An Emerging Cosmotheandric Religion?: Raimon Panikkar's Pluralistic Theology Of Religions (Studies in Christian Mission)

An Emerging Cosmotheandric Religion?

Studies in Christian Mission General Editor

Marc R. Spindler Editorial Board

Heleen Murre-van den Berg (University of Leiden) Jean Pirotte (Université de Louvain)

VOLUME 30

An Emerging Cosmotheandric Religion? Raimon Panikkar’s Pluralistic Theology of Religions

by

Jyri Komulainen

BRILL LEIDEN • BOSTON 2005

This series offers a forum for scholarship on the history of Christian missionary movements worldwide, the dynamics of Christian witness and service in new surrounds, the transition from movements to churches, and the areas of cultural initiative or involvement of Christian bodies and individuals, such as education, health, community development, press, literature and art. Special attention is given to local initiative and leadership and to Christian missions from the Third World. Studies in the theories and paradigms of mission in their respective contexts and contributions to missiology as a theological discipline are a second focus of the series. Occasionally volumes will contain selected papers from outstanding missiologists and proceedings of significant conferences related to the themes of the series. Enquiries and proposals for the publication of works in the series should be addressed to the Administrative Editor, Studies in Christian Mission, Koninklijke Brill N.V., P.O. Box 9000, 2300 PA Leiden, The Netherlands. This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data Komulainen, Jyri. An emerging cosmotheandric religion?; Raimon Panikkar’s pluralistic theology of religions / by Jyri Komulainen. p. cm. — (Studies in Christian mission, ISSN 0924-9389; v. 30) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 90-04-13893-5 (hard: alk. paper) 1. Panikkar, Raimundo, 1918–2. Theology of religions (Christian theology) I. Title. II. Series. BT83.85.K66 2004 261.2’092—dc22

2004057557

ISSN 0924-9389 ISBN 90-04-13893-5 © Copyright 2005 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill Academic Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. Cover design by RAM vormgeving / Jan van Waarden, Asperen, The Netherlands. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change.    

CONTENTS Acknowledgements ......................................................................

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Chapter One: Introduction ........................................................ 1.1. Raimon Panikkar’s Theology in the Changing Context of the Theology of Religions .............................. 1.1.1. The Change in the Field of the Theology of Religions: From Confrontation to Dialogue .... 1.1.2. Panikkar as a Representative of the Pluralistic Theology of Religions ............................................ 1.1.3. Post-Pluralistic Critique .......................................... 1.1.4. Panikkar’s Theology of Religions in the Light of Post-Pluralistic Critique ............................ 1.2. Sources and Method of Study .......................................... 1.2.1. Problems and Limitations Concerning the Sources of the Study .............................................. 1.2.2. The Most Essential Works from Panikkar’s Pluralistic Phase ...................................................... 1.3. Previous Research on Panikkar ........................................ 1.4. Progress of the Research .................................................. Chapter Two: Starting-Points of Panikkar’s Theology ............ 2.1. Locus Theologicus: The Meeting of Religions ................ 2.1.1. Relatedness Between Spirituality and Theory ...... 2.1.2. The Inevitability of the Encounter of Religions .... 2.2. Religions in the Organic Category of “Growth” ............ 2.3. Modus Theologicus: Dialogical Dialogue ........................ Chapter Three: Panikkar’s Program of the Theology of Religions .................................................................................. 3.1. Pluralism and its Ontological Substantiation .................. 3.1.1. Reality as Radically Pluralistic .............................. 3.1.1.1. Perspectivism .............................................. 3.1.1.2. The Ontological Nature of Pluralism ...... 3.1.2. The Impossibility of a Universal Theory .............. 3.2. The Anthropological Foundation of Religions ................ 3.2.1. A Holistic Vision of Pluralistic Reality .................. 3.2.2. “Faith” as an Anthropological Invariant ..............

1 1 1 5 10 18 21 23 35 42 47 49 49 49 54 59 64 73 73 74 75 78 81 86 87 91

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3.2.3. Perennial Wisdom .................................................... 3.2.4. Harmony in Reality ................................................ 3.3. The Normativeness of Constitutive Spirituality .............. 3.3.1. The Transformation of Christianity ...................... 3.3.2. From Christology to Christophany: An Example of “Necessary Growth” .................... Chapter Four: The Principles Behind Panikkar’s Theology .... 4.1. Christophany: Christ as a Symbol of Being .................... 4.1.1. Christ as a Cosmological Principle and an Ontological Link ................................................ 4.1.2. Reality as Christophany .......................................... 4.1.3. The Meaning of Jesus of Nazareth in Cosmic Christology .............................................................. 4.1.4. Christ as a Category Surpassing Jesus of Nazareth .................................................................. 4.1.5. Jesus as the Revealer of the “Supername” .......... 4.2. Transhistorical Existence and its Epistemology .............. 4.2.1. Stages of the Human Time-Consciousness ............ 4.2.2. Ontological Epistemology as a Solution to the Epistemological Dilemma ............................ 4.2.3. Indian Spirituality as a Corrective for Western Thinking .................................................................. 4.2.4. Ecosophy—a New Cosmological Vision ................ 4.3. Cosmotheandrism: Trinitarian Metaphysics .................... 4.3.1. The Trinitarian Reality .......................................... 4.3.2. Theos, Anthropos, and Cosmos—the Dimensions of the Cosmotheandric Vision .......... 4.3.2.1. The Divine Dimension of Inexhaustibility .......................................... 4.3.2.2. The Anthropic Dimension of Consciousness ............................................ 4.3.2.3. The Cosmic Dimension of Spatio-Temporality .................................... Chapter Five: Cosmotheandrism—the Anthropological Reduction of Religions? ........................................................

103 110 114 114 116 125 125 127 130 136 138 145 150 150 156 162 172 176 182 188 189 191 193 197

Conclusion .................................................................................. 209 Bibliography ................................................................................ 215 Index ............................................................................................ 231

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Writing a dissertation is a major adventure in one’s life. This general statement is even more apt when the topic is a challenging one such as Raimon Panikkar’s theology. My research has entailed not only exploring different traditions and academic discourses, but also traveling to different corners of our globe. In fact, my globetrotting to India for the first time in 1993 was the major reason why I began more and more to be drawn towards this fascinating subcontinent with its remarkable religiousness. Therefore, when I began my postgraduate studies in the middle of the 1990’s, I chose Indian theology to be my research area. My initial title was the rather vague “Modern Indian Christology.” However, Panikkar’s position on the Indian theological scene is so distinguished that I soon ended up studying his theology. The emphasis of my research gradually shifted from his Christology to his pluralistic theology of religions and, accordingly, from the Indian context to a more global setting. During my research, I have been privileged to meet a number of people who have provided me with indispensable insights. Panikkar hits the nail on the head when he emphasizes the dialogical nature of man. Lamentably, I cannot mention all those with whom I have been able to discuss my topic, all those who offered comments on my text on various occasions, or all those who have, in one way or another, contributed to my work. Whoever they are, I can assure them that my cordial gratitude extends to them all. I would also like to express my thanks to my colleagues in the Department of Systematic Theology at the University of Helsinki with whom I have been working during these years. There are, nevertheless, some people whose contributions have been so significant that I cannot avoid naming them. Professor Miikka Ruokanen has supported my research in various ways. Without his supervision and endorsement, the situation might be very different today. Professor Risto Saarinen made a number of astute observations when he examined my licentiate thesis. Docent Pauli Annala’s supervision was especially helpful on the question of Christology. Docent Risto Ahonen and Professor Robert J. Schreiter (Catholic Theological Union, Chicago) examined my text during the final

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process of approving it as a doctoral dissertation for the University of Helsinki in 2003. Dr. Rudolf von Sinner, a Swiss theologian, has shared with me the fate of writing a dissertation on Panikkar. We have discussed the topic in India, Europe, and Brazil. He has also provided me with an ample bibliography and the manuscript of his thesis. This has helped me a lot, and I feel deep gratitude for his help and friendship. In Hamburg, Mrs. Ruth Heimbach kindly gave me various materials on Panikkar, including some of her own translations of Catalan texts. I also wish to thank Professor Raimon Panikkar, whose hospitable home in Tavertet, near Barcelona I was privileged to visit in April 1999. Meeting this very intelligent and generous elderly gentleman face to face was a crucial hermeneutical experience for me, and many questions were cleared up during our discussion. I would like to give my thanks to the institutions in which I have been able to stay during my research, as well as to those that provided me with crucial financial resources. I would first like to mention is the staff of the United Theological College in Bangalore, where I was able to spend a ten-month period in 1997. This period was funded by a scholarship from the World Council of Churches. I am particularly grateful to Professor O. V. Jathanna for his guidance in the field of Indian Christian theology. Secondly, I wish to convey my gratitude to the staff of Missionsakademie an der Universität Hamburg, where I was able to write my thesis during the winter period 1998–1999, funded by a scholarship from the Evangelical Church in Germany. I am sure the quality of my dissertation has improved following numerous discussions with the above-mentioned people, as well as with many others who have commented on my text during various personal conversations, in seminars, and on various occasions. However, there must be many points on which I have not followed their advice, and any inaccuracies, misinterpretations, and omissions remain my own responsibility. Mrs. Joan Nordlund has adeptly revised my English. If there are any mistakes or stylistic faults, they are certainly due to my lack of attention. My research has been funded by scholarships given by the Research Institute of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland and the Research Foundation of the University of Helsinki. I have also been able to write the major part of my dissertation as a full-time researcher

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engaged in the projects “Gospel and Cultures” and “Christianity in the Asian Religious Context,” funded by the Academy of Finland. My research sojourns in India and Germany would have been impossible without the support of the Department for International Relations of the Church Council of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church of Finland. I also wish to thank my parents, Esa and Marja, as well as other family members, and am deeply grateful to all those friends who have accompanied me on parts of my journey over these years. Nina Jokiniemi has a specific place among them, which is hers alone. Finally, I would like to dedicate this book to my son Aukusti Einari, who came to into the world during these years of research. June 2004, Helsinki Jyri Komulainen

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CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCTION 1.1. R P’ T   C C   T  R 1.1.1. The Change in the Field of the Theology of Religions: From Confrontation to Dialogue One significant, and in the long run probably also very influential, theological breach during recent decades has been the extensive softening of polemical attitudes as well as of exclusivistic ways of thinking: attitudes inherited from the eras of the crusades, religious wars, and colonialism have been reconsidered in the light of the modern world. This reconsideration has taken a concrete form in the ecumenical movement that has been one of the major phenomena of the twentieth century. The foundation of the World Council of Churches (1948) and the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965) both heralded a new atmosphere of openness.1 As an extension2 of this ecumenical development, an even more theologically fundamental process than the mutual rapprochement of 1 See, e.g., DiNoia 1992, 26–29; Yarnold 1993, 142–143; Hick 1987, 20–23. Cf. here also Hans Küng’s thesis about the shift to an ecumenical paradigm, see Küng 1987, especially 157, 218; Küng 1992, 151–171. For a general account of the shifts in the understanding of Christian mission, see Bosch 1991, 181–510. 2 Both the ecumenical movement and the theology of religions were given a strong impetus by the great conferences of the World Mission in Edinburgh in 1910, Jerusalem in 1928, and Tambaram in 1938. In fact, both ecumenics and the theology of religions have obtained stimulus from the field of missiology. On the relationship between these areas, see, e.g., Feldtkeller 1998, 37–39. See also DiNoia 1992, 4, 29–30. On the theologies of religions and for the concrete results of the above-mentioned conferences, see Ariarajah 1991, 17–88, which deals with the issue from the point of view of Hindu-Christian dialogue. In its own way, The World Parliament of Religions arranged in Chicago in 1893 was a turning point in the history of ecumenics as well as of the theology of religions. On this conference, see Komulainen 1996; Kuschel 1996, and on its influence Braybrooke 1992; Saarinen 1993. In this context, the protestant liberal theology of the nineteenth century should also be mentioned. This view of Christianity as belonging to the general category of religion built the foundation for the later development. It could be said that the theology of religions already existed as part of fundamental theology during this historical phase. Even though the beginning of dialectical theology in the 1920’s

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the Christian Churches has been going on. I am thinking here about the way that the theology of religions was broadened and enriched after the Second World War.3 At present, the theology of religions could be characterized as one of the hottest topics in contemporary theological debate.4 The anxiety that the Vatican has expressed about pluralistic theologies of religions could be seen in itself as confirmation of the currency of the topic,5 which in itself is not a novel one in any sense. There is a good deal of material related to these questions already in the Bible, not to mention many texts from the patristic era. It is the intensity of the discussion as well as the many theological interpretations that are novel.6 The rise of the theology of religions is an essential chapter in the methodological change in which the contextuality of all thinking has was to mark the end of this era, dialectical theology also contributed significantly to the theology of religions. On conceptions of liberal theology and dialectical theology in this respect, see Kuschel 1994a, 1–11; Drummond 1985, 61–68. Similarly, the openness of the Second Vatican Council towards non-Catholic Christians had tight theological correlation with its theology of religions. Dupuis 1991, 96–97. With its new openness, however, the Council did not represent a totally new and unprecedented attitude in the history of theology. It is possible to find many outlined and even elaborated theories of the theology of religions that have represented inclusivistic theology and a moderate interpretation of the classical extra ecclesiam nulla salus principle. On the background of the documents of the Second Vatican Council and their formation in the context of the question of Judaism, see Pesch 1996, 291–310. On the theology of religions of the Council, see also Ruokanen 1992. Cf. Dupuis 1997, 158–170. 3 Enlightening historical accounts of this change are provided by, e.g., Drummond 1985, 1–85; Dupuis 1997, 130–201. For a more systematic review, see Knitter 1985, xiii–xvi, 1–20, 73–167. See also Race 1982; Ogden 1992, 29–31; Bernhardt 1998, 21–24. Cf. Newbigin 1990, 135–137, and Pannenberg 1990, 96. For a long historical perspective on the theology of religion, see also D’Costa 1986, 3–22, and DiNoia 1992, 21–25. 4 See, e.g., D’Costa 1986, 3; Swidler 1987, 5; Schreiter 1998, 521: “The theology of religions is arguably at once the most urgent and the most controverted area that Christian theology faces today.” See also Drummond 1985, 66–83; Schreiter 1998, 518, 522–523. The amount of the literature on the issue is enormous, which is evident from the bibliographies in some of the books mentioned in the bibliography of the present study, see especially Dupuis 1997, 391–423, and DiNoia 1992, 171–194. 5 For an overview of Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger’s critical stance on the issue, see Allen 2000, 216–224, 235–256. See also Bernhardt 1998, 19; Knitter 1998, 78–80. The critical attitude of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith culminated in the controversial document Dominus Iesus issued on August 2000. For a critical analysis of the document, see Boff 2001. 6 On theologies of religions in the Bible and in the texts of the Church Fathers, see Dupuis 1997, 29–92; Salhanda 1984. See also Sharpe 1986, 7–10. See also Sullivan 1992, which examines interpretations of the extra ecclesiam nulla salus principle.

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also been increasingly apparent in the field of theology,7 as witnessed by the developments in recent decades during which theological discussion has expanded enormously in geographical terms. The breaking up of the colonial system has been experienced as an avalanche of many new theologies with a distinct contextual and local awareness.8 Western theology can therefore no longer ignore the rapid growth in the Latin American, African, and Asian theological scenes, and is having to take on the role of recipient in its relationships with colleagues from Latin America, Africa, and Asia more than ever before.9 To speak about the globalization of theology could be misleading, however. The emergence of contextual theologies has meant, principally, that theology in general has become more polyphonic, and that different local versions of theological thinking have interacted.10 The context of religious plurality has raised questions concerning the theology of religions especially in Asia, but also increasingly in other areas, and consequently, interreligious dialogue has emerged as a new theological method. This means that the theology of religions should be formulated not merely on the basis of some theological a priori, but also in concrete dialogue with other religions.11

7 On the theme of contextualization in theological discussion, see Bevans 1992, 1–22, and also Dupuis 1991, 11. See also Swidler 1987, 8–10; Schreiter 1997, 3–4; King 1999, 72–76. For a more general account of the methodological change, see Krieger 1991, 80–87. 8 According to Schreiter (1997, 1), the rise of contextual theologies could be dated in the 1970’s. This does not mean, however, that there was no distinctive indigenous theology in the colonial era. On the long history of Indian Christian theology, for instance, see Boyd 1975. 9 Dupuis 1997, 1. See also Thangaraj 1994, 22–24. 10 A quotation from Thangaraj (1994, 23) shows that the issue at stake is to challenge the universality of Western theology: “While I ask my students in India to be intensely and purposely involved in the local context, I plead with my students in the United States to look beyond their horizon and get a glimpse of what is happening in other parts of the world.” For an extensive overview related to this issue, see Schreiter 1997, 3–27. Cf. also Wilfred 1995, 82–83, 88–89, in which the whole phenomenon of globalization is questioned. An interesting question is to what extent these theologies with their contextual awareness are related to the general trend for indigenization. On the latter, see Huntington 1996, 91–95. Schreiter (1997, 25), at least, perceives a strong correlation between sociopolitical and theological trends. 11 See Dupuis 1991, 3–11; DiNoia 1992, 30–33. Interreligious dialogue has meant a deliberate methodological shift in the theology of religions. For instance, wellknown inclusivistic theory of Karl Rahner with its concept of ‘anonymous Christians’ originated exclusively in the framework of Christian dogmatics. Moreover, Karl Barth’s negative evaluation of religions was based on a theological a priori statement without any real contact to world religions. See Kuschel 1994a, 14–16; D’Costa 1986, 54.

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This kind of dialogical awareness poses a real challenge because it demands a new theologizing attitude.12 Another significant theological turning point has been the genesis of various forms of liberation theology. This process has a multiple and sometimes complicated correlation with interreligious dialogue that would be worthy of independent study. However, in this connection it is sufficient to make two comments. Firstly, it should be noted that the methodological shift from theory to praxis that has occurred in liberation theology is parallel to the idea of interreligious dialogue.13 Secondly, in spite of this methodological parallelism, liberation theology and interreligious dialogue have not intersected very much.14 The situation is changing, however. Particularly in Asia, a growing number of theologians are very aware of the context of sociopolitical predicament and religious plurality that surrounds them.15 Combining the interests of liberation theology with interreligious dialogue is not unproblematic since there are some concrete examples of how these approaches may collide with each other.16 Liberation theology has come into existence amid the political tensions of Latin America, whereas the interests of interreligious dialogue originated principally in multireligious Asia.17 India has had 12 DiNoia 1992, 24–25; Barth 1998, 103. See also Barth 2001, which is a noteworthy effort in presenting Christian dogmatics in the context of world religions. 13 See Dupuis 1991, 5; Dupuis 1997, 16–19. 14 See Cox 1996; Knitter 1996b, 1–19. 15 See Heim 1995, 73; Knitter 1996b, 11, 120–121. Paul Knitter is a kindred spirit of these Asian theologians. E.g. Dupuis (1997, 194) states that Knitter “. . . following in the footsteps of Aloysius Pieris, . . . unites even more closely the double concern of a liberation praxis and interreligious dialogue.” Cf. also Parappally 1995, 51–104, according to which the context of Indian Christology is both a “religious and cultural context” and a ”socio-economic and political context.” Similarly Dupuis 1997, 19. 16 For instance, in Indian Christian theology there exists a deep gap between the so-called ashram movement that in its search for spiritual enrichment interacts with high-caste Hindu traditions, and Dalit theology that categorically rejects Hinduism, which has oppressed the Dalits for centuries. In the name of liberation, Dalit theology may even demand the undoing of Hinduism, thus showing an attitude that cannot easily be reconciled with the interests of interreligious dialogue. See especially Nirmal 1990, 143–144, 149. Cf. also Pieris 1996, 160; Ariarajah 1999, 79–84; Driver 1987, 216–217. 17 The role of Africa should not be forgotten here. See Dupuis 1997, 19: “. . . the lead for building up a theological hermeneutics of religious pluralism will belong primarily, though not exclusively, to the churches in the African, and even more so in the Asian, continents, where the encounter and conversation between people belonging to distinct religious traditions is an important dimension of everyday life.”

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special significance in the history of interreligious dialogue. Fruitful interaction between Christianity and Hindu traditions existed there as early as in the nineteenth century. Since many early pioneers of Indian Christian theology were themselves converts from Hinduism, the question of theological relationship between their old and new faiths was very urgent and personal to them.18 The tight connection between the Indian context and the interest in interreligious dialogue is reflected in the fact that many pioneering figures in the field of interreligious dialogue have been Indians, or at least have had some relationship with the Indian context.19 1.1.2. Panikkar as a Representative of the Pluralistic Theology of Religions Raimon Panikkar, a theologian born in 1918 in Catalonia and ordained into Roman Catholic priesthood, belongs to the group of pioneers of interreligious dialogue who have obtained the decisive impulse for their theology from India’s multireligious culture. In Panikkar’s case, multireligiosity is embedded in his biography,20 since his father was an Indian Hindu and his mother a Catalan Catholic. Panikkar himself says that a major turning point in his life was becoming acquainted with India, his father’s homeland. In this process, according

18

The process of mutual enrichment of these traditions was even more extensive, as many Hindus deliberated upon the person of Jesus Christ. See, e.g., Dupuis 1991, 8–9, 15–45; Thomas 1976. On the theological significance of India, cf. Boyd 1975, 257. 19 Suitable examples here include Paul Devanandan, who had quite a strong influence on the general assembly of the WCC arranged in Delhi in 1961, and Stanley J. Samartha who acted as the first director of the dialogue program of the WCC. See Boyd 1975, 202–203; Samartha 1996. On the Catholic side, Swami Abhishiktananda founded Shantivanam Ashram with Jules Monchanin in South India as early as in 1950, more than a decade before the Second Vatican Council. On Abhishiktananda, see Boyd 1975, 286–297; Dupuis 1991, 67–90; Stuart 1995. An exhaustive overview of India’s contributions in the field of interreligious dialogue is provided in Kuttianimattathil 1995. Kuttianimattathil (1995, 128–131) states that Indian bishops contributed considerably to the decisions of the Second Vatican Council related to the theology of religions. Cf. also Ariarajah 1999, 104–105. 20 On Panikkar’s life, see Cousins 1979a; Veliath 1988, 81–83; Cragg 1992, 203–206; Ahlstrand 1993, 11–23; Raj 1998, 25–30; von Sinner 2003, 201–215, 235–242. Panikkar does not deal in detail with his personal life in his writings. On the contrary, he wishes to keep quiet about “anecdotes” regarding his life and religious experiences. See DPW, 84. Nonetheless, there is some scattered biographical material, e.g., in UCH, ix–xii; OGD, ix–xi; DPW, 77–99; GRP; WG.

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to his own interpretation, he found his Hindu and Buddhist identities without losing his Christian identity.21 Panikkar’s academic point of departure was exceptionally extensive. When he obtained his doctoral degree in theology in Rome in 1961, he already had doctoral degrees in chemistry (1958) and philosophy (1946) from Madrid.22 It is therefore not surprising that he has been characterized as “such a “mutational man,” one in whom the global mutation has already occurred and in whom the new forms of consciousness have been concretized.”23 From the perspective of the history of theology, Panikkar’s work could be evaluated against three different backgrounds, although all of these could be seen as parts of one wider theological discussion focusing on the uniqueness of Christ amidst world religions. Firstly, his background is to be seen in the modern Roman Catholic theology of religions, which has been profoundly shaped in the theological atmosphere of the Second Vatican Council.24 Secondly, his theological thinking has been widely included in the context of Indian Christian theology.25 Thirdly, his later pluralistic work constitutes an essential chapter in the recent debate on the pluralistic theology of 21 IRD, 2: “I ‘left’ as a Christian, I ‘found’ myself a Hindu and I ‘return’ a Buddhist, without having ceased to be a Christian.” On the other hand, cf. UCH, ix–x, which gives an enigmatic, metaphorically expressed description, hinting at the possibility that Panikkar had, however, lost the unambiguousness of his previous faith in this process. See also the analysis of this passage provided by Ramachandra (1996, 77–79). See also MWDG, 15–16, 70–73, and WG, 116–121. The years Panikkar lived in India in the 1950’s and 1960’s were spent not only in research and teaching in the universities of Varanasi and Mysore, but also in going deeply into Indian spirituality. His close collaboration with Swami Abhishiktananda is worth mentioning here. See Stuart 1995, 104, 159, 162, 216–217; Ahlstrand 1993, 99–103, 147–148; NVR, 285; LTA. 22 Some commentators have thus seen Panikkar as having the features of a renaissance man. For example, Joseph Prabhu (1996, 1) compares his aspiration for a holistic vision of reality with similar aspirations of Augustine, Nicholas of Cusa and Hegel. Podgorski (1996, 109) sees Panikkar in the same tradition as Bonaventura, Nicholas of Cusa, and the Spanish mystics, and the similar direction is taken in Vachon 1998, 4 note 2: “An internationally known intercultural and interreligious philosopher and mystic.” 23 Cousins 1979b, 143. See also Krieger 1991, 46. 24 For instance, Dupuis (1997, 130–157) presents Panikkar’s earlier inclusivistic theology of religions in the chapter entitled “Theological Perspectives Surrounding Vatican II.” 25 Robin Boyd examines Panikkar in his survey of Indian Christian theology. See Boyd 1975, 222–226, 297–302. Similarly Kuttianimattathil 1995, 274–280, 326–327, 341–346, 350–355, and Wilfred 1992, 226–233. Jathanna 1996 also presents Panikkar’s theology as an example of contemporary Indian Christian thinking.

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religions. This third context is the one against which I will primarily analyze Panikkar’s thinking in this survey. It is significant that Panikkar advocates very independent, even idiosyncratic views in all these contexts. As a representative of the Catholic theology of religions, he is not to be dismissed as an advocate of official teaching. On the contrary, since the late 1960’s he has been following his own course so deliberately that it would be misleading to present him straightforwardly as a Catholic theologian, even though he is a Catholic priest. Locating Panikkar’s theology of religions in the context of Catholic theology is justified only if his intellectual independence and multireligious disposition are simultaneously recalled and emphasized. In his thinking he has courageously crossed many borders, and therefore labeling him does not do full justice to his intentions. Although Panikkar’s theological career is in many ways related to India, the proper context of his thinking, especially in the latter part of his work, is to be found in the contemporary situation characterized by the suspense of globalization and localization.26 It is significant that even he himself encourages such interpretations when he states that, since his adolescence, he has seen himself to be “a monk, but one without a monastery, or at least without walls other than those of the entire planet.”27 It is evident that Panikkar’s long and pioneering journey in the field of interreligious dialogue that has been going on for more than four decades has had its moments of change and its turning points, since his theological thoughts have moved from inclusivism to radical pluralism.28

26 On this situation, see Schreiter 1997, 26–27. Panikkar himself confirms this estimation, e.g., in NRCUA, 183: “Today we can no longer ignore cultural and religious pluralism, on the one hand, and the uniforming tendency of the political and economical world, on the other . . .”; PUEWC, 193. See Chapter 3 below, which represents an attempt to illuminate Panikkar’s thinking from this kind of angle. 27 BS, 6. 28 For changes in Panikkar’s thinking, see more precisely 1.2.1. Cf. MRDP, 18: “I feel in myself an evolution, a growth and even a mutation; a mutation, because I for one, was educated, and in a way indoctrinated, in the most Tridentine way, in Spain, Germany and Rome.” [Italics mine.] This quotation, as well as, e.g., WG, 113–114, proves that the theological milieu in which Panikkar grew up was actually the traditional and exclusivistic Roman Catholicism, with the qualification that his home was both Catholic and Hindu. See WG, 116. In fact, there was even a time when Panikkar belonged to a very conservative and reactionary Catholic organization called Opus Dei. Ahlstrand 1993, 12–14; WG, 117. On Opus Dei, see Tapia 1998 with its abundant details about Panikkar in Opus Dei.

