Erhalten Sie Zugang zu diesem und mehr als 300000 Büchern ab EUR 5,99 monatlich.
Ten Outstanding Books in Mission Studies, World Christianity and Intercultural Theology for 2019 — International Bulletin of Mission Research (IBMR) Christianity is not only a global but also an intercultural phenomenon. In this third volume of his three-volume Intercultural Theology, Henning Wrogemann proposes that we need to go beyond currently trending theologies of mission to formulate both a theory of interreligious relations and a related but methodologically independent theology of interreligious relations. Migratory movements are contributing to an ongoing process of religious pluralization in societies that tended to be more religiously homogenous in the past. Interreligious platforms, movements, and organizations are growing in number. Meanwhile, everyday life continues to be characterized by very different modes of interreligious cooperation. Coming to a better understanding of such modes is a major concern for societies with high levels of religious and cultural plurality. Wrogemann's conviction is that much would be achieved if we posed new and different questions. When it comes to interreligious relations, what is significant, and what is meaningful? What exactly is a dialogue? Which factors are at play when people from different cultural and religious traditions come into contact with each other as physical beings in real-life situations? What about the different images of the self and of the other? Which interests and hidden motives underlie which claims to validity? Exploring these questions and more in masterful scope and detail, Wrogemann's work will richly inform the study of interreligious relations. Missiological Engagements charts interdisciplinary and innovative trajectories in the history, theology, and practice of Christian mission, featuring contributions by leading thinkers from both the Euro-American West and the majority world whose missiological scholarship bridges church, academy, and society.
Sie lesen das E-Book in den Legimi-Apps auf:
Seitenzahl: 990
Das E-Book (TTS) können Sie hören im Abo „Legimi Premium” in Legimi-Apps auf:
INTERCULTURAL THEOLOGY Volume Three
The third volume of this trilogy is devoted to the subject of non-Christian religions. In the twenty-first century, global migration will be one of the greatest challenges facing societies around the world. This will lead to an increase in religious pluralization, which in turn will challenge congregations and churches to come up with tenable answers. It is the contention of this present volume that many contemporary theology-of-religion publications are simply incapable of answering the pressing questions of today.
While trendy postmodern theologies of religion and theories of dialogue claim to be pluralistic, they fail to represent true plurality. First, because they subscribe to an idealistic view of interreligious relations, and, second, and far more importantly, because they depart to some extent at least from the basis of the New Testament message. Even the leaderships of some European Protestant church bodies can be seen to reflect this tendency in their official statements.
In contrast, this volume holds to the thesis that New Testament claims to ultimate validity are precisely what forms the Christian basis for lasting, sustainable, and constructive relations with the followers of other religious traditions. The present third volume of this Intercultural Theology series proposes a theory of interreligious relations and a theology of interreligious relations as credible alternatives to contemporary equivalents, enabling scholars to both describe and interpret the very real circumstances of the present from a Christian perspective.
The book is premised on the firm conviction of faith that the fullness of grace and truth in God’s Son Jesus Christ is and will continue to be the sine qua non ensuring the future of churches worldwide as they bear witness to the triune God, who is love. Thus congregations and churches around the world are charged with taking seriously the bases of the New Testament, and called on to continue rediscovering the timelessness of Christian dogma and doctrine—notwithstanding its linguistic and contextual specificity.
Henning WrogemannWuppertal, GermanyTrinity 2018
Over the last two decades, many people have become much more aware that they are part of a global community. Situations of economic dependency between various countries create a tangled web of interrelationships, with the result that even global centers of power can no longer act independently. The ecological challenges that have arisen and that can only be met by collaborative efforts underscore the planet’s finitude. The almost ubiquitous presence of branded goods, media, and fashions creates hypercultural patterns. At the same time, however, there is growing discomfort as people groups fear losing their identity as a result of the increasing porosity of national, regional, and cultural boundaries.
Religious actors play an important role in these complex developments. From the perspective of religious history, it is difficult to say whether religious trends have indeed gained strength over the last few years. Nevertheless, we may confidently affirm that in many countries, religious actors are attracting much more public attention than they did before. Migratory movements, often initiated by conflicts or by the need for employment, are contributing to an ongoing process of religious pluralization in societies that tended to be more religiously homogenous in the past. Conversely, as persecuted minorities flee from certain countries, the societies they leave behind are experiencing an unprecedented measure of religious homogeneity.
In addition, we may observe that the spectrum of potential religiously motivated actions is becoming ever more diverse. On the one hand, interreligious platforms, movements, and organizations are growing in number. On the other hand, people are falling back on religious traditions in order to justify unprecedented levels of intolerance. These take the form of discrimination, restrictive policies, acts of violence, forced displacements, and murders.
