to inter-
faith dialogue and collaboration. Since the early 1980s she has met with
Mahayana Buddhists in Japan, and later with Theravada monks and nuns
in Thailand. In the 1990s she spoke to African-American Muslims in the
Harlem mosque in New York City and to the Jewish community of Buenos
Aires in Argentina. Finally, at the dawn of the new millennium, she had
developed close and deep contacts with hundreds of Hindus in South India
and Mumbai, in northwest India. While summarizing the engagement of
the Focolare in interfaith dialogue, she has never shied away from acknowl-
edging her surprise at this unexpected development. We could very well
define her experience of dialogue as more of a prophecy than a project. The
secret of the success of Lubich’s experience in the pilgrimage of dialogue
lies in “a spirituality which is both personal and collective…which gener-
ates a new lifestyle. This spirituality is not the monopoly of our movement.
It is the fruit of a charism, a gift of God, and by nature a charism is always
destined to all those who want to receive it.”4 Lubich concludes:
[Working] with many brothers and sisters of the major religions and the
brotherhood we experience with them has convinced us that the idea of reli-
gious pluralism can shed its connotation of division and conflict, and emerge
to represent for millions of men and women, the challenge of recomposing
the unity of the human family, so that the Holy Spirit may in some way be
present and active in all religions, not only in the individual members but
also in the inner workings of each religious tradition.5
NIKKYō NIWANO AND THE RISSHō KōSEI-KAI

During her first visit to Asia in 1981, Chiara Lubich was introduced by
the founder of the Risshō Kōsei-kai, Nikkyō Niwano, to thousands of
Buddhist followers of his movement. The Italian religious leader noted
that although the two associations were of different religions, nationali-
ties, and cultures, they had significant commonalities. “Diversity,” she
said, “has made us understand that the points we share in common are
not the result of human effort or of a project.... Rather, they come from
a supernatural action of God, and carry a goal that He Himself must have
thought. Something which has not yet been revealed to us.”6
Nikkyō Niwano (1906–1999) founded the Risshō Kōsei-kai as a Japanese
lay Buddhist association in 1938. He became active in the interreligious dia-
logue field beginning in the early 1960s. Rooted in the universalistic approach
of the Lotus Sūtra, Niwano recognized and stressed the positive significance
of all religious traditions. Śākyamuni Buddha, explains Nikkyō Niwano,
advocated flexibility when he taught that one must be candid and open and
obedient to the truth.... One must be ready to accept new truths when they
are discovered.... There can be no absolute incompatibility among human
beings. This is a truth to which we must all become enlightened....To follow
the way of truth is to have spiritual and mental flexibility. The person who
has these traits can grow in all directions.7
This flexibility inspired, in part, Niwano’s openness to interreligious dia-

logue. Speaking about why interreligious cooperation is essential, he says:
In its essence religion does not reject others but instead allows us to think of
others with the same regard as we have for ourselves. The oneness of self and
others is fundamental to religion. Thus even when it is fractured into dif-
ferent sects and groups, it is not natural that they should fight one another.
People of religion should, rather, study each other’s doctrines and practices,
discuss issues of religious faith that are of mutual concern, and on that basis,
work together to establish world peace.
228 R. CATALANO
In a note written in 1993, Nikkyō Niwano and his son Nichiko, future
president of Risshō Kōsei-kai, acknowledged that “only through the grace
of God and Lord Buddha’s benevolence” had they come to the awareness
of being engaged in “the same mission of working for the salvation of the
whole mankind.”8
FETHULLAH GÜLEN AND THE HIZMET MOVEMENT

In the Muslim context an important movement which arose is one ini-
tiated by Fethullah Gülen, an outstanding Turkish imam and religious
leader who proposed a new reading of the Qur’an, with special attention
to education and formation of young generations to peace, mutual under-
standing, and world harmony. Hizmet (service)—the name that best
defines the movement—draws its inspiration from the life and teachings
of Said Nursi. Born with a marked nationalist and Islamic character, the
renewal proposed by Gülen has changed remarkably, opening up toward
other faiths and cultures too. With different names, through independent
groups and communities, and in a variety of operating modalities, this
Muslim renewal organization is fast spreading all over the world, starting
from the Turkish republics of the former Soviet bloc.
The Gülen-inspired organizations offer an interesting and modern
example of the possibility of harmonizing, within the framework of Islam,
modernity and tradition, spirit and reason. The internationalization of
the organization has transformed it into a transnational and cross-cultural
movement, ensuring that this Turkish religious renewal movement has a
remarkable relevance at the global and social levels. Gülen’s own regard
for the other religions has opened the door to committed interreligious
dialogue. Gülen comments:
Regardless of how their adherents implement their faith in their daily lives,
such generally accepted values as love, respect, tolerance, forgiveness, mercy,
human rights, peace, brotherhood, and freedom are all values exalted by
religion. Most of these values are accorded the highest precedence in the
messages brought by Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad, upon them be peace,
as well as in the messages of Buddha and even Zarathustra, Lao-Tzu,
Confucius, and the Hindu prophets.9
LEADERSHIP AND ANTHROPOLOGY

It is striking to see some of the commonalities among these renewal move-
ments. The first and rather obvious commonality is that most of them were
founded by laypeople, have a lay leadership, and maintain a large major-
ity of lay membership. What matters most is that the lay character of these
organizations is not seen in contraposition to the traditional or clerical
domain of the respective religions. Rather, it is a way to actualize religious
values and teaching among laypeople in today’s social context. The Focolare
Movement’s president, according to its Statutes, will always be a laywoman.10
The Gülen-inspired organizations around the world have lay names and are
formed and presided over by laypeople, often professionals or teachers. The
Risshō Kōsei-kai has already appointed as its next president Mrs. Kōshō
Niwano, daughter of the present leader of the movement and granddaughter
of the founder, giving a clear sign of continued lay leadership.
A second commonality across the religious movements is the anthro-
pological approach they take. Though rooted in their respective traditions
and cultures, as well as in the scriptures of the different religions, many
share a common vision of the human being. This paves the way for an
awareness of the universal human family and of the brotherhood and sis-
terhood of all men and women. All men and women are seen as an image
of God or an expression of Ultimate Reality (Buddhism) and somehow
they carry a spiritual presence within. Chiara Lubich wrote to some young
friends in 1947:
Always fix your gaze on the one Father of many children. Then you must see
all as children of the same Father. In mind and in heart we must always go
beyond the bounds imposed on us by human life alone and create the habit
of constantly opening ourselves to the reality of being one human family in
one Father: God.11
The same year that young Lubich wrote this passage, Mahatma Gandhi
wrote in the journal Harijans: “Consciousness of the living presence of
God within one is undoubtedly the first requisite [of nonviolence].”12
Fethullah Gülen often quotes a line from Yunus Emre, a famous thirteenth-
century Turkish mystic and poet: “We love the created for the sake of the
Creator.”13 In the Buddhist context, one of the key points of Niwano’s
philosophy of life drawn from the Lotus Sūtra is the teaching that “all
human beings are a manifestation of the Vital Force of the universe and
230 R. CATALANO
therefore are equally important and carry the same value. Here is the cru-
cial element for justifying the potential harmony of the universe among
human creatures and among man, nature and cosmos.”14 It is from this
perspective that Niwano develops an anthropological vision of the world,
which will justify his commitment to peace and harmony and, therefore,
to dialogue.
COMMUNITARIAN DIMENSION
Given the structure and the spirit of these movements, special attention is
given to the communitarian dimension of religion. In the Christian con-
text, Chiara Lubich and the Focolare Movement propose a collective spiri-
tuality, which has as models the family of Nazareth and the early Christian
community of Jerusalem. This communitarian dimension probably rep-
resents the most significant and characterizing aspect of the Focolare. Its
foundress spoke about it on many occasions, finding confirmation in the
Second Vatican Council and the writings of many theologians who sug-
gest that the image of the church can be summed up in the word koinonia
or communion.
Today, the Focolare is a movement represented by small or larger com-
munities around cities and countrysides, in schools and factories, offices
and parliaments, engaging families, youth, children, priests, consecrated
people, and professionals who try to live religion in the very milieu where
they operate and live. Religion is no longer a private affair; nor is it some-
thing confined to certain aspects of life. It can be lived everywhere and
not alone, but in a group giving witness together. Lubich was convinced
that Christians are called to witness to a communitarian dimension of their
faith. This is an idea which is shared by other groups and renewal move-
ments, though in their own specific ways within their own contexts.
Nikkyō Niwano often stated that of the three treasures or jewels of
Buddhism, sangha (the community) is the most important. In fact, the
Japanese religious leader notes that a person all alone will never be able to
know and grasp the truth. The process is much simpler and more effec-
tive if people are in a group, even better, if there is a community where
it is possible to support, to encourage, and to enlighten. This convic-
tion is expressed in the Hōza (dharma sitting), the meetings that take
place regularly among members of the Risshō Kōsei-kai. Participating in
Hōza represents one of the main tasks and duties of the members of this
Buddhist movement. The groups in which these members are put into
are the communities where they practice the spirit of Risshō Kōsei-kai
together. They can be defined as its “life.” The novelty is that the shar-
ing of personal, professional, or family problems takes place not in private
but in a group. It is a sort of religious counseling where the leader is not
expected to know the context and possible solution of all problems. His
or her task is one of guiding the members to discover by themselves the
path of authentic living.15
Fethullah Gülen also speaks of the communitarian dimension of reli-
gion within Islam. In 1995, in one of his many texts, he opined that
“in our times no single individual on their own can attain such a [high
spiritual] stage (makam). Indeed we can only seize the heights through
affiliating to collective personality.”16 In the perspective of the Turkish
reformer, people who form the shakhs-i manevi (collective spiritual body)
come from a wide spectrum of backgrounds. Each contributes in their
own way, some more than others according to their respective capabili-
ties. This collective dimension aims at engaging anyone ready to work
in harmony with others. There are no special requirements or qualities
needed, though the most suitable people remain teachers and educators,
along with those responsible for the madrasa (educational institutions)
and the animators or guardians of dormitories.
From Gülen’s perspective, a central aspect is the cemaat (community).
This is a new form of Islamic self-organization that grew as a response
to the urbanization process in Turkey that weakened relations among
kin and existing forms of organization such as the Islamic brotherhoods.
Hermansen clarifies:
The cemaat is a unit of individuals, sharing the same feelings, thoughts,

aims and ideas and adjusting their life along this line of unity, helping the
individual to enhance the religious productivity through joint work. It helps
to profit from the good deeds, which are achieved with others and helps to
avoid individual mistakes on the worldly path to God.17
A second example of a communitarian approach to religion in the

Gülen-inspired movement is the so-called Isik evi (lighthouses), the places
where the followers meet regularly. They form the core of the entire vast
network. Gülen calls the isik evleri a tree, the seed of which was planted in
the times of the Prophet Muhammad himself. He sees their roots within
the Qur’an itself, thus giving the cemaat’s own form of organization the
232 R. CATALANO
highest Islamic virtue and the essence of Islamic education par excellence.
That is why he considers them to be the basis for educational activities.18
MODERN INTERPRETATION OF SCRIPTURAL TEXTS

The reading of sacred texts represents another fundamental characteris-
tic of the renewal phenomenon across the different religious traditions.
Although the movements are carriers of great change and adaptation
within their respective religions, they never drift away from their scrip-
tures and neither do they offer viewpoints in contrast to them. They are all
Scripture-based organizations. In fact, the sacred texts are read and medi-
tated upon for the benefit of all members of the group by the founder or
by people well trained in scriptural studies. The process ensures a progres-
sive awareness of one’s identity and offers the possibility of transforming
through religious teachings the social and human milieu where one lives.
The gospels had a central place in the initial experience of Chiara
Lubich and of the first group of her companions. The early stage of their
experience was, in fact, a rediscovery of the gospels, accompanied by the
understanding that the sentences of the holy books were not only to be
read or meditated upon, but above all to be lived. By putting into practice
the words of the gospels they understood the relevance of religion in daily
living and succeeded in joining these two aspects, which were otherwise
separated from each other. They started living the gospels, sentence by
sentence, and this practice in the Focolare Movement developed into what
is called the “Word of Life.” Lubich has this to share: “Having discovered
the uniqueness and universality of the Words of God, while we were still
in the air-raid shelters, we felt the desire to translate them into life, one
by one. This was the beginning of a practice that continues today too, 50
years later, and will never end.”19
Suat Yildirim acknowledges that an element that clearly and immedi-
ately surfaces in Gülen’s texts is the author’s awareness of the classical
commentary of Islamic tradition on the Holy Book. At the same time,
there are new viewpoints that nevertheless remain well within the Qur’anic
exegesis.20 Gülen’s reading of the Qur’an is not so much a literal one as
one that seeks the deep link with the universe, with humanity, and with
Allah. Gülen suggests that the Holy Book be read in the light of these
three elements. But at the same time he emphasizes that a true interpreta-
tion is the one centered on the human person since the Holy Book was
revealed for humankind. Separation between these three elements in the
course of history has provoked true disasters, while peace prevailed every
time the text was read in the light of these three elements.21 Moreover, an
appropriate reading of the Holy Book requires a sharing of heart and soul.
It has been noticed that Gülen’s comments offer a sort of path that leads
the believer to an active life. Other commentators on the Qur’an have
defined this approach to the sacred text as a “dynamic exegesis.”22 This
generation of commentators claims that the Qur’an, when duly examined
and deepened, is not a book that leads to the separation of religion from
life.
Two more aspects have to be taken into account while reading the Holy
Book. First, the diaspora, a phenomenon Turkish Muslims witnessed in the
last decades of the twentieth century, has led to a multicultural experience.
Second, and related to the first, the chance to read anew the Holy Book of
Islam comes thanks to increased contact with the “religious other.” What
emerges is a perspective which can be defined as “Oneness of Humankind.”
This perspective allows a reading of the Qur’an that eliminates the danger
of thinking that some communities or groups, because of their religion
or culture, do not have a real chance of being in relationship with God.23
According to this perspective, it is possible to trace and appreciate God’s
presence and action in all religious traditions. In no way does this approach
intend to wipe away real and existing differences. What has to be brushed
away is the exaggerated pride that leads to statements such as “God is with
us and not the other.”24 For Gülen, “spiritual practice and morality are…
more important than ritual and dogmatism” and, as Lester Kurtz indicates,
for him there are four pillars—love, compassion, tolerance, and forgive-
ness—“that open the way for dialogue with other faith traditions.”25
Although the Risshō Kōsei-kai has so far maintained a remarkable
autonomy as far as community and religious ceremonies are concerned, it
has not broken away from continuity with the millennia-old tradition of
Mahayana Buddhism. As a text of reference for the followers of his move-
ment, Niwano opted for the Lotus Sūtra. It draws also on commentaries
from Nichiren and Tendai Buddhism, both of which base their traditions
on the same sutra.26 Niwano has found in the Lotus Sūtra what he sees as
the essence of Śākyamuni Buddha’s teachings, which open up in an exhaus-
tive way the true form of the universe where we live, the nature of the
human being, and the modalities of human behavior toward all other liv-
ing creatures.27 This exhaustiveness can well explain his choice of the text
as a reference for his own personal religious experience and for those who
follow it. The Buddhist reformer’s great respect for and commitment to
234 R. CATALANO
the sacred text is evident in his decision to spend 7 years in seclusion—away

even from his own family—in order to study the Lotus Sūtra. The Risshō
Kōsei-kai founder spent this time questioning himself on the true meaning
of the text. It was for him a paradigmatic experience in his own life.
He found in the sacred text several answers to his own search. First, he
realized how meaningful is the fact that the Lotus Sūtra, written 700 years
after Buddha’s death, makes its appearance at the dawn of the Japanese
civilization and that ever since it has been handed over from genera-
tion to generation.28 Moreover, the sacred text provides Niwano with
the foundation for action and the path to peace. This foundation serves
as the inspirational source for the movement he established. Within the
folds of the Sūtra, Niwano grasps that the search for Truth cannot be
uprooted from the vital context in which human beings live their daily
lives. On the contrary, scripture has to go hand in hand with service for
the other, which represents the main road toward spiritual perfection and
freedom of spirit.29 Niwano also expresses the conviction that in as much
as the different faiths will succeed in remaining faithful to Truth, while
also opening up to Truth as expressed by other religions, they will end up
coming closer to each other.30
FRUITS OF INTERFAITH DIALOGUE