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It is interesting to note that these decades have been times of development and debate in the theology of religions in general. Of course, this is not just a coincidence, since Panikkar himself has had a profound impact on this process. For instance, his earlier writings on the relationship between Christianity and Hinduism possibly had a formative influence on the theological surroundings in which significant new vistas of the Second Vatican Council concerning world religions came into existence.29 In the post-conciliar era, Panikkar could be counted as one of the leading pioneers who established the foundations of contemporary debate in the theology of religions and increased the significance of interreligious dialogue.30 Even though he has not founded any major theological school, the strong influence of his thinking is evident not only in some individual theologians, but also in the Intercultural Institute of Montreal, an institution devoted to interreligious and intercultural issues.31 On the contemporary theological scene, he could be counted as a leading theologian of the so-called pluralistic school that claims that Christianity has to forsake theological exclusivism, acknowledge other religions as salvific and begin a profound dialogue with them. It is probably not an exaggeration to state that along this pluralistic front is emerging a new theological paradigm.32 The prevalence

29 See Drummond 1985, 53, 87; Strolz 1989, 146; Ahlstrand 1993, 17. Even though one could not find Panikkar’s name in the histories of the Second Vatican Council, his role as one of many theologians working behind the scenes is evident from his biographical details: Panikkar defended his doctoral thesis in Rome on the eve of the Council in 1961, and the thesis was published with the title “The Unknown Christ of Hinduism” during the Council in 1964. At the time of the Council, he was also working as a professor of the sociology of religion in Rome (1962–1963). See, e.g., Veliath 1988, 82. See also TWR, 41. It is plausible to assume that the role Panikkar played in the Council was that of a non-official specialist which is not referred in its official histories. See Reese 1996, 37–38. 30 Drummond 1985, 87: “Panikkar was one of the first contemporary Catholics to attempt to show that there is substantial evidence in both the Bible and the church fathers for a more inclusive Christian view of religions of the world, and almost all subsequent writers have depended upon him to some extent with reference to both methodology and data.” [Italics mine.] See also Knitter 1996b, 8, where Paul Knitter recognizes that Panikkar has inspired his own “dialogical odyssey.” Cf. also DPW, 81; AW, 100. 31 See Vachon 1998, 4–7. However, cf. Panikkar’s own statement (GRP, 383): “Ich habe Freunde und Schüler, und ich weiß, daß ich viele Schriften und Bücher inspiriert habe. Andere haben meine Ideen so vereinnahmt, daß sie nicht mal wissen, woher diese Ideen kommen. Aber es ist nicht mein Anliegen, eine Schule zu gründen.” On reception of Panikkar’s thinking see also MacPherson 1996, 96–100. 32 Knitter 1987, vii: “A pluralistic model represents a new turn—what might be called a ‘paradigm shift’—in the efforts of Christian theologians . . . to understand

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of pluralistic thinking among theologians seems to be so expansive today that pluralism should not be dismissed as a marginal phenomenon. It should rather be presented as one of the mainstream options of contemporary theologizing, even though it is not current in the official teaching of any church.33 One of the most emphatic claims for re-evaluating the foundation of Christian theology was set forth in The Myth of Christian Uniqueness (1987) edited by John Hick and Paul Knitter.34 The background of this manifesto was a seminar held at Claremont Graduate School in California in March 1986 that aimed at constructing a pluralistic theology of religions. According to the editors, the provocative title of the book was not selected to contest the “uniqueness” of Christianity, but only to show how this kind of expression belongs eventually to the mythical way of speaking characterized by constant change and reinterpretation. Critique is thus directed at the kind of theological thinking that emanates from this “uniqueness,” “unique definitiveness,” “absoluteness,” “normativeness,” or “superiority” of Christianity towards other religions.35 Panikkar was one of the writers of this book.36 Although a significant group of prominent pluralists gathered together under the unifying title The Myth of Christian Uniqueness, the differences between these theologians are still too profound to allow us to speak about pluralism or a pluralistic school of the theology of religions in a very strict and precise sense.37 The focus of all these theologians is convergent, however, since they collectively demand that we should cross “a theological Rubicon.” This amounts to “a

the world of other religions and Christianity’s place in that world.” For a more precise account of definition of the ‘pluralism’ and the demarcation between pluralistic and inclusivistic theologies of religions, see Schmidt-Leukel 1996, 233–234. Cf. also D’Costa 2000, 19–21. 33 Ogden 1992, 4; Schreiter 1998, 523; D’Costa 2000, 1, 19. DiNoia (1992, 179) states: “A noteworthy difference between the current discussion and that immediately following the council is that pluralism seems to be displacing inclusivism as the prevailing approach within Christian theology of religions.” Cf. Kuttianimattathil 1995, 394. 34 The Myth of Christian Uniqueness, ed. John Hick and Paul F. Knitter, Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books. 1987. 35 Knitter 1987, vii–viii. 36 Besides the editors and Panikkar, the writers include the following theologians: Gordon D. Kaufman, Langdon Gilkey, Wilfred Cantwell Smith, Stanley J. Samartha, Seiichi Yagi, Rosemary Radford Ruether, Marjorie Hewitt Suchocki, Aloysius Pieris S.J., and Tom F. Driver. 37 D’Costa 1990a, ix; Jathanna 1999, 12.

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move away from insistence on the superiority or finality of Christ and Christianity toward a recognition of the independent validity of other ways.”38 Although the writers of The Myth of Christian Uniqueness are divided in their opinions as far as the substance of the new pluralistic theology is concerned, they could still come together in their theological critique. 1.1.3. Post-Pluralistic Critique The Myth of Christian Uniqueness was not, of course, the launching of the debate around the pluralistic theology of religions, but it gave a strong impetus to it. The claims of the pluralists have been at the heart of theological debate since then, and many voices of criticism have also emerged.39 Indeed, after consolidating its position the pluralistic front has had to meet with ever-increasing resistance. Intrinsic problems of the pluralistic theology have been concentrated upon with the same eagerness as problems embedded in strong exclusivism.40 One of the most significant critiques of pluralism originated in response to The Myth of Christian Uniqueness. In Christian Uniqueness Reconsidered (1990)41 edited by Gavin D’Costa, a group of theologians of at least the same prominence42 as those contributing to the pluralistic manifesto took a critical stance towards pluralistic demands. This collection of essays cannot be looked upon as a reversion to traditional theological views, since some of them suggested that there was a step beyond the pluralistic position: the most authentic notion of pluralism would approve divergence and even incommensurability of religions without constructing any meta-theory that would nullify the differences.

Knitter 1987, viii. Cf. also Knitter 1996b, 7–9. Cf. Knitter 1996b, 18: “. . . since the publication of The Myth of Christian Uniqueness (1987), a dark though life-giving cloud of critics has followed the project for a socalled pluralist . . . theology of religions.” Cf. also Thomas 1990, 57–58, showing MCU to contain some seeds of self-criticism. 40 Schreiter 1998, 523–525. See also D’Costa 1986, 18, 25, 75; Schwöbel 1990, 31–33; Ogden 1992, 40–54. 41 Christian Uniqueness Reconsidered: The Myth of a Pluralistic Theology of Religions. Ed. Gavin D’Costa. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books. 1990. 42 Besides the editor, the list of contributors consists of the following: Rowan Williams, Christian Schwöbel, M. M. Thomas, Francis X. Clooney S.J., John B. Cobb, Jr., Wolfhart Pannenberg, Monika K. Hellwig, J. A. DiNoia O.P., Lesslie Newbigin, Jürgen Moltmann, Paul Griffiths, John Milbank, and Kenneth Surin. 38

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Similar criticism is stated more elaborately in S. Mark Heim’s Salvations, Truth and Difference in Religion (1995).43 In his survey Heim analyzes the pluralistic theologies of John Hick, Wilfred Cantwell Smith, and Paul Knitter. He concludes with a criticism that is mordant, suggesting that pluralistic theology does not succeed in attaining what it is pursuing. It will end up in inner conflict when it presents itself as the normative way of understanding plurality rather than allowing a genuine diversity of theological opinions to exist. Thus pluralism could be proved to hold an untenable position of severe logical incoherence—at least in the forms in which its most prominent Western representatives have presented it. This is why Heim wishes to direct the discussion beyond pluralism.44 Pluralism has been criticized previously from a similar perspective as that of Heim, for instance, by Schubert M. Ogden in Is There Only One True Religion or Are There Many? (1992),45 and by J. A. DiNoia in The Diversity of Religions, A Christian Perspective (1992).46 These monographs mentioned above are representative examples of the kind of theological remarks on the basis of which I consider that speaking about a new “post-pluralistic” situation would be proper and illuminative.47 This would cover a wide critique of the pluralistic theology of religions that shares a similar thesis. As I see it, ‘postpluralism’ could work as a sensible heuristic term in the context of the contemporary debate. Therefore it will be used in the following research as a terminus technicus by means of which I will try to depict the methodological stance that is, so to say, metacritical of pluralism. Of course, it is not legitimate to make too far-reaching conclusions simply on basis of using this kind of term. Constructing a postpluralistic front would be as difficult a task as defining a pluralistic camp, because there are many theologians thinking in versatile ways who could be counted in. However, in my view, the joint feature 43 S. Mark Heim: Salvations. Truth and Difference in Religion. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books. 1995. See also Dupuis 1997, 309–313; Jathanna 1999, 11–12, which are critical of Heim’s own model of the theology of religions. Nonetheless, Heim has elaborated his theological model further in Heim 2001. 44 Heim 1995, 2. 45 Schubert M. Ogden: Is There Only One True Religion or Are There Many? Dallas: Southern Methodist University Press. 1992. 46 J. A. DiNoia O.P.: The Diversity of Religions, A Christian Perspective. Washington, D.C.: the Catholic University of America Press. 1992. 47 I have adopted the term ‘post-pluralistic’ from Surin 1990, 209, and Heim 1995, 226.

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of theologies that could be labeled post-pluralistic is that, once the impossibility and incoherence of pluralism has been proved, they defend the rights of religions to hold on to their own, mutually inconsistent truth claims. Consistently with their critical stance towards pluralism, post-pluralistic theologians themselves are not afraid of committing themselves to their own religious tradition. As Christian theologians, they can evaluate and encounter other faiths only from a Christian perspective.48 When speaking about ‘post-pluralism’ I intend to express the dynamics of the current situation in which pluralism is not considered the latest, or perhaps not even the most radical, position taken in the discussion. What comes after pluralism is not easy to predict. To be precise, the term ‘post-pluralism’ only implies that there is, in some sense, a shift to the situation ‘after’ pluralism. The post-pluralistic view could therefore be characterized as more or less deconstructive in its relation to pluralism.49 Being deconstructive towards the pluralistic way of theologizing and defending the coexistence of different and mutually conflicting world-views, post-pluralism could be, in a sense, considered parallel to different postmodern ways of thinking.50 Post-pluralistic critique seems to have many similarities with so-called post-colonial theory, which aims to deconstruct the stereotypical and paternalistic representations that have been an essential part of colonial thinking.51 On the other hand, post-pluralism could not be classified unambiguously as a postmodern way of thinking, since the idea is to make room for traditional self-understanding of religions. It could be viewed as

48 Interestingly, the post-pluralistic theology of religions seems to provide an answer for David Bosch’s (1991, 483) desire for “a theology of religions characterized by creative tension, which reaches beyond the sterile alternative between a comfortable claim to absoluteness and arbitrary pluralism.” See Bosch 1991, 483–489. 49 Cf. here, e.g., the subtitle ‘The Myth of a Pluralistic Theology of Religions’ of the above-mentioned work Christian Uniqueness Reconsidered. 50 Heim sees this connection when he states (1995, 213): “In outlining my view I have leaned heavily on some ‘post-modern’ critiques . . .” Tilley’s (1995, vi–x) considerations on the contemporary era as a “post-age” shed further light on the different aspects of my terminological choice. On postmodernism, see, e.g., Detweiler 1993. 51 On post-colonialism, see, e.g., King 1999, 82–90, and Said 1995, 1–28. See also Heim 1995, 123. Post-colonial overtones are very obvious especially in Kenneth Surin’s (1990) criticism of pluralism. See also Sugirtharajah 1998, 15–17, in which post-modernism and post-colonialism are perceived as distinctive discourses, albeit with certain affinities.

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an application of so-called post-liberalist theology in the field of the theology of religions.52 No single theological conception has emerged to substitute pluralism in post-pluralistic discussion.53 As a general rule, post-pluralistic theologies seem to stand for a new kind of inclusivism.54 On the other hand, post-pluralistic theologians try to take a further step away from the pluralistic position in order to make room for irreconcilable tension between religions and their conflicting truth claims: the divergence between as well as the total character of religions makes it impossible to separate the goals of a religion from the means of pursuing them. Criticism thus turns towards pluralistic theologies themselves, because they typically imply a dichotomy in which the end of a religion is severed from the concrete way of life, which is followed in order to attain this very end.55 The situation seems to be rather strange. The theologians who are critical of pluralism have strong inclusivistic inclinations and, moreover, are defending the divergence of religions and the genuine plurality of religious truth claims.56 Furthermore, they blame pluralists 52 Post-pluralism could be defined more accurately as a certain branch of postmodern thinking, which Tilley (1995, 167–168) labels as “postmodern religious thought.” On the varieties of postmodern approaches in relation to religion, see Tilley 1995; Koistinen 2000, 171–172. On post-liberalism, see Davaney & Brown 1993; Placher 1997; Tilley 1995, 89–113. Cf. also D’Costa 1996, 231, in which Knitter’s pluralism is criticized on the grounds of the work of the well-known post-liberalist Stanley Hauerwas, as well as of the ethics of Alasdair MacIntyre who leans in the same direction. See also D’Costa 2000, 3–12. For an interesting parallel in the field of biblical theology, see McGrath 1995. 53 Cf. Heim 1995, 226: “. . . a ‘post-pluralistic’ conversation will involve varied voices.” 54 See Schreiter 1998, 524. 55 DiNoia 1990, 125: “In the proposals [of The Myth of Christian Uniqueness] under consideration here, the intrinsic connection between aims of life and patterns of life, which appears to be fundamental to the practical programs of existing religious communities, is loosened.” See also DiNoia 1992, 5–9, 34–64; Heim 1995, 7; Werbick 1993, 23; Heim 1995, 102–103; Newbigin 1990, 142–143. The idea about the total character of religions found already an expression in the works of Hendrik Kraemer, often classified as an exclusivist par excellence. See D’Costa 1986, 61–64. Quite similarly also Heim 1987, 118: “. . . the other’s life and belief cannot be grasped finally in pieces, but but [sic] only all at once.” 56 See Heim 1987, 116, 118; Milbank 1990, 176–179; Barth 1998, 108–111; Amnell 1999, 63, 141. Cf. also Cobb 1990, 81–84, 91–94. See also Ogden 1992, 59–66, in which the author tries to show on the basis of his own experiences in BuddhistChristian dialogue that in spite of strong mutual convergence, there remains a gap between these religions, especially concerning their metaphysical implications. Because of this chasm, the ultimate difference between these religions remains. Similarly also DiNoia 1992, 44–47, 59–63.

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for ultimately being inclusivists, or even exclusivists.57 It thus seems that pluralists are destined always to have some hidden agenda, and an exclusive criterion that dominates their interpretations of religions. The pluralistic theology of religions is thus, in the final analysis, not so pluralistic and tolerant. On the contrary, it implies exactly such “imperialistic” attitudes, which pluralists wished to abandon. Ironically, this means that pluralists themselves seem to fall into the very same trap that they accuse exclusivistic and inclusivistic theologies of religion of falling into, and that they themselves try to avoid.58 This being the current situation, it is not surprising that many theologians do not consider the typology ‘exclusivist-inclusivist-pluralist’ to be adequate or definite enough.59 However, my target here

57 Heim (1995, 101–103, 109) proves that pluralists are eventually inclusivists when they try to adapt religions into the frame of reference of the modern Western worldview. There is a certain exclusivistic note in pluralism due to the fact that concrete religions as such do not fit the pluralistic frame of reference. See D’Costa 1996, 225–226, 232; D’Costa 2000, 19–20; Heim 1995, 109: “Only as demythologized, adapted to the categories of critical historical thought, put in the context of Western understandings of epistemology, and measured against modern conceptions of equality and justice can these religions be pronounced valid.” See also DiNoia 1992, 42–43, 47–49; Vanhoozer 1997, 55–56; Amnell 1999, 56–60; Jathanna 1999, 5, 12. Similarly also Ogden 1992, 70–77, in which it is proved that even pluralistic views have to have some interpretative principle that is normative. 58 See, e.g., D’Costa 1986, 38; Schwöbel 1990, 33; Milbank 1990, 180–181; Heim 1995, 101–102. See also D’Costa 2000, 20; Vanhoozer 1997, 49–50. Cf. Knitter 1996b, 19, in which Knitter himself admits that, in a certain sence, he would like to convert others to his own pluralistic position. Cf. also Niewiadomski & Schwager & Larcher 1996, which seems to provide a new version of post-pluralistic critique, which is very critical of globalization and neo-liberalistic ideology. The main idea is that leveling out the differences between religions by means of pluralistic theologies provides a basis for “metareligion of the market” (Oberreligion des Marktes). See also Neuhaus 1999, in which Hans Küng’s global ethics are criticized in a very similar tone. These recent contributions of German-speaking theologians espouse René Girard’s theory of religion that sees religion as a means of controlling violence in human society. On Girard´s theory, see Girard 1996. 59 Heim 1995, 226; DiNoia 1992, 55. See also DiNoia 1992, 179–181; Jathanna 1999, 1–2. D’Costa (1996, 223–225, 232) would like to discard the threefold typology that he himself also used to promote in D’Costa 1986. Ogden (1992, ix–xi, 54–55, 78, 82–83) for his part outlines a “fourth option” that could be called, in his own words, “pluralistic inclusivism.” Cf. also Ogden 1992, 80–82, in which he takes distance from the inclusivistic position in its more traditional form. See also Kuttianimattathil 1995, 394, in which the term ‘pluralistic inclusivism’ is also in use. Cf. Heim 1995, 219. It is often referred to Race 1983 as the origin of the threefold typology. See, e.g., Pannenberg 1990, 105 note 9; Heim 1995, 15 note 2; D’Costa 2000, 20. However, a very similar typology was expressed much earlier in Panikkar’s work. See IRD, xiv–xix, xxvii–xxviii. Indeed, Panikkar’s version is a little wider in scope, as he

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is not to express an opinion in this respect,60 but only to recall how differently theologies could be categorized depending on the point of view.61 Post-pluralistic critique is based on this kind of change of angle, and thus makes its critical analysis, so to speak, from the meta-level. For instance, in his analysis Heim attempts to prove that the pluralistic theology of religions is inwardly (i.e., concerning the goal) a representative of non-pluralistic soteriology despite the fact that it seems outwardly (i.e., concerning the means) to be a representative of pluralistic soteriology.62 On the other hand, Heim’s own post-pluralistic theology, despite its being evidently an inclusivistic theology of religions, is epistemologically founded on so-called orientational pluralism and postulates a soteriology which is in a sense rather pluralistic.63 One essential objective in post-pluralistic critique is to expose the methodology of the pluralistic theology of religions. It is exactly this point of post-pluralism that is espoused and found fruitful in the present study. Previous post-pluralistic studies have unearthed the subtle strategies with which pluralists subvert—or it may be more appropriate to say, have ended up in subverting—the genuine plurality and diversity of religions. Next I will introduce some of these strategies so that the reader will be provided with some grounding in pluralistic rhetoric before my analysis of Panikkar´s theology. Firstly, the pluralistic theology of religions might postulate a concept belonging to a “meta-level” in relation to concrete religious symbols and thus describe their ultimate essence or the actual object of their holy names. Fundamental religious concepts such as ‘Allah’, ‘Nirvana’, and ‘God’ are thus substituted by more abstract concepts

makes distinction between ‘exclusivism’, ‘inclusivism’, ‘parallelism’, and ‘pluralism’. In fact, the two last-mentioned belong to the category of ‘pluralism’ in its present sense. Cf. also D’Costa 2000, 56–57. 60 See Knitter 1996b, 4, 16–17; Knitter 1998, 77. Cf. also Schmidt-Leukel 1996, in which the prevailing threefold typology of ‘exclusivism’, ‘inclusivism’, and ‘pluralism’ is defended as the one that exhausts all logical possibilities. However, SchmidtLeukel indicates many subdivisions in this framework. Therefore, the situation is not as inconsistent as it looks at first glance: the “fourth option,” a kind of pluralist inclusivism, suggested by Ogden (1992, ix–xi), fits well into the subdivisions of Schmidt-Leukel as “moderate pluralism” (gemäßigter Pluralismus). See Schmidt-Leukel 1996, 233, 239. 61 See here also Heim 1995, 5–6. 62 See Heim 1995, 7. 63 See Heim 1995, 129–229.

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such as ‘Mystery’ and ‘Real’.64 Phenomenal differences are just apparent, since the actual essence of religions is to be found on the transcendent level on which these differences are dissolved or at least are proven to be secondary.65 This strategy is also very closely related to the apophatic method in respect of transcendence: it is quite typical of pluralists to argue for the necessity of many symbols given the incapability of human language to describe the ultimate essence of reality.66 This pluralistic conclusion is in obvious tension with the religions themselves, however, most of which represent total systems of orientation to such an extent that their self-understanding does not allow the idea of mutual complementarity.67 Secondly, the pluralistic theology of religions may take as its starting point the human subject and his intrinsic religiousness: in this case, the common structure of religions, or an anthropological constant that constitutes all of them, is methodologically essential.68 The factor uniting all religions, whatever it might be, becomes so decisive that concrete religions will ultimately be adapted and assimilated to the frame of reference espoused by pluralists instead of being

64 The concept ‘Mystery’ occurs, e.g., in Samartha 1996, 156–157. ‘Real’ is the central concept in John Hick’s pluralistic theology. See Heim 1995, 18–21; Amnell 1999, 49, 126–127. 65 See DiNoia 1990, 126–128. Cf. also how Heim (1987, 116–117) criticizes Knitter’s idea of development from ecclesiocentrism to christocentrism and eventually to theocentrism: “When we reach a concept so transcendent that it is said we have no comprehensible or tangible criteria for it, we have not attained universality but parochialism. Since there is no common set of reference points for understanding ‘God,’ the appeal to God—as in theocentrism—can represent less of a curb on our narrow outlooks, not more.” See also Heim 1995, 118; Ogden 1992, 73–75; DiNoia 1992, 63; D’Costa 1996, 227; D’Costa 2000, 26–28. King’s (1999, 140) statement also points in the same direction, even though it is uttered in another context: “The problem with the search for a universal philosophia perennis is that the wider the focus of the perspective the more diluted the commonality becomes. The essence towards which the perennialist points becomes so abstract, vacuous and culturally non-specific (in order to fit all examples) that it becomes unrecognisable to the adherents of the particular traditions themselves.” Cf. here also the criticism of Advaita Vedànta by Nehemiah Goreh, according to whom the Absolute without qualities (nirgu»a brahman) will eventually be reduced to zero. Boyd 1975, 46–49. 66 DiNoia 1990, 129. See also Clooney 1990, 76–77; Werbick 1993, 28–32; Kuschel 1994b, 149–150, and D’Costa 2000, 25. Cf. Eck 1995, 63–66, how this kind of methodology is also operative in the Hindu way of thinking. 67 Amnell 1999, 138; Saarinen 1999, 187. See also DiNoia 1992, 5–6, 49–50, 57–58. 68 The latter of these strategies resembles the discussion at the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries about a religious a priori that constitutes the foundation of religiosity. The background of the discussion is to be found in German idealism and its anthropology. See, e.g., Klimkeit 1998, 61–62.

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approved as they actually are.69 When a religion is salvific, the grounds for salvation are not what is believed among its adherents, but something that is recognized by pluralists. One can therefore see a strong tendency in pluralistic theologies of religions to create some kind of meta-theory that, in its own sense, “fulfils” and explains the aspirations of all religions.70 The modern Western worldview of the Enlightenment tradition seems to be normative for most pluralists.71 Therefore, the pluralistic theology of religions has an obvious Western character, or at least the version that is proposed by its prominent Western representatives does. Moreover, pluralism is presented as the solution to the kind of problematic situation that is a result of the marginalization of religion in Western modernism. It is no surprise that pluralistic theologies developed in this context understand religion according to the tradition of the Enlightenment.72 It is interesting to note that the post-pluralistic way of thinking also finds support here in the post-colonial discussion in which it has been proven that the concept ‘religion’ has obtained its meaning in the Western context. Therefore it is not at all evident that this concept is transferable to other cultures without problems.73

69 Schwöbel 1990, 33; DiNoia 1990, 125. See also D’Costa 1996, 229; Jathanna 1999, 6. 70 Heim 1995, 102, 119, 121. See also Saarinen 1999, 186–187. 71 See Heim 1995, 103, 108–109, 123, in which the pluralistic views of Hick, Smith, and Knitter are criticized for being inclined to interpret and mold religions according to the heritage of the Enlightenment. Heim (1995, 103) states: “Many Christians in the past set terms by which other religions must be considered false. Pluralistic theologies now set terms under which religions must be considered true. . . . Pluralistic theologies require conversion of all faiths not to any form of Christianity, but to the cultural structures of plausibility against which modern Western Christianity has been defined.” [Italics mine.] See also Newbigin 1990, 142; Thomas 1990, 57–58. See also D’Costa 1998, 135–136, 145, 148, and Burrows 1998, 71–73, in which Knitter’s pluralism is proved to be, in fact, a very Western way of thinking. Cf. also Surin 1990, 196: “The Cantwell Smiths and Hicks of this world are seemingly a new kind of subject, one that is universal or global in the way that the McDonald’s hamburger has become the universal or global food.” It is worth mentioning here that the global ethics sketched by Hans Küng are also strongly attached to the Western humanistic heritage. See Cobb 1993, 602–606. 72 See here Heim 1995, 121–124; Surin 1990, 203. 73 For a more precise account, see King 1999, 10–12, 35–41, 67. Concerning pluralistic theologies of religions, the following statement of King (1999, 11) is very interesting: “The search for the ‘essence’ of religion or the various religions, or of ‘mysticism’, is misguided since it is operating under the aegis of the essentialist fallacy that the phenomena included in the category of religion . . . must have something universally in common to be meaningfully classified as religious. . . . Indeed,

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  1.1.4. Panikkar’s Theology of Religions in the Light of Post-Pluralistic Critique

Since the post-pluralistic viewpoint has proven itself to be very illuminative in the analysis of pluralistic theologies of religions, I will adopt it as the heuristic principle in my analysis of Panikkar’s theology of religions. As my aim here is not to construct a theology of religions of my own, I will be content only to take the critical side of post-pluralism and apply it to Panikkar’s thinking. This task is meaningful, since Panikkar’s radical pluralism and its implementation have not yet been analyzed in sufficient measure.74 Before I begin the analysis itself, it might be meaningful to specify precisely what I mean by the ‘post-pluralistic critique’ that is the basic starting point of my analysis of Panikkar. I will use the term in my study to refer to the kind of methodological stance that analyzes and explicates such constituents embedded in a pluralistic theology of religions that are ultimately to be categorized as exclusivistic or inclusivistic. These constituents could be classified as exclusivistic if concrete religions as such do not fit into the frame of reference espoused, and as inclusivistic if religions are ultimately interpreted and modified according to a pluralistic meta-theory. All of this would not be problematic if it was not in serious dissonance with the ultimate aim, as well as the rhetoric, of any pluralistic theology of religions. Post-pluralistic critique thus represents attempts to dig below the surface of rhetoric in order to see, for instance, whether the method utilized in the implementation of a pluralistic program is, in the final analysis, congruent with its explicated aim, in other words, proving all religions to be equally and autonomously salvific. Taking Panikkar’s radical pluralism as the object of analysis from this kind of angle might arouse some suspicions in the minds of those who have followed the recent debate. It is quite obvious and gen-

the modern category of ‘religion’ itself is a Western construction that owes a considerable debt to Enlightenment presuppositions.” See here also Whaling 1993, 547; Ahn 1997, 513–516, 518. 74 However, Jathanna (1999, 6–10) has briefly criticized Panikkar’s radical pluralism in the context of his more general critique of pluralism. Jathanna’s own “critical inclusiveness” seems to share features of post-pluralism. See Jathanna 1999, 12–13. Cf. also Larson 1996, in which Panikkar’s pluralistic theology is criticized from the viewpoint of logics. Larson’s analysis, however, is based on a very narrow sample of Panikkar’s work. This also holds true for brief but sharp-sighted critical comments on Panikkar’s pluralism in Dean 1987; Yadav 1987.