To be sure, these are just some very conspicuous instances of interreligious relations. They should not obscure the fact that for the most part, everyday life continues to be characterized by very different modes of interreligious cooperation. Coming to a better understanding of such modes is a major concern for societies with high levels of religious and cultural plurality. To this end, this book proposes both a theory of interreligious relations and a related but methodologically independent theology of interreligious relations.
These form the subject of the present third volume of my textbook on intercultural theology/mission studies. I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to all those who accompanied me on my interreligious journeys or whom I had the privilege of meeting over the last few decades. The list includes such well-known names as Siti Musdah Mulía, Masao Abé, Paul Knitter, and Aloysius Pieris. Many of these encounters left an impression on me, each in its own way. However, people on the grassroots level made a far more profound impression on me—people such as the Venerable Hattigamma Utterananda, a Buddhist monk from Sri Lanka; Muhammad, a Sudanese convert to the Christian faith whom I met in Bangui, Central African Republic; Morteza from Iran; Asif and Rebecca from Pakistan; Geoffrey, a messianic Jew living in London; and a woman by the name of Satyavani from Chennai, India. This list represents people and places, life stories and contexts, various relationships, and a tangled web of factors I would have found difficult to imagine in real life. Once I returned to the security of the West, to the seclusion of academic work, and to the unique modus operandi of academic enterprise, I kept asking myself how I could apply theoretical descriptive patterns so as to make sense of what I had experienced in these encounters.
The reflections contained in this volume are the result of my struggles in this regard. Even though they are somewhat fragmentary in nature, it is my fervent desire that they contribute to the discussion by suggesting new perspectives and offering new possibilities. At the same time, I hope that these reflections will prevent my readers from prematurely abandoning certainties based on worldview and religion. I have been occupied with issues related to interreligious dialogue for years, and it seems to me as if people are abandoning their former certainties to the fog of life that is clamoring for our attention. When it comes to interreligious relations, what is significant, and what is meaningful? What exactly is a dialogue? Which factors are at play when people from different cultural and religious traditions come into contact with each other as physical beings in real-life situations? What about the different images of the self and of the other? Which interests and hidden motives underlie which claims to validity? My intent is not for this book to provide conclusive answers; rather, it is my conviction that much would be achieved if we posed new and different questions.
I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to those people who supported me, each in their own way—to my assistants, Katharina Weiss, Theodora Beer, and Marius Helmer; and to Pastor Sören Asmus, Prof. Dr. Johannes von Lüpke, Prof. Dr. Detlef Hiller, Prof. Dr. Gudrun Löwner (Bangalore), and Prof. Dr. John Flett (Melbourne).
Henning WrogemannWuppertalEpiphany 2015
The terms globalization and pluralization describe the changes societies are undergoing in the twenty-first century. Economic interrelationships, the internet, and other media are helping to integrate even the most remote areas into the global exchange of information. It is becoming almost impossible for people to claim they are living traditional lifestyles, since the global marketing industry, the global human rights discourse, and global discourses on issues such as minorities, gender issues, and on what constitutes a good life in general are always part of the mix. People have to coexist; they cannot avoid each other (any longer).
These underlying conditions given within the present framework also refer to the self-understanding of the different religious configurations in the plurality of their current and local manifestations. Christian internet forums provide advice and information on a variety of different issues; Buddhist and Islamic chatrooms discuss topics related to spiritual praxis and to current lifestyle. An Al-Azhar scholar complains to me about online publications claiming to speak with authority about what is Islamic and what is not. After all, he contends, they, the scholars of the most venerable educational establishment in the Islamic world, are in fact the real authorities on the subject.
In the context of these changes, large educational and social institutions are being founded by religious actors such as the Da‘wat-e-Islami, the Muslim brotherhood, or large church assemblies such as Protestants, Catholics, and Pentecostal churches. We could also mention Buddhist revitalization movements, Hindu activists, and many others. The general assumption seems to be that in the face of plurality and the wide range of interpretation facilitated by plurality, the only relatively stable way to safeguard one’s identity is through education. Severe, sometimes even violent quarrels are raging in many different societies over what the proper role of religion is. For instance, in northern Pakistan, where approximately 95 percent of the population is Muslim, real culture struggles take place when one city allows Western signboards featuring unveiled women, while another city prohibits them entirely because armed fighters are forcing it to comply with their definition of an “Islamic” public sphere.
So what role do religions play in societies? How do followers of different religious traditions treat each other? Which validity claims do they make to the local population? What kind of public spheres do they try to establish? How are power struggles over interpretive sovereignty fought out—socially, politically, or symbolically? And what significance can or will be attached to reflections from the perspective of the theology of religion on these kinds of correlations? Which type of theology of religion will be seen as a meaningful contribution to peaceful coexistence? What is the minimum amount of self-relativization necessary for people of different origins and life practices to live together? And not least: If we say that the only way for people to reach a goal is by dialoguing with each other—openly, reciprocally, with a willingness to learn from each other, and on an equal footing, as we say in English (incidentally, this turn of phrase is not applicable in all cultures)—what do we mean by dialogue? These are issues we will need to address.