As a conclusion of this study we turn now to some of the common-
alities found across renewal movements. First, there is a deepening of
the relationship with God or the Absolute among all members of these
communities. Second, the spiritual renewal these movements promote
fosters the conviction that interreligious dialogue is based on mutual
respect. At the same time, it cautions all involved to avoid the danger-
ous temptation to create a universal pseudo-religion. Rather, it inspires
and helps those in dialogue to constantly deepen the experience of their
own faith. Third, the dialogue which flourishes from these experiences
leads to the certainty that universal brotherhood/sisterhood is possi-
ble. Fourth, this communion contributes to the ideal of one humanity,
which does not negate diversity but is enriched by it as taught by Gülen,
Lubich, and Niwano.
The aim of these movements is to engender trust in the religious
“other” and in their religious faiths and traditions. Dialogue and com-
munion enhance the possibility of understanding certain attitudes, ideas,
and traditions of the other, and also the way their faith is expressed. Such
experiences lead to mutual respect and trust and make people capable of
highlighting what is common, and yet not resulting in the confusion of
faiths. On the contrary, they point out the differences between the tradi-
tions, which are not seen as obstacles but as enrichment. In these complex
processes, the Gülen, Focolare, and Risshō Kōsei-kai movements, as well
as many other religious movements around the world, are the precious
instruments of our times, as they go about in the pursuit of harmony and
peace among the adherents of different religions. They are the signs of our
times to be read with hope.
NOTES
1. Massimo Faggioli, Nello Spirito del Concilio: Movimenti ecclesiali e recezi-
one del Vaticano II (Milano: San Paolo, 2013), 140.
2. Wanda Krause, “Civility in Islamic Activism: Towards a Better
Understanding of Shared Values for Civil Society Development,” in
European Muslims, Civility and Public Life: Perspectives on and from the
Gülen Movement, eds. Paul Weller & İhsan Yılmaz (London: Continuum
Publishing, 2012), 57.
3. Luca Ozzano, “Gli attori transnazionali e il caso del Vaticano,” in Religioni
tra pace e guerra: Il Sacro nelle relazioni internazionali del XX secolo, eds.
Valter Coralluzzo & Luca Ozzano (Torino: Utet, 2012), 86–87.
4. Chiara Lubich, “What Is the Future of a Multicultural, Multiethnic and
Multireligious Society?” Unpublished paper presented in London, June 2004.
5. Chiara Lubich, “Can Religions Be Partners in Peace Building?”
Unpublished paper presented at the Assembly of “Initiatives of Change”
[Moral Rearmament], Caux, Switzerland, July 29, 2003.
6. Ibid.
7. Nikkyō Niwano, The Richer Life (Tokyo: Kosei Publishing, 1979), 34–35.
8. Cinto Busquet, Incontrarsi nell’amore: Una lettura cristiana di Nikkyō
Niwano (Rome: Città Nuova, 2009), 206.
9. Quoted in Lester Kurtz, “Gülen’s Paradox: Combining Commitment and
Tolerance,” The Muslim World (2005): 377.
10. Statutes of the Work of Mary (New York: Focolare Movement, 2008),
Article 2.
11. Chiara Lubich, The Art of Loving (New York: New City Press, 2005), 29.
12. Mohandas Gandhi, Harijans (1947): 209.
13. John L. Esposito & M. Hakan Yavuz, eds., Turkish Islam and the Secular
State: The Gülen Movement (Syracuse, New York: Syracuse University
Press, 2003), 65.
236 R. CATALANO
14. Nikkyō Niwano, Basic Buddhist Teachings (Tokyo: Kosei Publishing,

1981), 9–10.
15. Tarcisio Alesandrini, Giappone Nuovo E Antico: Studio Fenomenologico Sul
Movimento Buddhista Rissho Kosei-Kai; Il Vero E Il Perfezionamento Nella
Condivisione (Rome: Gregorian and Biblical Press, 2007), 283.
16. Fethullah Gülen, Fasildan Fasila, 1k 172, quoted in Marcia Hermansen’s
unpublished paper, “Understanding of ‘Community’ within the Gülen
Movement,” 2005: 25–26.
17. See Hermansen, “Understanding of ‘Community’,” 10.
18. Ibid., 13.
19. Chiara Lubich, A New Way: The Spirituality of Unity (London: New City
Press, 2006), 47.
20. Suat Yildirim, Kuran’la Diriliş (Istanbul: Timas Yayinlari, 2011), vii.
21. Faruk Turcer, “Fethullah Gülen’s Methodology of Interpreting the
Quran,” Second International Conference on Islam in the Contemporary
World, 2006, 93–94.
22. The scholars Sayyd Qutb (1906–1966) and Mawdūdī (1903–1979) coined
the phrase “dynamic exegesis.” See Yilderim, Kuran’la Diriliş, xvii.
23. Syafa’atun Almirzanah, When Mystic Masters Meet (Jakarta: PT Gramedia
Pustaka
Utama, 2009), 194.
24. M. Amin Abdullah, “Muslim-Christian Relations: Reinventing the
Common Ground to Sustain a Peaceful Coexistence in the Global Era,”
unpublished conference paper, 8.
25. Lester R. Kurtz, Gods in the Global Village, 1st ed. (London: Sage
Publications, 2005), 373–74, 377–38.
26. See Busquet, Incontrarsi nell’amore, 109.
27. Nikkyō Niwano, Buddhism for Today: A Modern Interpretation of the
Threefold Lotus
Sutra (Tokyo: Kosei Publishing, 1990), 3.
28. Nikkyō Niwano, A Lifetime Beginner (Tokyo: Kosei Publishing, 1978), xxi.
29. Busquet, Incontrarsi nell’amore, 109.
30. Ibid., 111.
CHAPTER 18
The Promise of Comparative Theology:

Reading Between the Lines
Michael Barnes
INTRODUCTION
Comparative Theology is fast becoming the most important example
of a style of theology that takes its rise from a structured reflection on
the encounter of religions. In this chapter, I explore what Comparative
Theology promises for a positive theological account of religious plural-
ism. I begin by giving some account of Comparative Theology, relating it
not just to the work of its “godfather,” my fellow-Jesuit Francis Clooney,
but also to the practice of Scriptural Reasoning, a form of textual study
involving participants from the three Abrahamic religious traditions. I
then set Comparative Theology within the context of the emergence of
theology of religions in the years since the Second Vatican Council.
In the second part of the chapter, I seek to relate this development to
one of the great achievements of the council, namely the rapprochement
between the church and the Jewish people. This will open up a brief reflec-
tion on the dialectic of textuality and imagination as it affects Christian
living in a pluralist, multireligious world. I want to argue that all forms
of interreligious reading need to be seen as taking their rise not from
M. Barnes ( )
Heythrop College, University of London, England
e-mail: m.barnes@heythrop.ac.uk

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_18
238 M. BARNES
a schematic theology of religions or even some well-meaning concern

for “community cohesion,” but from a retrieval of the properly Jewish
dimensions of Christian faith, by which I mean not just the texts of the
Old Testament but also the story of God’s constancy and compassionate
engagement with God’s own people. To learn to read traditions of ancient
wisdom, especially when they come from another religious world, requires
imagination and careful discernment. It means attending not just to what
is written on the page, but also to the hidden voices and forgotten traces
which often disturb our well-meaning attempts to smooth out and con-
trol the dimly discerned patterns of our experience. To do Comparative
Theology well means “reading between the lines.”
THEOLOGY AND THE EXPERIENCE OF DIALOGUE

Jacques Dupuis tells us that the term “theology of religions” was first used
in the early 1970s to describe a more positive Christian approach to the
religious other.1 Very roughly, it has taken two major forms. One is con-
cerned with the theological principles which are necessary to prepare for
and reflect on that encounter. The other begins from the encounter itself
and the experience of being-in-dialogue. While some theologians can be
said to work with a largely deductive a priori approach, building a “theol-
ogy for dialogue,” others are more at home with a “theology of dialogue,”
a more inductive a posteriori way of reflecting on the results of dialogue,
how faith has been deepened or challenged.2 Both forms have their place;
indeed both are necessary and it is the challenge of bringing deductive and
inductive methods together that most marks the richness and diversity of
theology of religions.
All theologies of religions have to attend to mainstream theological
questions, whether about grace and human freedom or the person of
Christ in the mystery of salvation. If there is a new question, it is what
emerges from the experience of interreligious encounter: a question not
about whether people from other religious traditions can be saved (they
always remain within the gracious providence of God, as do all human
beings), but how. What part is played by the religions themselves? Are
such people saved despite their traditional beliefs and practice or precisely
through them? A human being’s commitment to a particular religious
tradition has a part to play in that person’s entering into a salvific relation-
ship with whatever they consider as transcendent reality. The key issue
THE PROMISE OF COMPARATIVE THEOLOGY: READING BETWEEN THE LINES 239
is the theological significance of otherness. This is the primary concern

of theology of dialogue: its attention to what happens to faith when it
becomes “interfaith,” when it finds in dialogue an experience of learning.
Dialogue begins to insinuate itself into the life of the church not as
some sort of limp alternative to mission for a postmissionary age, but
from the experience of a church all too conscious that “the other” is no
longer “non-Christian,” but Buddhist and Jew, Hindu and Muslim, Jain
and Sikh, persons of faith with a specific face and a particular history.
Once, “they” were expected to soak up a manifest truth; now, the would-
be Christian missionary must first understand what has been said in order
to respond clearly and with conviction. Crossing theological boundaries
means learning the skills of translation—not just the accurate and imagina-
tive rendering of the text but, more subtly, the “translation” of the person
who mediates the Word embodied in the text. The focus shifts toward the
interpersonal engagement of subjects. At which point, when “seeds of the
Word” are dimly sensed, albeit in ways which demand careful discernment
and the ability to think and work beyond the edges of a familiar world,
the question of God is raised. Raimon Panikkar talks about the shift from
the “dialectical dialogue” to the “dialogical dialogue,” an engagement
and participation in the common task of building new relations and a
deeper learning about the ways of God.3 Thus, theological attention has
shifted to themes of relationality and communion as the guiding catego-
ries for understanding the Missio Dei and the church’s identity as the sign
of God’s new creation.
COMPARATIVE THEOLOGY AND THE IMPERATIVE

OF LEARNING
The context in which Dupuis considers “theology of dialogue” is marked

by a variety of questions about identity and Christocentric faithfulness.4
He sees such a theology as “confessional,” to be distinguished from the
sort of “universal theology” associated with Wilfred Cantwell Smith.5 He
does not move us much beyond the terms of a “theology for dialogue,”
but he does at least open up a space within which conceptual issues about
the “limits of mutual assimilation” and the reality of “differences and con-
tradictions” can be given serious consideration. This space is opened up
by Francis Clooney in a Comparative Theology, which is both confessional
and dialogical. Clooney goes much further than Dupuis in exploring the
240 M. BARNES
relationships between the familiar “home” tradition and other worlds of

faith with which historically and culturally it intersects.6 Unlike Dupuis, he
is less interested in teasing out the conceptual terms of a theology for dia-
logue than in engaging with symbol-bearing classical texts which structure
another religious world, and which open up questions for the integrity of
faith. He does this as a Jesuit priest and as a scholar, committed at one and
the same time to the Ignatian imperative to “find God in all things,” and
to the more Anselmian demands of “faith seeking understanding.” The
ideal is easily stated: for the sake of learning and truth, one brings texts
from very different spiritual worlds into a creative correlation, applying
the same spiritual intensity, rigor, and intensity to both. The reality, of
course, is less straightforward. A number of questions are raised, at once
practical and theological. Comparison always begins, as Clooney notes,
with the emergence of an “intriguing resemblance.” But what is it that
guides such a “necessarily arbitrary and intuitive practice?”7 How does
one marry virtues of faithfulness to what is known and openness to what is
unknown? To put the fundamental dilemma in the more familiar Christian
terms noted earlier: if the Word of God has been revealed in its fullness
through the Paschal Mystery of the death and resurrection of Christ, how
does one speak about possible “seeds of the Word” without simply reduc-
ing them to pale reflections of a single totalizing truth?
DISCERNING “SEEDS OF THE WORD”

In a postmodern or “postliberal” age, theology is much more aware of
its roots in what George Lindbeck calls a “cultural-linguistic” account
of religion.8 This comes out most clearly for the Catholic Church in the
recovery of a sense of the church’s scriptural origins. Dei Verbum, the
Dogmatic Constitution on Revelation, is not just the most important fruit
of a remarkable process of scriptural ressourcement that ran throughout
the last century, but, according to Robert Murray, is the most “theologi-
cally concentrated” of the conciliar constitutions and a major influence
on most of the others, especially “those with a mainly pastoral thrust.”9
Without Dei Verbum, for instance, Nostra Aetate, the declaration on non-
Christian religions, would have consisted of little more than exhortations
to forget the past. The return to scripture has restored the life-giving link
between the Christian narrative and its origins with the “people of the old
Covenant,” a Covenant “never revoked.”10
Accounts of “the religions” as variations on some generic “spiritual

essence” seem curiously dated; if they are variations on anything, it is the
way they draw meaning from those rich sedimentations of spiritual wisdom
we call canonical scripture. Clooney ends his introduction to Comparative
Theology by noting that this is not a practice limited to Christians; in prin-
ciple, it’s open to all those readers conscious of the need to be “faithful
and intelligent, agile in moving from faith to practice and back again.”11
This is what careful reading and study inspires. What Paul Griffiths has
called “Religious Reading” or the reading of sacred texts in a “reverential
mode” makes possible an intuitive or inductive movement into a pluralist
world that seeks to learn something for the life of faith from the experi-
ence of facing what is strange and unknown.12 In focusing on the nature of
reading as the practice that underpins all exercises of religious reflection,
Griffiths seeks to retrieve the specificity of what was in its origins an oral
practice. The recitation of texts and the close contemplation to which this
leads open up a particular world of discourse yet, so far from locking the
reader into a set of predictable outcomes, provokes responses of aesthetic
delight and religious wonder.
Thoughtful inquiry, pondering the “seeds of the Word” as manifested
in the texts and practices of faith they support, is itself an important form
of witness; what is commended is a generous attention to “the other”—
a sense of the other not as danger but as gift—that impels a return to
the self and a deeper reverence for the Word that is known, yet, in an
important sense, always unknown. Clooney talks about the activity of
Comparative Theology favoring “experiments,” focused micro-studies
that acknowledge the freedom of the Spirit while at the same time driv-
ing the faithful thinker deeper into the mystery of divine encounter as
it is inscribed in the foundational narratives, texts, and symbols of the
“home” tradition. The tension between the two is not easily maintained
and the results can be untidy, sometimes denying “utter clarity and pre-
cise answers, that faith may again be at the center of our theology.”13 Yet,
results there are. The “fruits of comparison” include not least a rapidly
growing collection of theological studies by Christians of non-Christian
texts, technical and scholarly explorations of topics, and themes that cross
religious frontiers.14 If it is appropriate to speak of Comparative Theology
as a school of theology, it is in this sense that it is commending a particular
style of dialogical pedagogy.
242 M. BARNES
RELATIONSHIP WITH SCRIPTURAL REASONING