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erally acknowledged that Panikkar is the one in the pluralistic camp who has determinedly tried to avoid the weaknesses of many other pluralists, and who thus describes his own model as radical pluralism.75 However, his position in the recent debate is still rather ambiguous. This is partly due to the constant development and dynamic character of his theology, and partly because his thinking as such is very complicated and even has some internal tensions, as I will try to show. Since Panikkar denies the possibility of observing religions from any meta-perspective, he is widely acknowledged as being more genuinely pluralist than many others.76 Moreover, critical post-pluralistic voices have originated in confrontation with pluralists such as John Hick, Wilfred Cantwell Smith, and Paul Knitter, who are all in their own way committed to the tradition of the Enlightenment, whereas Panikkar could be located somewhere in the middle of the pluralistic and post-pluralistic positions. He has even been characterized as the one who has established the foundations of the postpluralistic way of thinking.77 I am convinced, however, that post-pluralistic critique should also be applied to Panikkar’s theology of religions.78 It might illuminate 75

This emphasis of Panikkar will be illustrated more precisely in 3.1. See, e.g., Knitter 1985, 153: “More than most proponents of the theocentric model for interreligious dialogue, Panikkar insists on the importance of diversity among religions.”; D’Costa 1990a, ix; D’Costa 1990b, 27 note 1; Milbank 1990, 182: “. . . Raimundo Panikkar . . . is by far the nearest in the book [The Myth of Christian Uniqueness, 1987] to emancipating himself from pluralist presuppositions . . .”; Heim 1995, 108: “. . . Panikkar is a good deal more pluralistic and consistent than many of his companions may find comfortable.” See also Heim 1995, 14 note 1; Larson 1996, 78. 77 Heim (1995, 8–9), representing post-pluralism, states: “Panikkar particularly has been suggestive to me in developing my own view. To put it in a self-interested way, where these writers [Panikkar, Aloysius Pieris, Stanley J. Samartha] differ from the three [ John Hick, Wilfred Cantwell Smith, Paul Knitter] I examine, I tend to think these differences are quite consistent with my own thesis; where they agree, I think them liable to the same criticism and drawing on identical sources.” Elsewhere, Heim (1995, 226) even sees Panikkar as a representative of post-pluralism. Cf. also Knitter 1987, x: “Panikkar is particularly insistent on the limitations of reason and so stands in a certain tension with some of the other [pluralistic] propositions. . . . Panikkar suggests that many of his colleagues who endorse a new pluralism and plunge across the Rubicon do not really know what this means. Pluralism tells us that there is no ‘one’ that can be imposed on the ‘many.’” See also Dean 1987, 172–173; Williams 1990, 3–6, 12, 14. As I see it, at least Williams (1990, 10–11) depicts Panikkar too much as a representative of post-pluralism. 78 I have used previous research in the above presentation of some strategies advocated in pluralistic theologies of religions by means of which differences between 76

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his thinking from a new angle. In my study, I will therefore attempt to find answers, for instance, to the following questions. In what measure can one criticize Panikkar’s theology of religions in a similar way as other pluralists have been criticized? Is Panikkar’s vision, in the final analysis, genuinely pluralistic, or does it also contain inclusivistic elements that are ultimately contradictory to his pluralistic rhetoric? Does he interpret religions as being as different from each other as possible, or does he see some common denominator among religious plurality? These questions are meaningful, and looking for answers will produce a better understanding of Panikkar’s thinking and its implications. My critical stance does not mean that Panikkar was not a more genuine and radical pluralist than many of his confreres on the pluralistic front. He does have the intellectual humility to present his model only as one possible model among many and therefore vulnerable to criticism.79 Thus it should be expected that, in his case, the analysis had to penetrate much more deeply than in the cases of many other pluralists before questions such as those posed above could be answered. It might also be expected that ideals specifying Panikkar’s thinking are to be found elsewhere than in the tradition of the Enlightenment; he denies very clearly that “the modern Western myth” could provide the basis for the meeting of religions.80 I hope it will become clear during the research process whether these kinds of expectations are sensible or not. Indeed, I have imposed religions could be ironed out. Such research has abstracted these from the work of other pluralists but not so much from Panikkar’s work. One aim of my research is thus to unravel similar tendencies, if there are any, in Panikkar’s thinking. 79 SCD, 257; MJC, 114. See also CD, 102. 80 OGD, xiii: “The basis for the dialogue cannot be the modern Western myth.” See also IRD, 90; DPW, 81–82, and Vachon 1998, 16–33, in which a detailed alternative to Western modernism and its premises is outlined in the spirit of Panikkar. Cf. also Heim 1995, 99–124, which proves that an apologetic interest prevails in the pluralistic theologies of Hick, Smith, and Knitter. All of them aim at defending religiosity within the tradition of the Enlightenment. As a summary, Heim states (1995, 112): “Each . . . in its understanding of the religions emphasizes different elements of what Panikkar called the modern Western ‘myth.’ In Hick’s case the elements are primarily philosophical, in Smith’s primarily historical, and in Knitter’s primarily social.” Vanhoozer (1997, 57–58) sees the distinctiveness of Panikkar’s position in his way of invoking the Trinity as a case for pluralism. However, his understanding of the Trinity has been criticized as falling short of orthodox Trinitarian theology. See, e.g., Vanhoozer 1997, 62–63. Some aspects Panikkar’s conception of the Trinity will be discussed in 3.2.2., 4.1.2. and 4.3. below. For a more detailed analysis, see von Sinner 2003, 243–328.

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demands on myself to consider and analyze the principles determining Panikkar’s thinking in general. I am thus striving not only to analyze the inner coherence of Panikkar’s radical pluralism, but also to give a wider view of his pluralistic vision. Post-pluralistic critique is thus a crucial hermeneutical key with which I will try to open up the entirety of Panikkar’s thought. The holistic nature of his thinking makes it impossible to analyze his pluralism without making any effort to understand his fundamental “cosmotheandric” vision. In other words, an analysis of his pluralism also requires consideration of the principles upon which he bases his theology of religions as well as his methodology and hermeneutics in interreligious dialogue. Therefore, my attempts in Chapter 4 to explicate some of Panikkar’s theological and philosophical principles will complete the analysis of his pluralism begun in Chapters 2 and 3. 1.2. S  M  S The beginning of an academic study should explicate the methodological stances that direct its implementation. My analysis of Panikkar’s theological thinking is certainly no exception. Just to read Panikkar has its own difficulties, since his way thinking is notoriously elusive, and his work is widely acknowledged as not easily accessible.81 I will use systematic analysis as the method in my study. This involves a close reading of Panikkar’s texts that aims at explicating the structural principles of his thought, and in doing so I will also point out possible internal inconsistencies and problems in his thinking. Furthermore, in my analysis of Panikkar’s pluralistic theology of religions, I will apply the approach of post-pluralistic critique presented above. Adopting this kind of methodology entails that I do not endeavor to produce an enterprise in intercultural hermeneutics, in which case it would involve my own intended subjective impact in the hermeneutical process. Neither do I pursue the construction of my own theology of religions. Instead, I aim at describing and analyzing as impartially as possible Panikkar’s thought, and also disclosing its internal dynamics. Of course, this does not mean that my study is free 81 See, e.g., Thomas 1970, viii; Cousins 1979b, 141; Ahlstrand 1993, 1; Ramachandra 1996, 77; MacPherson 1996, 1, 26; Carney 1996, 132, 142–144; Raj 1998, 19–20.

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of prejudices and biases. Given the hermeneutical complexity of any act of human understanding, it would be a sheer impossibility to attain such a level of objectivity. Without doubt, my own standpoint as an ecumenically orientated Lutheran theologian comes through, especially when I occasionally launch some criticism towards Panikkar’s theological conceptions. Moreover, especially in the footnotes, I will now and then adopt the viewpoint of comparative religion in order to examine further some features of Panikkar’s multireligious thinking that the systematic analysis brings up. This pinpointing of his thinking will help in understanding and evaluating it. In other words, in order to assess the results obtained through systematic analysis, I will occasionally compare them with various traditions Panikkar has applied in constructing his own thoughts. This does not mean, however, that my methodology has an ambitious genetic scope. I will not try to prove exhaustively what sources Panikkar has drawn on. My intention is rather to shed light on some aspects of his religious thinking using comparative material. With my passing and sometimes tentative remarks on affinities that exist between Panikkar and some philosophical and religious traditions, I also wish to suggest some themes and directions that future research on Panikkar could elaborate. Furthermore, in my opinion, an exhaustive genetic analysis of Panikkar’s thinking may be a rather unprofitable task because of its hybrid character.82 He has adopted methodology that aims at synthesizing different traditions.83 Therefore extracting all the different components from his holistic vision is a task that is beyond the scope of the present study. Neither will I endeavor to explain the chronological development of Panikkar’s thinking, although I am aware of its dynamics. A holistic vision has emerged over the years featuring the same fundamental points of departure.84 Earlier research has primarily concentrated on 82 Cf. here Ahlstrand 1993, which aims at analyzing and explicating some of the sources of Panikkar’s theological thinking. 83 See CE, 1–5. 84 This is observed also in Prabhu 1996, 2: “It says something about the origins and the inner consistency of Panikkar’s work that over a fifty-year period spanning forty books and at least five hundred major articles he has broadened, deepened and clarified it [the vision of an early study of his] in a number of different ways, ringing a few changes of accent and emphasis, perhaps, on a basic rhythmic structure of a ‘cosmotheandric perichorèsis,’ but otherwise remaining remarkably true to that initial vision.”

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analyzing and presenting these points of departure, reference to which will enable me to cover some fundamental concepts and neologisms occurring in Panikkar’s work more briefly. In the course of time, there have occurred some profound changes and even transitions of emphasis in Panikkar’s thinking, which no systematic study can ignore.85 Anyone reading and studying Panikkar’s work should respect these changes and be constantly cautious about producing anachronistic interpretations and comparisons. I have had to make some methodological decisions in this respect, and I would like to explain how I have tried to pay sufficient attention to these chronological dynamics in my reading of Panikkar. 1.2.1. Problems and Limitations Concerning the Sources of the Study With regard to sources, I will confine my study to the most essential work of Panikkar in the three decades extending from the beginning of the 1970’s to the beginning of the new millennium. My analysis will concentrate on the texts that seem to be loaded with theological significance. Since it is not possible to make any sharp distinctions between philosophy and theology in Panikkar’s thinking, I will base my analysis on other essential texts, too. Since Panikkar has written an enormous number of books and articles published in all kinds of forums, I have not considered it reasonable to base my analysis on an exhaustive collection of his work.86 I think that this is not even necessary given the emphasis of my study. I have been greatly helped by the fact that previous research and some selected bibliographies87 have already selected the most relevant of the texts written by Panikkar. On the other hand, 85 Cf. also how Panikkar has spelled his first name in different ways over the years. The chronological order is the following: Raymond—Raimundo—Raimon. 86 It is clear from my bibliography that my sources are in fact extensive despite some principal limitations I have made. For research economy, any study should make some limitations when collecting an exhaustive sample is beyond reason. This is obvious with a thinker such as Panikkar, whose work transcends many linguistic, geographical, religious, and academic boundaries. Cf. here Veliath 1988; Menacherry 1996. Both of these studies have an extensive although chronologically limited bibliography. However, neither of them, in the final analysis, takes sufficient distance from Panikkar’s texts themselves. 87 Above all, the bibliography annexed to The Intercultural Challenge of Raimon Panikkar, a collection of articles dedicated to Panikkar’s thinking, edited by Joseph Prabhu and published by Orbis Books in 1996 (see pp. 293–307), is very representative. Moreover, Panikkar himself gives an illuminating account of his life work in his own response (SCD) included in this book.

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many of his published books are, in fact, collections of articles, which means that many of the key ones are already available as wider thematic compilations. When seen from a bibliographical point of view, Panikkar’s work poses great challenges to researchers. It is not uncommon for the very same text to have been published in versions of different length and in different languages.88 Given these “isagogic” problems, I do not aim at defining precisely how Panikkar’s thinking has developed chronologically.89 My methodological stance will thus be, above all, systematic, although I do pay attention to the chronological aspects in order to avoid any anachronistic interpretations in my reading. To do full justice to the dynamics of Panikkar’s thinking, I will adopt the following methodological principles in my study, and also acknowledge the following considered limitations in my handling of the sources. Firstly, the study will be limited to what has been published since the decisive pluralistic turn in Panikkar’s theology of religions at the very end of the 1960’s, or alternatively at the very beginning of the 1970’s. It has been impossible to prove exactly when Panikkar moved from an inclusivistic position to a pluralistic, but the existence of this transition is beyond doubt.90 It is obvious, for instance, if the first 88 A good example is the article ‘The Jordan, the Tiber, and the Ganges’ ( JTG), published in the above-mentioned pluralistic manifesto The Myth of Christian Uniqueness (1987). There is an extended version of this same text in a collection of Panikkar’s articles and speeches called Dwelling Place for Wisdom. See DPW, 109–159, in which the text is again in English (1993). However, this time it has the title “Trisangam: Jordan, Tiber, and Ganges” and is, in fact, translated from a German translation (1991). See WWB, 133–195. Moreover, I only refer to the English and German versions here, not those in Romanic languages. 89 See also Ahlstrand 1993, 11; MacPherson 1996, 33. MacPherson (1996, 9) states: “The cultural ‘crossing over’ in which Panikkar has been engaged most of his life has resulted in a development of his thought that is far from linear.” Cf. here also Ahlstrand 1993, 159–160, in which Panikkar’s tendency to suit his expressions to his audience is remarked on. 90 Paul Knitter sees the first symptoms of this pluralistic turn in an article called ‘Christianity and World Religions’ (CWR) in Christianity, a publication of Punjabi University from 1969. See Knitter 1996a, 181 note 17 Knitter might well be right, since Panikkar raises the concept of ‘pluralism’ in this article, and makes many remarks in embryo that are central in his later work. Cf. also Panikkar’s own references to this lecture in RHC, 190, and CCTM, 113. See especially CWR, 104, 108, 117–120. Jathanna observes that there was a change to be seen in Panikkar’s ecclesiology during 1967 and 1972. See Jathanna 1996, 131–132, 134. Cf. also Knitter 1985, 154–155: “It took him [Panikkar] a decade of interreligious experience and reflection to come to this point. . . . Since the early 70s, he has . . . moved in new directions.” Menacherry (1996, 105–106 note 6) approves Knitter’s interpretation.

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(1964)91 and second editions (1981)92 of his well-known monograph The Unknown Christ of Hinduism are compared. The first edition is clearly representative of the inclusivistic theology of religions, since at that time Panikkar still understood Christ to be the reality in which Hinduism was obliged to die and resurrect in order to be transformed.93 In his later phase as a pluralist, he vehemently dismisses this kind of unequal relationship between Hinduism and Christianity. Thus the second edition of The Unknown Christ of Hinduism takes deliberate theological distance from the first edition. Panikkar gives the reader to understand that the change has happened in his whole theological vision.94 He explains the rewriting of the book on the basis of a “mutation” that occurred not only in himself but also in the world. However, he puts emphasis not only on change but also on the continuity existing between his previous and contemporary positions. He really has very dynamic self-understanding as a thinker.95 Abraham Koothottil also makes similar remarks when interviewing Panikkar in 1980. See MRDP, 14–15. Panikkar himself also confirms this timing when he states in a text dated 1989 (NVR, 291) that he has demanded a profound reformation of Christianity for “at least two decades.” See also Mitra 1987, 42–44, 48. I think that the following remark of Mitra (1987, 42) is especially worthy of note: “Though [Panikkar] always upholds the inseparability of the historical and transhistorical, in his later works, the emphasis shifts more to the transhistorical.” See also MacPherson 1996, xiii. Cf. Ahlstrand 1993, 11–23, which classifies Panikkar’s work too superficially according to his biography. 91 The Unknown Christ of Hinduism. London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1964. 92 The Unknown Christ of Hinduism: Towards an Ecumenical Christophany. Completely Revised and Enlarged Edition. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books. 1981. 93 See Panikkar 1964, 17, 59–61. See also Mitra 1987, 42–48, which presents some thoughts of Panikkar before his pluralistic turn. 94 See UCH, 70–75. However, cf. RHC, 190. See also MacPherson 1996, 61–65, 83–87; Dupuis 1997, 150–151, which compares the first and second editions. Despite many reformulations, what Panikkar himself states in the preface of the second edition should be noted (UCH, xi): “The present edition has endeavoured . . . to keep from the first edition all that I still believe can truly be said; and . . . to refrain from changing the text completely according to my present vision (this would have meant writing a new book).” [Italics mine.] This suggests that it is not question of some single revisions in Panikkar’s thinking, but of reforming its whole structure. Therefore the second edition of UCH is to be seen somewhere in the middle ground between the old and the new, even though it was not published until 1981. Cf. also MRDP, 12: “. . . the second revised edition of The Unknown Christ of Hinduism which is to come out very shortly. It is the middle step or the stepping stone towards my position now.” 95 UCH, x–xi, especially xi: “. . . just as the first edition contributed towards a more critical Christian self-understanding at a very crucial time, this revised version may offer a new step towards a fuller grasp of our itinerant state.” [Italics mine.];

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On the other hand, it should be noted that his thinking seems to be radicalized even after its pluralistic turn. As a pluralist, he has begun to criticize any theological way of thinking and speaking which leans on some conception of ‘Absolute’. This means that even the monotheistic concept of God has come under very critical scrutiny. Due to this change, traditional theological concepts such as ‘Absolute’, and ‘God’ are not to be found easily in Panikkar’s later work.96 A lecture that Panikkar gave in a symposium dedicated to him in February 1977, and that was later published in Cross Currents under the title ‘The Myth of Pluralism: The Tower of Babel—A Meditation on Non-Violence’, could be seen as an important milestone of his thinking in this respect.97 After stating that he felt embarrassed by all the beautiful words expressed in the symposium, he gave his audience to understand that he really wanted to say something novel as a response.98 It was in this very lecture that Panikkar vehemently denied the possibility of erecting any kind of absolutes, if pluralism is taken seriously. This restraint holds true for God conceived in a monotheistic way.99

IFOL, xiii: “There has been evolution in my ideas, I assume, progress, and eventually also some kind of mutation. . . . I do not have the impression of being a ‘converted’ person, one who has undergone a ‘rupture’ . . . I have never abjured the past nor rejected my tradition(s). If I have abandoned some ideas it is because they have given birth to their successors, begotten new ones.” See also MRDP, 5, 18, 21–22. Ahlstrand (1993, 81) is right when she states the following: “It is typical of Panikkar’s approach to philosophy and theology that he seldom rejects what he has held on to, as he moves to new areas of thought. Rather, he adds new insights to what he already has achieved.” 96 Of course, there are some individual exceptions, e.g., RT, 40; IRD, 11; MCN, 257. On the other hand, some of these exceptions seem to be remnants from earlier periods. MFH, 199: “. . . there is only one Absolute . . .” was originally published in 1966. See the bibliographical details given in MFH, v. Cf. here Panikkar’s earlier work, e.g., Panikkar 1964, 132–138. However, this earlier usage of words is still reflected in the second edition of The Unknown Christ of Hinduism. See, e.g., UCH, 48. 97 Cross Currents ‘Panikkar in Santa Barbara’, Vol. XXIX (1979), No 2, 197–230. In this study, I refer to this presentation as the version republished in IH, 52–91. 98 IH, 52: “Perhaps I shall begin . . . not just by repeating things from the past, topics about which I feel somewhat safe and sure, but rather by venturing into realms where I am insecure and run the risk of capsizing.” 99 See, e.g., IH, 75, 83. However, despite this explicit refusal there still seem to persist some ambiguities in Panikkar’s thinking. Cf. BS, 17, 33, in which he speaks on the absolute, although very obscurely. As I see it, this is first of all a question of a symbolic way of speaking, which does not permit us to make ontological conclusions. See MRDP, 13, in which Panikkar explicitly says that he uses the word ‘God’ as a symbol. See also CSR, 78; CD, 63.

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It is worth noting that it seems to be at exactly the same time that Panikkar’s theological vision was beginning to emerge in its mature form. Although The Cosmotheandric Experience (CE) that crystallizes his cosmotheandric vision was published in 1993, the articles compiled in this book were originally from the 1970’s when there seems to have occurred a significant transition in his thinking.100 This is a crucial point, because the timing of these texts leads us to the conclusion that the radicalization of Panikkar’s pluralism happened simultaneously with the expounding of his cosmotheandric vision. It is also worth noting that it took years before he presented to a wider audience these cosmotheandric studies originally published in more specific contexts. He himself gives as the reason for this that this kind of thinking is easily labeled speculation.101 Furthermore, it was in 1977 when an impressive anthology on the Vedas The Vedic Experience Mantramañjarì, An Anthology of the Vedas for Modern Man and Contemporary Celebration (VE) edited, translated and commentated by Panikkar, was published. This anthology comprises not only texts from the proper Vedas, but also some other Hindu texts, including some passages from Bhagavadgìtà. The publication of this book, sometimes considered Panikkar’s opus magnum, saw the end of a long process working with Hindu texts in the sacred city of Varanasi, implied in the dating of the preview, 1964–1976. Since a prerequisite for this kind of work is intensive interaction with the sacred texts of Hinduism, it is reasonable to assume that this dialogue with classical Hindu tradition was a decisive factor in the emergence of Panikkar’s theological vision. This assumption is reinforced by the fact that the Vedas, especially Upanißads, are very speculative and cosmological in their orientation.102 However, I do not wish to hasten the natural course of events, and I will show later in this study how Vedic influences may be seen in Panikkar’s thinking. Similarly, questions such as what Panikkar means by ‘cosmotheandrism’, and how he presents his pluralism, will be addressed later. What is important now is to be aware that there

100 See CE, 4 note 9. When noting that there was a change in Panikkar’s thinking in the 1970’s, MacPherson (1996, 126), rightly in my view, recalls an essay called ‘Colligite Fragmenta: For an Integration of Reality’ (1977). This important essay is published as a renewed version in CE, 3–77. 101 See DWVW, 7. 102 See, e.g., Klostermaier 1994, 197–198.

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were some fundamental changes in Panikkar’s thinking even during the period researched here. Secondly, I will emphasize the recent material in my analysis, even though the focus of the study is on Panikkar’s thinking throughout its pluralistic period. Laying the emphasis on recent texts is reasonable, since Panikkar’s pluralism has radicalized over the years and his thinking has constantly kept moving. Sometimes I even try to read earlier texts in the light of more recent ones, which does not mean that my methodology is anachronistic. Panikkar’s earlier work, makes many sporadic allusions to the themes which are articulated in a more developed way in his later work. It is possible to place these earlier embryos into the proper context only in the light of his later work, which shows the direction he has taken. Thirdly, the sources of my study are limited to Panikkar’s works available in English and German for reasons of research economy. Since he has quite often published the same material in different languages, restricting the study to the sources in two languages is not, in fact, so dramatic.103 Moreover, his work in English covers the most essential part of his theological thinking. When my sources are translations, I take this into account and use these texts in a more moderate and cautious way by refraining from analyzing any single expression too closely, for instance. I consider all the limitations, which I have presented above for practical reasons, to be reasonable and legitimate in the case of such a thinker as Panikkar, who is, on the one hand, very productive but who, on the other hand, keeps on repeating himself in many different texts. Moreover, his work is very challenging not only quantitatively but also qualitatively. It is typical of him to remain on a rather theoretical, and thus on a rather general level. Even when the issue under consideration is a concrete one, he tends to situate the analysis of it on the most ultimate and abstract level.104 This might well be the reason why Panikkar’s style of writing is very tense and sometimes also complicated. For instance, it is not uncommon that his writing seems to form a kind of hypertext with many references not only to the classical texts of Christian, Hindu, and Buddhist traditions, but also to multifaceted contemporary literature as well as to his own writings. He often furnishes the beginning 103 104

See the exhaustive bibliography up to 1985 provided by Veliath (1988, 370–398). See, e.g., BS, 8; NRCUA 170.

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of his writing with mottos consisting from quotations of the sacred texts of different traditions in the original languages.105 In my view, this practice implies a wish to put his own thoughts in the immediate context of the many traditions he finds himself familiar with.106 Therefore, I should say something about Panikkar’s idiosyncratic way of writing that also has methodological relevance. There is a real danger of misunderstanding if the hermeneutical issue is ignored. First, it should be noted that, for Panikkar, writing is meditation. He does not consider himself writing primarily to disseminate some ideas. Instead, writing is, in his own words, “intellectual life,” which is in turn “spiritual existence” and as such participation in the life of the universe. Through writing he sees himself participating in reality itself: in the process of writing, “the self ” living in the language uses the writer as a tool, which means that the “transparency” of the author is a crucial factor. Eventually, Panikkar is even able to describe writing as “a religious undertaking.”107 His understanding of his intellectual vocation is ultimately mystic and is to be seen in intimate connection with his understanding of words and the Holy Scriptures.108 When reading his texts, we should remember that he often does not even pursue scientific accuracy, but rather allows himself the liberty of using words in his own way.109 According to him, the principle behind his writing is that any sentence written by him “should implicitly (not logically) reflect (or refract, not contain), and thus suggest or touch upon the whole.” If man is a microcosm, as Panikkar suggests, then “every authentic word echoes the whole Logos.”110 105 See, e.g., IRD, 1; IH, 3, 20, 21, 25, 34, in which the article itself or its chapters are trimmed with quotations from a Hindu text and from the Bible. Cf. also IRD, xi–xiii, which quotes Nicholas of Cusa and Ramon Llull, and IRD, 39, with a quotation from the Chinese Chung Yung. 106 Cf. Ramachandra 1996, 97–99, in which Panikkar’s way of subordinating the meaning of texts into his own thinking is criticized, backed up by good examples. See also Cragg 1992, 206–207. 107 DPW, 77–79. See also DPW, 84; CD,4. See also Strolz 1989, 149: “Whoever occupies himself persistently with Panikkar’s writings, will acknowledge that thinker and religious person form a seldom seen unity in his case.” 108 See VE, xxxv–xxxvi. Panikkar could be seen as being rooted in the tradition of wisdom theology. On this, see Schreiter 1985, 85–87. Cf. ITAM, 24–25. 109 UCH, 12. See DMTM, 162–171, in which Panikkar does not present the “Hellenistic,” “Indian,” and “Cosmic” anthropologies, but rather gives an account of his own thinking under the terms of all these traditions. 110 IFOL, ix. Cf. also GRP, 386: “Viele Leute sagen, daß ich letzten Endes ein Dichter bin. Ich weiß es nicht.” See also GIA, 102–103.