The basic concern of this book is: Will theology-of-religion models adequately interpret these correlations? Our aim will be to defend the hypothesis that both a progressive theory of interreligious relations and a theology of interreligious relations are needed to meet the challenges we have raised. Before we introduce the subject matter, let us first take a look at some impressions gained from different dialogues in order to get an overview of the problems facing us here.
I am taking part in a multireligious dialogue conference held over several days in a part of London known as Southall. Christians are talking with Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, and Buddhists, all of them spending time with one another. The conference is taking place primarily in a church facility belonging to a Pakistani Christian congregation. On the second day, I realize that none of the members of this congregation are actually attending the activities. When I meet a Christian of Pakistani descent, I ask him why they are not taking part in the dialogue conference. “We were not invited because people think we are incapable of dialogue,” he answers. Bewildered, I ask him what made the hosts of the dialogue conference classify them as incapable of dialogue. He responds, “Everyone knows that we are actively engaged in Christian mission in our neighborhood.” “Did anyone talk to you about this before the conference?” I ask. “No,” he says. For me, this encounter, which took place a number of years ago, was an eye opener: In the name of dialogue, the hosts blatantly refused to engage in dialogue with the local Christians of Pakistani descent, giving their refusal in view of the multireligious dialogue conference. The conference organizers operated with the stereotype that “people who are actively engaged in mission are incapable of dialogue.” Because of this stereotype, not only did the organizers not seek to engage the local Christians in dialogue, but they downright refused to do so.
The next day, I had the opportunity to meet a Pakistani Christian woman who told me all about her missionary work. She had grown up in Islamabad, where she had been instructed in Islam at school and had graduated with a master’s degree in Islamic studies. She then moved to London. For a number of years, she regularly visited women with immigrant backgrounds living in London. Her aim in doing so was to support them during their mandatory visits to government offices, to break down the social isolation of many women by visiting them and drinking tea with them, and to make a contribution on behalf of the neighborhood. “From time to time I tell them Bible stories,” she said, “and then we talk about them.” I asked myself whether the dialogue organizers would not have felt ashamed of her prejudices if they had been party to our conversation. It seems to me that this was not just a Christian life witness but also a dialogue of life, where, among other things, Bible stories are told to get people to talk about themselves and to share their perspectives with others. Obviously, this was not a matter of arguing but of exchange, not about preaching to others but about listening to each other, not about rationality but about narrativity, not about forcing some issue down other people’s throats but about talking about issues arising from life itself.
Change of scene. We are visiting a Buddhist monastery in Kandy on the island of Ceylon. The monastery has all the typical features—a Bodhi tree, a stupa, a Buddha shrine house, residences for the monks, and classrooms. The monks are friendly, and we start talking with an elderly monk. He is sitting on a high chair, while we sit on small stools at his feet, as is the custom here. Regardless of what we say, this symbolical framework defines our exchange. I start thinking about spatial arrangements and about how spaces affect people. In many monasteries I see little shrines placed in the entryway of the Buddha house. This is where the Hindu deities who are seen as the guardian deities of the monastery are venerated. In the main building are the oversized Buddha statues—the Buddha sitting down, the Buddha standing up, the Buddha lying down, colorfully decorated. The spaces and the symbolisms communicate. The dialogical continues within—it has a transrational dimension of corporeality.1
The final impression was gained from another conversation held with Pakistani Christians, this time inside Pakistan itself, in the city of Lahore. We talked with many Christians and Muslims in Pakistan. People in the country are afraid; ever since the blasphemy laws were enacted, anyone can be accused with impunity of having insulted either the prophet Muhammad or the Qur’an.2 Granted, it is usually Muslims who are accused of blasphemy, but the number of Christians and adherents of the Ahmadiyya movement who are accused is disproportionately high. What emerged from many conversations with Pakistani Christians is that for quite some time, they have been very careful not to say anything about Muslim traditions at all, neither about the prophet nor about the Qur’an. It is rather obvious that it is difficult, if not impossible, to say anything about one’s own faith under these conditions. We talk with a woman named Rebecca and ask her how she approaches her non-Christian coworkers. She replies that most people go to great lengths to avoid speaking about religious matters in everyday life. Even so, it happens sometimes that, say, a coworker will ask her why Christians insist that Jesus died on the cross, when the Qur’an clearly states that ‘Īsā (Jesus) did not die on the cross at all.3 So which is wrong, the Bible or the Qur’an? Furthermore, according to Rebecca, many people believe that without the guidance given in the Qur’an, Christians will probably end up in hell—so why not become Muslim? Rebecca says that she is fully aware of the danger in those kinds of situations and that she prefers not to answer the questions directly. In these cases, she says, she makes references to her own life of faith, admitting that she loves Jesus as her Lord and Savior and that if what they claim is true, she would prefer to end up in hell rather than to be separated from him.