A culture of interreligious teaching and learning is what Comparative
Theology shares with Scriptural Reasoning.15 This intra-Abrahamic pro-
cess of careful textual reading began within the Jewish commentarial tradi-
tion and now involves both Christians and Muslims. Scriptural Reasoning
takes up the spirit of Talmud, to learn the terms of a peculiarly Jewish
“scriptural rationality”—the conviction that meaning and truth are to
be cultivated through the prayerful study of sacred texts. As a practice
now deeply rooted both in the academy and in local groups of all kinds,
Scriptural Reasoning owes much to the influence of Peter Ochs, a profes-
sor of philosophy at the University of Virginia. Ochs’ specialist knowledge
of the pragmatist philosophy of Charles Sanders Pierce gives him an intel-
lectual framework within which his Jewish faith can be opened up in fruit-
ful dialogue with non-Jewish colleagues.16
Scriptural Reasoning was formed, not out of a theory of universal rea-
son but from the experience of people of faith who found that it worked.
What started as a sort of scholarly textual exegesis group has developed
its own dynamic as an intrinsically prophetic and reparative activity, seek-
ing not to relativize difference but, as one practitioner neatly puts it, to
improve “the quality of disagreement.”17 Scriptural Reasoning consists of
a free-flowing interpersonal exchange in which particular voices are heard
to speak in a shared space, reflecting on life-giving words which cross reli-
gious and cultural divides. This may be the reason why, thus far, Scriptural
Reasoning has developed a much more popular and practical dimension
than Comparative Theology. As practices of faith, however, both rely on a
close reading and personal appropriation. Clooney describes a process of
interreligious learning as a to-and-fro movement in which after reading
what another tradition has to say about a theme or topic one comes back
to one’s own and reads it again, “this time in accord with the affect gener-
ated out of one’s study of the other.”18
Comparative Theology is sometimes criticized as elitist, a practice for
scholars with a well-developed academic hinterland and the time to cul-
tivate a depth of understanding of the interface between traditions. The
objection rather misses the point; this is only a cognitive activity inso-
far as the aim, following the principles of the Spiritual Exercises of St.
Ignatius, is to root what is understood deep in the heart. In principle,
anyone can read inspired religious literature, from whatever source, if they
bear in mind the familiar words of Pope John Paul II that “every authentic
prayer is prompted by the Holy Spirit, who is mysteriously present in every

human heart” (Redemptoris Missio, 29). That’s the starting point; not an
obsessive reliance on the human capacity to understand the mysterious
ways of the other, but a statement of faith in God’s never-failing desire to
go on revealing something of Godself.
Clooney privileges a starting point for Comparative Theology in tex-
tual reading but admits that “there is no reason why some comparative
theologians cannot choose to proceed by way of attention to art, music,
ritual, and the various modalities of popular religion.”19 I myself would
want to add “place” to that list; places of worship and pilgrimage centers
can be “read” as sites not just of human but of divine interaction. In fact,
it is often a sustained attention to the rooting of themes and ideas in a
specific geographical and cultural hinterland that makes “deep learning
across religious borders” possible.20 The key question is not about how
categories which belong within one tradition are to be brought into dia-
logue with those of another where, strictly speaking, they have no mean-
ing. It is, more exactly, about the proper use of the religious imagination,
about how readers are to be formed with the virtues of faithfulness to their
“home” tradition and a curiosity about the other that enables them to
read not just the lines on the page but also between the lines.
THE JEWISH MATRIX FOR CHRISTIAN FAITH

I have already suggested that the Christian reader learns these virtues
from a faith that is itself formed within another religious world, which
can be called Christianity’s “Jewish matrix.” It is through learning how
to relate to that world in very practical ways that Christians have become
conscious that the “Old Testament” is no longer the preliminary to the
Gospel narrative, the final relic of “late Judaism,” but a highly complex
narrative which continues to form and strengthen the ritual and everyday
practice of a living community of faith. Christians are also showing inter-
est in traditional forms of Talmudic commentary and are becoming more
aware of the influence of Jewish dialogical and personalist thought in both
theology and philosophy. Meanwhile, some Jewish scholars and histori-
ans are taking a serious interest in the origins of Christian theology, as is
evidenced by the publication of books such as a Jewish annotated version
of the New Testament.21 Ever since the recovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls,
scholarly attention has focused on the formative period of Second Temple
Judaism. That Christianity takes its rise from the preaching, the death, and
244 M. BARNES
the resurrection of Jesus is clear. Nevertheless, it is anachronistic to think

of Christianity and Judaism as separate “religions” at any point before
the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE, and arguably for a considerable
period after that. In the first century the situation was extremely fluid; the
point of contention lay not between what used to be pejoratively called
“late Judaism” and the “Jesus movement” that led in due course to the
Christian church, but within a broad range of “Judaisms” held together by
allegiance to a way of life based on the Torah and covenantal monotheistic
faith. The historical question of the “parting of the ways” is receiving a
lot of attention. Scholarly opinion, Christian and Jewish, is that it cannot
easily be equated with any single event in what remained for many decades
a complex history of interaction.
This raises a difficult yet important theological question for contem-
porary relations between Jews and Christians. How can two different-
yet-related records of the event of God’s work of self-revelation coexist
without being made subject to the sort of supersessionist logic that has
dogged Christian accounts of Judaism for centuries? With that ques-
tion in the background, what I want to outline here is not so much an
example of Comparative Theology at work as a prelude to any example of
Comparative Theology. My point is this: what Christians most learn from
the Jewish matrix is not some theory of dual or single covenants that map
out “theological space” in which we can effectively keep a respectful dis-
tance, but a way of relating or living together from which other relations
can grow. Clooney, in what remains one of his most lucid comparative
“experiments,” quotes Lindbeck to support his thesis that Christian theol-
ogy works out of a world that is constituted by the Bible: “For those who
are steeped in [canonical writings, scriptures] no world is more real than
the one they create. A scriptural world is thus able to absorb the universe.
It thus supplies the interpretive framework within which believers seek to
lead their lives and understand reality.”22 To do Comparative Theology
means first enacting that world, which itself entails a focus on religious
practice, on how scripture is read, prayed, and studied, above all on how
the ever-repeated call of God recorded and discerned in the text of scrip-
ture goes on forming and re-forming living communities of faith. Here,
“reading between the lines” is not some mysterious capacity somehow to
excise a message from the text which duller minds have missed; it is about
developing an interiority that is characterized, paradoxically, by an open-
ness to exteriority, to God’s own revelation inscribed in the experience of
promise and gift.
The two different yet related records which make up the Old and New
Testaments consist of a number of voices and a variety of insights that give
rise to different traditions of interpretation. What holds them together
is “God’s story,” the story that begins with God’s Word: not the privi-
leged possession of any individual or group but a witness before the world
to what God is constantly doing in reconciling a recalcitrant people to
Godself. If that is correct, then for Christians the “Jewish voice” has its
own specificity, and is not to be reduced in any straightforward sense to
a “cut-down” version of what is already known. At the same time it is
important to remember that so much of what is heard in the dialogue with
those whom Pope John Paul II, on a visit to the Rome synagogue in 1986,
called our “elder brothers” is bound to have a familiar ring to it.
This is not because Jews and Christians read the same “Old Testament.”
There are, of course, important differences between the canons, let alone
in how they are read. Rather, Christians as much as Jews respond to the
implications of that fundamental imperative, “Listen, O Israel,” even if
for Christians it is complemented—or intensified—by further imperatives
which are central to their version of the narrative. At the beginning of the
fourth gospel, for instance, Jesus makes his own call to the first disciples,
“come and see.” They are not just to listen to the Word but to engage
with it “made flesh.” Nevertheless, what most differentiates Jews from
Christians, namely, the position accorded to Jesus himself, is set within
a prior context of similarity. As the great Jewish philosophers of alterity
Franz Rosenzweig and Emmanuel Levinas constantly remind us, human
beings gain a sense of true personhood by responding generously to the
experience of being commanded. For the Jew this revelatory “event”
is the giving of the Sinai covenant; for the Christian the “event” is the
Paschal Mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Two differ-
ent—but intrinsically related responses—are set within the single mystery
of God’s election of a people for God’s own providential purposes toward
humankind as a whole. If these purposes are not to be dichotomized in
terms of different vocations, let alone rival elections, some way of reading
God’s story which Jews and Christians both share needs to be developed.
READING AND PASSING ON GOD’S WORD

Briefly, I want to sketch a way forward by reading Jewish belief and prac-
tice as a deep framework which forms the Christian “religious world.”
Jews distinguish between written Torah and oral Torah, the books of the
246 M. BARNES
Hebrew Canon and the “interpretive supplement,” a tradition of mem-

orized teachings which is handed down by word of mouth. The stress
is always on continuity with what was given to Moses on Sinai. At the
same time these traditions maintain a potential for further meaning. In
Numbers 11:16ff, for instance, inspired teachers are charged with taking
God’s revealed Word and expounding and interpreting it for the sake of
the people. In the great restoration after the Babylonian Exile, Ezra reads
from the Torah and other scribes help the people to understand: “They
read from the book, from the law of God, with interpretation” (Neh 8:8).
Sometimes, teachers have as their first duty to guard and preserve ancient
tradition; sometimes, in the relationship which develops with pupils, they
take a more positive or creative role in interpreting what is contained in
the ancient texts. The principle seems clear: written and oral Torah form a
single process of revelation. The question, of course, is how God’s Word
can be said in some way to develop without materially changing, a ques-
tion which bothered the ancient rabbis as much as it occupies contempo-
rary Christian theologians.
One well-known rabbinic story recounts how Moses is sent by God
from heaven to sit in the back row of Rabbi Akiva’s class. He is morti-
fied to find that he does not understand what the rabbi is talking about.
Then, they come to a certain topic and the disciples ask the rabbi: “But
how do you know this?” And the rabbi replies: “This was given to Moses
on Sinai.” Moses takes comfort in knowing that God’s work of revelation
and the human act of interpreting the Word are intimately linked. It is not,
however, that the written Torah is so obscure that it demands further elu-
cidation. Nor is the oral Torah just a further development for a new age.
It is the very process of engagement with the text that teaches a certain
responsibility before the Word. Thus, Emmanuel Levinas, who developed
his own style of modern-day philosophical approach to Talmudic wisdom,
speaks about a “liturgy of study.”23 Reading the text is made up of formal
repetitions and rituals, as the meaning of the words is made clearer. It
becomes almost a sacred or religious act as sages wrestle over the meaning
of the text, seeking to bring it into a meaningful dialogue with the exigen-
cies of the everyday.
That, however, is precisely not to imply that revelation is the passing
on of some finished divine truth or message. Rather, the very opening
up of a space for human interpretation speaks of the freedom God gives
to human beings. God, as the original author or inspirer of the given
scripture, restrains God’s power so that creatures can exercise reason and
imagination in expounding the text. The Torah is bestowed on human-

kind not to shackle them into predetermined outcomes but so that they
may interpret and draw meaning from the text. In this sense it is through
the medium of the written and oral Word at the heart of a community that
God is understood to engage with humankind. In one sense, therefore,
the Torah is perfect—because it is God’s Word. In another, it is incom-
plete—because words need to be read, studied, or performed if God’s
meaning is to be understood by human beings. In such acts of prayerful
and attentive reading, there is, of course, a tension between the demands
of tradition and the exigencies of the present. The life of the interpreter is
balanced between the restraint exercised by the givenness of the text (for it
always remains authoritative for the community) and the element of imag-
ination and creativity which stems from the freedom of the moment. The
question is always how to keep open the possibilities for understanding; to
put it in more negative terms, how one is to avoid imposing a premature
conclusion on the process of reading.
The paradox is that the longer one goes on wrestling with the text, not
presuming to have exhausted its “meaning,” the more easily one becomes
attuned to the demands made by life lived, as it were, in obedience to
the text. This is something Jews and Christians share. In listening to the
normative texts which form Christian faith, and by extension the classic
commentaries which they generate, study and prayer become a way of
life—part of the broad “liturgy” (literally a “work of the people”) which
defines both Judaism and Christianity at their best. In this sense, such
texts have what Catholics might speak of as a sacramental value; they act as
dynamic signs of God’s own self-revealing action at the heart of the life of
the community. Before they teach a special revelation, texts make proper
hearing of the Word possible by forming a discerning community sensitive
to the promptings of the Spirit. Revelation is what God reveals of Godself,
the Word of God spoken in the world which instructs human beings in
the ways of God.
CONCLUSION: LEARNING AND TEACHING THE WORD

OF GOD
I have briefly tried to do two things. First, I have described the “prom-
ise of Comparative Theology” in terms of the dialectic which I noted at
the beginning—textuality and imagination. We human beings are always
248 M. BARNES
caught up in networks of words that give shape to our lives. In order

to guard against the temptation to go on repeating what we have been
taught in the mistaken belief that somehow it can function as a finished
account of things, we need to attend to the action of the Holy Spirit
which blows where it wills. Comparative Theology is all about exploring
the textuality–imagination dialectic as it haunts the fringes of our familiar
religious worlds. Its role is not to produce further variations on a theme in
order to satisfy our relentless demand for novelty, but to teach us to “read
between the lines,” to seek out other angles and explore deep resonances;
in short, to renew the well-springs of faith by learning to appreciate its
many manifestations.
Second, as an example of what in the end is always God’s work, I have
explored a little of the primary relationship that forms Christian faith, the
formative dialogue with the Jewish people. However much they may differ
in their interpretation of the meaning and implications of God’s act of self-
communication, Jews and Christians are at one in recognizing that revela-
tion is bound up with that moment when God speaks to the very depths of
the human person and draws us out of ourselves into a life of communion
and friendship with God. The privilege of grace enjoyed by Christians is
not the possession of truths about God which sets them apart, but a God-
given responsibility before the mystery of God’s self-communication. For
Christians, the kerygma of the Paschal Mystery is at once continuous with
the Jewish world of thought, without which it cannot be properly under-
stood, and forever transformed by its reception by a whole variety of dif-
ferent audiences—from Paul’s Areopagites to the myriad belief systems,
religious and otherwise, that make up today’s postmodern culture.
NOTES
1. Jacques Dupuis, Toward a Theology of Religious Pluralism (Maryknoll,
New York: Orbis Books, 1997), 2ff.
2. The term “theology of dialogue” is used in different ways. In the sense
developed here, see a discussion of Panikkar’s concept of religious inter-
penetration in Michael Barnes, Religions in Conversation: Christian Identity
and Religious Pluralism (London: SPCK Publishing, 1989), 172–174.
3. Raimundo Panikkar, “The Dialogical Dialogue,” in The World’s Religious
Traditions, ed. Frank Whaling (Edinburgh: T and T Clark Publishing,
1984), 201–221.
4. Dupuis, Toward a Theology, 377ff.
5. See especially Wilfred Cantwell Smith, Towards a World Theology, Faith and
the Comparative History of Religion (London: Macmillan Publishers, 1981).
6. Francis Clooney’s own dialogues are with Hinduism, especially in its theis-
tic Vaishnava form. Among his most important exercises are Theology After
Vedanta (Albany: SUNY Press; 1993); Seeing Through Texts: Doing
Theology among the Śrivaisnavas of South India (Albany: SUNY Press,
1996); Divine Mother, Blessed Mother: Hindu Goddesses and the Virgin
Mary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Beyond Compare
(Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2008).
7. Francis X. Clooney, Comparative Theology: Deep Learning Across Religious
Borders (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell Publishing, 2010), 11.
8. See especially George A. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and
Theology in a Postliberal Age (London: SPCK Publishing, 1984).
9. See Robert Murray, “Revelation (Dei Verbum),” in Modern Catholicism:
Vatican II and After, ed. Adrian Hastings (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1990), 74. See also detailed discussion in Michael Barnes, “Opening
Up a Dialogue: Dei Verbum and the Religions,” in Interreligious Reading
after Vatican II: Scriptural Reasoning, Comparative Theology and Receptive
Ecumenism, ed. David F. Ford & Frances Clemson (Hoboken, New Jersey:
John Wiley & Sons Publishing, 2013), 10–31.
10. The now familiar words of Pope John Paul II in Mainz, November 17,
1980. See discussion in Norbert Lohfnk, The Covenant Never Revoked
(Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1991).
11. Clooney, Comparative Theology, 165.
12. Paul J. Griffiths, Religious Reading: The Place of Reading in the Practice of
Religion (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999).
13. Clooney, Comparative Theology, 57.
14. Apart from Clooney’s own work, noted above, see a new collection enti-
tled Christian Commentaries on non-Christian Texts edited by Clooney and
Catherine Cornille, especially Song Divine: Christian Commentaries on the
Bhagavad Gita (Leuven: Peeters Press and Eerdmans Publishing, 2006).
15. For a theological overview, see Modern Theology 22, no. 3 (2006), also
published as The Promise of Scriptural Reasoning, eds. David Ford &
C.C. Pecknold (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006). For comments on
practice, see Textual Reasonings, eds. Peter Ochs & Nancy Levene
(London: SCM Press, 2002). See also the web site of the Journal of
Scriptural Reasoning at http://extext.lib.virginia.edu/journals.
16. See especially Peter Ochs, Pierce, Pragmatism, and the Logic of Scripture
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998).
17. Ben Quash, “Heavenly Semantics: Some Literary-Critical Approaches to
Scriptural Reasoning,” Modern Theology 22 (July 2006): 412.
250 M. BARNES
18. Clooney, “Comparative Theology,” in The Oxford Handbook of Systematic