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Thus, for him, the literary expression seems to be tantamount to participation in the (macro)reality transcending an individual. On the other hand, one substantial theme in his writing, which will be seen later, is participation in reality and its rhythms. Therefore, it is not possible in Panikkar’s case to separate strictly the meaning from the form of expression. Indeed, he leans on a very theologically loaded understanding of the word and its ontology. It is plausible to presume that, in this respect, he has been influenced by Hindu hermeneutics. For instance, Vedic theology puts very much emphasis on the cosmic influence of the ‘word’ (vàc), as well as on the correspondence between the micro- and the macrocosm.111 Secondly, it should be noted how Panikkar has a tendency to empty the terms of their original meaning and to assimilate these into his own thinking. It is also typical of him to interpret a term strictly from one perspective or underscore some of its aspects in such a measure that the meaning slides into the desired direction.112 Panikkar’s way of thinking and writing is not necessarily arbitrary here. In a sense, he is just steadfast to his own dynamic understanding of the nature of language and words. He does not think that the meaning of a word is confined to its function as a sign and vehicle of communication, but sees that it is language through which man participates in the symbolic existence of the universe. Hence he is able to see words as having their own “sense” (Sinn) and “power” (Macht). For him, language is a kind of living entity, “a revelation of the Spirit,” and words are fundamentally different than terms.113 If the reader does not pay any attention to Panikkar’s tendency to transform the meaning of words or, on the other hand, is not famil111 See, e.g., Brockington 1992, 46; Lipner 1994, 33–34; Klostermaier 1994, 197–198; King 2000, 48–49. On the other hand, cf. King 1999, 122, who sees some parallelism between Upanißadic and Early Christian hermeneutics. See also VE, 88–112. Even though showing any clear influence of Heidegger in Panikkar’s thinking is not easy, it is worth mentioning that there existed a relation of friendship between the two. Therefore, it is plausible to assume that Heidegger’s complicated and ambiguous way of thinking and writing could have been one constituent, with the classical traditions, in the formation of Panikkar’s understanding of the word and his style of writing and thinking. See GRP, 383–384; BS, 122; Ahlstrand 1993, 77 note 36. In fact, Panikkar himself affirms the influence of Heidegger in this respect. See DPW, 97–98. On Heidegger and his way of using language, see Steiner 1992, 9–12, 37. 112 UCH, 12. Ramachandra (1996, 97–99) gives illustrative examples of the sensus semper plenior -type hermeneutics of Panikkar. See also Cragg 1992, 210. 113 BR, 20–21; VE, 19–22; SNSE, 47. See also HEC, 200; VE, 19–26; SCD, 287.

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iar with the original meanings, he or she could easily misunderstand Panikkar or, so to say, even be led astray.114 The third issue that I would like to raise is how Panikkar’s thinking relates to Christian theology. This is an issue that is especially relevant to Panikkar’s thinking from the point of view of the theology of religions. Although Christian theology plays a crucial role in his biography, he does not, indeed, wish to be categorized under the title ‘theology’ due to the fact that he considers this term to be too culturally bound.115 This kind of unwillingness to commit is not confined to the terminological issues, but permeates through the material under study: Panikkar does not treat theological questions in a traditional fashion, and it even seems that he does not consider this relevant. The overall impression when reading his work is that he has no interest in being a theologian pursuing academic theology with traditional methods and sources.116 It may be better to characterize his thinking 114 An illustrative example is to be found in SCD, in which Panikkar speaks about his engagement with the Christian tradition. The meaning he gives to ‘ecclesia’ is very idiosyncratic: according to him, the Church is “Mysterion Kosmikon ecclesia ab Abel, corpus Christi mysticum.” On this basis, he may even accept the traditional doctrine of extra ecclesiam nulla salus which, on the other hand, is seen by him as “a qualified tautology.” The Church, which as the mystical body of Christ is “a concrete form of this cosmic communion of the entire universe,” is in Panikkar’s theology a cosmic soteriological category. See SCD, 263. See also WG, 115–116; DAIE, 30–33. On the theological tradition that is formative for Panikkar, see Dupuis 1997, 80–83, 90–91. Earlier in the same text, Panikkar admits that he also understands such words as “Being,” “Nature,” and even “the Mystical Body of Buddha” as the symbols of universal communication. See SCD, 237. Cf. also DPW, 84–85; GIA, 56–57. This kind of playing with words is typical of Panikkar. Therefore, we have to adopt a critical stance when reading the words he wrote in MRDP, 18: “I do believe in the priesthood, I do believe in the Church, even in the Roman Church in the most sincere and real way.” I do not intend to deny that this could be true in some sense. However, everything depends on how the essence of the Roman church is interpreted. Panikkar’s ecclesiology is so extensive that the catholicity is eventually identified with the being as man, if not with the being itself. See OCI, 18: “To the objection: ‘Then everybody is a christian’. I have little to object . . . When I confess myself a catholic I do not have the feeling nor the will nor the understanding that I am declaring my belonging to a religious sect (in the best and traditional sense of the word) that exists on earth since only two millennia. I am confessing my belonging to the human race, and even more to the entire reality which since eons has taken the shape it has taken in me.” See also GRP, 393; NRCUA, 172; MJC, 117 note 54. Cf. also HEC, 203.Thus, Panikkar’s liberty of thinking and expression should always be borne in mind. On his style, see also Eastham 1993, xiv. 115 MWDG, 69. See also RT, 8–9; Sheridan 1996, 147. 116 MWDG, 104: “Ich gebe der Bibel kein Monopol.” See also GRP, 383, and

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as founded on an intuitive vision of Christian faith as well as of religiosity in general. It is in this spirit that he rejects the idea of any system and, instead, sees his own thinking as aiming at “synthesis.”117 In using this term, he wishes to highlight the fact that his thinking is not confined to any predestined frame of reference, but rather seeks to integrate different aspects.118 As far as his location amid intercultural dynamics is concerned, this means that Panikkar has a persistent proclivity to integrate different traditions, which makes his thinking very elusive and hard to categorize neatly. Nonetheless, my analysis will show that certain structural principles may indeed be discerned in his thinking, and that it operates according to its own logic. Given Panikkar’s integrative method, as well as his ample reading, however, it is not always possible, and maybe not even sensible, to assess whether some features of his thinking are more “Western” or “Eastern” in character. In many cases, he has drawn from both Western and Eastern traditions that have sometimes striking and even surprising parallels.119 DPW, 80, in which Panikkar shows his reluctance to force his thinking into any mould or to follow any existing paths. 117 See JTG, 110; IFOL, ix; CE, 4; CE, 15: “I am not presenting a system, i.e., a systematic treatise regarding the situation of Man in the universe. I am offering a synthesis which not only remains open but which allows and even calls for differing interpretations.”; AW, 89. Cf. also RT, 22. Cf. also Jathanna 1996, 130: “Panikkar hat sein Denken . . . bisher nicht systematisch dargestellt. Diese Form der punktuellen Darstellung seines Denkens entspricht seinem Anliegen, das weniger systematisch als mystisch ist.” On the other hand, cf. Cousins 1979b, in which Panikkar was represented as a Christian theologian who “has provided, at least implicitly, all the building blocks of a complete systematic theology.” In my view, Cousins’ article reflected the situation in the 1970’s when it was still possible to see Panikkar as a theologian, at least in some respects—he had written a monograph on Christology (the first edition of UCH) and another on Trinity (TWR). However, he chose to follow another direction than the one predicted, or rather encouraged, by Cousins (1979b, 152–154). In the light of his later work, I do not think Panikkar has had any interest in expanding these earlier “building blocks” into any systematic theology. See also MRDP, 21–22, in which Panikkar reacts rather positively to Koothottil’s critical approach towards Cousins. Cf. Menacherry 1996, 49–50, who erroneously espouses Cousins’ interpretation as the basis of his study. We also encounter Cousins’ outdated interpretation in Kim 1997, 139–140. In my view, Ahlstrand (1993, 121, 197–198) and even MacPherson (1996, 90–96) also see Panikkar, at least now and then, too much as an unambiguously Christian theologian. 118 See AW, 131–132. 119 See Cragg 1992, 205, 211; MacPherson 1996, 5–26. It will become clear in my analysis that, on the one hand, Panikkar has astonishingly many Western ingredients in his thinking, given his reputation as one who theologizes in the Indian context. This is not so surprising given his education in the Western tradition, as well as the circumstances that impelled Halbfass (1990, 440) to say the following words

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This “synthetic” way of thinking holds true especially in his later cosmotheandric vision. He introduces an article devoted to this theme in the following words, which are well worth quoting: This meditation claims to present . . . a certain synthesis (not system) . . . It is not specifically Christian, or Buddhist, or Hindu, or even secular. However, it aims at embodying a certain number of traditions, so that these could relay what they have already received, but now in the confluence, in the sa«gam of the contemporary situation . . . We have to resist the temptation that many Western scholars give way to when they speak about a “global perspective,” or a worldwide point of view. This is a remnant of the colonialist, i.e., monocultural way of thinking, even if today it is called scientific. It is a question of a healthy pluralism and an interreligious perspective for our diachronic time.120

Hence Panikkar espouses a perspective that is situated in the intersection of different religious traditions, in their “sa«gam.” On the other hand, he denies any global perspective since he wants to champion pluralism. The passage quoted reveals how he himself understands his thinking and working as a synthetic process, as a “meditation” in which a tradition, or preferably in the plural, traditions, interact with the challenges of time. It is in this process that these traditions are relayed.121 at the end of his extensive survey of the encounter between India and Europe: “In the modern planetary situation, Eastern and Western ‘cultures’ can no longer meet one another as equal partners. They meet in a Westernized world, under conditions shaped by Western ways of thinking. The medium, the framework of any ‘dialogue’ seems to be an irreducibly Western one.” It is obvious that Panikkar persistently resists the temptation to operate in a straightforwardly Western framework. See OG, xiii. Considering the fact that his audience is customarily a Western one, further remarks of Halbfass are very elucidating, however. See Halbfass 1990, 439–442. On the other hand, the pre-modern philosophical traditions stemming from Greece and India are not always so far away from each other—at least as far as their basic orientation is concerned. See King 2000, 34–35. On the intricacy of the historical aspects of the issue, cf. also Halbfass 1990, 2–23. 120 DMTM, 150: “Diese Meditation beansprucht infolgedessen, eine gewisse Synthese (kein System) darzustellen . . . Sie ist nicht spezifisch christlich oder buddhistisch oder hinduistisch oder auch säkular. Sie will aber eine gewisse Anzahl von Traditionen verkörpern, um sie weiter das tradieren zu lassen, was sie von jeherüberliefert haben, aber jetzt in der Konfluenz, dem sa«gam der heutigen Situation. . . . Wir müssen der Versuchung widerstehen, in die viele westliche Gelehrte heute fallen, wenn sie von einer ‘globalen Perspektive’ oder weltweiten Ansicht reden. Das sind Überreste einer kolonialistischen, d.h. monokulturellen Denkweise, auch wenn sie heute wissenschaftlich genannt wird. Es geht uns hier um einen gesunden Pluralismus und eine inter-religiöse Perspektive für unsere diachronische Zeit.” 121 I will analyze Panikkar’s method and its relation to religious tradition more thoroughly in Chapter 2.

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Even though drawing from diverse religious traditions and aiming at pluralism, Panikkar seems to have confined himself mainly to the Christian language.122 His tendency to use concrete Christian concepts could be seen as further evidence of his reluctance to speak in abstractions or neutral terms. The meeting of religions cannot take place “in a no man’s land,” since he vehemently denies the existence of any such area. The context of the meeting is not situated on some transcendent level, but in this world, in this “samsàric adventure” where human beings are “fellow-pilgrims.”123 Thus we always have to begin our journey from some position. Panikkar denies the possibility of being seen as an “isolated Gnostic,” a “heretic” (Häretiker), or an “anarchist” (Anarchist), but clearly expresses his willingness to be committed to the historical tradition called Christian. However, this kind of expression should be evaluated in the light of the following. First, the church Panikkar commits to is, in his own words, “Mysterion Kosmikon ecclesia ab Abel, corpus Christi mysticum,” which refers to the “cosmic communion of the entire universe.” Secondly,

122 See Panikkar’s retrospective conclusion (SCD, 271): “I have tried to speak the christian language, and perhaps I have neglected to give ‘equal time’ to the hindu language, or the buddhist one for that matter, except in my more philosophical studies.” Cf. Lanzetta 1996, 103, in which Panikkar is criticized for “certain exclusive Christian elements.” See also Mitra 1987, 14: “With all his attempts of understanding Hinduism, Panikkar is still a Christian and therefore, his understanding of Hinduism is colored by his Catholic stance.” This statement by Mitra, however, should be balanced in the light of the fact that she bases her analysis mainly on Panikkar’s earlier material, some of it also extending to the time before the pluralistic shift in his thinking. See Mitra 1987, 36 note 5. Heim (1995, 171) rather sees the strength of Panikkar’s pluralism to be in his courage to begin with the concrete and particularistic. I would like to emphasize the complexity of the issue: Panikkar indeed took his starting point in the clearly Christian context, albeit tinged with Hinduism. However, his thinking has developed in a more multireligious direction, as witnessed by his shift from inclusivism to pluralism. The following quotation is very interesting in this respect, especially in view of the fact that the first sentence is in the past tense (UCH, 13): “My ‘wineskins’ were certainly made of Christian leather. Should I now write another book for Hindus? . . . Certainly I am not setting out now to transform this book into something which was never intended . . . I am engaged in precisely this task elsewhere . . .” 123 TWR, 5–6, 43: “. . . I am convinced that the meeting of religions cannot take place on neutral territory, in a ‘no man’s land’ . . .”; UCH, 26–27: “I wanted to stress that we meet not on a transcendent plane where differences matter no longer, where we are no longer in and of this World—but here in this World where we are fellow-pilgrims, where we commune in our humanness, in the samsàric adventure, in our historical situation.”; SNSE, 56; RT, 22; MRDP, 13; CTBT, 5; IH, 172. See also IRD, 39–52. Cf. RPC, 99–100, in which “interculturality” is depicted at least as a utopian no-man’s-land.

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he deliberately aims at questioning the fundamentals of any community, and therefore, does not approve of any rules imposed from without.124 Panikkar claims to take Christianity as his starting point, since among all religious traditions it is Christianity that “is especially called to ‘suffer’ [the] purifying transformation.”125 However, the criticism of the Christian dogma intrinsic in his thought is intimately connected to the way he understands religion and spirituality. Theological methodology should be developed in a situation in which interreligious encounter is imperative.126 It is interesting to note that he mentions, even though not specifying, “external circumstances” due to which he has written to Christians more often than to Buddhists or Hindus.127 Panikkar is, indeed, willing and able to switch from one vocabulary to another whenever necessary. This feature is most obvious perhaps in the anthology and commentary of the Vedas he compiled and edited entitled The Vedic Experience (1977).128 However, it should be borne in mind that he constantly creates his own language that adopts traditional concepts but provides them with new content. Moreover, his works abound in neologisms. 1.2.2. The Most Essential Works from Panikkar’s Pluralistic Phase The following introduces the sources I have used in my study, with the abbreviations I use in the footnotes in parentheses. In his early booklet The Trinity and World Religions (TWR),129 Panikkar attempted to gather together different spiritualities of Buddhism, 124

See WWB, 104–105; SCD, 263. See also IFOL, x; WG, 115–116. TWR, 5–6. 126 IRD, 22, 33. For a detailed analysis of Panikkar’s methodology, see Chapter 2. 127 IRD, 55. See also UCH, 11. 128 The reader can sense this kind of feeling in the prologue (VE, xxxvii): “I have also to thank the Vedic Gods and all other spirits who have blessed this venture. . . . May both Gods and readers by their acceptance of this mantramañjarì forgive and forget its compiler so that the silent, Divine Mystery may flow freely through whatever living mantras this anthology may elicit.” 129 The Trinity and World Religions. Icon-Person-Mystery. Bangalore: CISRS & Madras: CLS. 1970. The second edition of TWR was published in New York and London under the title The Trinity and the Religious Experience of Man (1973). However, this does not differ considerably from the first Indian edition that I use. According to Cousins (1996, 123), the major change is that the second edition has a longer prologue. See also MacPherson 1996, 34; Devdas 1980, 606. Rowan Williams (1990, 3) has characterized this book as “one of the best and least read meditations on the 125

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Hinduism, and the monotheistic religions of the Middle East under the concept of Trinity. This small work resembles meditation more than academic study, but it is an example of creative Trinitarian thinking. Although Panikkar did not develop the line of Trinitarian thought presented in TWR, some fundamental theological decisions made in it could be seen in his Christology. TWR is also an illustrative example of Panikkar’s methodology that puts theological thinking in the context of the meeting of religions. Of all Panikkar’s works, probably the best known is The Unknown Christ of Hinduism (1964), which is based on his doctoral dissertation in theology. It was this book with its Christian exegesis of Brahmasùtra I, 1, 2 that established his theological reputation.130 As mentioned above, a revised version was published in 1981, and this is better suited to his pluralistic thinking. Since this second edition (UCH) crystallizes Panikkar’s cosmic Christology and the ontological questions related to it, it has been one of the essential sources of my study. From the point of view of Christology, the article ‘A Christophany for our times’ (CP),131 which comprises the Bellarmine lecture given by Panikkar in 1991, is very illuminative. It is in this article that he gives a blueprint for a new kind of Christology, ‘Christophany’. Although this text is rather short, it should be seen as the key to Panikkar’s Christology. Essential questions of Christology are also dealt with in a much earlier text by Panikkar, in the article ‘The Meaning of Christ’s Name in the Universal Economy of Salvation’ (MCN),132 published in 1973. This article contains the nucleus of his more extensive study on Christology Salvation in Christ: Concreteness and Universality, the Supername (SC),133 which is published only as an author’s edition. It is interTrinity in our century.” For a lucid and succinct exposition of the central argument of this uneasy book, see Williams 1997, 27. 130 Jathanna 1996, 130; Drummond 1985, 87; Ahlstrand 1993, 16–17. See also Boyd 1975, 222–226, in which the gist of this first edition of UCH is given. 131 ‘A Christophany for our times’.—Theology Digest 39 (1992), 2–21. 132 ‘The Meaning of Christ’s Name in the Universal Economy of Salvation’.— Service and Salvation. Nagpur Theological Conference on Evangelization. Ed. by Joseph Pathrapankal. Bangalore: Theological Publications. 1973, 235–263. 133 Salvation in Christ: Concreteness and Universality, the Supername. Santa Barbara, 1972. In fact, according to the bibliography annexed to SCD (p. 299), this study was originally given as the “Inaugural lecture at the Ecumenical Institute of Advanced Theological Study. Tantur, Jerusalem.” However, this information is not provided in the version of SC I am using. It is worth mentioning that MCD consists of, roughly, pages 16–41 and 56–62 of SC.

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esting to note that a recent lucidly written meditation on Christology with the title ‘Mysticism of Jesus the Christ’ (MJC)134 reiterates many points emphasized in these earlier Christological writings dealing with Jesus of Nazareth. The anthology and commentary of the Vedas The Vedic Experience Mantramañjarì, An Anthology of the Vedas for Modern Man and Contemporary Celebration (VE)135 has already been mentioned. This major work, highly acclaimed by many indologists, extends over nine hundred pages. Since it contains large commentary sections written by Panikkar, it poses some methodological problems for the present research. As commentaries on the Vedic texts translated and compiled in the anthology, these sections demand further consideration whether or not they can be seen as source material in studying Panikkar’s own thinking. Although the aim of the commentaries is to make the Vedic texts understandable to the contemporary reader, there are good reasons to include them in the source material of the present study. Panikkar’s hermeneutical way of thinking is such that he has immersed himself in profound dialogue with the Vedic texts. He thus does not aim at explaining them scientifically, but rather seeks to reconstruct the “Vedic experience,” that is, the experience of the modern man reading the Vedas.136 It should also be observed that, since Panikkar is also a Hindu, the Vedas are not, for him, primarily an object of study, but rather normative text. It is easy to see that his own thoughts and interpretations are intertwined with his commentaries. Therefore I consider the text of VE that was written by Panikkar part of the source material for my study.137

134 ‘Mysticism of Jesus the Christ’.—Mysticism in Shaivism and Christianity. Ed. Bettina Bäumer. New Delhi: D.K. Printworld, 73–178. 135 The Vedic Experience Mantramañjarì, An Anthology of the Vedas for Modern Man and Contemporary Celebration edited and translated with introductions and notes by Raimundo Panikkar with the collaboration of N. Shanta, M. Rogers, B. Bäumer, M. Bidoli. Third Indian Edition. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. 1994. [1977]. 136 See VE, 3–4. 137 Cf. also Mitra 1987, 16–18. According to Mitra (1987, 18), Panikkar presents his own normative interpretation of the Vedas in the anthology: “Although [Panikkar] is saying that the presentation is without any value judgement, yet he is polemical about the Hindu scholastic interpretation of the Vedas as well as the interpretations of the Western Indologists. . . . According to Panikkar Hindu spirituality is not monistic, pantheistic or polytheistic—it is advaitic or non-dualistic. Therefore, Panikkar interprets all the identity statements of the Vedas and Upanisads in a non-monistic way. This book [i.e., VE] gives some insight about Panikkar’s understanding of Hinduism.” [Italics mine.]

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A well-known collection of articles about the hermeneutics of interreligious dialogue was published in the 1970’s under the title The Intrareligious Dialogue (IRD).138 Another collection of articles, namely, Myth, Faith and Hermeneutics, Cross-Cultural Studies (MFH),139 is also devoted to this theme. However, many of these articles were originally published in the 1960’s, and I have adopted a rather qualified attitude towards those articles that did not originate in Panikkar’s pluralistic period. The monograph Worship and Secular Man (WSM)140 also belongs to the earliest stratum of sources. It is a book in which Panikkar aims at outlining spirituality for the secular man. Since he explicates some philosophical decisions that were crucial to his later cosmotheandric vision, this work has importance for the present study. Blessed Simplicity, The Monk as Universal Archetype (BS)141 seems to be quite anomalous among Panikkar’s works. It originates from the symposium “The Monk as Universal Archetype” in Massachusetts in 1980, in which he tried to plumb “from an anthropological perspective” the deepest dimensions of human nature as unfolded in the idea of the monk. He sees monkhood as one dimension of being human and not as a universal archetype. He considers it possible for everyone to realize this dimension of monkhood. This leads him to speak about “the new monk,” which is, in my opinion, the same as a contemplative.142 Panikkar’s interest in Buddhism is most evident in The Silence of God, The Answer of The Buddha (SG).143 The origins of the English ver138 The Intrareligious Dialogue. New York/Mahwah: Paulist Press. 1978. The revised edition of 1999, with some new chapters, was published during the time of my research. However, most of these additional texts have been published previously and are thus included in my sources as articles. Since it is a question of a revised version with some modest alterations, I have also tried to take into account the text of this new edition. See IRDR, xi. 139 Myth, Faith and Hermeneutics. Cross-Cultural Studies. New York: Paulist Press. 1979. 140 Worship and Secular Man. An essay on the liturgical nature of man, considering Secularization as a major phenomenon of our time and Worship as an apparent fact of all times. A study towards an integral anthropology. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books & London: Darton, Longman & Todd. 1973. 141 Blessed Simplicity. The Monk as Universal Archetype. New York: The Seabury Press. 1982. The major part of the text consists of lectures given by Panikkar and the discussion following them. The section “Responses and Development” (pp. 133–194) includes articles by Ewert Cousins, Armand Veilleux, Cornelius Tholens, M. Basil Pennington, Paolo Soleri, and Myriam Dardenne. Two short liturgies written by Panikkar follow as appendices. 142 See BS, 8–9, 14. On the significance Panikkar gives to contemplation and contemplatives, see 2.1.1. and 4.2.3. 143 The Silence of God, The Answer of Buddha. Translated from the Italian by Robert R. Barr. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books. 1989.

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sion of this monograph are quite complicated. The text was originally published in Spanish in 1970, and a new revised edition was recently published in that language. However, the English version I am using was translated from Italian. Panikkar himself checked the translation and also made some alterations to the text.144 This means that, even though published in 1989, SG belongs to the oldest material under study, and therefore it is not so important. On the other hand, it provides an interesting and very scholarly survey of Buddhism, with very detailed footnotes. The original motivation behind this work seems to have been similar to that of WSM, namely, encountering secularism, which was an urgent task at the time of writing. It is in The Cosmotheandric Experience (CE)145 that Panikkar elaborates his cosmotheandric vision of the Trinitarian structures of reality. CE is a collection of Panikkar’s lectures published previously in many different forums edited by Scott Eastham. It is an especially important source for the present study, as Panikkar outlines his vision of the ultimate metaphysical structure of reality and different moments of human consciousness. His idiosyncratic view of reality, “cosmotheandrism,” is given its clearest expression in this work, and it therefore deserves very careful analysis. The lengthy article, ‘Der Mensch—Ein trinitarisches Mysterium’ (DMTM),146 published in 1985 is also a major source of information on Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision, in which he presents in German the same basic idea that is more extensively elaborated in CE.147 Panikkar’s dialogue with Pinchas Lapide, published in 1994 under the title Meinen wir denselben Gott? Ein Streitgespräch (MWDG),148 is valuable because he was obliged to present his ideas in a dialogical situation with Lapide’s thoughts as well as with many questions. The

144

See SG, xi. The Cosmotheandric Experience. Emerging Religious Consciousness. Edited, with Introduction by Scott Eastham. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books. 1993. 146 “Der Mench—Ein trinitarisches Mysterium.”—Die Verantwortung des Menschen für eine bewohnbare Welt im Christentum, Hinduismus und Buddhismus. Hrsg. Raimundo Panikkar und Walter Strolz. [Veröffentlichungen der Stiftung Oratio Dominica. Weltgespräch der Religionen. Schriftenreihe zur grossen Ökumene. Band 12.] Herder: Freiburg-Basel-Wien. 1985, 147–190. 147 In DMTM, Panikkar’s own thoughts and interpretations are to some extent intertwined with his exposition of the anthropological conceptions of different traditions. See DMTM, 162–171. Nonetheless, the text should be seen also as one in which Panikkar articulates his thinking. 148 Pinchas Lapide und Raimon Panikkar: Meinen wir denselben Gott? Ein Streitgespräch. [Unter der Moderation von Anton Kenntemich.] München: Kösel. 1994. 145

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epilogue is an interesting autobiographical text by Panikkar with the title ‘Nachwort von Raimon Panikkar: Wandlung meiner Gottesvorstellung’ (WG),149 which gives some rare glimpses into the formation of his spirituality. Der Weisheit eine Wohnung Bereiten (WWB)150 is a collection of essays distinguishable from other similar collections of Panikkar’s texts by the fact that most of the material is previously unpublished. The collection includes lectures given by Panikkar in March 1990 in Germany, and the subsequent discussion. It is the amount of self-reflection that makes this book very valuable. Along with the original German version, I also have the Indian edition of the English translation published for the first time in 1993 under the title Dwelling Place for Wisdom (DPW).151 According to the notes on the cover page, “the major portion” of the work was originally published in WWB.152 Whenever the need for preciseness arises, I try to refer to the original German text, or at least to compare the English translation to the German original.153 Compared with the above-mentioned sources, Cultural Disarmament, The Way to Peace (CD)154 is thematically quite different. This book was first published in Spanish in 1993. The material originated from his seminars in Santa Barbara, and from the occasion on which he was given the Antonio Machado Foundation Prize in 1991. In it, Panikkar outlines his theoretical basis for peace. Since his meditations on the subject are intimately related to his other work, and his solution emerges from his cosmotheandric vision, or rather, is the application of it, it is very relevant to his thinking in general. Invisible Harmony, Essays on Contemplation and Responsibility (IH)155 is a more recent collection of articles including writings that deal with

149

‘Nachwort von Raimon Panikkar: Wandlung meiner Gottesvorstellung’. [Übers. von Birgitta Dürk.]—MWDG, 113–127. 150 Der Weisheit eine Wohnung Bereiten. Hrsg. Christoph Bochinger. München: Kösel, 1991. 151 A Dwelling Place for Wisdom. Translated by Annemarie S. Kidder. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. 1995. 152 On the other hand, some of this material, e.g., the essay ‘Trisangam: Jordan, Tiber, and Ganges’ (pp. 109–159), was originally written in English and then expanded. 153 This applies especially to the parts of DPW (pp. 7–75, 99–108, 153–159) originally written in German. 154 Cultural Disarmament. The Way to Peace. Translated by Robert R. Barr. Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press. 1995. 155 Invisible Harmony. Essays on Contemplation and Responsibility. Edited by Harry James Cargas. Minneapolis: Fortress Press. 1995.