To my mind, this confession speaks volumes. It explains how in these kinds of conversations, the speakers avoid engaging in dialogue, understood here as an exchange of rational arguments. The reason is that every rational argument presupposes a comparison that a Muslim might interpret as an attack on the authority of the prophet or of the Qur’an. But by not making any references to the other religious configuration, that is, by not making any comparisons, Rebecca does not furnish her conversation partners with any basis for accusations. Instead, she retreats behind the safety of her own religious tradition, or more specifically, her own religious experience. In so doing, she does not terminate the conversation, but at the same time, she avoids engaging in dialogue, understood here as an exchange of rational arguments on the basis of a comparison of traditions.
In my opinion, these dialogue impressions demonstrate that the question of dialogue keeps on arising under different parameters. Now in terms of the first example, we need to ask critically to what extent people’s own understanding of dialogue prompts them to marginalize other people and other people groups. In terms of the second, we need to consider the extent to which the dialogical actually has to do with speaking and thinking, and whether it is not perhaps necessary to pay much more attention to physical experiences as another dimension of the dialogical. In terms of the third example, we need to revisit the notion that interreligious relations should or may well primarily take the form of an exchange of rational arguments. In many instances, the framework simply does not allow for such a concept of dialogue.
If a theology of religions is seen as the basic theory underlying each specific concept of dialogue, then one wonders: Is there not a tendency in many theology-of-religion models, first, to exclude from the outset particular concepts of dialogue or of mission? Second, do they not tend to focus exclusively on the rational dimension? And, third, do they not also tend to risk losing sight of the specific cultural, social, societal, and political circumstances that determine the relationships occurring in a particular context? We will need to revisit these questions at a later stage. For now, however, we will provide a brief recap of the theology-of-religion models that have featured in the history of Christianity.
Theology-of-religion models are as old as the religious configuration of Christianity itself. In the writings of the New Testament, we find a wealth of different motifs, concepts, and ways of thinking in which people define their relationships to other religious “collective we’s.”4 The creation narrative of the Old Testament already serves to disempower the astral cult of the Babylonian religion, since it portrays the stars not as deities but simply as light sources put in place by the one God (Gen 1:3-5).5 This tendency to disempower is also reflected in the Gospel of Matthew, which says that the Magi from the East (Mesopotamia or Persia) were guided to Palestine by a star (Mt 2:1-11). The point of the story is that here the old religious configuration itself provides the reference to its being fulfilled and surpassed in and by the messianic savior figure of the Christ, and in so doing points away from itself.6
In the history of Christianity, there have been a number of distinctive theology-of-religion approaches. In the second century, for instance, Christian apologists interpreted Greek philosophical traditions along the lines of the teaching of the logos spermatikos: the seed-like Word of God, which ultimately revealed itself in Jesus Christ, had long been active in the good traditions of this philosophy, at least in a rudimentary fashion (though not in its ultimate form). In the Middle Ages,7 we find theology-of-religion reflections expressed by thinkers such as Ramon Llull (1232–1316) and Nicholas of Cusa (1401–1464).8 It is interesting to ponder just how pluralistic medieval societies actually were.9
In the age of the discovery of America, people gave considerable thought as to how to best interpret the cults of the peoples being discovered. Were these cults the result of demonic deception? Or should they be interpreted in connection with the story of the tower of Babel and the confusion of people’s languages (Gen 11) as corrupted forms of the earliest worship of God? Could they not perhaps be vestigial forms of Christianity bearing traces of the work of one of the early Christian apostles?10
In this regard, the most prominent figure of the era of European Enlightenment is Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729–1781) with his famous parable of the ring in his work Nathan the Wise.11 Enlightenment thought contributed to a growing openness in theology-of-religion thinking, although it must be added that European knowledge of other religious configurations was still very limited. This changed in the course of the nineteenth century as the growing number of missionary initiatives in North American and European Christianity led many missionaries to learn the local languages of indigenous people in many different parts of the globe, to reduce them to writing, to explore their religious myths and customs, and to record them.12 This was supplemented by a wealth of material in the form of mission reports and in the form of travelogues by explorers and researchers.
In the wake of Europe’s colonial expansion, colonial administrations increasingly attempted to make use of this type of material. True, the discipline of religious studies [Religionswissenschaft],13 which came into being in the middle of the nineteenth century, helped increase the amount of available material on other religious configurations. It did so by translating and editing holy scriptures from, say, the Buddhist and Islamic religious configurations, as well as from the Hindu traditions (to name just a few).14 In the process, however, many publications also featured certain time-conditioned, Western perceptual patterns that would have a major impact subsequently.15
These perceptual patterns include the notion that cultures and religions are uniform and very distinct entities; the notion that at the heart of these cultures and religions is an essential core that guarantees their uniformity over long periods of time; the notion that a religion’s real nature is reflected not so much in its praxis but in its religious scriptures; the notion that religions with written scriptures are fundamentally superior to those without them; and the notion that a people group is properly governedwhen it is governed according to its own laws. This prompted colonial administrations to embark on a quest to identify the appropriate indigenous legal traditions.