Theology, eds. John Webster, Kathryn Tanner, & Iain Torrance (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2007), 659. My emphasis added.
19. Clooney, “Comparative Theology,” in Oxford Handbook, 664.
20. See Michael Barnes, Interreligious Learning: Dialogue, Spirituality and the
Christian Imagination (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
21. Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler, eds. The Jewish Annotated New
Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). The text is the New
Revised Standard Version with brief introductions and notes on each book,
plus some 30 short essays on subjects ranging from “Common Errors
Made about Early Judaism” to “Paul in Jewish Thought.”
22. Francis X. Clooney, “Reading the World in Christ: From Comparison to
Inclusivism,” in Christian Uniqueness Reconsidered: The Myth of a Pluralistic
Theology of Religions, ed. Gavin D’Costa (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis
Books, 1990), 63–80; quoting Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine, 117.
23. Emmanuel Levinas, In the Time of the Nations (Bloomington: Indiana
CHAPTER 19
Raimon Panikkar’s Contribution

to Interfaith Dialogue
Gerard Hall
INTRODUCTION
Raimon Panikkar (1918–2010) is a recognized pioneer of interfaith
dialogue. This essay investigates the “cosmotheandric vision” at the heart
of Panikkar’s interreligious hermeneutics with its emphasis on “trusting
the other.” The importance he gives to “dialogical dialogue”—as the
meeting of persons rather than minds—makes interfaith dialogue a reli-
gious experience of faith, hope, and love aimed at the transformation of
persons and religious traditions. While the approach is variously critiqued
as too mystical, too optimistic, and too trusting of the other, Panikkar’s
methodological procedures and dialogical strategies are explored in their
own right as paths to authentic dialogue. His emphasis on “diatopical
hermeneutics,” as well as the distinction between “mythic,” “symbolic,”
and “rational” forms of discourse, makes an important contribution to the
theory and praxis of interfaith dialogue.
G. Hall ( )
Faculty of Theology & Philosophy,
Australian Catholic University, Brisbane, Australia
e-mail: gerard.hall@acu.edu.au

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_19
252 G. HALL
TRUSTING THE OTHER

If there is to be constructive dialogue among adherents of diverse religious
traditions, which often enough represent “mutually exclusive and respec-
tively contradictory ultimate systems,”1 Panikkar asks on what basis such
dialogue can proceed. If the goal of such dialogue is the comparison and
contrast of doctrines, beliefs, and practices of different traditions, we are
effectively placing our trust in the rational powers of the intellect to analyze
and interpret diverse sets of data. This is a legitimate exercise, but it is not
strictly speaking interreligious dialogue. Rather, he suggests, one is engaged
in the phenomenological study of religions. In other words, Panikkar’s inter-
est is not in the dialogue of theological exchange, but in the depth-dialogue
of religious or spiritual experience, what he calls “dialogical dialogue.”2
For Panikkar, then, this level of interreligious or interfaith dialogue has a
different purpose and a distinctive modus operandi. It is first and foremost
a religious encounter in faith, hope, and love.3 Faith: while beliefs, ideolo-
gies, doctrines, and theologies divide people and traditions, they are none-
theless united by “faith in the ever inexhaustible mystery beyond the reach
of objective knowledge.”4 Such faith may or may not be overtly “religious”
since, for Panikkar, faith is coterminous with the human person. Hope:
this is at once a truly human and a profoundly religious attitude. Hope is
also linked to the religious notion of sacrifice—one’s eschatological hope
for the world enters the heart of the dialogue overriding fear, weakness,
and prejudice. Love: love seeks truth, but it also impels us toward our fel-
low human beings, leading us to discover in them what is lacking in us.
In faith, hope, and love, one yearns for the common recognition of truth
that does not obliterate the differences or mute the voices of any person or
tradition. This type of dialogue is a meeting of persons rather than minds
and, as with all interpersonal encounters, can only proceed on the basis of
“real mutual trust between those involved in the encounter.”5
Nonetheless, as an interreligious encounter, we do not place our ulti-
mate faith or trust in our human partner, but in reality itself. Panikkar
calls this a “human cosmic trust” or “cosmic confidence.”6 The ultimate
ground for our engagement in interfaith dialogue is the same ground
that tells us, despite all signs to the contrary, that reality is intelligible,
ordered, trustworthy, true, beautiful, and good. According to most tra-
ditions, there is an ultimate, divine reality that may go by many names.
However, this divine reality is also at the center of the cosmos and the
heart of humanity. This leads Panikkar to speak of the ultimate reality in
which we trust as the cosmotheandric (cosmos/world; theos/God; aner/
RAIMON PANIKKAR’S CONTRIBUTION TO INTERFAITH DIALOGUE 253
human) mystery. Without being confined to religious traditions, he con-

siders the cosmotheandric intuition to be “the original and primordial
form of consciousness” and “the emerging religious consciousness of our
times.”7 It also provides the foundational experience upon which religious
dialogue and even spiritual communion are possible across the traditions.
DIALOGICAL DIALOGUE
Dialogical dialogue begins with the assumption that the other is also an
original source of human understanding and that persons who enter the
dialogue have a capacity to communicate their unique experiences and
understandings to each other. In Panikkar’s terms, “radical otherness”
does not eradicate what he terms “radical relativity” or the primordial
interconnection of all human traditions.8 Dialogical dialogue is necessar-
ily a risk or adventure in which participants seek to establish a common
ground or circle of meaning in which this primordial sense of human
relatedness will be a catalyst for intersubjective communication. As indi-
cated, it can proceed only on the basis of a certain trust in the “other
qua other”—and even a kind of “cosmic confidence” in the unfolding of
reality itself. But it should not—indeed cannot—assume a single vantage
point or higher view outside the traditions themselves. The ground for
understanding needs to be created in the space between the traditions
through the praxis of dialogue.9
For Panikkar, the praxis of dialogical dialogue needs to proceed accord-
ing to what he terms the “imparative” method, “the effort at learning
from the other and the attitude of allowing our own convictions to be
fecundated by the insights of the other.”10 David Krieger suggests that
Panikkar’s notions of mythos, logos, and symbol correspond to three modes
or “levels of discourse” which he terms “boundary” (or proclamative),
“argumentative” (or logical), and “disclosive” (or symbolic).11 The impar-
ative method of dialogical dialogue highlights disclosive discourse because
it seeks in some way to communicate—and even extend—the power of
each tradition’s symbols.
Although Panikkar develops the notion of dialogical dialogue with more
particular focus on interreligious encounter, the fundamental principles
can be equally applied to intercultural dialogue. I mention this because
he conceives dialogical dialogue in terms of seeking a “new revelatory
experience,”12 which may seem to imply an overtly religious connotation.
However, for Panikkar, revelation is the uncovering of any living sym-
bol which discloses the “whole,” connecting us to something “beyond,”
254 G. HALL
to transcendence or to any ultimate human horizon. As noted, Panikkar

understands faith as a universal human activity that expresses itself in par-
ticular beliefs. In turn, these may be explicated in religious or cultural
terms—with or without explicit reference to sacred or secular realities.
The “new revelatory experience” of which Panikkar speaks is the goal of
diatopical hermeneutics (interpreting across boundaries).13 Dialogical dia-
logue is the suggested method for achieving it. This kind of dialogue is
first of all distinguished from the dialectical dialogue of argumentative
discourse. Panikkar explains:
Dialogue seeks truth by trusting the other, just as dialectics pursues truth
by trusting the order of things, the value of reason and weighty arguments.
Dialectics is the optimism of reason; dialogue is the optimism of the heart.
Dialectics believes it can approach truth by relying on the objective consis-
tency of ideas. Dialogue believes it can advance along the way to truth by
relying on the subjective consistency of the dialogical partners. Dialogue
does not seek primarily to be duo-logue, a duet of two logoi, which would
still be dialectical; but a dia-logos, a piercing of the logos to attain a truth that
transcends it.14
There are certain ground rules or indispensable prerequisites for dia-

logical dialogue. These include, first, a deep human honesty, intellectual
openness, and a willingness to forego prejudice in the search for truth while
maintaining “profound loyalty towards one’s own tradition.”15 In fact, the
starting point for dialogical dialogue is the internal or intrapersonal dialogue
by which one consciously and critically appropriates one’s own tradition.
Without this deep understanding of and commitment to one’s own tradi-
tion, there are simply no grounds for the dialogical dialogue to proceed.
Second, one needs a deep commitment and desire to understand another
tradition, which means being open to a new experience of truth since “one
cannot really understand the views of another if one does not share them.”16
This is not to assume an uncritical approach to the other tradition so much
as a willingness to set aside premature judgments which arise from prejudice
and ignorance, the twin enemies of truth and understanding.
The external or interpersonal dialogue will focus on the mutual tes-
timonies of those involved in the dialogue keeping in mind that “what
the other bears is not a critique of my ideas but witness to his own expe-
rience, which then enters our dialogue, flows with it and awaits a new
fecundation.”17 These notions of testimony and witness highlight the fact
that dialogical dialogue is primarily the meeting of persons; the aim is
“convergence of hearts, not just coalescence of minds.”18 Consequently,

it is the experience of existential dialogue itself which is all-important. In
the encounter, each participant attempts to think in and with the sym-
bols of both traditions so there is symbolic transformation of experiences.
Both partners are encouraged to “cross over” to the other tradition and
then “cross back again” to their own. In so doing, they mutually inte-
grate their testimonies “within a larger horizon, a new myth.”19 This
is rightly called a conversion experience. Not only does each begin to
understand the other according to the other’s self-understanding, but
there is growth and dynamism in the manner that each tradition under-
stands itself.20 Dialogical dialogue challenges once and for all the notion
that religions or cultures are closed and unchanging systems.
Interpersonal encounter is always followed by intrapersonal dialogue
(or soliloquy) in which the participants seek to integrate their new experi-
ences and insights into previously held beliefs. Dialogue with oneself is as
important as dialogue with the other. This will also require the search for
a language capable of expressing the “new revelatory experience” while
remaining faithful to the truth of each tradition. In fact, Panikkar speaks
of the need for allowing a “primordial language” to emerge from the dia-
logue itself. Such a language is not a “universal language”; nor can it be
artificially created.
The primordial language is hidden in our respective languages not as a
language, of course, but as language. In the effort of communicating with
one another—at the beginning without proper understanding, then slowly
by dispelling false imaginations and misconceptions—we forge a common
language, we reach a mutual comprehension, we cross boundaries.21 Of
course, new understandings and interpretations, let alone a new language,
will need to be tested with respect to both traditions. Intrapersonal dia-
logue again becomes interpersonal encounter. The process is cyclical,
ongoing, and dynamic. Even where agreement is reached, it is important
to be conscious of the finite and limited reality of all interpretations which
remain open and provisional, especially in relation to further insights
which will emerge from ongoing dialogical dialogue.22
COSMOTHEANDRIC VISION
Panikkar distills his cosmotheandric vision through reflection on the Christian
Trinity, Vedantic nondualism (advaita), and Buddhist radical interdepen-
dence (pratῑtyasamutpᾱda). He claims, nonetheless, that the threefold pat-
tern—“the triadic myth” or “the theanthropocosmic invariant”23—is “the
256 G. HALL
almost universal trinitarian insight of humanity.”24 In classical language, the

divine, human, and earthly realities, though distinct, are interrelated and
inter-independent. This cosmotheandric intuition of the “threefold struc-
ture” and “triadic oneness” of reality, according to Panikkar, is manifest at
“all levels of consciousness and reality.”25 One formulation of the cosmoth-
eandric intuition, vision, or experience is the following:
The cosmotheandric principle could be stated by saying that the divine, the
human and the earthly—however we may prefer to call them—are the three
irreducible dimensions which constitute the real, i.e., any reality inasmuch
as it is real… What this intuition emphasizes is that the three dimensions of
reality are neither three modes of a monolithic undifferentiated reality, nor
are they three elements of a pluralistic system. There is rather one, though
intrinsically threefold, relation which expresses the ultimate constitution of
reality. Everything that exists, any real being, presents this triune constitu-
tion expressed in three dimensions. I am not only saying that everything
is directly or indirectly related to everything else: the radical relativity or
pratῑtyasamutpᾱda of the Buddhist tradition. I am also stressing that this
relationship is not only constitutive of the whole, but that it flashes forth,
ever new and vital, in every spark of the real.26
In particular, Panikkar’s formulation of reality as cosmotheandric

contests the assumption that reality is reducible to Being: there is also
Nonbeing, the abyss, silence, and mystery. Nor can consciousness be totally
identified with reality: there is also matter and spirit. As Panikkar expresses
it, “reality is not mind alone, or cit, or consciousness, or spirit. Reality is
also sat and ananda, also matter and freedom, joy and being.”27 In fact,
this is for Panikkar the fundamental religious experience: “Being or reality
transcends thinking. It can expand, jump, surprise itself. Freedom is the
divine aspect of being. Being speaks to us; this is a fundamental religious
experience consecrated by many a tradition.”28
Three assumptions lay behind Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision. The
first is that reality is ultimately harmonious. It is neither a monolithic unity
nor sheer diversity and multiplicity. Second, reality is radically relational
and inter-independent so that every reality is constitutively connected to
everything that is: “every being is nothing but relatedness”; every “part”
of reality “participates” in and “mirrors” the whole. This corresponds to
the ancient intuition that every reality is a microcosm of the universe;
a contemporary version is the Gaia principle. Third, reality is symbolic,
both pointing to and participating in something beyond itself. We do not
have a God separate from the world, a world that is purely material, nor
humans who are reducible to their own thought processes and cultural
expressions. While it is important to recognize the “symbolic difference”
between God and the world, as between one religion and another, for
Panikkar, all cultures, religions, and traditions are relationally and symbol-
ically entwined with each other, with the world in which we live, and with
an ultimate divine reality. The three “dimensions” of the cosmotheandric
vision are summarized in the sections that follow.
Cosmos/Kosmos29
This world of matter, energy, space, and time is, for better or worse, our
home. These realities are ultimate and irreducible. There is no thought,
prayer, or action that is not radically cosmic in its foundations, expressions,
and effects. The earth is sacred, as many traditions proclaim. More than
this, there is no sacredness without the secularity of the world (literally
saeculum). Panikkar speaks of “sacred secularity”30 as the particular way
in which the divine and conscious dimensions of reality are rooted in the
world and its cosmic processes.
He insists, for example, that there is something more than pure mate-
riality in a simple stone.31 Through its existence in space and time, the
stone is connected to the entire universe with which it shares its destiny.
Notions of inert matter, amorphous space, and neutral time are super-
seded with reference to the ancient wisdom of anima mundi: the universe
is a living organism constitutive of the Whole.32 Moreover, science itself is
on the way to recovering something of this lost insight through its recog-
nition of the indeterminacy of matter, the open-endedness of space, and
the indefinability of time. In Panikkar’s terms, there are “no disembod-
ied souls or disincarnated gods, just as there is no matter, no energy, no
spatio-temporal world without divine and conscious dimensions.”33 Every
concrete reality is cosmotheandric, that is, a symbol of the “whole.” It is
not only God who reveals; poets, philosophers, and mystics have much to
teach; the earth has its own revelations, as indigenous cultures have always
known and modern cultures ignore at their peril.
Matter, space, time, and energy are then coextensive with both human
consciousness and the divine mystery.34 There is something unknowable,
unthinkable, uncanny, or inexhaustible which belongs to the world as world.
This means that the final unknowability of things is not only an epistemo-
logical problem (due to the limits of the intellect) but also an ontological
reality (integral to the very structure of beings). Other traditions will call
258 G. HALL
this dimension nothingness, emptiness, or even nonbeing insofar as it is that

which enables beings to be, to grow, to change—and even to cease-to-be.35
Anthropos36
Consciousness, for Panikkar, is the human dimension of reality. However,
consciousness is not reducible to humanity: “Consciousness permeates
every being. Everything that is, is cit.”37 In other words, consciousness
relates not only to humans who know but to everything else that is actu-
ally or potentially known—including a far galaxy on the other side of the
universe. In this sense, “the waters of human consciousness wash all the
shores of the real.”38 From the other perspective, the human person is never
reducible to consciousness. Humans participate in the evolving cosmos of
which they are a part; they also participate in the divine mystery of freedom.
Panikkar presents human experience as a threefold reality: aesthetic, intel-
lectual, and mystical. The three eyes of sense, reason, and spirit (the “third
eye”) are all necessary forms of human knowing.39 He critiques technocratic
culture for reducing human life to two levels (the sensible and the rational),
forgetting if not despising the third realm (the mystical). This third realm is
not a rarefied psychological state or an independently acquired knowledge.
It is the mystical or depth-dimension within all human awareness which
comes to the fore in the realization that a particular experience is unique,
ineffable, and nonrepeatable. Panikkar’s intention is to show that genuine
human experience involves the triad of senses, intellect, and mystical aware-
ness in correlation with matter, thought, and freedom. Each human act is
an enactment of the cosmotheandric mystery. This is how he explains it:
We cannot sense, think, experience, without matter, logos, and spirit.