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themes of contemplation and pluralism. This book contains articles from a period of two decades extending from 1973 to 1991. There are a couple of very significant articles on pluralism, including his lecture ‘The Myth of Pluralism, The Tower of Babel’, given as a response in a symposium on his thinking in 1977. Two interesting books have recently been published in German. Das Göttliche in Allem, Der Kern spiritueller Erfahrung (GIA)156 is written in a more popular style and provides the reader with spiritual insights in the midst of everyday life. In my view, this book puts more emphasis on experience, and is thus more practical than his usual writing. Das Abenteuer Wirklichkeit, Gespräche über die geistige Transformation (AW)157 consists of discussions with Panikkar. He states in the prologue that he hesitated almost ten years before allowing this material to be published as a book.158 Interestingly, the discussions cover also some contemporary events on which he comments thus applying his thinking to various concrete issues. In this respect, they provide interesting and illuminating material, but unfortunately do not touch much upon his biography. It is thus noticeable that a considerable amount of the source material of the present study consists of articles, sometimes compiled in book form.159 There are also many articles that have not been published in any of the collections mentioned above. In the following, I give some introductory remarks on the most important of them. I used many others in my analysis, all of which are mentioned in the bibliography.160 156 Das Göttliche in Allem. Der Kern spiritueller Erfahrung. Aus dem Spanischen von Ruth Heimbach. Freiburg-Basel-Wien: Herder. 2000. The Spanish original from 1998 was titled Iconos del misterio. La experiencia de Dios. Having the word ‘God’ (Dios) in the original title seems to suggest that, once again, there was a twist in Panikkar’s understanding of God. Cf. 3.1.1.2. However, it is clear from the prologue that, even here, he understands ‘God’ only as a symbol of the cosmotheandric reality, thus loading the word with rather different meaning than more traditional Christian theology. See GIA, 9–15. In fact, the book is a meditative work on the meaning of the “misused” word ‘God’. GIA, 16. 157 Das Abenteuer Wirklichkeit. Gespräche über die geistige Transformation. Geführt mit Constantin von Barloewen und Axel Matthes. Herausgegeben von Bettina Bäumer. München: Matthes & Seitz. 2000. 158 AW, 8. 159 Panikkar himself also noticed this state of affairs. See IFOL, ix. 160 It is worth mentioning here that Panikkar regularly published the same texts in many different forums over the years. Thus the bibliography of the present study is not meant to be exhaustive in any sense. I have tried to avoid overlap and, for reasons of research economy, to be selective and to concentrate on the most important texts.

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The article ‘Rtatattva: a Preface to a Hindu-Christian Theology’ (RT)161 outlines some principles behind the Hindu-Christian dialogue. Even though Panikkar later expressed his misgivings about the concept ‘Hindu-Christian theology’, the central idea in this article, the mutual fecundation of two diverse traditions, remains constant in his thinking throughout the years.162 The article could even be characterized as a kind of prolegomenon to his pluralism. As the title implies, ‘The Dialogical Dialogue’ (DD)163 presents his understanding of dialogue, and also contains significant material on ontology and epistemology, with a strong personalistic tinge. ‘A Self-Critical Dialogue’ (SCD) is Panikkar’s response to the essays on his thinking compiled in the volume The Intercultural Challenge of Raimon Panikkar, edited by Joseph Prabhu.164 This text is very valuable because Panikkar is obliged to respond explicitly to critical remarks and comments on his thinking. Thus he deepens and clarifies many of his central themes, such as how he understands pluralism and multireligious identity. 1.3. P R  P There already exist dissertations, or other studies on an equal level, on Panikkar. However, it seems to me that no clearly distinguishable school or established interpretation of his thinking has emerged. 161

‘Rtatattva: a Preface to a Hindu-Christian Theology’—Jeevadhara 9 (1979),

6–63. 162

See SCD, 267. ‘The Dialogical Dialogue’—The World’s Religious Traditions. Current Perspectives in Religious Studies. Essays in honour of Wilfred Cantwell Smith. Ed. Frank Whaling. Edinburgh: T.&T. Clark. 1984, 201–221. 164 ‘A Self-Critical Dialogue’—The Intercultural Challenge of Raimon Panikkar. Edited by Joseph Prabhu. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books. 1996, 227–291. The volume contains fourteen essays written by the editor, Francis X. D’Sa, John B. Cobb, Jr., Harold Coward, Gerald James Larson, Beverly J. Lanzetta, Frank Podgorski, Ewert H. Cousins, Gerald T. Carney, Daniel P. Sheridan, Bettina Bäumer, Paul Knitter, Enrique Dussel and David J. Krieger. It is thus an important contribution to the research on Panikkar. However, many of the essays are based on very limited source material and should, therefore, be seen as dialogue with Panikkar rather than academic research on him. A similar type of dialogue is conducted in Towards a Universal Theology of Religion. Ed. Leonard Swidler. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books. 1987. This volume contains Panikkar’s extensive essay ‘The Invisible Harmony: A Universal Theory of Religion or a Cosmic Confidence in Reality’, and remarks by Charles Wei-Hsun Fu, Thomas Dean, and Bibhuti S. Yadav in response to it. The essay is reprinted in IH, 145–182, and I refer to this version. 163

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This is not surprising, given the fact that he is a contemporary thinker who has gone through many phases. On a more serious note, however, it could be said that many of the monographs on his thinking do not go deep enough in their analysis. Often uncritical, the authors are content with merely paraphrasing their sources. In some of these works, a critical and analytic approach is hard to find. Kajsa Ahlstrand’s dissertation Fundamental Openness, An Enquiry into Raimundo Panikkar’s Theological Vision and its Presuppositions (1993)165 is of specific value among previous studies, since it aims at explicating Panikkar’s hermeneutical tools and analyzing factors that have an influence on his thinking. However, the author does not pay enough attention to differences between Panikkar’s earlier and later thinking, and this study, like most others, paints too obsolete a picture. A New Hermeneutic of Reality, Raimon Panikkar’s Cosmotheandric Vision (1998)166 by Anthony Savari Raj is based on his dissertation for the University of Madras.167 Here, Raj attempts not only to give an analysis of Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision, but also to apply it in the field of ecology. According to Raj, the contemporary ecological crisis rests on the crisis at the spiritual level. In this critical situation, Panikkar’s holistic vision could provide a new metaphysical vision for the future. Given this point of departure, it is not surprising that Raj adopts a very positive attitude, and this uncritical stance is where the study falls short.168 There are two studies, both originating in the dissertations of their Indian authors, that compare Panikkar with other thinkers. The first is Dominic Veliath’s Theological Approach and Understanding of Religions. Jean Daniélou and Raimundo Panikkar: A Study in Contrast,169 published in 1988. Panikkar and Jean Daniélou are put forward as examples 165 Fundamental Openness. An Enquiry into Raimundo Panikkar’s Theological Vision and its Presuppositions. Studia Missionalia Upsaliensia LVII. Diss. Uppsala. 1993. 166 A New Hermeneutic of Reality, Raimon Panikkar’s Cosmotheandric Vision. Studies in the Intercultural History of Christianity. Band 111. Bern: Peter Lang. 1998. 167 Raj 1998, 7: “. . . a revised version of my doctoral work at the Radhakrishnan Institute for Advanced Study in Philosophy, University of Madras . . .” 168 For instance, cf. how uncritically Raj (1998, 141) seems to ignore the crucial methodological question of the present study: “And Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision indeed provides space where the different world-views can harmoniously meet without losing out their respective insights. In this sense, Panikkar’s vision is not only an integrated one, but integrating, too.” [Italics mine.] 169 Theological Approach and Understanding of Religions. Jean Daniélou and Raimundo Panikkar: A Study in Contrast. Instead of a Foreword: An Open Letter by Raimundo Panikkar. Bangalore: Kristu Jyoti College. 1988.

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of two different attitudes in the theology of religions in this Veliath’s pedantic study, which sometimes resembles a concordance. The section on Panikkar could be used, at best, as a compendium for checking his views on different themes, but the study offers no proper analysis of his thinking. Secondly, Jacob Parappally’s study Emerging Trends in Indian Christology (1995)170 examines different ways of setting Christology in the Indian context. Detailed presentations of Panikkar’s cosmotheandric Christology and Sebastian Kappen’s liberation theological Christology follow a general survey of problems and opportunities within Indian Christology. The section dealing with Panikkar is not extensive, however, and is included by the way of example rather than for profound analysis. Cheriyan Menacherry’s Christ: The Mystery in History (1996)171 is a dissertation of considerable length on Panikkar’s Christology. Menacherry obtained his doctoral degree at the Pontificia Universitas Gregoriana in Rome in 1990. His aim was to examine the fundamentals of Panikkar’s Christology, and even though he seems sympathetic, he criticizes Panikkar’s theology quite harshly from his moderate Catholic position. At the beginning of his study, he announces his wish to bring together the “fundamental building blocks” that Panikkar produced for a new theology in order to “form a synthesis.”172 However, since Panikkar’s thinking consists of versatile, sometimes even contradictory components, we should be quite suspicious of this kind of claim. Panikkar himself rejects the idea of a “system” and, rather, emphasizes the openness of his thinking to different interpretations. It is also worth noting that any interpretation of Panikkar is impeded because his interests have not remained unaltered in different contexts. Even though there is a certain continuity in his methodology, it is beyond doubt that his thinking has gone through many transitions. The overall picture thus varies depending on which phase of life or which sources are emphasized in the analysis. This holds true for Menacherry’s study too. In spite of an extensive bibliography covering the years to 1987, Menacherry bases his analysis on some key texts. Methodologically, this decision seems to be sound, since the subject of the study is Panikkar’s Christology. However, Emerging Trends in Indian Christology. Bangalore: IIS Publications. 1995. Christ: The Mystery in History. A Critical Study on the Christology of Raymond Panikkar. Theion. Annual for Religious Culture. Band V. Franfurt am Main: Peter Lang. 1996. 172 Menacherry 1996, 49–50. 170

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there are severe problems embedded in the actual use of this material. Menacherry analyzes Panikkar’s texts without making any clear distinction between earlier inclusivistic and later pluralistic material. For instance, Menacherry uses simultaneously the first (1964) and second (1981) editions of The Unknown Christ of Hinduism.173 He mentions that Panikkar’s thinking has experienced a turn from inclusivism to pluralism, but does so in passing without drawing any methodological conclusions.174 It seems to me that Menacherry relies too much on Panikkar’s own characterizations of the organic growth in his thinking, and thus makes Panikkar’s pluralistic thoughts appear less radical and more in line with the official Catholic theology of religions than they really are. However, Menacherry is not alone in this, since many other studies do not give enough attention to the chronology of Panikkar’s thinking and thus suffer from similar methodological weaknesses. A recent dissertation on Panikkar is that of Jin Kim, Der Dialog der Religionen in der Religionstheologie Raimundo Panikkars (1997).175 Kim’s focus is on how Korean Christians could be helped by Panikkar’s thoughts in their encounter with religious pluralism.176 His own starting point seems to be pluralistic, and his characterization of interreligious dialogue faithfully follows Panikkar’s understanding of dialogue.177 In general, Kim uncritically adopts Panikkar’s own understanding on different points, which results in many methodological weaknesses in the use of sources. In particular, assuming that there are no turning points in Panikkar’s thinking is clearly erroneous.178 From a critical standpoint, the analytical section of Kim’s study is no more than a summary of some thoughts on Panikkar, and any application remains very constricted. Camilia Gangasingh MacPherson’s A Critical Reading of the Development of Raimon Panikkar’s Thought on the Trinity (1996), like too much of the See Menacherry 1996, 98–101. Menacherry 1996, 96, cf. also 105 note 6. 175 Der Dialog der Religionen in der Religionstheologie Raimundo Panikkars. Frankfurt am Main: Haag und Herchen. 1997. 176 In fact, even the scope of Kim’s research is not sufficiently oriented towards at analysis. See Kim 1997, 20. 177 See, e.g., Kim 1997, 10–13. 178 Kim 1997, 20: “Ich gehe dabei davon aus, daß in [Panikkars] Denken kein entscheidender Bruch stattgefunden hat, sondern dieses sich vielmehr organisch entwickelt.” Cf. 1.2.1. above. There is an illuminative example of the consequences of this erroneous premise in Kim 1997, 41–42, 44, which suggests that concepts such as ‘God’ (Gott) or ‘time’ (Zeit) were still significant in Panikkar’s thinking. 173

174

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research on Panikkar, provides the reader with an overview of some of his texts. However, as the title of her study suggests, MacPherson emphasizes the changes that have occurred in Panikkar’s Trinitarian thinking, and thus also in his Christology. The study is rather concise and, in my view, the author does not pay enough attention to how Panikkar’s cosmotheandrism is related to classical Trinitarian doctrine.179 In other words, she is content with analyzing Panikkar’s conceptions of Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit instead of deliberating upon the significance of the Trinitarian doctrine, or the more general Trinitarian structure, for Panikkar’s pluralistic and cosmotheandric thinking. In any case, MacPherson’s study is one of the best on Panikkar. Compared to these other studies, Vinoth Ramachandra’s The Recovery of Mission, Beyond the Pluralist Paradigm (1996),180 with its critical attitude towards pluralism, has a very different tone. Ramachandra analyzes the pluralistic theology of religions of Panikkar, and also those of Stanley J. Samartha and Aloysius Pieris, adopting a very polemic style. In spite of this polemical attitude, he convincingly points out some problems embedded in Panikkar’s pluralistic thinking. Kana Mitra’s Catholicism—Hinduism: Vèdantic Investigation of Raimundo Panikkar’s Attempt at Bridge Building (1987)181 is very interesting due to the fact that the author herself is a Hindu. Mitra compares Panikkar’s thoughts with Neo-Hinduism, for instance. My overall impression, however, is that her approach is too naive in suggesting that Panikkar is a Catholic Christian.182 Nevertheless, her study has value as a rare example how a Hindu approaches and evaluates Panikkar. During the period of my research, a book by Manuel Gogos with the title Raimon Panikkar. Grenzgänger zwischen Philosophie, Mystik und den Religionen (2000) was published.183 Gogos aims at giving an introduction to Panikkar’s thinking. However, in my view, like many other authors writing on Panikkar, he also stands far too close to his subject. This means that his book is most useful as a piece of reading that tunes into the mood of Panikkarian thinking. He intertwines Panikkar’s However, see MacPherson 1996, 126–127. The Recovery of Mission. Beyond the Pluralist Paradigm. Delhi: ISPCK. 1996. 181 Catholicism—Hinduism: Vèdantic Investigation of Raimundo Panikkar’s Attempt at Bridge Building. Lanham: University Press of America. 1987. 182 See, e.g., Mitra 1987, xix–xx, 90–92. 183 Raimon Panikkar. Grenzgänger zwischen Philosophie, Mystik und den Religionen. Mainz: Matthias-Grünewald-Verlag. 2000. 179

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thoughts with those of some other authors taking a similar tone. This is not always helpful for understanding Panikkar, and could even be seen as impoverishing the analytical strength of the book. The reference literature used in the present study was broadened because Panikkar is alluded to, or his thinking is evaluated, in many other articles and books on interreligious dialogue. Whenever possible, I have tried to take these more incidental contributions into account. In fact, the most stimulating insights on Panikkar are to be found in some articles rather than in the above-mentioned monographs.184 Moreover, during my research I was able to familiarize myself with the manuscript of a dissertation written by a Swiss theologian, Rudolf von Sinner, which compares Panikkar’s Trinitarian theology with that of Leonardo Boff. It was published recently under the following title: Reden vom dreieinigen Gott in Brasilien und Indien. Grundzüge einer ökumenischen Hermeneutik im Dialog mit Leonardo Boff und Raimon Panikkar.185 The work of von Sinner contains many insightful perceptions on the issues that are not in focus in my study, and it may well function as complementary reading in relation to the present work. 1.4. P   R In order provide the reader with sufficient understanding of the context and motivation that have shaped Panikkar’s vision, I begin my analysis in Chapter 2 by examining the locus and method of his thinking. Only then it is possible to perceive his “theological program” or, in other words, the programmatic aims he pursues. Although he has the reputation of an intellectual and even mystical thinker,186

184 My study has benefitted from some seminal ideas expressed in Jathanna 1996, as well as from the general post-pluralistic discussion introduced above. I would also like to point out that some other scholars, including at least Dean 1987, Yadav 1987, and Jathanna 1999, have come to a similar Panikkar interpretation. See also Williams 1991. None of these short articles, of course, elaborates the criticism or provides the reader as extensive an argumentation as I have attempted. See also Millbank 1990, 188. 185 Reden vom dreieinigen Gott in Brasilien und Indien. Grundzüge einer ökumenischen Hermeneutik im Dialog mit Leonardo Boff und Raimon Panikkar. Hermeneutische Untersuchungen zur Theologie 43. Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck). 2003. 186 Ahlstrand (1993, 5) sees Panikkar as an intellectual due to his basic orientation. Cf. Jathanna 1996, 130, 145, in which he is perceived rather as a mystic. In my view, both of these approaches are needed and are not to be seen as contradictory. Raj (1998, 19, 29) legitimately points to an intrinsic continuity between the

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it seems to me that his basic questions emerge from a rather practical-existential context. In terms of the post-pluralistic critique that I have adopted as my frame of reference, the most substantial analysis is conducted in Chapter 3, which concerns Panikkar’s pluralism characterized as “radical pluralism.” An initial look at his use of the term ‘pluralism’ is followed by a deeper analysis that aims at finding an answer to the crucial question of whether his theology of religions rests upon such a harmonizing interpretation that suggests the eventual adoption of a metaperspective. Chapter 4 contains a more careful study of the vision that provides Panikkar with the fundamental theological basis of the decisions examined in Chapter 3. As post-pluralistic critique has shown, most pluralistic theologies of religion are, more or less, based on the principles of Western Enlightenment that are applied to religious pluralism. One may plausibly presume, and this will be proven during my analysis, that Panikkar does not subscribe to these principles. Therefore, following my post-pluralistic critique proper, I aim to study the material principles that are normative to Panikkar’s interpretations of the essence of existing religions. When these principles are exposed, the eventual character of Panikkar’s pluralistic theology of religions becomes clear. The further analysis of his cosmotheandrism in Chapter 5 discloses the distinctive vision that Panikkar has of religion in general.

mystical-intuitive basis and its intellectual reflection in Panikkar’s work. Cf. AW, 73: “. . . aus einer gewissen Scheu hace ich vielleicht den bhakti Aspekt meines Lebens irgendwie nicht genügend zum Ausdruck gebracht.”

CHAPTER TWO

STARTING-POINTS OF PANIKKAR’S THEOLOGY 2.1. L T: T M  R Anyone pursuing profound understanding of Panikkar’s theology must pay due attention to its rooting in the encounter between religions, especially between Hinduism and Christianity. His work could be said to be positioned between these two great traditions, as well as between Buddhism and Secularism.1 He has interest in other religions too, of course, but for him these are only objects of study, or partners in dialogue, and not constituents of his personal identity. Consequently, there are not as many allusions to them in his work as there are to the religions mentioned above.2 2.1.1. Relatedness Between Spirituality and Theory Panikkar has been trying for decades to reconcile the dissonances felt at the meeting-point of different religions. Although he often reminds us that the meeting of religions takes place primarily in everyday life—i.e., market places, bazaars, and fields—and not in an ivory

1 UCH, x: “. . . I am at the confluence (sa«gam) of the four rivers: the Hindu, Christian, Buddhist and Secular traditions.” See also IRD, 2, 54; IFOL, xi–xii; WU, 111–112. The two last-mentioned traditions could be categorized, in a certain sense, under the headings of Hinduism and Christianity. Buddhism originated as a protest movement in the Hindu tradition, and Secularism has close ties to Christianity, even though it aims at emancipation. Panikkar himself similarly defines these traditions when he describes how he encountered them after his initial contact with Christianity and Hinduism (SG, xv): “I had yet to experience . . . both that great post-Christian phenomenon called atheism, and that great post-Hindu phenomenon called Buddhism.” Cf. Yadav 1987, 183, which contains rather critical comments about his multireligious identity from the point of view of Hinduism and Buddhism. 2 DPW, 84; WG, 121: “Während das Christentum und sein weltlicher (nicht entsakralisierter) Zweig und der Hinduismus mit (seinem Abkömmling) dem Buddhismus Teil und Bündel meiner persönlicher Tradition sind, waren diese andere Religionen Gegenstand meiner Studien, meiner Kontakte und meiner Gespräche. Während ich zwar sagen kann, daß ich ein weltlicher Mensch bin, ein Christ, ein Hindu und ein Buddhist . . ., kann ich aber nicht sagen, ich sei zum Beispiel ein Moslem oder ein Parsi.” See also MRDP, 17; GRP, 392; AW, 174. See also Ahlstrand 1993, 2 note 3; MacPherson 1996, 2.

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tower or a comfortable academic chair,3 the intellectual perspective remains crucial in his writings. The way in which he emphasizes both practice and theory in his understanding of interreligious dialogue is well reflected in the following quotation: If we are attentive to our sâdhana, we may exchange experiences, but we shall hardly engage in merely doctrinal discussions . . . when we speak about our own personal experiences we reach a deeper and more fruitful level than when we refer to mere doctrinal expositions— required as they are, for without intellectual effort and serious scholarship the rest is necessarily superficial. . . . The meeting of spiritualities is neither a comparison of doctrines nor an exchange of experiences. It comprises both, but cannot be reduced to either.4 [Italics mine.]

Thus Panikkar tries to give adequate space for the theoretical as well as the practical dimensions in his thinking: theory and praxis belong together, since there is a theoretical aspect inherent in any existentialspiritual experience. A fruitful encounter between religions inevitably includes both theoretical and practical dimensions.5 Given the significance of the spiritual dimension in theoretical thinking, understanding Panikkar, and a fortiori studying his thinking, demands due attention to more personal aspects. Since Panikkar is not only a theoretical thinker, analyzing his thoughts cannot be restricted to his theory. The holistic character of his intellectual-spiritual vision is to be observed in how his life forms the actual context of his thinking, for instance. For this reason, I begin my analysis by looking at his starting points. It is impossible to understand his interreligious theology without noticing the existential dimension that originates in his extraordinary biography and gives a distinctive tint to his work.6 3

WSM, 24; UCH, 6; OGD, ix–x; SCD, 278. See also BR, 13, 26. EM, 281. 5 UCH, 40: “There is more room at the level of dialogue than for merely doctrinal discussion, for exclusively conceptual thinking. . . . It is sometimes only too easy to rely on (existential or mystical) ‘experience,’ while ignoring the far-reaching theoretical implications of every existential attitude. The praxis requires a theory and the theory has to lead to a praxis.” [Italics mine.]; RT, 24; BR, 24; NRCUA, 178. See also RT, 57–58; BS, 46; IH, 36, 55–57, 167; SCD, 243; GRP, 385. See also DD, 210, in which Panikkar emphasizes the fact that there exists no pure theory or the kind of meeting that takes place only on the level of ideas. Cf. Heim 1995, 99, who sees Panikkar as a representative of ‘the dialogue of doctrine’ in the field of HinduChristian dialogue. However, this is only a half-truth, since Panikkar’s work would also fit into Heim’s category of ‘the dialogue of spiritualities’. 6 Jathanna (1996, 129), too, sees the significance of the biographical point of view 4

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Praxis in Panikkar does not primarily mean the emancipating praxis of liberation theology but refers to a new spirituality with a new anthropology and cosmology: enduring solutions to contemporary problems are to be found only at the spiritual level. The problems that humanity is facing are not only socio-political, but also anthropological and cosmological, or even religious.7 Although Panikkar is not a liberation theologian,8 there are many points on the agenda of liberation theology to which he could also subscribe.9 Nevertheless, his harsh criticism of globalization and technocracy10 differs from that of liberation theologians: Panikkar’s aim is to change not the system, but the premises upon which it rests— and it is only through this that emancipation from the negative status quo could be gained.11 It is exactly for this reason that he insists on the relevance of religious studies in the face of the contemporary challenges. He would like academic research to be a counter-cultural activity grappling with present-day problems.12 There is a clear demand in Panikkar’s thinking that spirituality should lead to active praxis, and it is thus also reflected on the socio-

when interpreting Panikkar’s work. See also Cousins 1979a, 132; 1979b, 142–144; Ramachandra 1996, 76. 7 JTG, 103–104; CD, 74: “. . . without a radical anthropological and cosmological change, individuals cannot democratically bestow upon themselves the peace that they so rationally desire.” [Italics mine.]; GRP, 393: “Daß die sogenannten politischen und ökonomischen Problem, Frieden, Gerechtigkeit, Hunger, . . . Krieg, Ökonomie sogar, nicht nur politische, sondern auch spirituelle und religiöse Probleme sind.” 8 See Raj 1998, 29; Mundanan 1981, 392–393. Paul Knitter (1996a, 183–186) has criticized Panikkar for missing the liberation-theological dimension, but acknowledges that he has taken this criticism seriously, e.g., in CTBT, 12. Cf. also Thomas 1970, viii. See also SG, xi; CTBT, 10; CD, 54–55; SCD, 282–284; AW, 68, for Panikkar’s rather positive attitude towards the theology of liberation. However, he understands that his own goals are on a deeper level than those of the theology of liberation. In MJC, 175, he states that “[t]he healthy reaction of a ‘christology from below’ represented by the Liberation theology needs the complement of a christology from within, which at the same time acts as a bridge with the ‘christology from above.’” For a surprisingly emancipating example of Panikkar’s writing, see DAIE, 42–51. 9 This is not so surprising given a certain affinity between understandings of theology as wisdom and as praxis. See Schreiter 1985, 93. 10 See LSGV; IH, 109–111; PUEWC, 193–194; CD, 83–89; SCD, 284–291; NRCUA, 177 11 NRCUA, 180–181; CD, 84. See also CD, 16. 12 CSR, 72–73, 82–83; BS, 80; CSR, 79: “Religious studies has something to say regarding atomic research, consumerism, democracy, economic standards of well-being, nationalism, justice, and peace, so that this discipline may often appear to challenge the predominant ideologies.” [Italics mine.] See also NRCUA, 178–180, in which Panikkar applies this idea to the whole of university system.