In the framework of colonial discourse, typifications of other religions provided handy references for proving their backwardness as compared to the Christian civilizations of the West, thereby serving to justify the colonial occupation.16 For instance, we frequently come across statements about Islam’s inherent incapacity for reform as a result of its eternal and immutable law, the shari’a, and as a result of the fatalism of Muslim people. Similarly, we find references to the passivity of Asian cultures and religions. The political exploitability of such religious comparisons is rather self-evident.
So what was the result when an ever-larger number of religious texts from other religious configurations became available, and when more and more direct contacts took place? What was the effect of long periods of interaction between various actors in the context of colonial dominions? On the one hand, within Christianity itself, people began to think differently about other religions; on the other hand, reform movements sprang up within other religious configurations as a result of their interaction, confrontation, and rivalry with especially Christian actors.17 Up until the middle of the twentieth century, the apologetic approach prevailed; from the 1960s onward, however, a range of new initiatives aimed at mutual understanding, open dialogue, and interreligious cooperation were implemented.18
This difference of approach resulted from contemporary circumstances that may be characterized by the keyword decolonization. From the 1940s onward, the colonial powers granted independence to more and more areas. In Africa, this process peaked in the 1960s, a decade in which almost all African countries received their independence. In many areas, the period of decolonization was preceded by a phase of religiocultural awakening. Christian churches in the former colonial territories now faced the task of having to participate in a societal dialogue about the identity of their own nation. They needed to prove that they were prepared to make a constructive contribution to society. They emphasized their independence so as not to be regarded as extensions of the former colonial powers.
In these years the issue of dialogue received attention from various parties. To begin with, we might mention interreligious initiatives, movements, and platforms such as the Parliament of the World’s Religions (1893), founded in Chicago.19 In 1900, the International Association for Religious Freedom (IARF), a large international platform for interreligious relations, was created. This movement has been organizing interreligious conferences and congresses for more than one hundred years now. The World Congress of Faith (WCF), founded in 1935, conducts similar activities. Organizationally, the WCF is made up of individual members, unlike the IARF, which consists of representatives of various religious groups. Since 1993, the two organizations have been jointly sponsoring the International Faith Center in Oxford. In 1960 the Temple of Understanding (TU) movement was founded. It is closely associated with programs of the United Nations and is primarily based in the United States. Furthermore, the World Conference on Religion and Peace was established at the end of the 1960s; since then, it has regularly hosted global conferences.20
Meanwhile, since the late 1960s, many new initiatives were also implemented within large Christian social configurations. For instance, in 1970, the World Council of Churches established a subunit for dialogue.21 The Roman Catholic Church for its part addressed the issue of interreligious dialogue by founding the Secretariat for Non-Christians in 1964, which was renamed the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue in 1988. In the following years, both Protestant churches and the Roman Catholic Church hosted various different dialogue events, established new dialogue initiatives, and founded new forums for dialogue.22 Ever since then, these activities have been accompanied by theology-of-religion discourses that aim to define each church’s relationship to other religious configurations on the basis of its own religious worldview. Let us now consider some of the questions this raises from a Christian perspective.
How should the relationship between Christianity and other religious configurations be defined? From a Christian perspective, what exactly is the subject of this relationship? Are we talking about Christianity as a social configuration needing to be defined geographically and culturally at a particular point in time? Or are we talking about the Christian church—and if so, what exactly do we mean by church? Is this—more specifically—about faith? If it is, we would immediately have to provide a more precise intra-Christian definition. Are we referring to Jesus Christ or to the gospel? Another question has to do with what we mean when we define the relationship as such: Is this about how other religious configurations should be interpreted from a Christian perspective? Or is it about how actors from other religions see Christianity, the church, the Christian faith, Jesus Christ, or the gospel? These few questions and differentiations already indicate that the subject matter of the theology of religion comprises a broad scope with an almost limitless amount of literature. For purposes of an initial orientation, let us consider a few subtopics.