Thought and mystical awareness are not possible without matter, indeed,
without the body. All our thoughts, words, states of consciousness and the
like are also material, or have a material basis. But our intellect as well would
not have life, initiative, freedom and indefinite scope (all metaphors) without
the spirit lurking as it were, behind or above, and matter hiding underneath.40
This cosmotheandric insight stresses human identity with the worldly

character and temporal nature of the cosmos; it also manifests a human
openness toward the infinite mystery that ipso facto transcends human
thought. The basis of such affirmations is human experience itself, which
somehow refuses to sever itself from the totality of Being: we experi-

ence ourselves to be something “more” than mere pawns of nature in
the evolution of matter, passing egos in the flow of time, or temporary
insertions in the expansion of space. This too, he maintains, has been the
fundamental insight of every religious tradition.
Theos41
For Panikkar, the divine dimension of reality is not an “object” of human
knowledge, but the depth-dimension to everything that is. The mistake
of Western thought is in identifying God as a separate if Supreme Being
which resulted in that God being turned into a human projection.42
Panikkar therefore also speaks of the divine mystery in nontheistic terms
such as emptiness, freedom, infinitude.43 This essentially trinitarian inspi-
ration takes as its cue the notion that “the Trinity is not the privilege of the
Godhead, but the character of reality as a whole.”44 As he states, he wants
“to liberate the divine from the burden of being God.”45
Panikkar’s concern is not to overthrow the central insights and experi-
ences of the theistic traditions but to acknowledge that “true religiousness
is not bound to theisms,” not even in the West.46 He is especially sensitive
to the modern secular critique of traditional religions in their generation
of various forms of alienation, pathology, and disbelief. The suggestion is
that we need to replace the monotheistic attitude with a new paradigm or
a new kosmology precisely in order to “rescue” the divine from an increas-
ingly isolated, alienated, and irrelevant existence. Sardonically expressed,
the divine is not a “Deus ex machina with whom we maintain formal rela-
tions.”47 Rather, the mystery of the divine is the mystery of the inherent
inexhaustibility of all things, at once infinitely transcendent, utterly imma-
nent, totally irreducible, and absolutely ineffable.48
Of course, this divine dimension is discernible within the depths of the
human person. Humanity is not a closed system and, despite whatever
forms of manipulation and control are exercised, the aspect of (divine)
freedom remains. Nor is the world without its own dimension of mystery
since it too is a living organism with endless possibility as the astrophysi-
cists, among others, show us. Moreover, as indicated, the earth has its own
truth and wisdom even if this has largely been ignored in recent centuries
by too many cultures and religions.
260 G. HALL
THEORY AND PRAXIS OF INTERFAITH DIALOGUE

Trusting the other seems to be a good starting point if we are to engage in
interfaith dialogue. Nonetheless, we are right to ask if Panikkar’s approach
to the theory and praxis of interfaith dialogue may be more appealing to
the mystics than the theologians. It is also an approach that is apt to be
misunderstood if we assume he is presenting some new theory of religions
and religious pluralism. Panikkar, himself, always considered his contribu-
tion to be one of communicating an experience which he understood to
be emerging in many traditions. He understood this not to be a theory,
but a myth. The cosmotheandric vision holds that the encounter of tradi-
tions through dialogical dialogue is crucial in the new situation of radical
pluralism that confronts our world since, in his assessment, no single reli-
gion, culture, or tradition holds a universal solution for either our theo-
retical or practical human problems.
Moreover, Panikkar’s approach is appealing in the manner it develops a
critical stance toward all imperialistic and monistic modes of thinking and
acting. No more will one religion, culture, or tradition impose itself on
peoples of diverse if less powerful traditions. The cosmotheandric vision
tells us that a new holistic experience of reality is emerging in which every
tradition, religious or otherwise, can play its part in the unfolding of a new
experience (revelation) where all will live in harmony and peace.
As a foundational human reality, faith (as distinct from belief) provides
the basis upon which dialogical dialogue among the various traditions can
aid in the purification of religions and cultures. Panikkar’s solution is, of
course, a mystical one. The age-old dilemma between the one and the
many is transcended through the Christian experience of the Trinity, the
Hindu concept of advaita, and the Buddhist notion of “radical relativity.”
Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision also includes the insights of the primal
and humanistic traditions, respectively emphasizing the sacredness of the
earth and the value and autonomy of the world. However, we need to ask
to what extent his trinitarian inspiration is compatible with other tradi-
tions? We may also ask to what extent it is compatible with the traditions
from which it claims its inspiration?
The primordial category for Panikkar is evidently the cosmotheandric
experience through which he interprets all religions and traditions which
may or may not share his enthusiasm for some form of “new revelation.”
Apart from theological issues, we note that Panikkar’s model for interfaith
dialogue is grounded in a mythos which gives explicit trust in the creative
power of traditions to be self-correcting. It may be argued that Panikkar
gives insufficient attention to the irrational, pathological, and evil forces
hidden within people’s languages, myths, and symbols. Moreover, such

forces will distort communication and impact negatively on understand-
ing. For all the emphasis on the radical difference between self and other,
not all traditions will concur with Panikkar’s confidence in the universal
connectedness of human history. At the very least, these critiques suggest
the need to further develop dialogical strategies that will aid the unmask-
ing of forces that distort communication, freedom, and rationality.
However, it would be a mistake to assume that Panikkar’s cosmothean-
dric proposal is opposed to the demands of reason—which he states holds
the “veto power”—or to any method that will assist in mutual critique
and overturn misunderstanding. Panikkar’s discourse is directed toward
another level of meaning without which human traditions are certainly
caught in the endless cycle of power relationships, ideological discord,
and inevitable misunderstandings. This is the level of meaning that reason
alone cannot provide—certainly not if we accept that there is a radical
differentiation of human experience and intelligibility across cultures and
religions. His emphasis on the experience and praxis of dialogical dialogue
is important because it emphasizes the communicative possibilities of sym-
bols. Without some kind of trust in the other and some form of optimism
in the human spirit (or in God, Being, Truth, Nonbeing, Transcendence,
or Life itself), the other must forever remain the unknown stranger.
PANIKKAR’S LEGACY
Nonetheless, the subtlety of Panikkar’s thought should not be underes-
timated. This is evident, for example, in his notions of diatopical herme-
neutics, dialogical dialogue, the imparative method, and his distilling of
various levels of discourse (according to mythos, logos, and symbol). He
is surely correct in stressing that it is only in the actual praxis of dialogue
among the traditions that similarities and differences can be explored
at the deepest level. The danger, which he highlights, is to assume the
supremacy of the logos without first entering into symbolic and mythic
engagement—and without commitment to personal transformation. The
invitation to dialogical dialogue represents a radical departure from the
narrower focus of dialectical dialogue which too readily assumes there is
such a thing as pure truth located in the human intellect.
Panikkar’s dialogical dialogue and cosmotheandric vision do provide an
original if provocative solution to the postmodern challenge of uncovering
“what is questionable and what is genuine in self and other, while open-
ing self to other and allowing other to remain other.”49 People and
262 G. HALL
human traditions, whether religious or secular, are capable of growth and

change—especially through their mutual sharing with, receiving from, and
critiquing of themselves and the other in dialogue. This remains Panikkar’s
primary insight and lasting legacy.
NOTES
1. Raimon Panikkar, “The Invisible Harmony: A Universal Theory of
Religion or a Cosmic Confidence in Reality?” in Toward a Universal
Theology of Religion, ed. Leonard Swidler (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis
Books, 1987), 125.
2. See Raimon Panikkar, The Intra-Religious Dialogue, rev. ed. (New York:
Paulist Press, 1999), 23–40.
3. See Panikkar, Intra-Religious Dialogue, 69ff.
4. Raimon Panikkar, Myth, Faith and Hermeneutics (Mahwah, New Jersey:
Paulist Press, 1979), 6.
5. Panikkar, Intra-Religious Dialogue, 70.
6. See, for example, Raimon Panikkar, Invisible Harmony (Minneapolis:
Fortress Press, 1995), 174–177. Panikkar also refers to this as “cosmoth-
eandric confidence.”
7. Raimon Panikkar, The Cosmotheandric Experience (Maryknoll, New York:
Orbis Books, 1993), 55, 77.
8. See, for example, Cosmotheandric Experience, 60.
9. Expanding on this notion, Panikkar states: “Dialogical dialogue, which dif-
fers from the dialectical one, stands on the assumption that nobody has access
to the universal horizon of human experience, and that only by not postulat-
ing the rules of the encounter from a single side can Man proceed towards a
deeper and more universal understanding of himself and thus come closer to
his own realization.” See Panikkar, Intra-Religious Dialogue, 130.
10. Panikkar develops this notion of “imparative method,” elsewhere called
“dialogical philosophy,” in “Aporias in the Contemporary Philosophy of
Religion,” in Man and World 13, no. 3–4 (1980): 370–375; and “What Is
Comparative Philosophy Comparing?” in Interpreting Across Religious
Boundaries, eds. G.J. Larson and E. Deutsch (Princeton, New Jersey:
Princeton University Press, 1988), 130–135.
11. David Krieger, The New Universalism: Foundations for a Global Theology
(Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1991), 62–68.
12. Raimon Panikkar, “Some Words Instead of a Response,” CrossCurrents
(Summer 1979): 195.
13. Diatopical hermeneutics is Panikkar’s phrase for the art of coming to
understanding “across places” (dia-topoi) or traditions that do not share
common patterns of understanding and intelligibility. See Raimon
Panikkar, “Cross-cultural Studies: The Need for a New Science of

Interpretation,” Monchanin 8, nos. 3–5 (1975): 12–15.
14. Panikkar, Myth, Faith and Hermeneutics, 243.
15. Raimon Panikkar, The Unknown Christ of Hinduism, 2nd rev. ed.
(Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1981), 35.
16. Raimon Panikkar, “Verstehen als Überzeugstein,” in Neue Anthropologie, eds.
Hans-Georg Gadamer and Paul Vogler, Philosophische Anthropologie 7
(Stuttgart: Thieme, 1975), 137. The practical application of this principle is
explained elsewhere by Panikkar with reference to Hindu and Christian
understandings of each other: “A Christian will never fully understand
Hinduism if he is not, in one way or another, converted to Hinduism. Nor will
a Hindu ever fully understand Christianity unless he, in one way or another,
becomes a Christian.” See Panikkar, Unknown Christ of Hinduism, 43.
18. Panikkar, Invisible Harmony, 173ff. Panikkar adds that “there is always
place for diversity of opinions and multiplicity of mental schemes of
intelligibility.”
20. Growth is a primary category for Panikkar’s understanding of religions,
cultures, and reality itself: “The physical theory of an expanding universe
may furnish a fair image of what happens in the ontological realm as well.”
This translates into the cosmotheandric vision: “In a word, there is real
growth in Man, in the World and, I would also add, in God, at least inas-
much as neither immutability nor change are categories of the divine.” See
Panikkar, Intra-Religious Dialogue, 98–100.
21. Panikkar, “What Is Comparative Philosophy Comparing?” 132. Panikkar
says that he derives his notion of “primordial language” from the apau-
ruseya insight of the Vedas. The claim here is that there is no (human)
authorship. The language of the Vedas is, in this understanding, an “ulti-
mate language.” There is no need for authors or other interpreters.
Elsewhere, and on a more practical level, Panikkar says that “each encoun-
ter creates a new language.” See Panikkar, Invisible Harmony, 172.
22. See “Aporias in the Comparative Philosophy of Religion,” 373–375;
“What Is Comparative Philosophy Comparing?” 127–129.
23. See chapters by these titles in Raimon Panikkar, The Rhythm of Being: The
Gifford Lectures (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2010), 212–318.
24. Ibid., 212.
25. Raimon Panikkar, The Trinity and the Religious Experience of Man
(London: Darton, Longman & Todd Publishers, 1973), ix. In Rhythm of
Being, he argues that “reality is trinitarian because the structure of the
mind is trinitarian,” 213.
26. Panikkar, Cosmotheandric Experience, 74.
264 G. HALL
27. Panikkar, “Religious Pluralism: The Metaphysical Challenge” in Religious