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political level.13 Religion is not a private issue without wider social consequences. Nonetheless, his skepticism towards all utopian strivings and revolutionary thoughts is worth noting.14 Since practice and theory, spirituality and intellectuality intertwine in Panikkar’s ideal, he demands—which may sound rather paradoxical—both involvement in current issues as well as withdrawal.15 The subtle relationship between praxis and theory should be considered in the light of the concept of ‘contemplation’ that occurs frequently in his work: ‘Contemplation’ in his terms denotes a comprehensive attitude towards life and thereby amounts to an ontological act that participates in reality itself.16 Contemplation is “enlightened action” in which the dilemma of thinking and acting is transcended.17 When he uses the word, he thus does not refer to any one-sided idea of renunciation. It is illustrative that he is “not against the monastic dimension in human life, but only against a certain absolutistic interpretation of monasticism.”18 Panikkar considers contemplative spirituality tantamount to true participation in reality, and this is one reason why it is only through contemplation that one arrives at an adequate basis for action. Moreover, contemplation in the proper sense leads to action.19 Only the one who practices contemplation can go beyond the boundaries of different religious traditions. Thus it is in contemplation that the opportunity for a real integration lies. Although some structures for action are needed, the contemplative has “a priestly-prophetic role” that opens the way to “a new age.” Therefore, we might even expect contemplation to have some “historical repercussions.”20

13

See RT, 57; MRDP, 6; IH, 67; SCD, 283; BR, 24. See BR, 23–26; CD, 50; SCD, 279. 15 See VE, xxxv–xxxvi: “If I do not involve myself in the concrete issues of my time, and if I do not open my house to all the winds of the world, then anything I may produce from an ivory tower will be barren and cursed. Yet if I do not shut doors and windows in order to concentrate on this work, then I will not be able to offer anything of value to my neighbors.” 16 BR, 25. See also VE, 60. Panikkar’s understanding of contemplation is analyzed further in 4.2. 17 MHT, 64–65; NRCUA, 178; CL, 407. 18 LTA, 444. See also BS, 20, 48–50, 124; CD, 17, 71–72; GRP, 380–381. 19 BS, 98: “The real criterion of true contemplation is that it leads to action, even if that action consists only in transforming one’s own life and immediate environment.” Cf. here, e.g., Pieris 1996, 189, which contains a more clearly liberationtheological interpretation of contemplation. 20 See IH, 3–39, 80–84, especially 36. 14

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To sum up, Panikkar’s thinking involves something more than just that a contemplative attitude towards life leads to corresponding action. With its many ontological and cosmological dimensions, contemplation in his terms should be seen in a wide context. What this may mean, and how it could have repercussions on reality, will be addressed later when Panikkar’s ontology comes under scrutiny.21 In the light of this understanding of contemplation, it may not be so surprising that, in spite of many allusions to market places and bazaars, there is an occasional tint of élitism in Panikkar’s view of dialogue: he gives us to understand that multireligious experience demands much, and he even seems to suppose that one is either a representative of the more developed dialogical consciousness or of the old-fashioned consciousness that still dominates.22 On the other hand, he emphasizes the fact that dialogue is not an exclusive project but, on the contrary, something that is open to everyone. He also tries to highlight ordinary people as his source of inspiration.23 There is a certain amount of tension hidden in the characterizations of the prerequisites of dialogue that Panikkar gives: his view of dialogue seems to contain the aspects of both openness and selectiveness. The former means that dialogue, in principle, is open to anyone, while the latter seems to exclude those who “are not willing to lose their life and fear the risk.” Moreover, such people “must not step into the agora of dialogue.”24 Reading Panikkar sometimes gives the impression that favorable prerequisites for dialogue are determined historically and “karmatically.” 21

See especially 4.3. and 5. IRD, 12: “. . . not everyone is called to such an undertaking [the multireligious experience], nor is everyone capable of it. Besides a particular cast of mind, it presupposes perhaps a special constellation in one’s character and background . . .”; IRD, 17, 22: “Certain creedal formulas deriving from a naive, underdeveloped cast of mind may not answer the needs of more highly developed people.”; IH, 27: “. . . not all Men have access to such an experience [i.e., true contemplation] . . .” Cf. also BR, 31: “Nicht jeder Mensch ist zum Dialog verpflichtet.” See also BR, 18; IH, 169–170. See also 4.2.1., in which Panikkar’s understanding of different modes of consciousness is examined. Cf. here also Jathanna 1996, 146. 23 BR, 15, 26; WG, 121–122: “. . . obwohl ich aktiv in Konferenzen, Symposien und Treffen auf höchster Ebene teilgenommen habe und Shankaracaryas und anderen hohen Würdenträgern in akademischen religiösen Gremien begegnet bin, die Hauptquelle meiner Inspiration auch mein aktives Handeln meist an der Basis war, auf der Ebene der einfachen Leute.” Similarly also DPW, 3. Cf. also BS, 29, 62–63. 24 BR, 34: “Es gibt keine Spezialisten des Dialogs . . . Er gehört zur religiösen Existenz heute. . . . Es geht um das Leben. . . . Wer nicht bereit ist, sein Leben zu verlieren und das Risiko scheut, darf die Agora des Dialogs nicht betreten.” 22

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It thus is a question of innate character. Correspondingly, it should be taken as a symptom of realism that he admits writing and reading on the subject to be, as such, an opportunity of the privileged.25 The élitist tone of Panikkar’s view on dialogue could then be explained, at least when interpreted as above, as quite a realistic analysis of a contemporary world that does not provide the majority with sufficient intellectual resources to comprehend all the principles of dialogue. On the other hand, as further analysis will prove, Panikkar has a very normative understanding of religiosity as such, and ends up with a rather exclusivistic interpretation of religion at large. 2.1.2. The Inevitability of the Encounter of Religions One significant question is why and in what sense the specific context of Panikkar’s thinking is the encounter of religions.26 An answer may be found by examining the arguments with which he tries to support his claim that the meeting of religions has crucial importance for any thinking. There appear to be two strong motives that lead him to view the meeting of religions as the fundamental starting point of theology and, in fact, of all thinking. The first of these emerges from his extraordinary biography, while the second is broader in scope. Firstly, one should pay attention to the biographical, even existential motive that underlies Panikkar’s work. His Hindu-Christian starting point put him in an exceptional position at the crossroads of different religious traditions and steered, at least in the long run, his thinking in a multireligious direction.27 This means that his HinduChristian identity is not a result of some particular experiments, but is inborn.28 The following quotation clearly illustrates this biographical experience. It reflects how profoundly Panikkar has entered into Hindu-Christian dialogue in his personal life and exposed himself to the risks involved: 25

See RT, 13–14, 31–32; IH, 67. However, see also NRCUA, 180–182. It should be noted that Panikkar tends to count ideologies among religions. See HRMR; MRDP, 8; BR, 15; IH, 174–175. See also GRP, 391. 27 IRD, 55: “But my purpose is not Christian or Hindu apologetics . . . rather I start from the existential situation where I happen to be.” See also WG, 116; OGD, xi. 28 IRD, 55; WG, 120. Cf. here Ramakrishna who, as is well known, experimented with different religious traditions and thus ended up in advocating an early form of pluralism. See French 1974, 26–36; Neufeldt 1987, 67–74. 26

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I have gone in pilgrimage to distant places in the north and south of India; I have been lost among the crowds and in danger often in my life. I have lived the simple life of the masses and have also been an academic, taking part in the more intellectual aspects of dialogue. I have found myself sincerely carrying on the dialogue from both ends of the spectrum. . . . I have been shunning labels all my life. . . . I have spontaneously identified myself with both sides—Hindu and Christian— without preconceived strategies. . . . I have duly performed Hindu ceremonies . . . and celebrated the Christian mysteries . . . I have been dialoguing in Europe, America, and India; sitting in ashrams, gurukuls, universities, and bishops’ houses; living in presbyteries and temples. Karma-bhakti and jñàna-yoga are not unknown to me or foreign to me; the Vedas and the Bible are holy books for me and I have spent years in practice, study, and meditation of both . . .29

Nevertheless, in the light of this passage, it could also be said that Panikkar has purposely sought contacts with both of these traditions.30 This means that he has, in a sense, deliberately tried to create for himself a specific Hindu-Christian identity, or at least to confirm his already existing identity of this kind. This process has, of course, been motivated by his real-life situation at the crossroads of two traditions. It has not been easy. Panikkar gives us to understand that there was strong tension between the Hindu tradition of his father and the strict Catholic orthodoxy that Panikkar himself adopted in his adolescence. For this reason, it is legitimate to characterize Panikkar’s theology of religions as an existential question.31 This experimental basis and autobiographical motivation give his thinking a certain subjectivist tint. However, given the strong emphasis on the contextual character of any thinking—a theme that recurs in Panikkar’s writing too—, one can legitimately start the process of theorizing from experience.32 Panikkar’s theologizing is hermeneutical in approach, and attaches crucial importance to experience.33 Given the significance that religious 29

OGD, x–xi. See also WG, 116–120. 31 See especially WG, 113. 32 See RPC, 100–101. 33 Panikkar’s methodological stance has been depicted quite strikingly in Cousins 1979a, 133: “His theology is simultaneously experiential and speculative. It is rooted in religious experience, tapping the wellsprings of Christian spirituality at a point that can make contact with the depths of Oriental spirituality. This wealth of spiritual experience is then reflected upon with his rare gift for metaphysical speculation that 30

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experience holds in his theology, it is surprising that nowhere does he describe his own experiences, although he gives the reader to understand that such experiences exist.34 He does not follow the classical tradition of Western mystics here. In my view, this silence from Panikkar should be understood in the light of the following reasoning, which is easily reconstructed on the basis of his texts. Religious experience wells forth from the silence and thus is eventually unutterable, even thought it may be “incarnated in word.”35 Since such an “incarnated” experience is already cumulatively within reach in different religious traditions of the world, Panikkar is content just to draw from this age-old experimental material available in the holy writings of versatile religions.36 It is rather evident that, by proceeding in this way, he also evades founding his theological thinking on his own subjective, and as such easily questioned, experiences. Instead, he firmly attaches himself to the kind of established religious material that transcends any individual experience. Panikkar considers his theologizing to take place in the sa«gam, the confluence of different religious traditions from which they could be handed down together.37 Thus, his thinking reaches beyond the limits of his own multireligious experience to include more general study.38 He does not, at least at his point of departure, wish to be an individual religious thinker who categorically rejects traditions and tries to seek something new.39 On the contrary, he sees religious traditions of humanity as a treasury, and thinks that the valuable matedraws both from the mainstream of Western European philosophy and the great philosophical traditions of the East.” On this kind of theological method, see Dupuis 1997, 15–19. My analysis will show what kind of experience is in question in Panikkar’s thinking. See especially Chapter 5 above. 34 See SG, xiii; DPW, 84. Cf. also PKM, in which Panikkar depicts unusually extensively his experiences on a pilgrimage, albeit in a narrative style through which he attempts to dissociate himself from the text. See also WG, 118. 35 BS, 47– 48. 36 Panikkar’s methodological distinctiveness, when compared with almost any other theological model, is that he tries to put experience in dialogue not only with Christianity but also with Hindu and Buddhist traditions. See Ahlstrand 1993, 6–7. He thus makes an universalistic decision regarding revelation and theological epistemology that is depicted strikingly in MacPherson 1996, 6: “Panikkar’s later thought, however, presupposes revelation as coming almost equally through other religions and even beyond the boundaries of religion in the depths of the human person.” 37 See DMTM, 150. 38 See also Cousins 1979b, 143–144, whose characterization of Panikkar as “a mutational man” is based on the fact that, in his case, the biographical challenge is parallel to the challenge of the contemporary world. 39 See UCH, xi; MRDP, 18.

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rial hidden within it should be brought into the daylight since it may be highly relevant in the contemporary world.40 He does not consider ancient traditions of humanity useless ballast. On the contrary, he wishes to prove almost programmatically their timelessness, as well as to deliver the inherent wisdom to contemporary man. For instance, on the ecological question, the Vedas, like many other “fundamental human texts,” have a “freshness” that makes them relevant to the problems of modern times. They could therefore be seen as “a stimulus” for seeking solutions to problems that do not feature in the texts themselves. Because the Vedas are steeped in primordial tradition, they are in immediate touch with reality and thus also a timeless actuality.41 Panikkar seeks a new, contemporary interpretation of traditions in dialogue in which one’s own tradition is enriched by others.42 The method with which he constantly tries to operate and which he wishes to see applied in all fields of study could be characterized as “comparative,” “cross-cultural,” and “inter-religious.”43 I thus have now touched upon another motive that underlies Panikkar’s claim to interreligious dialogue—namely, that the problems of the contemporary world make the meeting of religions an urgent and unavoidable imperative. It is a question of the meeting of religions, because contemporary problems touch upon issues on the kind of level that should be characterized as religious.44 For Panikkar religion constitutes the deepest dimension behind any human action: there is an implicit “reference to transcendence” in every human enterprise. Hence all different sectors of human culture, including mathematics, politics, and music, ultimately touch this religious dimension.45 Panikkar defines a ‘religion’ as any “set of practices and/or

40

CSR, 73. See STC, 23–24. Cf. also SG, xi. 42 BS, 22–23; DMTM, 150. 43 STC, 23: “Comparative studies means . . . to study one or more religious or philosophical problem with the aid of more than one religious or philosophical tradition, so as to increase the wisdom we can bring to bear on a given problem, and to assimilate as well the insights of Man which lie outside our own tradition.”; STC, 29; IH, 121; NP, 236; IFOL, vii. 44 CSR, 76: “At any rate, this is a question of life and death, of human fulfillment or annihilation, of our survival as a species. As such, it is a specifically religious question. It cannot be solved technically, or politically, or economically.” See also CD, 33–34. 45 See CSR, 72–73. 41

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doctrines (orthopraxis and orthodoxy) which one believes will lead one to the liberation or fulfillment of one’s being.”46 Since it suits the essence of religion to save mankind from perishing,47 religions are key factors in finding solutions to the crises of humanity. According to Panikkar, only the meeting of religions can lead out of the impasse of the modern world. The spirit of the time (Zeitgeist) indicates that religions can no longer be viewed as “separate constituencies,” for “it is a matter of world peace and planetary survival.”48 Therefore, the meeting of religions is not just a theoretically interesting subject to him. An essential component of world peace is peace between religions, which he seeks to build in the spirit of men such as Ramon Llull, Nicholas of Cusa, and Ramakrishna.49 Inspired by this heritage that has envisioned the unity of religions, Panikkar sees the contemporary predicament not only as negative and threatening, but also as “kairological” and thus including new and positive possibilities. A mutual encounter in the spirit of dialogue could endow religions facing a crisis in the modern world with new vitality and dynamics. The possibility to begin anew could replace the threat of perishing.50 The greatest challenge of modern times is to overcome fragmentariness, and it is exactly here that the meeting of religions could open up new opportunities.51 What, then, is the meeting of religions, and what else follows from this encounter? How does Panikkar understand religion as such? If the contemporary period brings some “kairological” opportunities, what are they and how could they be actualized? These questions inevitably arise in the mind of anyone reading

46

HRMR, 515; MRDP, 8; SCD, 268. HRMR, 517: “. . . one of the fundamental and enduring tasks of all religion: the rescue of humanity from the danger of perishing.” 48 EM, 277. 49 RT, 57; DPW, 119; IH, 68. On the significance of the encounter of religions as well as cultures, see also RT, 14–15, 17, 23; DD, 202, 219–220; DMTM, 148–150; IH, 55–57, 113, 131; SCD, 267, 286. The peace question is treated at length in CD. On Llull and Nicholas of Cusa, see Lohr 1988, 538–543, 548–549; Dupuis 1997, 105–109, and on Ramakrishna French 1974, 26–36; Neufeldt 1987, 67–74. 50 RT, 16, 26, 42; HRMR, 516–517; BR, 13–14; IRD, 61; IH, 21–22, 62. See also OGD, xiv–xv; NRCUA, 184. However, cf. BS, 67. 51 DMTM, 150: “Die Überwindung der Fragmentierung bezeichnet den Kairos unserer Zeit.” Cf. also CSR, 82–83, in which Panikkar envisions the aim of religious studies as compiling and integrating knowledge of different disciplines into one coherent vision. 47

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Panikkar’s work. Responding to them is a prerequisite for shedding light on his holistic vision. Before seeking answers to these questions, I would like to emphasize that Panikkar cannot be exclusively situated among the contemporary scholars who approach interreligious dialogue with a practical turn of mind in order to find solutions to the problems of the world and strengthen the unity of the human family.52 For him, interreligious dialogue has a much deeper meaning than mere instrumental value in pursuing irenic goals: it is not only the “place” (locus) of theology,53 it is also the proper “method” (modus).54 Panikkar thus is not only a pragmatist. Since dialogue has profound methodological significance for his theology, I will analyze next how he understands the concept. 2.2. R   O C  ‘G’ Examining Panikkar’s understanding of religions and their encounter directs attention to the strikingly biological language he uses: an ideal meeting of religions involves an “interpenetration” and “mutual fecundation” that lead to “mutation.” Similarly biological in tone is the metaphor of “cross-fertilization” that he frequently applies.55 This kind of biological language is neither accidental, nor just a matter of rhetoric. Panikkar compares religious and cultural studies explicitly with botany. Human traditions are dynamic like seeds, and they could be understood only in the light of the potentiality hidden in them.56 Correspondingly, he depicts the meeting of Hinduism

52 Cf., e.g., Küng 1992, which is thoroughly pragmatically orientated with its aim to generate a common ethos. Panikkar, however, does not approve of constructing a common front against secularism as the purpose of the encounter of religions. See IRD, 27. Cf. Küng 1992, 77–79, but also 58–62. 53 IH, 173: “This type of dialogue is not only a religious endeavor for the participants, it is a genuine locus theologicus, to speak in Christian Scholastic parlance, a source in itself of religious (theological) understanding.” 54 See Ahlstrand 1993, 6–7. One cannot criticize Panikkar in the same way Clooney (1990, 78) criticizes pluralists, claiming that “[i]n general, the pluralist’s focus on Mystery serves as an oddly effective protection against the power of texts, reading, metaphor, and the whole array of ways in which resignification takes place.” 55 See UCH, 35; HCR, 40; IRD, 61; SNSE, 56–57; UCH, 12; EM, 280. 56 IRD, 28: “. . . no study of an idea, cultural pattern or religious tradition is adequate unless we consider all its possibilities, just as no botanist can claim to know a seed until he knows the plant that grows up from that seed.”

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and Christianity with clearly botanic metaphors and speaks about “grafting,” which entails a new “symbiosis” without the destruction of the original plants. Elsewhere, he speaks about “assimilation” (Einverleibung) and “osmosis” (Osmose) that happen in the meeting of religions. In any case, the result of dialogue is a “new fruit.”57 These few examples may be sufficient to prove the frequent use of biological language, as well as its significance in Panikkar’s thinking. In the light of these biological characterizations, it could be concluded that his understanding of religiosity, and also of the essence of concrete religions, is vitalistic.58 He thus even considers religions to be living entities: “Religions today, as in times gone by, are living entities.”59 This kind of vitalistic understanding of the essence of religions, expressed in biological language, corresponds with the way in which he sees ‘growth’ as the category through which the meeting of religions and their intrinsic orientation towards the future could be adequately portrayed.60 In Panikkar’s thinking, growth is related intimately to the context of the meeting of religions because it is the assimilation of different elements that nourishes the organic growth process.61 Nevertheless, despite the use of ‘growth’, Panikkar does not represent the modern Catholic understanding of the nature of doctrine, according to which the development of the Christian dogma is tan-

57

See RT, 26, 48; BR, 11. See also VE, 6. Cf. also IRD, xix: “All crossings are dangerous, but there is no new life without maithuna.”; MRDP, 21–22; EM, 280; RT, 28–29: “. . . religions as institution does not mean a monolithic administrative and doctrinal organisation but a living organism with pluriformity of members and functions and positive symbioses with similar organisms.” For a vitalistic understanding of the Church as an organism, see DAIE, 36–37. 59 OGD, x. 60 See IRD, 69–73; SNSE, 56–58. See also the outline of VE (xiii–xxxiii) which presents Vedic thinking in a biological frame of reference. Also Jathanna (1996, 129) has perceived the significance of ‘growth’ in Panikkar, as well as how it could be applied in Panikkar’s own thinking. Another important cluster of religious metaphors that Panikkar not infrequently uses is related to moving. In particular, he compares religion with “the way.” UCH, 24; EM 281. It is evident that these metaphors, like those borrowed from biology, aim at emphasizing the dynamic character of religion and spirituality. See EM, 281. I will return to these metaphors of moving when examining Panikkar’s view of pluralism. See 3.1. 61 STC, 32: “You can eat thousands of different things, each of different composition, and yet all will eventually be converted into your own proper proteins. This kind of personal assimilation, if allowed to come about spontaneously . . . is really the root metaphor for true religious growth.” 58

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tamount to the further explication of the inherent content that has already existed in nuce. He departs from diverse orthodox interpretations of this model because he sees the possibility of “mutations” belonging to the authentic process of growth.62 According to Panikkar, an essential part of religiosity is change, and when highlighting this, he does not hesitate to utilize concepts such as ‘evolution’ and ‘progression’. Thus he is willing to characterize Christianity in the following words: “New dogmas, renewed formulations of old ones, real evolution and progress are constant features of Christianity.”63 He considers the evolution of Christian self-consciousness radically open, which means that it is impossible to anticipate the doctrinal changes that may lie ahead. Eventually, it is a question of dynamics of the Spirit.64 Among all human events, it is this dynamism of religions that particularly discloses spontaneity and freedom, which cannot be reduced to rules.65 Utilizing a biological metaphor, Panikkar emphasizes that it is the new “soil” that may produce new results: When the grain of christian faith . . . falls into indic soil it penetrates into that very soil for growth and blossoming, and the results may be very different from the branches and fruits of other terrains.66

Since his understanding of the growth of religions includes dimensions of change and development, his thinking could also be characterized as evolutionist: historical religions are changing entities, which means that their future is radically open.67 However, characterizing

62 IRD, 72: “Growth means continuity and development, but it also implies transformation and revolution. Growth does not exclude mutation.”; RT, 24: “Our Hindu-Christian theology will certainly create a new understanding of both Hinduism and Christianity. . . . Probably the conservatives . . . may not accept theories of growth and pluralism of religions. Orthodoxies of all kinds can easily cope with evolution, but are without criteria to handle mutations.” See also IRD, 70–71; MWDG, 54–55; CTBT, 4; ITR, 262. Apparently, Panikkar has in mind here the modern Catholic understanding of the development of the doctrine that derives from John Henry Newman’s theology. See, e.g., Hägglund 1968, 383. 63 UCH, 55. See also MCN, 243; RT 54. As an example, Panikkar gives the possibility of “a hindu-christian theology.” See SCD, 267. Panikkar sketched this kind of theology earlier in RT; DAIE. 64 See OCI, 12–13. 65 PPPR, 41. 66 ICT, 320–321. 67 IRD, 72: “In growth, there is freedom. . . . How Hinduism needs to grow or how Christianity or modern Humanism has to grow we may not yet know.” Panikkar

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Panikkar’s thinking as evolutionist needs further qualification: he is very critical of the idea of evolution, especially when it is understood in the modern sense of “progression,” or if it is implicitly presumed that one speaks from a point of view that is outside the process of change itself. Therefore, when applied to Panikkar, the term ‘evolutionist’ should be interpreted in the sense at aiming at pinpointing the dimension of constant change as well as the possibility of new mutations and forms included in this process.68 Since religious innovations and mutations are, in principle, radically open, it is not sensible to combine the dimensions of vitality and evolution in Panikkar’s thinking under the heading of ‘teleology’, especially if it is clear that this concept implies some goal towards which the process of growth is directed.69 According to Panikkar, it is the existential freedom inherent to life itself that enables the genesis of new interpretations and doctrines: a religious subject experiences the freedom to transform the tradition precisely by living it. Therefore, we can go beyond the doctrines of a tradition even though its efficacy still lies in the present.70 Panikkar sees this kind of dynamics of change even as the criterion of authentic religiosity.71

sees a connection between the growth of religions and the growth of religious consciousness. IRD, 70–71. On the change of consciousness, see 4.2. Cf. also Kuschel 1994, 3–4, for Ernst Troeltsch’s ideas on the dynamic change of religions and the openness of the history of religions. 68 Panikkar’s critique on modern evolutionist thinking is evident in MHT, 65–68; CD, 35, 47–48; RPC, 111–112; GRP, 403. See also NVR, 290–291. 69 Using the concept ‘teleology’ may easily lead us to view Panikkar’s thinking as a kind of parallel to a Christocentric eschatology, represented by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin or Pandipeddi Chenchiah. Although these thinkers also tend to use rather biological language in their theology (see Boyd 1994, 157), there is a crucial difference. Panikkar has no linear view of history and, correspondingly, his thinking lacks an eschatological dimension. This means that there is no predestined goal in the growth of religions. On this question, cf. also SNSE, 57–58, 61, which seems to suggest that some goal is needed. Panikkar is also reluctant to perceive things on such a wide scale as Teilhard de Chardin. See DMTM, 148, 184. See also CE, 89. On the relation of Panikkar to Teilhard de Chardin, see MHT. This issue is addressed later, at the end of Chapter 3. On some similarities and differences with Aurobindo’s evolutionist thinking, see also Devdas 1980, 611–614. 70 OGD, x: “Only from the outside do we have a static view of religion. If we live a religious faith consciously and sincerely, we experience at the same time the freedom to transform it precisely by living it. The Hindu-Christian dialogue of the present cannot be limited to discussing frozen doctrines of the past. And yet the past is still effective in the present.” See also MHT, 62. 71 See STC, 31.

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As far as the dynamic character of religions is concerned, Panikkar tries to base his argumentation on the history of religions. He claims that all existing religions have been formed through an encounter of religions, and thus present “typical examples of syncretistic phenomena.”72 As concrete examples, he refers to the Vedic religion and Christianity, both of which originated in the meeting of two previous traditions: Judaism and Hellenism are combined in the person of Paul in that the former provided his theology with the material and the latter with the form. In a similar fashion, Panikkar considers the Vedas to be founded on the “Aryan mind” and the “Dravidian or proto-Indian heart.”73 It is no surprise that, according to him, the mutual encounter of Hinduism and Christianity goes back to the early history of both traditions, and yet is a contemporary issue.74 Panikkar emphasizes strongly the dynamics of religiousness: history is, for him, a story of the meeting as well as the growth of religions. He does not wish only to analyze the dynamics of the growth of religions, or to point to its significance. With his own theoretical work, he aims at expediting and even accelerating this growth.75 His 72 BR, 11; SNSE, 49. The same also holds true with cultures (RPC, 113): “All cultures are the result of a continuous mutual fecundation.” 73 See RT, 17–22; VE, 9–10, 15, 30–31. Cf. IRD, 58–60, 62–63, in which Panikkar gives some examples of “utilization” and “interpretation” instead of “growth” in the old Church. However, he does not consider these alternatives to be adequate because of their superficiality. 74 See OGD, xii–xiii, in which Panikkar gives some examples. See also ITR, 270. His arguments that are based on the history of religions deserve some critical remarks. It is true that Hinduism as it exists today originates in the encounter of Dravidian and Indo-Aryan religious traditions. The Hindu tradition has always been extremely flexible in assimilating traditions from outside of its own orbit. Nevertheless, there has also been a considerable amount of suspicion about and exclusion of other religious traditions. On this point, see Klostermaier 1994, 30–48; Halbfass 1990, 172–196. Indeed, Panikkar does refer to the encounter of religions as a significant and formative fact in the history of religions. However, as far as his idea of the encounter of religions as theologically normative is concerned, it may be extremely difficult to find precedents in the orthodox tradition of any religion. It was only the Hindu renaissance of the nineteenth century that gave rise to the evaluation of other religious traditions as positive in some sense. Keshub Chunder Sen is worthy of note in this respect. See Parekh 1926, especially 125–129, 184–188. For some earlier attempts to harmonize different religions in the Islamic Mogul court, cf. Halbfass 1990, 31–35. 75 Cf. VE, 21, in which Panikkar sees the significance of his Vedic anthology in the following way: “. . . we present, insofar as possible, the total experience of Vedic Man against the present-day human horizon, in order to make the former intelligible and to enrich, challenge, and perhaps eventually transform the latter.” [Italics mine.]