To begin with, we may ask: How do other religious traditions view Jesus? For example, how is ‘Īsā (Jesus) seen in the Qur’an or in Islamic theology in general?23 How do neo-Hinduistic24 or Buddhist thinkers25 view him? What about Afro-Brazilian cults? We could of course also approach the issue from a broader perspective and ask how followers of other religious configurations see Christianity as a whole.26 A critical exegesis of the Qur’an, for instance, provides many new perspectives on how the religious collective that would later become the Islamic community gradually distanced itself from its religious surroundings, and thus from Jews and Christians as well (and perhaps we should ask what particular groups these were).27
Conversely, it is also interesting to consider—to stay with the example of Islam—how Christian theologians view the prophet Muhammad, the Qur’an, or Islam in general.28 Modern apologists who distance themselves from Islam are also interesting to consider in this regard.29 In this framework, we could also reflect on the relationship between the religious configurations as such.30
These themes have far-reaching implications for the theology of religion. Then there are also intra-Christian theological reflections. How should other religious configurations be interpreted theologically on the basis of the biblical writings and the history of Christian tradition? How and in what sense can we acknowledge these religious configurations theologically?31 Over the years, a threefold structure has gained currency in the debate over the theology of religion in particular. This structure distinguishes between exclusivist, inclusivist, and (since the 1980s) pluralistic approaches. The term exclusivist refers to those approaches that hold that truth, revelation, and salvation are restricted to one religion only. By comparison, inclusivist approaches believe that truth, revelation, and salvation may also be present in other religions, albeit in a lesser or incomplete form. Pluralistic approaches are different again in that they hold that it is entirely possible for truth, revelation, and salvation to be present in the full sense in other religious configurations, but not necessarily so.
Internationally renowned proponents of the pluralistic approach include Canadian religious studies scholar and theologian Wilfred Cantwell Smith (1916–2000), British philosopher of religion and theologian John Hick (1922–2012), his US-American colleague Leonard Swidler (b. 1929), Indian theologian and philosopher of religion Raimon Panikkar (1918–2010), and his Indian colleague Stanley Samartha (1920–2001). We could also mention a series of other names in this regard. When it comes to the history of Japanese theology, we might suggest that renowned theologians such as Katsumi Takizawa (1909–1984) or Seiichi Yagi (b. 1932) are at least sympathetic to the pluralistic option (assuming that this is indeed an appropriate rubrication).32
Intellectually, religious theologians such as Wilfred Cantwell Smith33 and John Hick began to tend more and more toward a pluralistic approach from as early as the 1960s. However, broader discussions only began to take place in the 1980s. Serving as the focal point of the discussion over the pluralistic theology of religion was a collection of essays published in 1987 under the title The Myth of Christian Uniqueness.34 Since then, a number of anthologies have been published, both in English35 and in German.36
By the turn of the twenty-first century, the debate about the threefold structure began to abate. More and more people now criticized the all-too-sweeping generalizations characterizing the approaches of common theology-of-religion models, since they do justice neither to one’s own Christian tradition nor to the claims made by other religious configurations. Instead, calls were made consciously to delimit the object of study; at the same time, the emphasis shifted to specific comparisons of delimited phenomena. This approach came to be known as comparative theology.37 Internationally renowned proponents of the approach include Francis X. Clooney (b. 1950), James L. Fredericks, and Keith Ward (b. 1938).
Looking back, it is evident that the controversial debates of the last few decades took place in different phases titled the pluralistic theology of religion and comparative theology. I doubt whether the term interreligious theology is currently signaling a new phase, since it seems to be more of a revival of the pluralistic approach.38 At the same time, systematic theology continues to be dominated by theology-of-religion models characterized by far more cautious aspirations and attitudes than those of pluralistic approaches.
Even though the threefold classification of the exclusivist, inclusivist, and pluralistic options grew in popularity from the early 1980s onward, it was also heavily criticized by some.39 Famous missionary and bishop Lesslie Newbigin (1909–1998), for instance, states:
It has become customary to classify views on the relation of Christianity to the world religions as either pluralist, exclusivist, or inclusivist. . . . The position which I have outlined is exclusivist in the sense that it affirms the uniqueness of the revelation in Jesus Christ, but it is not exclusivist in the sense of denying the possibility of the salvation of the non-Christian. It is inclusivist in the sense that it refuses to limit the saving grace of God to the members of the Christian church, but it rejects the inclusivism which regards the non-Christian religions as vehicles of salvation. It is pluralist in the sense of acknowledging the gracious work of God in the lives of all human beings, but it rejects a pluralism which denies the uniqueness and decisiveness of what God has done in Jesus Christ.40
Here Newbigin succinctly exposes the problem of rubrications such as those used in the threefold classification: By his own account, Newbigin’s position is exclusivist in the area of revelation theology. Soteriologically, he argues inclusivistically, but only insofar as people in other religious configurations are concerned, not other religious configurations on the whole. His position is pluralistic in that he is open to the possibility of God’s gracious action in the life of all people; yet he continues to affirm and defend the ultimacy of Jesus Christ. So in which category does Newbigin’s approach belong, seeing that he obviously makes a number of distinctions between the people belonging to other religious configurations and these religious configurations as such? Surely the threefold classification is overly rigid and one-dimensional?