Pluralism, ed. Leroy S. Rouner (South Bend, Indiana: University of Notre
Dame Press, 1984), 112.
28. Ibid., 114.
29. See especially, Panikkar, Rhythm of Being, 276–289.
30. See Raimon Panikkar, Worship and Secular Man (London: Darton, Longman
& Todd Publishers, 1977), where he develops the notion of “sacred secular-
ity.” See also Panikkar, Rhythm of Being, 36, 276, 350, 370, 404.
31. See Panikkar’s reflection on stones and the cosmos. Rhythm of Being,
278ff.
32. Ibid., 269ff. On the theme of Anima Mundi—Vita Hominis—Spiritus
Dei, see Panikkar, Cosmotheandric Experience, 135–152.
34. Ibid., 79.
35. Ibid., 75.
36. See especially, Panikkar, Rhythm of Being, 289–304.
38. Ibid., 62.
39. Panikkar is critical of the dualist anthropological vision, which recognizes
the epistemological importance of only “senses” and “reason” versus the
threefold vision of the tripartite anthropology of body, soul/mind, and
spirit: “Man is a triad of senses, reason, and spirit in correlation with mat-
ter, thought, and freedom.” See Panikkar, Rhythm of Being, 234–244.
40. Ibid., 243.
41. Ibid., 304–318.
42. Panikkar defines the situation in the West today as floating somewhere
between “qualified monotheism and practical atheism.” In this regard, he
explains his own effort in establishing that “there is a further possibility, a
madhyama or a tertium.” Ibid., 308.
43. Ibid., 318.
44. Ibid., 260.
45. Ibid., 345.
46. Ibid., 322.
47. Panikkar suggests that the divine would have more affinity with the “dancing
God” of Nietzsche. Spoken at The Gifford Lectures: Trinity and Atheism—
The Housing of the Divine in the Contemporary World (Edinburgh, 1989).
48. These four insights regarding the nature of the divine—transcendence,
immanence, irreducibility, ineffability—are evident in the respective atti-
tudes of monotheism, pantheism, polytheism, and atheism. Panikkar states
that “these four traits are mutually incompatible only within the frame-
work of theism. … [Hence,] we need to understand them under a more
appropriate horizon.” See Panikkar, Rhythm of Being, 121–170.
49. David Klemm, “Toward a Rhetoric of Postmodern Theology,” Journal of
the American Academy of Religion 55, no. 3 (1987): 456.
CHAPTER 20
Epistemic Confidence, Humility, and Kenosis

in Interfaith Dialogue
Julius-Kei Kato
INTRODUCTION
Coming as I am from the academy where the rule of thumb is that truth
claims have to be publicly verifiable and accountable to the current estab-
lished body of knowledge and theory, entering the world of interfaith
dialogue can seem like coming into an upside-down world. A substantial
part of interfaith dialogue consists of hearing and/or stating truth claims
upheld with a certain “epistemic confidence” by faith traditions. Many of
these so-called claims, however, are held on the strength of a purported
experience of the divine by some significant figures in the history of the tra-
dition. They are then upheld by the particular faith community’s authori-
ties, usually without any possibility of the claims being empirically verified.
The ability to verify knowledge, I should add, is generally held to be the
norm and is necessary in our present world. Moreover, not believing in
these unverified and unverifiable religious truth claims can sometimes even
mean the exclusion of individuals from particular faith communities.
In this chapter, I propose that there is an urgent need to reevaluate the
nature of the epistemic confidence that is commonly found in religious
J.-K. Kato ( )
Department of Religious Studies, King’s University College
at Western University, London, Canada
e-mail: jkato@uwo.ca

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7_20
266 J.-K. KATO
traditions, especially in the context of our increasingly globalized and

hybridized world characterized by a scientific and historical mentality and
also in view of the need to promote interfaith dialogue. My hunch is that
the epistemic confidence, as it is commonly found in many faith communi-
ties and believers, particularly in my own Catholic Christian tradition, may
be the seed that has to die (John 12:24) in order for the tree of authentic
interfaith dialogue to grow and flourish.
EPISTEMIC CONFIDENCE AND CRITICAL THINKING

In the context of this essay, epistemic confidence, that is, “confidence in
the accuracy of one’s [religious] opinions,” is a strong and valued trait,
particularly in the monotheistic traditions of Christianity and Islam.1 It
is founded on a purportedly superior or ultimate revelation that has been
given by the Divine Being to the faith community to be safeguarded and
held as a matter of life or death of the tradition. In her 2008 book The
Im-Possibility of Interreligious Dialogue, Catherine Cornille points out that
“hospitality to truth,” that is, the recognition of truth in other religious
traditions, may threaten one’s own epistemic confidence or “suggest the
incompleteness of one’s own teachings or practices.”2 This implies that
epistemic confidence can act as a hindrance to genuine openness to authen-
tic dialogue with the “other.” In order to counteract such effects, Cornille
recommends the Christian virtue of humility (though I find it intriguing
for her to add that it does not include “doctrinal humility”) as a practice
that may move religions closer to the “fulfillment of the conditions for
genuine dialogue.”3 However, this may not be how many practitioners of
interfaith dialogue understand the activity. In describing Jewish–Christian
dialogue, philosopher of religion Don Cupitt has this to say:
[Interreligious dialogue] implies cautious, friendly conversations or nego-

tiations between teams… who represent two independent communities of
faith. The aim is to find some common ground and to establish amicable
relations—in short, to agree to differ, because it is tacitly taken for granted
that the two communities propose to remain permanently distinct. We are
coming together in order to agree upon how we can most peaceably stay
apart.4
Such a stance is taken mainly because the dialogue partners are stead-
fast in their own tradition. One can even observe that the teachings that
EPISTEMIC CONFIDENCE, HUMILITY, AND KENOSIS IN INTERFAITH... 267
urge epistemic confidence do not necessarily meet the standards of what

is commonly known as critical thinking. Regarded by Don Cupitt as “the
glory of the West,” critical thinking can be described as the no-nonsense
readiness to question everything, including itself: “[N]othing can expect
to go on being taken for granted: everything must have its credentials
ready for inspection.”5
If we evaluate the many teachings found in Christian documents, it can
be a rude awakening to realize that the tone of much religious language
actually and clearly goes against such critical thinking. It is often assumed
that the tradition is right; that faith is a light that can surely guide us in
our paths; that, as a remedy for a relativistic mentality in vogue today, in
the words of the Vatican document Dominus Iesus (DI), “it must be firmly
believed that, in the mystery of Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Son of God, …
the full revelation of divine truth is given” (DI, 5).
Even Pope Francis’ first papal encyclical Lumen Fidei (LF) makes simi-
lar assertions.6 Several parts of the document try to establish an intrinsic
link between faith and truth (LF, 24–25). Moreover, earlier in the docu-
ment, it assumes that the Christian faith is the fullness of truth by virtue of
Jesus Christ as the “fullness” of God’s revelation (LF, 15). A deeper prob-
ing into why or how this is so will only prove futile. The document simply
assumes it and declares it in “Papa (pun intended) knows best” fashion.
End of discussion. No wonder that it has been criticized by liberation
theologians and others for not providing real answers to the real questions
that Catholics are confronted with today about the very nature of faith.7
Simply assuming that one’s tradition holds the fullness of truth seems
like a fatal strategy in our contemporary world. Why? Many people today
have grown up in what traditionalists term “secularized,” “relativistic,”
and “postmodern” environments. In such environments it is generally
assumed that truth claims are backed up by a publicly accessible and veri-
fiable body of knowledge or consensus. Moreover, they should also be
reasonable, ethical, respectful, inclusive of diversity, open to being ques-
tioned, ready to be abandoned if proven wrong. Unfortunately, these are
qualities not generally found in many dogmatic religious pronouncements.
DIFFERENT KINDS OF TRUTH CLAIMS

Of course, one may object to the assertions above by insisting that religious
truth is radically different in nature from empirically verifiable truth. That
is precisely the reasonable objection that I myself wish to make in order
268 J.-K. KATO
to develop my argument further. To begin, I will refer to Ken Wilber’s

discussions of truth claims. In A Brief History of Everything, Wilber uses
a grid consisting of four quadrants to differentiate the different kinds of
truth or validity claims.8 He refers to the upper-left quadrant, which cate-
gorizes individual and interior truth claims, as “subjective” and the upper-
right quadrant, which categorizes individual and exterior truth claims, as
“objective.” The upper-right or objective quadrant corresponds generally
to what we have described as scientifically and empirically verifiable truths.
This is the environment that people in democratic Western societies grow
up in and take for granted. This is the environment that the pure material-
ists and empiricists take to be all there is in reality and, hence, a cause for
their rejection of so-called religious truths.
It is true that since the Enlightenment contemporary Western societ-
ies have put the highest premium on upper-right matters, often to the
detriment of all other validity claims. Hence, the modern Western world
is frequently labeled as secular and materialistic. For others, though, the
upper-right quadrant is not all there is of reality. Wilber clarifies: “I in no
way deny the general importance of empirical representation. It’s just not
the whole story; it’s not even the most interesting part of the story.”9
Most of the so-called truth claims found in religious traditions belong
more properly to the upper-left subjective quadrant. This quadrant, unlike
the upper-right, does not follow a “correspondence model” of verification
as illustrated in the following case: If one makes the statement “It is rain-
ing outside,” the way to test this truth claim is to look outside the window
to check if the statement corresponds with the reality outside. The empiri-
cal physical evidence—rain—corresponds to and thus verifies the claim.
The truth claims of the upper-left quadrant, according to Wilber, have to
do more with “truthfulness” rather than correspondence between state-
ment and fact. Hence, using once again the “raining outside” analogy,
the matter we are dealing with in terms of the upper-left quadrant is this:
“When I tell you it is raining outside, am I telling you the truth or am I
lying? … Here it is not so much a question of whether the map matches
the objective territory, but whether the mapmaker can be trusted.”10 In
short, the way we navigate in the upper-left or subjective quadrant is by
using a standard that is totally different from that of empirical science. It is
by a standard that is best defined by words such as truthfulness, sincerity,
honesty, or trustworthiness. This means that one cannot verify upper-left
truths by empirical means. The only way to reach a conclusion that an
upper-left statement “might” be true is, according to Wilber, through
meaningful conversations with the speaker and, by means of this dialogue,

evaluate and interpret for oneself whether the origin of the statements
or the statements themselves might indeed be truthful, sincere, honest,
or trustworthy.11 Whatever the outcome of one’s evaluation of upper-left
quadrant statements, it is never an “objective” evaluation. It remains sub-
jective, an “interpretation,” adopted as a result of one’s conversation with
a speaker by which one formed an opinion on the trustworthiness of the
statement and/or its source.
The preceding discussion has shown the radical difference between
statements belonging to the upper-right quadrant (objective and empiri-
cally verifiable) and those that pertain to the upper-left quadrant (subjec-
tive and to which religious statements belong). It has to be noted though
that most people in contemporary Western societies have been thoroughly
inculturated in the upper-right quadrant or the empirically verifiable
modus operandi. This reality is a major key in proposing a strategy for
interfaith dialogue. It is imperative, therefore, that when we speak about
upper-left quadrant subjective matters, we have to tailor our discourse in
a way that is intelligible or “makes sense” even by the standards of the
upper-right quadrant. More on that later.
This, then, is my fundamental question: in such a context or situation,
how do we speak about so-called religious truths so that authentic inter-
faith dialogue can occur? Before I attempt to answer this question, let me
elaborate further on what I have already identified as one major problem
in the way religious traditions speak of so-called religious truths. I will
now discuss the nature of the epistemic confidence as exemplified in my
own parent Christian tradition.
CHRISTIANITY AND EMPIRE

Christianity was a “Christendom” for a very long time. Christendom—
taken here to mean the intertwining of the Christian religion with the
empire—turned Christianity itself into something of an empire.12 Within
the empire, theology was often considered the regina scientiarum, the
“queen of the sciences.”13 It made Christianity, particularly its institutional
representation, acquire imperial ways of thinking, acting, and speaking.
Even when the physical empire came to an end and Christianity found
itself in decline in Western societies, it (particularly the Catholic Christian
tradition) arguably maintained an imperial mentality in many respects as
can be shown in how it speaks and acts. Joerg Rieger defines empire as
270 J.-K. KATO
“massive concentrations of power which permeate all aspects of life…

[and] seeks to extend its control as far as possible… to include the intellec-
tual, emotional, psychological, spiritual, cultural, and religious arenas.”14
Being such a pervasive and powerful entity, empire does not feel that it
has to take pains to validate itself and its claims carefully. It is, after all, the
governing reality and presupposes that its worldview is correct. We have
seen above examples of that epistemic confidence in church documents.
To make matters worse, this epistemic confidence becomes all the more
problematic when it firmly asserts the kind of revelation characterized by
“fullness” or “ultimacy” given to “our” religious tradition. This, in effect,
endows it with a superior quality when compared with other religious
traditions not our own.
CONTEXT OF GLOBALIZATION AND HYBRIDITY

This epistemic confidence within religious traditions must be reevaluated
more seriously in the context of our globalized and hybridized world char-
acterized by a scientific and historical mentality in which many of us—par-
ticularly, the young—are immersed. In addition to our natural preference
for empirically provable data, one cannot deny that many of us do not
define our identities as unilaterally belonging to only “one entity,” be it
culture, ethnicity, or even religious tradition. Looking at our contempo-
rary situation, Don Cupitt observes:
Everything is everywhere, and everything now mingles. None of us can

claim privileged access to his own tradition: on the contrary, all your tradi-
tion is just as accessible to me as mine is to you. The whole idea of any privi-
leged access to Truth is dead. Everything is in the melting-pot, everything
mingles, and I’d like to ask what will emerge from this mingling. Where is it
taking us, and what kind of future will there be for religion?15
In reflecting on this situation, Cupitt’s conclusion is stark: “We need to

give up the idea that in our own tradition we already have, ready-made, a
complete civilization in miniature, founded on an exclusive and final rev-
elation of Truth, and demanding our absolute and exclusive allegiance.”16
If I can use my own metaphor for further emphasis, our situation may
be likened to a blender in which things are mixed and blended with one
another producing something like a tertium quid, a third factor; some-
thing new that is, yes, made up of its original ingredients but, at the
same time, not a simple sum of its parts. In short, there is a mixing and
fusion of worlds. This reality is appropriately termed “hybridity.” So,
although one may self-identify as “Catholic,” oftentimes, that does not
mean an absolute and exclusive allegiance anymore. Many of us find our-
selves members of multiple “worlds” and, at the same time, citizens of
a global world, including the scientific and technological worlds where
truth claims are expected to be publicly verifiable, argued for, and then
only appropriated personally as one’s own. In such a context, it will no
longer be accepted for a proposition or idea to be true just because Holy
Mother Church, the Bible, the pope, or any other authority says so; in
short, unquestioning faith and loyalty are not as easy as in a bygone era.
When, in the name of epistemic confidence, a religious tradition con-
tinues to act as if Christianity was still an empire and theology the “queen
of sciences,” it actually does itself a great disservice. Or, when a religious
tradition tries to mimic the tone of authoritative discourse of another
source, such as empirically verifiable science, it comes across to contem-
porary people as ridiculously self-validating and unreasonably arrogant.
Ultimately, that often leads to it being dismissed as devoid of credibility.
HUMAN STATEMENTS OF HOPE AND TRUST

What is imperative in today’s world in order for authentic interreligious
dialogue to occur is, first and foremost, a gesture on the part of religious
traditions to embrace, according to Philippians 2, the absolute humility
and humiliation of Jesus Christ: kenosis or “self-emptying.”17 This kenotic
process involves religious traditions giving up the illusion of and attach-
ment to empire. They thus abandon forever any sense of privilege and
recognize that they can no longer proclaim their own religious beliefs
arrogantly and haughtily as though these truth claims will be docilely
assented to. Instead, having undergone such a kenosis, I propose that
Christianity come clean, become truly honest, and talk about its beliefs
vis-à-vis a world in which truth claims are usually conceived of as having
passed the test of critical thinking. Given such a proposition, can many so-
called religious beliefs still be classified as “truth claims?”
I suggest that the term “truth claim” as applied to the beliefs of differ-
ent religious traditions that are held with epistemic confidence is actually a
misnomer. I propose a change in the terminology from “truth claim” to a
“kenoticized” expression such as “human statements of hope and trust.”
In short, many of the so-called religious beliefs upon which epistemic
272 J.-K. KATO
confidence is commonly invoked should be defined—more appropri-

ately and from the point of view of empirically demonstrable methods—
as “human statements of hope and trust” (the qualifier “empirically” is
important!); nothing more, but also nothing less. I should also add that
when religious discourse obligates believers to “hold on to” or “assent
to” the truth of certain notions, it is not so much concerned with seeking
truth as with maintaining its own traditional identity which, it is feared,
would fall apart if the particular truth is not believed in.18 This shift in
terminology, I argue, is necessary if we are really to be “honest to God,”
to use the famous book title of Bishop John A.T. Robinson, and to stand
somehow in line with its spirit.19
Why so? It is generally conceded, even in the philosophy of religion,
that the classical arguments for the very existence of God do not succeed
for many people.20 Toward the end of his book Does God Exist? Hans
Küng concedes that there are good reasons both to believe in God and
not to believe. Referring to atheism, he says, “It is possible to deny God.
Atheism cannot be eliminated rationally. It is irrefutable.” However, Küng
also states that “affirmation of God is also possible. Atheism cannot be
rationally established. It is undemonstrable.”21 In the final analysis, to
believe in God then, for Küng, is an act of radical trust in reality and that
it is still perfectly justifiable and reasonable. This is basically also my own
position on the question.
I would like to delineate now some important consequences of this
discussion for interfaith dialogue. If the nature of the God question—and,
by extension, other foundational religious beliefs—is actually ambivalent
and even ambiguous, religious discourse or God-talk, by necessity, cannot
go on by way of an arrogant, haughty, exclusive, closed, and exclusion-
ary epistemic confidence, especially in our present-day contexts. It must,
again by necessity, empty itself of this hubris and take the form of a modest
and humble invitation to trust reality and speak of its beliefs no longer in
terms of assensus (“assent” which sometimes is felt as “required” or even
“coerced”) but of fiducia (“trust”), and even then, a very modest fiducia.22
Contrary to all appearances, this is not exactly a bowing down as it were
to the gods of our postmodern, thoroughly secular age. If we refer back
to the description of Ken Wilber’s grid of the four quadrants, religious
statements belong to the upper-left quadrant. This quadrant is character-
ized not by propositional, empirically demonstrable, rational truth but by
subjective trustworthiness. This actually demands, in my opinion, that we
identify religious language with brutal honesty in a world characterized
by critical thinking, namely, that it is a collection of statements expressing
human hopes and trusts. This, I believe, is stating it empirically; nothing

more, but also nothing less.
When this kenotic action is taken and religious discourse is character-
ized above all by kenosis, and when humility and modesty are adopted,
one feels liberated to treat religious discourse as part of culture. This is
the most human of realities23 that makes the abstract humanum (human-
ity) take on a fascinatingly concrete particularity. The heavy load of trying
to claim that one’s religious tradition is more valid than others is taken
off one’s shoulders. Moreover, the willingness to share one’s own human
statements of religious hope without any defensiveness and, at the same
time, the commitment to truly listen and even appropriate other human
statements of religious hopes are heightened exponentially.
PROPOSAL SUMMARIZED AND EXPRESSED