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understanding of the role of religious studies as a forum of dialogue and mutual fecundation is elucidatory in this respect.76 According to Panikkar, research has to be thoroughly “cross-cultural”: A real cross-cultural attitude demands that the very paradigms, the very categories, the very forms of thinking, and the presuppositions of that other culture become integrated in the very vision I have of my own culture and the other culture. . . . It is not that there are new things in the panorama; it is that the panorama is a different one.77

Thus one should not only observe things from without, but also integrate elements of different cultures and religions and thus allow a new vision to emerge.78 This means that Panikkar’s own theoretical input in religious studies, as well as in theology, contains a deliberately cross-cultural and metaphysically creative tone. Ultimately he longs for a new anthropology, since the mutation is to be expected in the humanity itself, not only in the religiosity of man.79 The analysis implemented thus far proves that Panikkar’s motivation for favoring interaction among different religions is based on his understanding of religions as well as on his critical appraisal of the modern era. Next I will analyze the methodology under which this interactive process between religions could most fruitfully occur, according to Panikkar. 2.3. M T: D D Panikkar considers the most fundamental principle of the encounter of religions to be that the encounter must be truly religious.80 Thus interreligious dialogue is not only a method, but also a religious act par excellence.81 Discussing Panikkar’s “methodology” leads inevitably to the very core of his theological thinking. He has tried to create a methodology of interreligious dialogue that could highlight the reli-

76

See CSR, 82. MHT, 64. 78 See also CSR, 75–76, 78. 79 BS, 67, 77. For further analysis of the anthropological mutation, see 4.2. 80 IRD, 26. See also VE, 21–22. 81 IRD, 10: “. . . the dialogue of which I speak emerges not as a mere academic device or an intellectual amusement, but a spiritual matter of the first rank, a religious act that itself engages faith, hope and love. Dialogue is not bare methodology but an essential part of the religious act par excellence.”; IRD, 37, 50; BR, 31–33; IH, 26. 77

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gious nature of dialogue itself: the ideal dialogue has to be “the dialogical dialogue.” He also considers it the proper method for dealing with different contemporary problems, since it leaves room for the dynamic development of religions that is, as proved in previous analysis, of crucial importance in his thinking.82 The dialogical dialogue holds a central position in Panikkar’s methodology. It is, for instance, part of his “diatopical hermeneutics” that has the meeting of religions as its scope of application.83 Therefore, it is essential to clarify exactly what he means by the dialogical dialogue. This will also shed light on his thesis on the religious nature of the dialogue itself.84 The peculiar nature of the dialogical dialogue becomes clearer when Panikkar compares it with “the dialectic dialogue.” While the dialectic dialogue is “a dialogue about objects,” the dialogical dialogue is “a dialogue among subjects aiming at being a dialogue about subjects.”85 In Panikkar’s own words, the dialogical dialogue highlights those “aspects of being that belong to the first and second persons, i.e., to the am and art aspects of reality.”86 The dialectic dialogue remains on the level of argumentation and disputation, while the dialogical dialogue pursues better understanding of the other and oneself, even to the point of challenging the identities.87 Since this kind of dialogue is very intimate, Panikkar emphasizes that it can be only a question of “duologue” (Duolog), or at most “trialogue” (Trialog).88 82

DD, 207: “The dialogical dialogue is in its proper place when dealing with personal, cross-cultural and pluralistic problems.”; DD, 218: “. . . the dialogical dialogue changes the partners themselves in unexpected ways and may open new vistas not logically implied in the premises.” See also IH, 78; HEC, 199. 83 See RT, 9–10; MRDP, 6–7; DD, 201, 205–206; WCPC, 130–134. By ‘diatopical hermeneutics’ Panikkar means the hermeneutics that would be proper in interreligious dialogue. It aims at bridging the chasm between two different human “topoi (the loci of the various worldviews),” while “morphological hermeneutics” aims to build a bridge between positions within the same cultural tradition, and “diachronic hermeneutics” to bring together two positions with a temporal gap. See DPW, 96. For a more detailed analysis of Panikkar’s hermeneutics, see Ahlstrand 1993, 68–79; Krieger 1996. For the present study, the most significant aspect of the dialogical dialogue is its relation to the epistemological and ontological dimensions of Panikkar’s thinking that will be analyzed in detail in subsequent chapters. 84 Cf. also HCR, 44–46, in which Panikkar discusses the possibility of “dialogical philosophy.” 85 DD, 209. 86 DD, 219. See also BR, 18–19. 87 See RT, 12; DD, 209; OGD, xvi–xvii. 88 See MWDG, 105–106. On the other hand, cf. CD, 102: “What we need are ‘duologues’ that are thereupon transformed into ‘multiloquies’ among the various peoples of the earth (each with their neighbor, to begin with).”

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As a reciprocal process, Panikkar says, the dialogical dialogue89 maintains a polarity of reality that cannot be subordinated to the distinction of subject and object: participants in dialogue remind each other of their limits and mutually expose the opaque fundamental “myths” that one cannot see oneself as the foundation of one’s own “logos,” thoughts that could be expressed rationally.90 The hermeneutical, or even introspective meaning of dialogue is thus that the partners could reciprocally reveal to each other the “myths” and axioms of thinking that are assumed to be unquestionable premises.91 This requires that dialogue is a “duo-logue,” an authentic encounter of two logoi, not two separate monologues. However, not content with this, Panikkar interprets “dia-logue” also to mean “a piercing of the logos” and “a going through the intellect into an encounter of the whole person.”92 Thus he sees the most crucial level of hermeneutics as being on the level of “myth.”93 Understanding is therefore not only rational, but also comprises existential and religious aspects.94 On the other hand, Panikkar emphasizes the fact that, in dialogue, it is “through the intellect” that the whole person is encountered. Given this, there is no such thing as the dialogical dialogue itself. Those who conduct dialogue always have to talk about something, even if the ultimate purpose is an authentic encounter between

89

For the sake of simplicity, I will henceforth speak about ‘dialogue’, which always means, if not otherwise stated, ‘dialogical dialogue’. 90 See DD, 217–219; BR, 27; RPC, 106–107. In Panikkar’s terminology, ‘myth’ refers to the horizon of intelligibility through which one sees the world, to the convictions that underlie one’s explicit beliefs and are always opaque to oneself. One believes so deeply in one’s own myth that one cannot even observe that one believes in it. Myth lays the foundation of ‘logos’, which refers to the aspect of consciousness that is rational and thereby can also be uttered. On the function of these terms in Panikkar’s work, see Veliath 1988, 97–101; D’Sa 1996, 27–34. According to Ahlstrand (1993, 71), Panikkar’s concept ‘myth’ corresponds to the concept ‘prejudice’ (Vorurteil ) in Gadamer’s hermeneutics. 91 DD, 218: “We are more or less conscious of our assumptions, i.e., the axioms or convictions that we put at the starting point and we use as foundation of our views. But those very assumptions themselves rest on underlying ‘pre-sub-positions’ which for us ‘go without saying’ and are ‘taken for granted.’ ” [Italics mine.] 92 OGD, xiii. See also BR, 27. 93 VE, 24: “. . . any reading of a text is a reading out of it as much as into it. The connection cannot be a logical one. It has to be an existential or, rather, a mythical connection.” 94 See IRD, 40–41; DAIE, 39: “There is no deep human communication if it is not a communicatio in sacris.”

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subjects. The dialogical dialogue as “a total human encounter” always also embraces “an important intellectual component.”95 We cannot dispense with reason and the intellectual component even though the domain of reason is confined and logos cannot be seen as the only dimension of the anthropological reality.96 Genuine dialogue is eventually “a dialogue of life.”97 What, then, makes a dialogue authentically dialogical, if the dialogical dialogue, so to say, surfaces in the dialectical dialogue when this is elevated to another level? Panikkar’s answer is rather unpretentious, namely, “the will to dialogue.” It is a question of attitude. A genuinely dialogical dialogue cannot ever be a medium of the will for power or proselytism: the other is seen as an authentic source of understanding, even as “a revelatory experience.”98 Panikkar sees the power of the dialogical dialogue in its strong reciprocal nature: it is a method proper in the pluralistic reality, since through it various conflicts can be transformed “into dialogical tensions and creative polarities.”99 In the light of the above analysis, it could be said that, for Panikkar, dialogue is more than a hermeneutical model. Dialogue entails an authentic risk (Risiko): since it is participation in reality itself, its course cannot be predetermined or controlled, not even by those participating in it.100 It is ultimately a creative process, as the following quotation illustrates: The justification of the dialogical dialogue lies much deeper; it is to be found in the very nature of the real, namely in the fact that reality is not wholly objectifiable, ultimately because I myself, a subject, am also a part of it, am in it, and cannot extricate myself from it. The dialogical dialogue assumes a radical dynamism of reality, namely that reality is not given once and for all, but is real precisely in the fact that it is continually creating itself—and not just unfolding from

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DD, 210; OGD, xiii. See IH, 72–73; BR, 20–21, 27. This subtle relationship between mythos and logos explains, at least partly, the relationship between spirituality and intellectuality, the praxis and theory examined above. See above 2.1. 97 OGD, x. 98 See DD, 210–211; SMID, 773: “When you dialogue with somebody, look at your partner as a revelatory experience as you would—and should—look at the lilies in the fields.” See also IH, 157–158. Cf. TDD, 25. 99 See IH, 86. 100 BR, 16. See also BR, 31. Cf. also MRDP, 22: “I feel the process is more dangerous than going out and coming back enriched. . . . There is real religious risk in religious dialogue, if you take the faith or beliefs of all your fellow beings seriously.” 96

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The creativity of dialogue is thus a consequence of its participation in the creative and dynamic essence of reality itself, as well as of the ontological relatedness of the subject with this reality. This ontological understanding of dialogue is a crucial clue to the understanding of Panikkar’s vision. The implication is that dialogue between human subjects is not the most significant factor in the growth of religions and their future and, moreover, that the human being is not the primary subject of dialogue. Dialogue means participation in a process that is based on the dynamics of reality itself. Therefore Panikkar’s understanding of it is essentially mystical: Dialogue has a mystical core that cannot be seen on the surface of human relationships. Something takes place in the hearts of the partners in the dialogue, and also in the inner core of the world. Dialogue launches a special karma, it extends into the mystical body of reality.102

On the other hand, man seems to play a key role in this realization of reality. Dialogue is, so to say, built into anthropological structures since, according to Panikkar, “man is not an individual . . . but rather a person, a bundle of relationships.” As a relational being, man is a “dialogical being” (dialogisches Wesen). After saying this, Panikkar hastens to specify that what he means here is religious dialogue.103 He has created a neologism, ‘intrareligious dialogue’, in order to emphasize the fact that interreligious dialogue takes place in the heart of a human subject.104 If these two aspects—that dialogue has its roots in the essence of both the world and of the human being—are brought together, it could be said that there is an overall ontological aspect in Panikkar’s

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DD, 211–212. BR, 19: “Der Dialog hat einen mystischen Kern, der nicht an der Oberfläche der menschlichen Beziehungen sichtbar ist. Etwas geschieht im Herzen der Gesprächspartner, und auch etwas im Inneren der Welt. Der Dialog löst ein besonders karman aus, er reicht bis in den mystischen Leib der Realität hinein.” 103 BR, 12: “Der Mensch ist kein Individuum, keine Monade. Er ist vielmehr Person, ein Bündel von Beziehungen. Aber menschliche Beziehungen verlangen den Dialog. . . . Mit einem Wort: Der Mensch ist ein dialogisches Wesen. Der Dialog ist wesensnotwendig. Und er kann nicht bloßes Gerede sein, sondern muß ein religiöser Dialog sein.” 104 This neologism is present even in the title of a book by Panikkar, namely, IRD. The German translation is ‘Der intra-religiöse Dialog’. See BR, 17–18. 102

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understanding. Dialogue has its basis in both cosmology and anthropology. It is evident in the light of the analysis conducted thus far that interreligious dialogue has a fundamental significance for Panikkar’s thinking. This claim will be confirmed in the analysis that follows, and it will be shown how dialogue is closely related to almost every other area in Panikkar’s thinking, such as with his cosmotheandric ontology and epistemology. Since his understanding of dialogue is so intimately connected with his metaphysics, the dialogical dialogue, which at first glance may only seem to be presented as a proper hermeneutical method for interreligious dialogue, could be characterized as the principle giving the structure and meaning to his thinking.105 The crucial meaning of dialogue is highlighted by the fact that he is willing to describe it “as a end itself ” (Zweck in sich selbst).106 A similar conclusion could be reached from the premise that he seems to equate dialogue with life itself 107 and that, on the other hand, life is a meaning in itself.108 Although I will analyze Panikkar’s cosmology and ontology in later chapters, it may be worth mentioning here how he puts the methodological question into the context of liturgy and ritual.109 When outlining Hindu-Christian theology, Panikkar says that [the] suggested °tatattva should study and establish this cosmotheandric ordo. Both, on the theoretical and practical levels it is a liturgical problem, a ritual question. Theology implies method, and method ( paddhati, upàya) also means ritual, liturgy.110

Panikkar thus explicitly identifies method with ritual. Since, in another context, he sees dialogue as liturgy,111 it could be concluded that the concepts ‘method,’ ‘dialogue,’ and ‘liturgy’ are mutually coextensive in his thinking, at least in some measure. Moreover, he always sees liturgy as a “process of change” (Verwandlungsprozeß) and “transfiguration”

105 Panikkar’s metaphysics is analyzed in 4.3. It is his view that the human consciousness holds a key position in the realization of the universe. 106 BR, 37: “Gerade weil der Dialog einen Zweck in sich selbst darstellt, ist sein Ziel nicht, den Dialog einmal zu vollenden und ihn überflüssig zu machen.” 107 CD, 101. 108 BS, 46. 109 By loading religious action with such a theoretical meaning, Panikkar clearly applies his central idea of the relatedness of theory and praxis. See above 2.1.1. 110 RT, 43. Cf. also IH, 82. 111 See BR, 34–35.

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(Transfiguration)—but as an authentically religious process of change, and the final outcome of liturgy must be open.112 This all confirms my thesis that dialogue as the method of Panikkar’s theology is already a part of the ontological process aiming at the realization of reality itself. It is only against the background of this thoroughly ontological understanding of dialogue that we can comprehend why Panikkar depicts dialogue as something that re-creates things. We can also see similarity between dialogue and liturgy because they are both able to create unity between human beings. These kinds of allusions to liturgy are very enlightening in terms of understanding Panikkar. They could be seen as a vivid metaphor, although emerging from a rather different area of life than the biological metaphors analyzed above. It should be noted, however, that Panikkar does not utilize the liturgical metaphor so frequently. Nonetheless, it summarizes two essential features of his understanding of dialogue, the ideas of transformation and participation in reality itself.113 This kind of liturgical-ritualistic way of thinking could be very plausibly traced not only to classical Catholic theology, but also to the Vedas. Classical Catholic theology sees the Eucharistic sacrifice as the heart of liturgical life.114 According to the Vedas, sacrifice ( yajña) plays a decisive role of cosmic proportions: it was thought to maintain the universe provided that the sacred word (vàc) was appropriately uttered.115 Given that Panikkar himself explicitly brings together the Catholic and Vedic conceptions of the significance of the sacrificial act,116 this interpretation is very plausible. 112 BR, 35: “Jede Liturgie ist ein Verwandlungsprozeß, eine Transfiguration. . . . Seit Jahrzehnten betone ich, daß jeder Dialog eine communicatio in sacris, eine sakrale Kommunion ist, ohne die keine menschliche Gemeinschaft bestehen kann.”; STC, 32: “This kind of real, creative process means that a religion must constantly renew itself or else it sooner or later disappears, changes, or becomes sheer magic. Any sacred act which knows its result beforehand is sheer magic.” [Italics mine.] See also VE, 28. 113 For more precise information on these aspects, see 4.2., 4.3. and 5. 114 On the theology of sacraments in this respect, see Kelly 1978, 449–455; Hägglund 1968, 149–150, 155–158. Of course, similar insights can be found in classical Orthodox theology. See Bosch 1991, 209–210. 115 See Lipner 1994, 32–35; Klostermaier 1994, 155, 165–167. See also VE, 70, 346–431. 116 See BS, 53; CE, 137. It should, however, be noted that religious ritualism in general aims at maintaining the status quo, or renewing reality in some sense. With its emphasis on spontaneity, Panikkar’s thinking differs from ritualism in the classical sense of the word. In spite of this, the principle of ‘homology’ that is central in the Upanißads prevails in Panikkar’s thinking. On homology—i.e., realizing a real correspondence between the micro- and macrocosms—see

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On the basis of what is written above, the following conclusion could be drawn: Panikkar’s emphasis on the dynamic character of interreligious dialogue could be seen in a similar light in the way he compares theological method with liturgy, and in the way he speaks about religions using biological and vitalistic language.117 His use of the word ‘contemplation’ is also worth noting. Content as well as function in this concept come near to ‘dialogue’ in the way in which he uses language. For instance, for him contemplation evidently has similar cosmic and soteriological tones to dialogue.118 Interestingly, words that depict change as ‘transformation’, ‘metamorphosis’, and ‘transfiguration’ seem to function as key words of the new spirituality as outlined in Panikkar’s work.119 In this Chapter I have endeavored to find answers to questions such as what is the context from which Panikkar’s thinking emerges, and what kind of methodology he operates with. I have shown that the encounter of religions is the locus of his thinking:120 The world of religions is a dynamic one since religions change and “grow” in such a measure that Panikkar resorts to the use of biological language. The encounter of religions as such is a natural part of this dynamic process, which is intrinsic to every religion. Nonetheless, Panikkar wishes to develop a methodology with which to harness the soteriological potential inherent in religions per definitionem in order to solve contemporary problems.121 As a proper method (modus), he suggests a deeply penetrating interreligious dialogue, “the dialogical

Lipner 1994, 33–34. How this principle operates in Panikkar’s thinking will be shown in 5. 117 Note Panikkar’s dynamic interpretation of the concept ‘liturgy’. See BR, 35; STC, 32. 118 See BS, 45: “. . . contemplation is that activity which situates us in an open space from which we can observe and contribute to the course of the universe; as the Gìtà will say, that activity that delights in the well-being of all beings, or that maintains the world in cohesion (lokasaágraha). Contemplation begins by purporting to . . . sustain the cosmos or, in terms of Christian mysticism, to create, redeem, and glorify (divinize) the universe along with God.” 119 BS, 55: “The contemporary monastic mentality seeks a spirituality that is not exclusively spiritual. . . . Its fundamental category is transformation, metamorphosis, transfiguration . . . the modern monk wants to recover the ancient alchemy.” On contemplation, see also 2.1.1. and 4.2.2. 120 Similarly CP, 6: “In scholastic language, the other religions of the world— not as christians have interpreted them but as they understand themselves—are locii theologici for the christophany we are proposing.” 121 See here also ITR, 282–286.

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dialogue,” in which partners meet in authentic reciprocal action, and through which the dynamic and creative nature of reality itself evolves. The kinds of consequences this understanding of interreligious dialogue has on the level of the theological agenda remain to be studied. What kind of “program” related to the theology of religions does Panikkar elaborate on this fundamental theological basis? If he is very willing to bring religions into contact with each other, what kind of implications does this have for his pluralistic theology of religions?

CHAPTER THREE

PANIKKAR’S PROGRAM OF THE THEOLOGY OF RELIGIONS 3.1. P   O S When introducing the debate on the theology of religions in the beginning of my study, I remarked that Panikkar is widely seen as one of those theologians advocating a pluralist theology of religions. On the other hand, as I suggested, he could also be seen as a rather unique representative of pluralism because he tries deliberately to evade the problems embedded in the pluralistic theologies that begin with the premises of Western Enlightenment. Given his insistence on the deep-going significance of interreligious dialogue, as well as his reluctance to attach himself to Western thought categories, we might expect his pluralism to be more radical, and possibly also more consistent, than the pluralistic theologies that have been severely criticized by post-pluralistic theologians.1 How, then, does Panikkar understand pluralism?2 Why has his pluralism been considered more radical than most other pluralistic theologies? Does he consider religions mutually incommensurable, or does even his understanding of them imply the existence of some common point of contact between radically different ones? If so, does he also tend to explain different religions as manifestations of one and the same transcendental reality? These questions are relevant to any analysis of Panikkar’s theology of religions from a post-pluralistic point of view, and therefore I seek answers to them in the present chapter. Since pluralism is such a central and even fundamental theme in Panikkar’s work, it certainly deserves its own chapter.3 It is not only a question of situating Panikkar in a wider context. The need to study his pluralism emerges from the inner dynamics of his thinking. 1

See above Chapter 1.1. Panikkar makes it clear that he does not speak about pluralism exclusively in the sense of sociological or philosophical discussion. See IH, 55–56. 3 SCD, 247: “The question of pluralism has emerged as one of the stumbling blocks of all that I am trying to defend.” 2

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Pluralism here means that Panikkar adopts as his point of departure a very suspicious attitude towards any thought form with a monistic or imperialistic taint. Thus he cannot remain nonaligned in his thinking. Quite on the contrary, it is due to his pluralism that he tends to criticize harshly ways of thinking that he considers not respectful of the principle of pluralism. This is the reason why we can often sense a polemical attitude in his writing.4 The principal target of this criticism seems to be the proponents of the pursuit of one truth, which he views as a Western way of thinking. According to him, “the Western Syndrome” could be traced to ancient Greeks but it culminated in the modern thinking that began with Descartes. Panikkar sees this syndrome in the tendency to universalize values and concepts, for example, and in the anguish that diversity of opinions creates.5 For him, the essential principle behind Western thought is that “universal means catholic, and catholic means true. What is true and good (for us) is (also) true and good for everybody.”6 Hence the concepts of truth and universality are intimately related to each other in the prevailing Western way of thinking. Contrary to this, Panikkar wishes to emphasize the pluralistic nature of reality—and also of truth7—and the wide variety of human perspectives. Pluralism is needed as an antidote to “the temptation of the Tower of Babel.” He gives as an example of this universalistic thrust the

4 It should be noted that Panikkar is willing to admit that his thinking is no more than one opinion among many. SCD, 247: “In short, my criticism of universalism is not a universal affirmation . . . It tallies with my defense of pluralism, which is not a pluralistic statement . . . It is simply my opinion, which I am striving to defend in a convincing manner.” See also SCD, 257. On the possibility of polemics in a pluralistic frame of reference, see SCD, 254. 5 See IH, 147, 179. 6 IH, 147. Panikkar sees most classical themes and questions of Western thought as symptoms of this syndrome towards one truth (IH, 147): “The ideal of humanity of the Greeks, the inner dynamism of Christianity, the feats of the Western empires, the emancipation of philosophy from theology in order not to be tied to a particular confession, the definition of morality by Kant, the modern cosmological worldview, and so forth, all are explicit examples claiming universality. Plus ultra was the motto of imperial Spain . . . Would government [sic], global village and global perspective, planetarian culture, universal net of information, world market, the alleged universal value of technology, democracy, human rights, nation-states, and so on—all point to the same principle . . .” See also GRP, 388; WCPC, 118. 7 CSR, 81: “. . . truth itself is polyvalent, polysemic, certainly relational, and probably pluralistic at the ultimate level.”; WU, 114.

’      

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contemporary technocratic system.8 Contesting monolithic systems and interpretations seems to be something that characterizes his theology.9 In fact, he stretches pluralism to its limits: it implies such a “radical diversity” that cannot be ignored.10 The diversity of human worldviews endangers the unity of humanity. The challenge that humankind faces today is thus of such a measure that it becomes existential. It is exactly to this predicament with its urgent question of how to live with mutually incompatible systems that pluralism could provide the answer.11 Since Panikkar perceives an inevitable intellectual component in solving practical problems,12 it is not surprising that he pursues a theoretical analysis of the existential problem that pluralism poses. Therefore, I will endeavor to find answers to following questions. What kind of epistemological structures does Panikkar see prevailing in the pluralistic situation? What is the ultimate nature of pluralism; is it, for instance, a psychological attitude, or does it also contain some metaphysical dimensions? In other words, how does Panikkar’s pluralism appear if its epistemological and ontological aspects are analyzed? 3.1.1.1. Perspectivism It is Panikkar’s view that there are radically different perspectives on reality. To emphasize this, he utilizes the metaphor of “windows” through which one perceives the world,13 as the following quotation illustrates: We will have to say that the other is right in discovering that we take the pars pro toto (because the outsider sees the window), but that we

8

NRCUA, 183. See also PUEWC, 188–190. See, e.g., CTBT, 16. 10 IH, 95. 11 See IH, 60–61, 154–155; IH, 58–59: “How can we deal with incompatible systems? . . . The problem of other qua other . . . the true foundation of a pluralistic society is not pragmatism, is not common sense, is not tolerance, is not just lesser evil, but rather that pluralism is rooted in the deepest nature of things.” Not surprisingly, Panikkar’s assessment of the situation resembles the assessment that urges him to stress the necessity of the encounter of religions. See 2.1.2. In fact, the problem of pluralism is identical to the problem of the existence of many different religions and ideologies. 12 See 2.1.1. above. 13 See IH, 95–96, 115, 171–172; MWDG, 43–44. 9

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  are also right in seeing the totum per partem (because we see the panorama). It is a totum for us, but per partem, limited to our vision through the one window. We see the totum, but not totaliter one may say (because we do not see through other windows). . . . This means that we do not need a universal theory as if we could enjoy a global perspective— which is a contradiction in terms.14

Thus everyone thinks that they see the whole panorama through their own window, although the vision is limited in reality. Panikkar depicts this situation as the pars pro toto. On the other hand, one can see the whole reality from one’s own window, which means that it is eventually possible to approach the whole through a partial vision (totum per partem).15 One critical observation should be made. Is not Panikkar himself adopting here a perspective from without? If so, is there not an evident contradiction with his denial of the existence of any bird’s-eye perspective? Here is a dilemma that is inherent in Panikkar’s work: if he aims at analyzing epistemological starting points or outlining the nature of reality, he inevitably has to speak, so to say, from a general perspective. It is evident that the fact that Panikkar exercises metaphysics obliges him to articulate sentences describing reality per se even though he denies in his fundamental thinking any possibility of detaching of one’s own limited perspective and speaking about things “objectively.”16 Perhaps this kind of dilemma is unavoidable in the context of metaphysics. Nonetheless, a certain tension prevails in Panikkar’s thinking between his explicit refusal to speak about things in general and how he himself is obliged to do so when depicting reality. He tries to solve this dilemma by emphasizing the need for intersubjectivity and mutual interaction. It is also in this sense that the conditio sine qua non of his vision is interreligious dialogue, since only through this can we widen our perspective and understand its limits. The epistemological significance of dialogue becomes clearer as Panikkar’s develops his windows metaphor. He sees a kind of epistemological “window” coloring and shaping the view. It is easy to

14

IH, 172. See also JTG, 107; IH, 126–127. 16 Panikkar himself also pays attention to this dilemma. See SCD, 245–247. See also DWVW, 7. 15

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be drawn into thinking that one sees reality as it is, and thus only an outsider can show the existence of a window pane.17 Since our view of reality is intrinsically bound to our own limited perspective, Panikkar’s epistemology could be characterized as perspectivistic.18 If we acknowledge the significance of the “other” as pointing to the existence of a window, we can see how his perspectivism contains a strong emphasis on intersubjectivity and dialogue. He uses the concept of ‘relativity’ here, which means that the context of any statement is eventually mutual “collation” in the sense described above. Hence any adequate epistemology is inevitably placed in the context of intersubjectivity and does not give room for any absolutist claims.19 The existence of many perspectives does not mean that the subjects are separate. On the contrary, the divergence of these perspectives demands dialogue. This means that the subjects in his pluralistic epistemological structure are not, so to say, monads without windows in the Leibnizian sense.20 The laws of relativity and perspectivism are also valid for cultures and religions.21 Thus Panikkar is able to apply the metaphor of windows on these levels, too.22 Since the windows metaphor reflects his idea about a “mythos” that is opaque to oneself, it is not surprising that the principles of relativity and perspectivism also touch upon

17 MWDG, 43: “Es kann keine 360 Grad Glaubenperspektive geben. Was es geben kann, daß man beansprucht . . . durch das eigene Fenster die ganze Wirklichkeit zu sehen. Und je reiner das Fenster ist, desto weniger sehe ich, daß ich durch das Fenster sehe. Und ich brauche den anderen, um mir zu sagen, lieber Mensch, du siehst durch ein Fenster”; IH, 171; SCD, 247; IFOL, vii. Cf. also MRDP, 13, in which Panikkar connects an older metaphor of the rainbow and its many colors with the theme of perspectivism. For this metaphor, see IRD, xix–xxi. 18 Panikkar himself also employs the concept ‘perspectivism’. See, e.g., IH, 95. Further analysis will show how alongside this pluralistic epistemology lies epistemology of a more mystic character. See 4.2. 19 IH, 96. 20 Cf. SG, 142: “Things are but reciprocal constitutive relationships. There are no windowless monads. Radical relativity is not only vertical, but also horizontal.” 21 RT, 16: “. . . neither tradition is totally self-sufficient when seen over against the more universal background of the contemporary situation; that no person or group of persons can exhaust the universal range of human experience . . .” See also IRD, 69; CD, 35–36; SCD, 250–251. 22 IH, 115: “Human rights are one window through which one particular culture envisages a just human order for its individuals. But those who live in that culture do not see the window. For this they need the help of another culture which sees through another window.” According to Panikkar, questions concerning religious and cultural pluralism are intimately related See IH, 95; GRP, 390–391.