Certain theology-of-religion models argue that the solution to interreligious relations lies to a large extent in people’s willingness to self-relativize. If that is the solution, what is the problem they are claiming to solve? A certain hypothesis states that believers are led to act deleteriously toward others on the basis of (so-called) religious absolute truth claims. For instance, in terms of communicative behavior in everyday life, we might think of the smug smile on the face of someone claiming to know the truth, or perhaps of the pitying look on the face of someone who believes others to be deluded by falsehood, or even the arrogant, presumptuous attitude of know-it-alls. In terms of the topic itself, some might take offense during personal conversations when the other intimates that those with a different religious worldview have not fully thought through their own position, that they are on the wrong track when it comes to religion, or that a terrible fate41 awaits them after death. When it comes to how collective we’s of a religious nature understand themselves, these negatives may be compounded, for instance, when groups limit or break off social contact with unbelievers, with unclean people, or with demon-possessed people. Conversely, this may also happen when the group makes a point of “inviting” such people to reconsider their position on religious matters.
Such negatives are compounded even further when people affiliated with certain religions or holding certain worldviews are discriminated against in the public sphere, when stereotypes become so common and so pervasive in society that they come to determine the public way of life. Examples might include being denied a seat on the bus, not getting hired for a certain job, not being greeted, and being disregarded and ignored—it does not take much for acts of violence to break out in these kinds of settings. It is also possible for religious claims to have an impact at the state legislation level, such as when certain religious groups are banned, as is the case with the Baha’i in Iran. Finally, we can think of the escalation of violence between collective we’s of a religious nature.
In the face of such kinds of negative behavior, it is certainly true that absolute truth claims in the area of religion and worldview may indeed have a significant impact at various levels. At the same time, it would be difficult to determine the extent to which certain acts or behavioral patterns may be traced back to these kinds of paradigms. This issue would need to be investigated using methods drawn from the disciplines of social studies and cultural studies. At any rate, we can confidently consign to the realm of legend the stereotype that certain religions intrinsically promote either peace or violence.42 In Western societies, people tend to consider Buddhism and the Hindu traditions to be especially peace loving and tolerant. But the historical record reflects a more nuanced picture.43 It is also extremely significant, as history shows, that people can take religious teachings that seem to be particularly positive and peace-loving, and interpret them to mean something entirely different. This has had far-reaching consequences. In the case of Christianity, for instance, people have used a parable in which Jesus talks about an invitation to a wedding feast (Lk 14:23) to justify the forced conversion of adherents of other religions. The famous call to compel them to come in (cogite intrare in Latin), which is actually an encouraging invitation and which respects the freedom of the invitees, has been abused in such a way as to justify violent actions. Similarly, people have used the Buddhist teaching of not-self (anātman in Sanskrit), the impermanence of the empirical I, to legitimize killing others in war, cynically arguing that if no I exists, then nobody is actually being killed either.44
There is great opportunity and need for further research in this field in the areas of religious studies, social studies, and political studies.45 The idea would be to show how these kinds of stereotypes developed and spread in the context of very particular discourses and interests. Generally speaking, the issue of religion and power is always particularly volatile whenever religious and governmental institutions form close ties to each other.46 In contrast, the study of specific cases of religious actors engaging in political actions shows that ultimate-justification approaches in the area of religion can help bring about peace. One example of this was the peaceful People Power Revolution in the Philippines in 1986, in which priests and members of religious orders played a deciding role. Another was the “Servants of God” movement founded by Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan (1890–1988), which had a military-type structure while promoting a religious lifestyle. This movement called especially for tolerance toward dissenters, for equality between men and women, for selfless aid toward others, and for the principle of nonviolence.47 As far as majority-Buddhist countries are concerned, we might mention the example of Cambodia, where between 1975 and 1979 around 25 percent of the population (about two million people) was executed in the so-called killing fields under the command of Communist dictator Pol Pot. After he was deposed in 1979, the country remained divided between the different conflicted parties for a long time. The monk Maha Ghosananda (b. around 1920) tried to counteract this division not just by promoting the revival of Buddhism in the country but also by organizing relief efforts and by visiting the leaders of the conflicting parties. One particular example of this was the annual three-week-long Dhammayietra, or “peace marches,” which were conducted especially throughout conflict regions in the country from 1992 onward. This was done under the leadership of Maha Ghosananda, who had since become the highest (Buddhist) patriarch of Cambodia. As many as one hundred thousand people would participate in these peace marches every year.
These specific examples demonstrate, first, that ultimate justification approaches in the religious domain can bring about very positive consequences. Second, it is evident that religious ultimate-justification approaches can be interpreted in very different ways. Third, when it comes to the impact on society and on politics, a whole range of factors needs to be taken into account. The effect of religious truth claims should therefore not be studied in a monolinear fashion but rather within the framework of complex constellations.