In light of the above discussion, let me now summarize my modest pro-
posal about what is needed for authentic interfaith dialogue to occur. I
would like to propose a kenotic act with regard to notions of faith and
revelation, areas that in traditional theology were considered as if they
were the last stronghold. That kenotic act consists of courageously admit-
ting that we can never actually substantiate religious doctrines as “true”
in the style of empirically verifiable truth, a style that dominates our era,
because—as we have seen—religious beliefs belong to a different quadrant
in the validity grid.
Positively expressed, in the name of truthfulness, which is the quality
most required in the upper-left quadrant of the truth claim grid, we have
to honestly acknowledge that, analyzed from an empirical perspective,
religious discourse is actually, first and foremost, an expression of human
hopes and trust. That constitutes a radical entry into the humanum, not
only at the level of ethical criteria (à la Hans Küng), but also at the level
of acknowledging one’s own traditional beliefs and ideas about the divine
and about revelation as—again, from an empirical standpoint—human
expressions of hopes and trust, human expressions that imagine what the
divine or the ultimate might be like vis-à-vis humanity. Where is the epis-
temic confidence here? It is intentionally absent. I think we should let it
die before we enter into interfaith dialogue. Interfaith dialogue, even at the
level of what were traditionally considered “supernatural” elements, should
be enveloped by the dome of the humanum in order for it to be genuine.
I propose that genuine interfaith dialogue should be a dialogue in which
all elements—nothing barred—are put under the dome of the humanum.
274 J.-K. KATO
If dialogue participants hold on to and keep asserting “privileged” or

“untouchable” “truths” (even as I consider them as statements of human
hopes and trust), the dialogue remains at the level of, as Don Cupitt puts
it, “agreeing how to most peaceably stay apart.” Upon closer examina-
tion, the truths that are commonly “protected” by invoking divine rev-
elation and considered untouchable are actually the very foundational
notions upon which our ways of being and acting in the world—ethics—
are founded. Thus, there can be no real common ethical criteria if our con-
ceptions of the divine are imperialistic and exclusionary because, as Marcus
Borg so rightly points out, “our images of God matter…. How we image
God shapes not only what we think God is like but also what we think…
life is about.”24
A “no-holds-barred” approach to interfaith dialogue opens up even
our most sacred conceptions of the divine to scrutiny in a public forum,
using widely accepted and time-tested ethical standards. This increases the
chance of unwholesome (human) notions of the divine which plague every
religious system being pointed out, named clearly, and even corrected if
necessary.25 In this model, interfaith dialogue thus becomes in effect a
mutual sharing of how our human hopes regarding the ultimate are reli-
giously formulated.26 It is a dialogue arising out of the humanum, regard-
ing the humanum and its hopes formulated as “religion,” and directed
ultimately at the humanum and how its powerful hopes can contribute to
building a more just and peaceful world.
CONCLUSION
In this study I have basically expressed my hunch that what is commonly
known as “epistemic confidence” in religious traditions, particularly my
own, might be something that we have to let go of if authentic interfaith
dialogue is to occur. Of course, this idea transcends my own tradition in
that it also implies that all religious traditions should empty themselves
of the kind of epistemic confidence described here if genuine interreli-
gious dialogue is to happen at all. This letting the seed of epistemic con-
fidence die, described as a kind of kenosis, involves several things. The
need to liberate ourselves from an imperial and conquering mindset is
one. Acknowledging that we are radically within the humanum, even in
the teachings and ideas that we have been programmed to see as given to
us through divine revelation, is another. This acknowledgment means that
even our most revered doctrines, when subjected to critical scrutiny at the
empirical (and also phenomenological) level, should actually be clearly

named as human statements of hope and trust. Only when we have done
this kenotic act can we truly begin to share our hopes and listen to the
hopes of others. Only then can we appropriate for ourselves the immense
richness that diverse religious hopes have bequeathed to us and not be
confined by our own. Only then can we rid ourselves of the warped forms
of religion that have plagued us.
Have I just collapsed the definition of religious faith into mere human-
istic hope? My response: I sincerely believe that the true nature of faith
consists in being uncertain about the greatest mysteries of reality, yet con-
tinuing to hope. Faith, in the final analysis, more than assensus (assent) is,
above all, a fiducia (trust), a very modest fiducia at that. In this case, it
is trust in the humanum as the only way through which the real voice of
(what is hopefully) the Ultimate would be heard; a voice that continues to
urge us, despite all odds, to continue to trust that Reality is ultimately a
gracious mystery that is actually greater than this empirical world.
NOTES
1. See Richard Foley, Intellectual Trust in Oneself and Others (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2001), 26.
2. Catherine Cornille, The Im-Possibility of Interreligious Dialogue (New
York: Crossroad Publishing, 2008), 212.
3. Ibid., 213.
4. Don Cupitt, Above Us Only Sky: The Religion of Ordinary Life (Santa Rosa,
California: Polebridge Press, 2008), 109.
5. Ibid., 14.
6. Pope Francis, Lumen Fidei: On Faith (June 29, 2013), https://w2.vati-
can.va/content/francesco/en/encyclicals/documents/papa-fran-
cesco_20130629_enciclica-lumen-fidei.html
7. See Leonardo Boff, “First Impressions of the Encyclical Lumen Fidei” in
Iglesia Descalza (July 6, 2013), http://iglesiadescalza.blogspot.
ca/2013/07/first-impressions-of-encyclical-lumen.html; and Juan Jose
Tamayo, “Continuity and Disappointment: Juan Jose Tamayo’s Thoughts
on Lumen Fidei” in Iglesia Descalza (August 11, 2013), http://iglesiades-
calza.blogspot.ca/2013/08/continuity-and-disappointment juan-jose.
html
8. Ken Wilber, A Brief History of Everything (Boulder, Colorado: Shambahla
Publications, 2000), 159.
9. Ibid., 160.
276 J.-K. KATO
10. Ibid., 98.

11. Ibid., 98–99.
12. Joerg Rieger, “Christian Theology and Empires,” in Empire and the
Christian Tradition, eds. Kwok Pui-lan, Don H. Compier, & Joerg Rieger
(Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007), 1–13.
13. Philip Schaff & Samuel Macauley Jackson, Theological Propædeutic: A
General Introduction to the Study of Theology, Exegetical, Historical,
Systematic, and Practical, Including Encyclopaedia, Methodology, and
Bibliography: A Manual for Students (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons
Publishers, 1893), 6.
14. Rieger, “Christian Theology and Empires,” 3.
15. Cupitt, Above Us Only Sky, 109.
16. Ibid., 108.
17. See Martha Frederiks, “Kenosis as a Model for Interreligious Dialogue,”
Missio: An International Review 23, no. 2 (April 2005): 211–22; and
Mark Yenson, “Battered Hearts and the Trinity of Compassion: Women,
the Cross, and Kenosis,” The Way 45, no. 1 (January 2006): 51–66.
18. Cupitt, Above Us Only Sky, 19.
19. John A.T. Robinson, Honest to God (London: SCM Press, 1963).
20. See Cupitt, Above Us Only Sky, 32; and Cupitt, Taking Leave of God
(London: SCM Press, 1980), chap. 3.
21. Hans Küng, Does God Exist? (New York: Vintage Books, 1981),
568–575.
22. See Cupitt, Taking Leave of God, 165–167; and Marcus Borg, The God We
Never Knew (New York: HarperCollins Publisher, 1997), chap. 10.
23. I am reminded here of the title of a book in Japanese containing the discus-
sions of two psychiatrists on the question of God. Nada Nadai, Kami,
Kono Ningen-teki na Mono [literally, God, This Most Human of Things]
(Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2002).
24. Borg, The God We Never Knew, 57.
25. A movement that tries to bring the value of compassion to the heart of all
religious traditions and tries to point out unwholesome images of the
divine in religions is Karen Armstrong’s Charter for Compassion. The
movement is founded on an actual charter which summarizes its main mes-
sage. See http://charterforcompassion.org/site
26. This is stated with the clear acknowledgment that these hopes may be
based on a variety of religious experiences which have been often inter-
preted as the divine coming into contact with our human sphere. Religious
experiences though, it should be noted, are open to many ways of interpre-
tation. They cannot conclusively prove the reality of the divine although
they have been considered important foundational elements particularly in
the monotheistic religions. I myself remain open to considering them in
that way.
INDEX1
A African Traditional Religion, 59,

Abba, 134, 147–50 198–200, 204
Aborigines. See also Indigenous aggiornamento, 47
traditional religion, 54, 59, 124, Ahmadiyya/Ahmadi, 73, 75, 77–9, 81
143, 198–200, 204, 259 anawim, 135
tribal, xxiv Anglican Lambeth Conference, 219
Abraham, 9, 13, 21, 32, 33, 35, 38, anthropos, 123, 124, 126, 258
39, 41, 42n9, 43n12 Arab-Israeli, 21
absolute Archbishop of Canterbury, 219
Supreme Being, 48, 259 Asia, Asian Church, 4, 7, 45–55,
ultimate reality, 163, 229, 252 55n3, 80, 82, 83, 119, 120, 123,
African-American Muslims, 226 126, 127n2, 143, 144, 147, 157,
African Christian 166n3, 167n9, 172, 173, 198,
African theology, 203 224, 227
homoousios relationship, 204 Assisi, World Day of Prayer for Peace,
vitology (Theology of Life), 203, 13, 206
208n11 Athenagoras, Patriarch, 12, 120, 123
you-with-me relationship, 204, 207 Augustine, 20, 132, 142n3
African Muslim, 59, 106, 198–200, Australian Partnership of Religious
206, 225, 226 Organizations, 211
1
Note: Page numbers with “n” denote notes.

DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-59698-7
278 INDEX
axial age, 132, 143, 148 Hinayana (small vehicle), 145

Ayatollah Abdol-Hamid Masoumi- Śākyamuni Buddha’s, 227, 233
Tehrani, 219 Lotus Sūtra, 227, 229, 233, 234
Mahayana (large vehicle), 133,
145, 152, 225, 226, 233
B Nichiren Buddhism, 233
Babylonian Exile, 246 nirvana, 145, 152, 153
Baeck, Leo, 32 Pure Land Buddhism, 135, 155
Bahá’í samadhi (liberation), 152
Bahá’í House of Worship, 213 samsara, 152, 153
Bahá’u’lláh, 210–14, 219 Siddhartha, 130
The Promise of World Peace, 213 Tendai Buddhism, 233
Universal House of Justice, 213, Tibetan Buddhists, 139
214
Baum, Gregory, 17, 27
Bea, Cardinal, 3, 5, 6, 22, 33, 51, 159, C
188 CAN. See Christian Association of
Bello, Sultan Muhammad, 63 Nigeria (CAN)
Benedict XVI, Pope, 13, 27, 207n4 Catholic Church (documents)
Benson, Edward White, 219 Dialogue and Mission, 191
Bhutto, Zulfiqar Ali, 77 Dialogue and Proclamation,
blasphemy law (Section 295-C), 79, 191, 195n2
81–3 Dominus Iesus, 267
Brahma Kumaris, 218 Ecclesiam Suam, 3, 5–9, 46, 184
Buber, Martin, 19, 36, 41, 42n2 Evangelii Gaudium, 14, 15n18, 27,
Buddhadasa, Bhikku, 147 120, 184
Buddhism Laudato Si’, 125
Amida Sutra, 178 Lumen Fidei, 267, 275n7
anatta (non-substantial), 131, 136 Redemptoris Missio, 243
anicca (impermanent), 131 Catholic-Jewish, 23, 28n9, 48
avidya (ignorance), 131 charismatic, 33, 93, 224
bodhisattva, 133–5 Chinese religions
Buddha, 80, 130, 131, 133, 135, ancestor veneration, 156, 162, 167n9
136, 139, 140, 142n2, 144, Baijia (Hundred Schools), 157, 162
145, 147, 154, 155, 174, 175, sanjiao (three ways), 155
212, 227, 228, 233, 234 Shangdi (the Most High Lord), 156
Buddha Amitabha, 155 Tian (Heaven), 157, 162
Buddhanature yin-yang, 163
Buddhist praxis, 136, 137 Zhongguo (Middle Kingdom), 156
Buddhists, 9, 130–3, 135–7, 139, zongjiao (religion), 156
141, 152, 226 Christian Association of Nigeria
Dukkha (suffering), 130 (CAN), 67
INDEX 279
Christian-Jewish, A Sacred Obligation, D

17–27, 27n2, 28n12, 29n13 Danfodiyo, Shehu Usman, 62, 64
Christian-Muslim Daoism. See also Taoism/Taoist
Common Word initiative, 14 dao (way), 156, 163, 165
crusaders, 20, 21 Daodejing, 157, 162–5
Christian praxis, 136, 137 Laozi, 144, 162, 163, 165
Christian theology, 17, 18, 20, 26, wanwu (myriad things), 163
28n12, 54, 175, 243, 244 wuwei (actionless action), 163
citizenship, 103–14 Zhuangzi, 157, 163, 165
Clapperton, Captain, 63, 72n12 Dead Sea Scrolls, 243
Clooney, Francis, 237, 239–44, de Chardin, Teilhard, 125, 153
249n6, 250n22 de Mello, Anthony, xxxi, xxxii
Commission Fédérale pour les Dharma Drum Movement, 225
Etrangers, 104, 114n3 dialogical dialogue, 239, 248,
comparative theology, 237–48, 249n9 251–5, 260, 261,
compassion, 53, 133–41, 142n12, 262n9
186, 187, 233, 238, 276n17, Dialogue with Trypho, 20
276n25 Dupuis, Jacques, 238–40, 248
compenetrative presencing, 126, 127
Confucianism
junzi (exemplary person), 158 E
Kongzi (Confucius), 157 EATWOT. See Ecumenical Association
li (ritual propriety), 160 of Third World Theologians
Lunyu (Analects), 157 (EATWOT)
Mencius, 158, 159 Ecclesiology
ren (human-ness), 159, 160 ecclesia discerns (listening church),
renxing (human nature), 159, 166 xxv, xxiii
Wulun (Five Relations), 158 ecclesia docens (teaching church), xxv
xiao (filiality), 161 Ecumenical Association of Third
yi (appropriateness), 159, 160 World Theologians (EATWOT),
zhi (wisdom), 159 120, 127n2
Zongshi (ancestral teacher), Ecumenical/ecumenism
158, 162 receptive ecumenism, 189, 191,
conservative, 22, 33, 40, 42n2, 193, 194, 249n9
43n10, 67, 218, 219 spiritual ecumenism, 188, 189,
Copts/Coptic, 61, 88, 90, 92, 193, 194
94, 199 Emden, Jacob, 32
Cosmos/Kosmos Emptiness (Buddhism), 133, 137,
cosmic religions, 143 138, 140, 174, 258, 259
cosmotheandric, 251–3, 255–8, Enlightenment (Buddhism), 32, 137,
260, 261, 263n20 145, 155, 268
metacosmic religions, 143 Epistemic confidence, 266, 267
Cupitt, Don, 266, 267, 270, 274 Evangelization, 46, 51–4, 184, 201
280 INDEX
F atman (inner Spirit), 149

Falun Dafa, 218 Bhagavad Gita, 82, 139, 151,
Federation of Asian Bishops’ 249n14
Conferences (FABC) bhakti (love and devotion), 150, 151
Theological Advisory Commission, 49 brahmacarya (chastity), 144, 151
Theses on Interreligious Dialogue, 50 chakras (energy nodes), 152
Triple Dialogue, 51–3 dhyana (meditation), 152
Feminist, 120, 136 jnana (knowledge or intuition), 151
Focolare Movement, Chiara Lubich, karma (action), 136, 144, 148, 151
224–7, 229, 230, 232 Krishna, 82, 151, 212
Fo Guang Shan Movement, 225 margas (ways), 151
Francis of Assisi, 153 samadhi (liberation), 152
Francis, Pope, 14, 27, 55, 120, 125, sannyasis (renouncers), 145
153, 184, 219, 237, 239, 267 satya (truthfulness), 144, 151
Upanishads, 148, 150
Vedas, 148, 263n21
G yoga (psycho-physical discipline),
Gandhi, Mahatma, 144, 225, 229 147, 151–2
global/globalized, globalization, 4, Hizmet (service) Movement
35, 47, 119, 120, 123, 146, 197, cemaat (community), 231
211, 228, 266, 270–1 Fethullah Gülen, 224, 225, 228,
Greenberg, Irving, 37, 43n12 229, 231, 236n16
Griffiths, Paul, 241 Said Nursi, 225, 228
Holy Spirit, 7, 11, 48, 120, 184, 189,
193, 226, 243, 248
H humanum (humanity), 273–5
Halevi, Yehuda, 32 hybridity/hybridized, 266, 270, 271
HaMeiri, Menachem, 32
harmony, 10, 13, 49, 50, 53, 75, 83,
158, 161, 163, 165, 166, I
174, 176–8, 204, 228, 230, imitatio Dei, 35
231, 235, 260, 262n1 impermanence (Buddhism), 146, 163
Hausa-Fulani Muslims, 68, 69 inculturation, 47, 52, 54
heretic, 73, 81, 164, 170 Indian religions, 143–54
hermeneutics, diatopical hermeneutics, indigenous. See also Aborigines
251, 254, 261, 262n13 indigenous communities, 121–3, 125
Heschel, Rabbi, 32–7, 40, 41, 42n2, indigenous peoples, 120–2, 186–9,
44n22, 68, 82, 177, 219, 246 191–5
Hick, John, 132 Indigenous Spirituality, 121, 122
Hinduism inner transformation (Buddhism),
advaita/advaitic (not two), 137–41
150, 154, 255, 260 Innocence of Muslims, 87–98
INDEX 281
Instrumentum Laboris, 51, 198, 201 jiva (living being), 144

integral liberation, 52 Mahavira, 144
Inter-Being, inter-independent, Tirthankaras (ford-makers or
133, 137, 139, 140, 256 guides), 144
Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), 79 Japanese Religions, 169–78
Islamic Council, 90 jihad/jihadists, 62, 66, 73, 76–81, 83
Islamic state, 61, 62, 73, 78 Jinnah, M.A., 73–5, 78, 83
Islam/Islamic John Paul II, Pope, 12, 13, 27,
fatwas, 76, 110 39, 64, 192–5, 206, 219,
Hanafite Sunnis, 107 226, 242, 245
Islamization, 68, 73, 77–9, 82, 83 John XXIII, Pope, 3–5, 12, 21, 47
mosque, 12, 13, 61, 74, 81, 94, Judaism
103–14, 147, 219, 226 Chasidic (mystical charismatic),
mufti, 89 33, 36
Muslim, 7–10, 12–14, 20, 21, 48, Confrontation, 33–7, 40, 41, 141
59–71, 73–6, 78–83, 87–98, Conservative (Masorti), 33, 40, 67,
103–14, 147, 148, 177, 218, 219
198–220, 206, 210, 217, 219, Dabru Emet, 37–41
224–6, 228, 233, 239, 242 double covenant, 23, 24
Prophet Muhammad, 60, 61, 90, halakha (Jewish law), 34–6
217, 231 Hebrew Scriptures, 26, 27
Qur’an/Qur’anic, 60, 77, 78, 82, Mishnah, 32
83, 92, 93, 217, 220, 228, Modern Orthodox, 33, 40
231–3 No Religion is an Island, 33–7
Shariah, 83 Reform Judaism, 32, 42n3
Shias/Shiite, 73, 75, 80–3 Second Temple Judaism, 18, 243
Sunnah, 75, 77, 78 single covenant, 23, 24, 244
Umayyad Mosque, 13, 219 Talmud/Talmudic (analytical), 32,
Islamophobia, 94, 95 33, 36, 242, 243, 246
Israel Tanakh, 38
anti-Semitism, 3, 40, 41 tikkun olam (mending the world), 40
anti-Zionism, 40 Torah, 19
Holy Land, 12–14, 20, 21, 212 Justin Martyr, 20
Jews/Jewish, 18–21, 23, 32–41,
134, 244, 245, 247, 248
perpetual wandering, 19, 20, 22 K
Karen tribal
Hti k’ja Cauj k’ja as Great Spirit, 122
J Taj Thi Ta Tau as Absolute, 122, 123
Jainism kenosis/kenotic, 265–75
ahimsa (non-violence), 144 Khan, G.Y., 76, 77
jina (spiritual conqueror), 144 King, Jr., M.L., 36, 41
282 INDEX
Kittel, Gerhard, 19, 28n3 Montefiore, Claude, 32, 37

Klausner, Joseph, 33 Mormons, 218
koinonia, 230 multiple religious belonging, 170
Küng, Hans, Does God Exist?, Murray, Paul, 189, 190
172, 272, 273 Muslim–Christian, 59–71
Muslim-Coptic Dialogue, 92, 93
mythic, 205, 251, 261
L
Levinas, Emmanuel, 245, 246,
250n23 N
liberation theology, liberative praxis, Negus of Ethiopia, 60
47, 130, 140 neocolonial/neocolonialism,
Lifschutz, Israel, 32 119, 120, 122, 123
lineamenta, 56n24, 202, 208n8 Noth, Martin, 19, 28n4
Loy, David, 131, 142n2
Loyola, Ignatius, 153
O
Ochs, Peter, 242, 249n15
M Oneness of Humankind, 233
Magesa, Laurenti, 199, 203 original sin, Original Ignorance,
Maguzawa (Nigeria: non-Muslim 131, 132
Hausa), 62 orthodox, 32–4, 36, 40, 50, 92, 148,
Maimonides, 32 170, 198
Majority-Minority Relations, 64–6
Makransky, L.J., 138, 141
marginalized, 70, 89, 111, 112, 135, P
137, 152, 194, 195, 199, 201 pagans, 60, 218
Maria the Coptic, 61 panentheism (all things subsist
meditation, 12, 135, 145, 152 in God), 125–7
methodology/methodologies, Panikkar, Raimon, 239, 251–62
183, 185–94 paschal mystery, 11, 240, 245, 248
Middle Belt (Nigeria), 63, 68–70 Paul VI, Pope, 3, 5–9, 11, 12, 34, 35,
Middle East, 4, 21, 48, 105, 106, 152 46, 120, 184
mindfulness (Buddhism), 135, 137, People of the Book, 217
140, 145 Pharisaic movement, 22
Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, 79 Pierce, C.S., 242, 249n16
Missio Dei, 239 Pieris, Aloysius, 47, 52, 135,
Mochizuki, Kenichiro, 172 142n10
Mohammed, I.W. D., 225 plurality/pluralism (religious), 4, 11,
Monastic Interreligious Dialogue, 32, 36, 49, 50, 52. 54, 109, 112,
11, 15n6 176, 178, 226, 237, 260
monism (Hinduism), 150, 151 pneumatology, 119–27
INDEX 283
Pontifical Council for Interreligious Nostra Aetate (NA), 3, 4, 8,

Dialogue, 14, 15n16, 195n2, 198 17–27, 31–41, 45–55, 181,
progressive, 32, 40, 41, 74, 83, 110, 185, 206, 240
159, 213, 232 Optatam Totius (OT), 10
Protestant theology, 19 Perfectae Caritatis, 10
p’sak halakha, 34 Unitatis Redintegratio (UR),
5, 184, 188
Secretariat for Christian Unity, 3, 9
R Settler/Indigene Syndrome, 69–71
Rahner, Karl, 47, 55n2 shamanic, 119–27
Ramadan, Tariq, 14, 89, 94, 97 Shantideva, 134, 142n8
Reconciliation Circle (Aborigines), 192 Shinto/Shintoism
Reign of God, Basileia, 134–7, 139 kami (gods), 173–5
relativistic, 186, 267 koshinto (basis Shinto), 174–7
religious extremism, 73, 76, 83 Ta no Wa (harmony of diversity),
ressourcement, 240 176–8
Risshō Kōsei-kai Shusaku, Endo, Fukaikawa (Deep
Hōza (dharma sitting), 230 River), 177, 179n11
Nikkyō Niwano, 224, 227, 228, 230 Sikhism
Robinson, B.J.A.T., 272, 276n19 Adi Granth, 148
Rosenzweig, Franz, 245 Guru Nanak, 147, 148
Ruach Elohim (Spirit of God), Kabir, 147
124, 127 Sivaraksa, Sulak, 131, 142n2
Smith, W.C., 239, 249
social activists, 138, 139
S Sokoto Caliphate, 62, 64
Sahelian countries, 200 Soloveitchik, Rabbi, 33–7, 40, 41
salvation, 7, 9, 24, 25, 49, 52, spirit
54, 129, 148, 164, 176, 178, ancestral spirits, 122, 123, 127
228, 238 Great Spirit, 122, 123, 214
Sandmel, Samuel, 33, 37n13 nature spirits, 122, 123, 127
Sant’Egidio Community, 224, 226 spirituality, 120–2, 174, 176, 177,
Scriptural Reasoning, 237, 242, 243, 189, 203, 224, 226, 230
249n9 Spiritual Exercises (Ignatius), 242
Scroggs, Robin, 25, 29n14 spiritual renewal religious movements,
Second Vatican Council 223
Ad Gentes (AG), 4, 46 Stogre, Michael, 192, 195n3
Dei Verbum, 240, 249n9 Structural Adjustment Program
Dignitatis Humanae (DH), 4, 46 (SAP), 67
Gaudium et Spes (GS), 4, 11, 46 subaltern voices, 119, 127
Gravissimum Educationis (GE), 11 Suenens, Cardinal, 5, 6
Lumen Gentium (LG), 4, 5, 21, 46 Swadyay Movement, 225
284 INDEX
symbolic, 150, 205, 206, 220, 251, W

253, 255–7, 261 White Australia Policy, 87
syncretistic, 40, 176, 186 Wigoder, Geoffrey, 37, 43n13
Wilber, Ken, A Brief History of
Everything, 268, 272,
T 275n8
Tagore, Rabindranath, 153, 154n14 Wilfred, Felix, 49, 52
Taliban, 80, 81, 83 Women’s Interfaith Network, 211
Taoism/Taoist, 166n4, 167n10. world church, 46–9
See also Daoism World Conference on Religion and
Taylor, Charles, 113 Peace, 211
Templeton Award for Progress in World Council of Churches, 198
Religion, 226 World Evangelical Alliance, 198
Theo-en-passim (God in all things), World Parliament of Religions, 215
125–7 Wyschogrod, Michael,
theology for dialogue, theology of 37, 43n12
dialogue, 238–40
Theos, 252, 259
Thich Nhat Hanh, 140, 154n2 Y
third eye, 258 Youssef, M.B., 88
Torres Strait Islanders. See also
Aborigines; indigenous
First Australians, 190, 193, 195 Z
First Nation Peoples, x Zoroastrians, Zarathustra,
traditionalist, 67, 267 217, 228

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More information about this series at

Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016948749

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016

Cover image © Jakkree Thampitakkul / Getty

Printed on acid-free paper

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by Springer Nature

Interfaith Dialogue: Global Perspectives aptly draws together in a single

PATHS TO DIALOGUE IN OUR AGE

NATURE OF THE CONFERENCE

While many members of the Faculty of Theology and Philosophy of the

Part I The Second Vatican Council and Nostra Aetate 1

1 Vatican II and Interfaith Dialogue 3

2 Article Four of Nostra Aetate and Christian-Jewish Relations 17

3 Jewish Perspectives on Interfaith Dialogue After Nostra Aetate 31

4 Response of the Asian Church to Nostra Aetate 45

Part II Islam and Muslims Around the Globe 57

5 Challenges of Muslim-Christian Relations in Nigeria 59

6 Impact of State Policies on Interfaith Relations in Pakistan 73

7 Australian Muslims and the “Innocence of Muslims” 87

8 Citizenship Between State and Mosque

Part III What Christians Can Learn 117

9 What Christians Can Learn from Shamanic Pneumatology 119

10 What Christians Can Learn from Buddhism 129

11 What Christians Can Learn from Indian Religions 143

12 What Christians Can Learn from Chinese Religions 155

13 What Christians Can Learn from Japanese Religions 169

Part IV Methods and Models for Interfaith Dialogue 181

14 Deeper Dialogue with Aborigines and Torres Strait

15 African Christian Approaches to Other Religions 197

16 Encountering the Other “Other”: A Bahá’í Perspective 209

17 Commonalities Among Renewal Movements Across Religions 223

18 The Promise of Comparative Theology:

19 Raimon Panikkar’s Contribution to Interfaith Dialogue 251

20 Epistemic Confidence, Humility, and Kenosis

Michael Louis Fitzgerald (Archbishop) served from 1987 to 2006 as secretary

Christopher C. Prowse is the Catholic Archbishop of the Archdiocese of

The Introduction, by Edmund Kee-Fook Chia, advises that a fundamental

NATURE OF THIS VOLUME

(such as Ecclesiam Suam), as well as similar dialogue documents pro-

A WORD ABOUT EACH CHAPTER

Chapter 8, by Stéphane Lathion, reflects on the issue of citizenship

ahimsa or non-violence, from Buddhism the teachings on impermanence

coming together in search of an African and Christian approach to inter-

SET YOUR HEART ON FIRE

Said a traveler to one of his disciples, “I have travelled a great distance to

“Don’t listen to his words, listen to his message.”

Australian Catholic University

The Second Vatican Council and

Vatican II and Interfaith Dialogue

Michael Louis Fitzgerald

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016 3

THE INTRODUCTION OF INTERFAITH DIALOGUE

It is good to remember that NA was a surprise result of Vatican II. It had

THE INFLUENCE OF ECCLESIAM SUAM

world in which it exists but also being rooted in Christ—leads Paul VI

After taking cognizance of the vastness of dialogue it is necessary to

OTHER VATICAN II DOCUMENTS

congregations have often been to the fore in engaging in interfaith dialogue.

POPES SPREADING VATICAN II’S TEACHING

POPE FRANCIS AND INTERFAITH DIALOGUE

6. See Michael L. Fitzgerald, “Religious Congregations and their Contribution

Article Four of Nostra Aetate and