It has become clear by now that in recent decades, many have begun to reflect on the theology of religion. But who are the actors, and what are their questions? Let us begin with an interesting observation in terms of the actors: Why were and are the theology of religions, the pluralistic theology of religion, and comparative theology primarily the domain of (white) men from the West? Put differently: Seeing that Christianity is a global religious configuration with many contextual variants, why is its book market not being inundated with books and articles on the theology of religion from Africa and Asia, written primarily by Christians living in majority-Buddhist or majority-Islamic societies?48 I cannot help but think that ironically enough, the abovementioned disciplines are being developed and stridently promoted by those who do not come from multicultural and multireligious societies. Up until the late 1960s, North America and Europe were very Christian in character and relatively homogenous in terms of the cultural and religious makeup of their societies, especially in comparison with Africa and Asia. Those who grow up in predominantly Christian contexts will be particularly prone to culture shock when they encounter other people adhering to (what will seem to them as) foreign traditions, rituals, behavioral patterns, and ethical views. This is both understandable and legitimate.
People from other contexts might see things very differently, however—people such as the Coptic Christians in Egypt, or Methodist Christians in Sri Lanka, or members of the Church of Pakistan in Lahore, or members of the Good Samaritan Evangelical Lutheran Church in the Indian state of Andhra Pradesh—that is, people belonging to Christian minorities who are used to dealing with adherents of other religions from an early age, who are used to living among them and interacting with them on a daily basis. These people might be their friends, relatives, neighbors, acquaintances, or just people in the public sphere. These churches and all those who belong to them lead a missionary life, and they would probably find it impossible constantly to devote their mental energies to discussions of interreligious interaction. After all, they permanently live in multireligious contexts, which seldom get addressed in everyday life. Life must go on, and most people do not have the luxury, the capacity, or the time to keep on revisiting fundamental issues of this nature.
In this regard, there is another thing we need to note. When it comes to the theology of religion, surprisingly, adherents of the disciplines (particularly the pluralistic approaches) mentioned above often claim to take other religious traditions very seriously, while at the same time they completely disregard the acts of solicitation and the boundary-crossing (and thus missionary) truth claims of these very same religious traditions. Most collective we’s of a religious nature feel an inherent need to pass on to others what they experience as and believe to be meaningful. To disregard or—what is worse—to stigmatize these truth claims and these forms of expression reveals an attitude that is not intercultural at all, let alone interreligious. Theologies of religion that disregard these aspects are subject to criticism for being oblivious to reality.
In reality, the following holds true: there is a great need for reflection about those truth claims and forms of expression that keep on recurring, that are being modernized, or that arise for the first time as people compare themselves to or as they encounter adherents of other religions. From the perspective of the theology of religion, which are the pressing questions? Systematically speaking, we would need to address the following issues:
1. The epistemological question: Is it possible to apprehend religious realities in a way that transcends one’s own perspective? Does a transreligious basis of comparison exist?49
2. The hermeneutical question: Can we come up with a religious model that allows us to apprehend other religious traditions without filtering them through our own lenses first, that is, prejudging them as little as possible? What would be the most neutral possible categories for each respective tradition?
3.The soteriological question: Is it possible to formulate a religious model that allows us to locate adherents of other religions and worldviews, or even these religions and worldviews themselves, within the fold of truth, revelation, and salvation? From our own particular perspective, can we talk about salvation as a reality present in other religious traditions as well?
4. The theological question: What does the fate of those adhering to other religions or holding different convictions mean for our own image of God/our own definition of ultimate reality?
5. The ethical question: Can we come up with a religious model that enables us to approach adherents of other religious traditions as respectfully and cooperatively as possible? On what basis may we treat others respectfully and cooperatively?
6. The sociopolitical question: Is it possible to draw up a religious model that enables us to uphold the comprehensive value of our own tradition while simultaneously safeguarding the freedom of those holding different religious views?
The basic hypothesis of this book is that we need to go beyond currently trending theologies of religion to formulate a theory of interreligious relations. Initially, the task of such a theory would be to point out the perceptive restrictions occasioned by purely rational interpretive approaches. Our first step will be a theoretical reading of the field of interreligious relations, using a range of methodological approaches. As for formulating a fresh theology of interreligious relations, the challenge would be threefold: to incorporate insights gleaned from the field of cultural studies, to address the questions that would arise as a result, and to endorse those particular theological motifs of one’s own (in our case, Christian) tradition that would help us to formulate a more appropriate description of interreligious relations. Clearly, it will take a long process to arrive at our goal.
Having provided a broad overview of the subject area (in chapter one), we will proceed in chapter two, titled “Developments to Date: Christian Classifications of Other Religions,” by surveying conceptual models in systematic theology dedicated to the topic of other religions or presenting important implications for it. We will do so using the dogmatic loci method, since from a Christian perspective the subject matter of other religions may be located in the most diverse doctrinal contexts. Each dogmatic locus provides its own emphasis. The governing conviction is that much systematic clarification has already been achieved in this regard, but that a number of newer theology-of-religion models have regressed and fail to take this clarification into account. In the last part of this subchapter, we will summarize our initial results under the abovementioned six heuristic questions.