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cultures.23 Mythos seems to be first and foremost a collective category in Panikkar’s thinking because he suggests that a culture or a religion shares one and the same mythos.24 In the encounter, different cultures and religions may show each other their fundamental myths. Thus the necessity of an encounter not only between human beings, but also between religions is implied in Panikkar’s perpectivist epistemology. Pluralism leads inevitably to dialogue. Given this, it is understandable why Panikkar so vehemently introduces pluralism as the solution to the dilemma of diversity: it is the dialogical dialogue that can transform “dialectical conflicts” into “dialogical tensions.”25 There emerges a clear metaphor that highlights the significance of collectivity and dialogue: in a situation in which everyone looks out from their own window, mutual dialogue enables them to see the world from a wider perspective.26 3.1.1.2. The Ontological Nature of Pluralism Panikkar is not content with proving the perspective-specific character of different worldviews and the need for dialogue caused by this. His reasoning goes further, since subscribing to the principles of perspectivism and relativity is for him only the very first step towards pluralism. Conceding to pluralism thus leads inexorably to affirming that there is no one, all-encompassing or absolute truth.27 Pluralism entails two far-reaching consequences—namely, the dethronement of reason and the abandonment of the monotheistic paradigm.28

23 See SCD, 247, in which Panikkar juxtaposes the concepts: “We do not see our windows, our myths.” See 2.3. above. 24 BR, 28: “Jede Religion lebt aus ihrem eigenen Mythos, der das Magma ausspeit, aus dem der Logos die eigenen Lehren aufbaut.”; RPC, 107. See also OGD, xiii; CD, 63; IH, 111, 161; RPC, 112, in which the myth means the common ground of a culture. Similarly also Raj 1998, 66–67. 25 CD, 102; IH, 77. See also 2.3. above. 26 The pluralistic situation also demands “hearing,” since language is essentially a medium of communication. SCD, 247–248: “We see through our windows, but listening to others speak we hear other languages. And the others tell us that we are also looking through a window. . . . In order to become aware of the relevance of other windows, without dismissing or ignoring them, we need to hear the witnessing of our neighbors.” 27 See IH, 83, 156. 28 IH, 153; SCD, 250: “Pluralism, as I understand it, puts today the strictest challenge to the monarchy of reason—ultimately to monotheism.”; DPW, 85; GIA, 73. See also IH, 75. For a criticism of reason, see Chapter 2 above. For a criticism of the monotheistic concept of God, see 4.3. below.

’      

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It is noteworthy that, here, Panikkar uses perspectivism as a stepping-stone to a claim of a very strong ontological character. Of course, the epistemological principles of perspectivism and relativity as such are claims of a metaphysical nature, but they cannot be considered strong theological or religious claims: We may subscribe to them without simultaneously affirming such a dramatic conclusion as “the abandonment of the monotheistic paradigm.” Further analysis will show that there are also many other issues where Panikkar’s pluralistic thinking is seen to be loaded with strong religious and theological implications.29 In the meantime, Panikkar’s understanding of pluralism deserves further elucidation. If pluralism were, as he seems to suggest, more than an attitude or an affirmation of diversity, what, then, would be an adequate characterization of it? First, Panikkar depicts pluralism “as a living symbol whose purview includes both the nature of Man and that of the World.”30 In the light of this characterization, pluralism has a wide scope with profound anthropological and cosmological dimensions. It seems that in Panikkar’s thinking, pluralism stands for the kind of vision that penetrates into the very heart of reality. Therefore, the problem of pluralism is “a philosophical question regarding reality”,31 and concerns the deepest possible level, i.e., that of “mythos.”32 Since the nature of man as well as of reality are, according to Panikkar, pluralistic,33 it is not surprising that he rather often alludes to reality as such as an argument for pluralism. He even claims that different “kosmologies”—one of his neologisms meaning how the world “reveals to us”—are not only different world-views, but also different worlds.34 The ontological nature of pluralism is evident, 29 It is worth noting here that Panikkar’s “leap” from pluralism, argued on the basis of perspectivism, to the rejection of monotheism—that is, a shift from the epistemological level to the theological-ontological level—is legitimate in the light of his thinking, since in knowing and being, the perspectives of epistemology and ontology merge. See 4.2. 30 IH, 55. 31 SCD, 250. 32 OCI, 1: “Pluralism, by definition, does not admit of a pluralistic system. Pluralism belongs to the order of the mythos and not of the logos.” 33 IH, 74–75. See also IH, 98–99. As a tentative observation, it could be said that this other central concept of Panikkar—“pluralism”—is also associated with his understanding of reality. On how “the dialogical dialogue” belongs to the realization of the creative nature of reality, see 2.3. above. 34 See NVR, 289.

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since according to him, “the passage, the pascha from plurality to pluriformity and thence to pluralism, belongs to the growing pains of creation, to the very dynamism of the university.”35 It could be concluded that he sees pluralism and its realization as part and parcel of the ontological process that goes on in reality itself. On the other hand, the human consciousness seems to be a significant factor in this process.36 The response that Panikkar puts forward to the challenge of diversity does not allow the imposition of one model, but, rather, affirms the pluralism of different perspectives and points of view. This pluralism inevitably leads to the denial of all absolutist claims. Panikkar summarizes his understanding of pluralism in the following words: . . . I understand by pluralism that fundamental human attitude which is critically aware both of the factual irreducibility (thus incompatibility) of different human systems purporting to render reality intelligible, and of the radical non-necessity of reducing reality to one single center of intelligibility, making thus unnecessary an absolute decision in favor of a particular human system with universal validity—or even one Supreme Being.37

Panikkar defines pluralism here as an “attitude.”38 However, the previous analysis seems to prove that pluralism belongs to the dynamic character of the universe. It thus has something to do with reality itself. How do these definitions fit together? What are the prerequisites under which Panikkar can describe pluralism both as a human attitude and as a dimension of reality as such? It is not merely a question of two parallel but unrelated features. Quite the contrary, these two dimensions are intertwined in Panikkar’s thinking. He seems to consider an act of human consciousness, i.e., affirming pluralism, tantamount to participation in the creative process of the universe, i.e., the ontological nature of reality. Is this a gross contradiction? If both of these aspects—pluralism as a human attitude and pluralism as the process of reality—are valid, does it not mean that Panikkar abolishes the boundary between being and knowing? As a matter of 35

IH, 80. This latter aspect is clear in the light of IH, 101: “. . . truth is pluralistic because reality itself is pluralistic, not being an objectifiable entity. We subjects are also part of it. We are not only spectators of the Real, we are also co-actors and even coauthors of it. This is precisely our human dignity.” 37 SCD, 252–253. 38 See also SCD, 255. 36

’      

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fact, the former question should be answered negatively, for Panikkar’s thinking is not contradictory in its own terms. He indeed rejects the age-old differentiation between being and knowing.39 Here it is clear how his thinking differs from the mainstream of Western philosophy on the fundamental level. It cannot be denied that both aspects—pluralism as attitude and pluralism as metaphysics—belong to Panikkar’s thinking. It is true that pluralism is an attitude of human consciousness. For Panikkar, however, human consciousness does not stand, so to say, outside the realm of reality. Instead, it participates authentically in the pluralistic reality and its processes. This is strikingly similar to the findings of the analysis of Panikkar’s understanding of “the dialogical dialogue”40 Therefore, to sum up, it could be said that a kind of metaphysical correspondence between human consciousness and reality as such prevails in Panikkar’s way of thinking.41 3.1.2. The Impossibility of a Universal Theory If we are to comprehend the intentions behind Panikkar’s pluralism, we should take note of how deliberately he tries to resist the temptation of superficial pluralism, as well as the possibility to create a universal theory or adopt a bird’s-eye perspective. For instance, he fundamentally modifies the old simile “many paths, one goal” to suit for his radical pluralism. This simile has been much alluded to, especially by Neo-Hindus, and perceives religions as different paths leading to the one and only peak of a mountain. Since all paths eventually lead to the peak, it does not matter which of them one follows.42 Nevertheless, Panikkar does not subscribe to this simile as such. He observes that, in fact, the peak is the result of the slopes leading to it. For this reason, one cannot separate the way from the goal. Panikkar means to repudiate this kind of “nominalistic” way

39

See 4.2.2. below. See 2.3. above. 41 For more on this, see 4.2. 42 It is widely known that this was the teaching of Ramakrishna. See Richards 1996, 65. Neufeldt (1987, 67) says: “The Gospel [of Sri Ramakrishna] depicts Ramakrishna as popularizing the idea of ‘many paths, one goal,’ through a number of images and illustrations . . .” See also Sharpe 1977, 59–64; Klostermaier 1994, 438: “Ramakrishna is the source of the widely accepted ‘all-religions-are-the-same’ theory.” 40

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of thinking that forms the basis of the traditional version of the simile of the many ways leading to the one peak. On the other hand, he admits that the goal always, in a certain sense, transcends the ways since none of them can be identified with it. It is only on the map that there are many ways. For the wanderer, there is always only one way, and that is “the Way.”43 As a pluralist, Panikkar affirms that there are, in principle, many ways. Nonetheless, he does not wish to see the kind of thinking that just acknowledges the existence of many ways described as ‘pluralism’. Pluralism is deeper: Pluralism, therefore, does not mean that we recognize many ways (plurality) but that we detect many forms which we cannot recognize as ways leading to the goal. Pluralism does not mean just tolerance of the many ways. It is rather that human attitude which faces intolerance without being broken.44

Pluralism in the genuine sense of the word means being ready to encounter and tolerate the ways that are not recognizable as ways leading to the goal. It means being able to, so to say, accept another as the other. Panikkar also includes a negative aspect in his understanding of pluralism, namely, a kind of pain of encounter. What dimensions, then, are included in such an “attitude which faces intolerance without being broken”? This question is addressed later. At this stage, it is sufficient to note that Panikkar depicts pluralism as a demanding undertaking. A similar emphasis on the seriousness of questions related to pluralism emerged in above discussion: according to Panikkar, existing religious and cultural pluralism threaten the unity of humankind.45 As a solution, he recommends dialogue. Therefore, “parallelism” is not pluralism in the authentic sense of the word. Panikkar refers to it as an attitude according to which different creeds meet only on

43 UCH, 24–25. See also MRDP, 17. The simile of the many ways retains its ambiguity, in a certain sense, on the theoretical level: the relationship between the way and the goal could probably be best understood if the way is in a symbolic relationship with the goal. For Panikkar’s understanding of symbol, see Raj 1998, 58–63. Cf. also 1.1.3. above. Cf. also STC, 32: “As a great Spanish poet said: ‘Wayfarer! there is no way, the way is in the walking.’ This is the core of religion.” Using the “walking” itself as a metaphor instead of the “way” is in line with Panikkar’s ideas of “growth.” On this, see 2.2. above. 44 IH, 82. See also OCI, 11. 45 See 3.1.1. above.

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the ultimate, eschatological level. Sheer parallelism is out of the question given his strong emphasis on interaction between religions. His understanding of the nature of religions is so dynamic that any model emphasizing ways as parallel does not satisfy him.46 The dynamics of his way of thinking are evident when he states that I am not for a pantheon of religious symbols in peaceful co-existence. I am for the perichoresis, for the circumincessio, for the mutual dance and interpenetration . . .47

Panikkar’s pluralism allows the existence of meeting points—and it may be possible that one walks on different roads during the journey.48 It seems to be contrary to what is said above that, elsewhere, Panikkar compares religions to rivers that do not meet each other.49 This river metaphor deserves quoting at length: . . . the rivers of earth do not actually meet each other not even in the oceans, nor do they need to meet in order to be truly life-giving rivers. But “they” do meet: they meet in the skies—that is, in heaven. The rivers do not meet, not even as water. “They” meet in the form of clouds, once they have suffered a transformation into vapor, which eventually will pour down again into the valleys of mortals to feed the rivers of the earth. Religions do not coalesce, certainly not as organized religions. They meet once transformed into vapor, once metamorphosized into Spirit, which then is poured down in innumerable tongues. The rivers are fed by descending clouds, and also by terrestrial and subterranean sources, after another transformation, that of

46 See IRD, xviii–xix. On Panikkar’s vitalistic and evolutionist understanding of religions, see 2.2. above. 47 MRDP, 13. 48 MRDP, 17: “That [crossing over to another path] depends on your karma, or on your guts if you want a secularized expression, or on your conscience.” Nevertheless, it should be noted that Panikkar does not think that we can just choose our religious conviction. Contrary to any individualistic notion, he tries to remain sensitive to the meaning of traditions and their presence in a human subject. He hence continues (MRDP, 17): “. . . If you are now between the Hindu and Christian traditions you cannot say by any stretch of imagination that you are a Melanesian, or a shaman. My possibilities are limited. I said, I ‘left’ as a Christian, ‘found’ myself a Hindu, and ‘returned’ a Buddhist, but I did not say, a Melanesian, a Sikh or a Jew.” See also MRDP, 20: “Tradition is not something you can rid of at will. You may divorce your wife, but you cannot change your parents.” However, cf. also SCD, 271, in which the same is articulated with another metaphor: “We do not meet each other by chopping off all our differences but by climbing to the peaks of the diverse traditions.” 49 Of course, Panikkar’s metaphors vary according to the contexts. They therefore these cannot be systematized, but it is the scope that is significant.

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  snow and ice into water. The true reservoir of religions lies not only in the doctrinal waters of theology; it lies also in the transcendental vapor (revelation) of the divine clouds, and in the immanent ice and snow (inspiration) from the glaciers and snow-laden mountains of the saints. . . . My metaphor does not stand for the transcendent unity of all religions in an unqualified way. It goes in this direction, but I should not like to confuse the actual rivers with chemically pure water. Each water is different, as is each religion—each river carries its proper salts and micro-organisms. Nor should we forget that the waters undergo a transformation (of death and resurrection—into water, snow, and again water), which alone allows them to go on fertilizing the earth.50

The scope of this metaphor is quite clearly in the radically transcendental nature of the meeting point of religions. According to Panikkar, the rivers of religions do not even meet in the oceans. Hence they do not have any common goal. They do not even contain the same water because each river carries its own contents. The meeting of the rivers of the earth takes place in the “vapor” of the clouds, i.e., on the transcendental level, from the perspective of the concrete rivers. How should this metaphor be interpreted? Is it not in tension with the claims of “the dialogical dialogue,” according to which there is always a mutual enrichment in encounter? First, we can understand the meaning of Panikkar’s metaphor only if we are aware of the version of the metaphor of religions as rivers that do meet in the ocean. A similar purpose highlighting the ultimate sameness of religions is served by another metaphor, according to which it is unimportant on what side of the pool the water lies, or what it is called.51 Thus here, too, Panikkar gives a modified version of a well-known simile, as with the metaphor of paths leading to the peak of a mountain. There is no reason to focus on the details of the metaphor because what matters is the scope. The premise is that both sheer parallelism and na«ve essentialism, according to which religions are the same in essence, are out of the question. To sum up, Panikkar insists on more radical pluralism. Secondly, although he reformulates these traditional metaphors, he does not reject them altogether. This aspect of continuation is worth noting. For instance, a close reading of the metaphor of rivers shows that Panikkar does not deny that different rivers do ultimately contain the same components and also belong to the same unity. 50 51

JTG, 92. These are also metaphors popularized by Ramakrishna. See Richards 1996, 65.

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Since rivers consist of water—it does not matter that each of them has its own contents—, they may meet eventually as “vapor.” This means that rivers meet, so to say, purified and without the contents that give each one its particular character. On the other hand, this “vapor” cannot be identified as such since it is situated “in the skies” and therefore transcends this world. What Panikkar means by “transformation,” and what is the “water” that rivers (i.e., religions) have in common, are discussed below. At this stage, attention should be given to how he uses the metaphors to highlight the radical diversity of religions and distances himself from parallelism. This radical diversity also gives him a reason to vehemently deny the possibility of adopting a universal perspective from which religions could be made relative or viewed objectively.52 Every religion is a radically autonomous totality . . . like a galaxy that simultaneously generates its own criteria for thinking as well as for truth and reality. . . . To be precise, there cannot be any comparative religion or comparative philosophy. There is no neutral point of view.53

Panikkar considers the diversity of religions to be so compelling that, in principle, it jeopardizes the legitimacy of comparative religion.54 This kind of radical pluralism seems to be reflected in the way he categorically denies the possibility of any universal theory: My thesis is clear: a universal theory of whatever kind denies pluralism. Any alleged universal theory is one particular theory, besides many others, that claims universal validity, thus trespassing the limits of its own legitimacy. Further, no theory can be absolutely universal, because theory, the contemplation of truth, is neither a universal contemplation, nor is (theoretical) “truth” all that there is to Reality.55 52

See IH, 37; SCD, 247. BR, 28: “Jede Religion ist wie eine Galaxie, die gleichzeitig ihre eigenen DenkKriterien und auch Wahrheits- und Wirklichkeitskriterien herausarbeitet. Deshalb muß man, um gültige Vergleiche ziehen zu können, die homöomorphen Entsprechungen erkennen und anführen. Streng genommen kann es keine Vergleichende Religionswissenschaft oder Vergleichende Philosophie geben. Es gibt keinen neutralen Standpunkt.” See also IFOL, vii: “Every religion, as every world-view, has an inbuilt Totalitätsanspruch, a certain claim to be formally exhaustive.” On “homeomorphic equivalents”(homöomorphen Entsprechungen) mentioned in the quotation, see, e.g., RPC, 101–103. Panikkar alludes here to functionally similar elements in different religions. 54 Cf. also GRP, 410: “. . . ich von der wissenschaftlichen Seite her gegen den Begriff der vergleichenden Religionsphilosophie bin, weil man keinen dritten unabhängigen Standpunkt hat, um die Vergleiche anzustellen.” See also WCPC, 116, 134. 55 IH, 161. 53

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Thus, any theory that presents itself as “universal” cannot be so. First, every theory is bound to its starting-point—there does not exist any 360–degree vision or global perspective.56 Secondly, theory as such already approaches reality from a limited perspective.57 In similar tone, the radical nature of pluralism is highlighted in Panikkar’s rejection of the idea of a universal language. He deliberately repudiates any effort to construct such a meta-language, a kind of “ecumenical Esperanto.”58 On the contrary, he clearly states many times that he highly regards the multiplicity of languages.59 The above discussion shows that, with his pluralism, Panikkar takes—at least rhetorically—such a radical stance that he distances himself from more traditional, and also more superficial, forms of pluralism. He does not wish to be associated with the pluralism that he characterizes as parallelism. This explains why he is considered the one who has been inspiring the emergence of the post-pluralistic theology of religions.60 However, this kind of interpretation is only a half-truth. The analysis should continue in order to bring out another of his lines of thought. 3.2. T A F  R My analysis thus far proves how Panikkar wishes to obviate all monistic models of thinking due to the irreducibly pluralistic essence of reality. Nevertheless, he is not content merely to express this. More 56 See MWDG, 43; IH, 101; SCD, 247. Cf. however SNSE, 49, in which “a more global vision of everything” has a positive connotation. See also SCD, 257, in which Panikkar considers the classical Indian simile of an elephant, which is conceived differently by blind men according to the part of the animal they touch, as “anti-pluralistic”: “. . . all the others are partial, all say some truth, but only I (we) know the whole elephant. Authentic pluralists know that they do not know the elephant either, and, based on the testimony of the others, doubt that anybody knows the elephant.” Actually, reality as such (an sich) does not even exist, for Panikkar is a conceptual realist. Reality itself is enhanced by every perspective (symbol). See Ahlstrand 1993, 89–91. This feature of Panikkar’s thinking is elucidated below in the context of his Christology. See 4.1.5. 57 See 2.1. above. 58 IH, 14, 146; SCD, 244. Cf. here, e.g., Swidler 1987, 20–26. 59 See also IH, 109–110. Of course, this feature is connected with his understanding of ‘words’ and the total character of every language, as well as of religion. See VE, 19–25. See also 1.2.1. above. 60 See 1.1.4. above.

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is at stake, since, as seen above, he thinks pluralism is so radical that it poses an existential challenge, and even threatens the very existence of humankind.61 Therefore, there also prevails in his thinking a strong tendency to view religions in a holistic perspective, and even to seek some common point of contact between them. Observing this kind of dialectics is of crucial importance in the struggle to comprehend his deepest inclinations. The question of pluralism is without doubt existential for Panikkar himself: if religions were only mutually incompatible entities, what would this mean to his multireligious identity?62 3.2.1. A Holistic Vision of Pluralistic Reality I have shown above that, according to Panikkar, pluralism as well as the dialogical dialogue are grounded in the pluralistic nature of reality itself, and that they are tantamount to participating in its essence.63 Correspondingly, concepts such as ‘pluralism’ and ‘dialogue’ are dynamic and have evident ontological connotations in Panikkar’s usage. The horizon of these kinds of words is therefore ultimately cosmic. It is exactly this kind of strong metaphysical and, so to say, religious tone in his pluralism that distinguishes him from other pluralists, let alone from defenders of the multicultural society. The comprehensive character of his thinking explains why he is not satisfied with any “plurality” or “pluriformity.”64 There are evidently more profound reasons why he prefers to speak about pluralism, rather than only to highlight the autonomous character of different religions and world-views. This side of Panikkar’s thinking —we could call it “holistic”— should be seized upon and the following questions posed. How does Panikkar bring together the search for unity and the critical stance towards universalist models emerging from his pluralism? Or does he have two dialectic, if not incompatible, themes?65 In the light of 61

See 3.1.1. above. On Panikkar’s Hindu-Christian background, see 1.1.2. above. 63 See 2.3. above. 64 See IH, 95; RPC, 120. 65 There is an obvious tension in Panikkar’s basic question (BS, 130): “Is there but the possibility of a Oneness without a second which still does not fall into a simplistic monism? Or, from the other perspective, is it possible to give due credit to all the ingredients of reality without falling into the indiscriminate atomistic anarchy of sheer plurality?” See also BS, 56: “Present-day religious consciousness tries 62

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what is said above, this venture should be impossible. Does not Panikkar’s own thesis of the non-existence of any all-embracing perspective entail the categorical unfeasibility of this kind of holistic aspiration? Does not Panikkar himself vehemently reject all efforts to rebuild a tower of Babel?66 I do not intend to deny the relative profoundness of Panikkar’s pluralism compared with many other pluralistic theologies of religions that are easily criticized from the post-pluralistic point of view.67 However, I will say that a certain dissonance is discernible in his radical pluralism. Before assessing its consequences in terms of the coherence of his thinking, I will give due analytical attention to this holistic tendency. The following passage indicates what Panikkar is eventually seeking: What would happen if we simply gave up wanting to build this tremendous unitarian tower? What if instead we were to remain in our small beautiful huts and houses and homes and domes and start building roads of communication . . .? And even if we cannot quite give up the dream of a unitarian Mankind—this dream in the monolithic system of the tower of Babel which has become our recurring nightmare—could it not be met by just building roads of communication rather than some gigantic new empire, ways of communion instead of coercion, paths which might lead us to overstep our provincialisms without tossing us all into a single sack, into a single cult, into the monotony of a single culture? This, in sum, is what I want to say.68 [Italics mine.]

Panikkar hence does not entirely abandon “the dream of a unitarian Mankind.” Instead, he shifts the emphasis from building one single system or universal theory to communication.69 His stressing of the urgent need for interreligious dialogue should therefore be seen as an attempt to create communication through which to build “bridges” (Brücken) that connect different religious “fortresses” (Burgen).70 to realize an integration without falling into a compromise, to achieve unification without degenerating into mere juxtaposition. Is this possible?” 66 See IH, 52–55. 67 See 1.1.3. and 1.1.4. above. 68 IH, 54–55. See also PPPR, 33, 39. 69 IH, 173; RPC, 120. 70 BR, 32: “Der Dialog ist der Weg zur Überwindungen der Solipsismen und Egoismen jeder Art. . . . Das Gespräch ebnet Wege und baut eventuell auch Brücken über Gräben hinweg, die verschiedene religiöse Burgen voneinander trennen.” It should be noted that this kind of searching for sameness in forms of otherness is characteristic for the phenomenological-hermeneutical tradition, and thus very Western. See Murphy 2001, 45.

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On the other hand, since the problem of pluralism arises in particular where it is question of “unbridgeable” human attitudes,71 and since dialogue is in its proper place in the context of pluralistic problems,72 it could be concluded that Panikkar aims at building bridges between positions that are, in principle, unbridgeable.73 The intrinsic tension between dialogue and pluralism existing in Panikkar’s thinking could be summarized as follows. ‘Dialogue’ conceptualizes his endeavor to build bridges between different human positions, whereas ‘pluralism’ describes the unbridgeable character of these positions. On the other hand, the above analysis has shown that, despite the inherent tension, both of these concepts go, so to say, hand in hand. Panikkar intends to advocate a middle way that could provide the basis for communication, although not for any single system.74 The tension existing in Panikkar’s thinking seems to be a consequence of a similar tension that is embedded in the idea of crossculturality itself. 75 Therefore he is obliged, on the one hand, to stress pluralism and the radical diversity of human perspectives and horizons of understanding. However, on the other hand, he has a strong wish to bring these different perspectives into mutual interaction, and thus to create communication instead of isolation. His ambitious enterprise is to gather the scattered fragments of reality, to reconstruct “the body of Prajàpati.”76 Recovering “a holistic wisdom” and grasping an unbroken vision of fragmented reality is a project of ultimate significance and urgency. This holds true both theoretically and spiritually.77 Therefore, an integrative undercurrent in his 71

IH, 153. DD, 207. 73 Cf. how Panikkar refers to his hermeneutics for interreligious dialogue as “diatopical,” i.e., building bridges between different human topoi. See PLS, 205. Cf. also Jathanna 1999, 8–9, in which the aspect of unbridgeableness is given too much weight. However, Jathanna observes rightly that Panikkar’s strong emphasis on pluralism is in tension with his will to dialogue. This principal tension is also referred to in Yadav 1987, 179–183; Ramachandra 1996, 101. 74 See RPC, 103, 113. Cf. here also Krieger 1991, 89. 75 On this tension, see Schreiter 1997, 42–43. Cf. SCD, 250: “All our talk of crosscultural studies and mutual fecundation would remain barren if we had not the daring to break the cultural frontiers which, like ‘iron curtains’ and ‘Berlin walls,’ isolate people, cultures and religions.” 76 See CE, 2. 77 IRD, 20; SCD, 229. See also DMTM, 157–159. Cf. also BS, 36–38, in which Panikkar sees this aspiration as the very core of monkhood—monkhood being one dimension of humanity (BS, 14). 72

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thinking is discernible next to the overall emphasis on pluralism.78 Nevertheless, it is impossible to keep these aspirations leading to different directions apart, since both of them belong to the very core of Panikkar’s thinking. It is worth noting how he inserts an integrative aspect into the very concept ‘pluralism’.79 In his language, therefore, pluralism is clearly tantamount to a profoundly holistic vision of a reality consisting of numerous perspectives and points of view. It does not mean disunity and isolation, but rather communication and mutual relationships, as already evident in his thoughts concerning the encounter of religions.80 Since the human situation seems to include both of these aspects,81 the concept ‘pluralism’ has an obvious dialectical nature in his writings. It not only alludes to diversity, but it also has an intrinsic dimension of unity. Panikkar considers his seemingly ambivalent wish to build bridges between unbridgeable human positions a matter of urgency: when human civilization is “on the brink of a mutation,” the profound ties existing between the different human traditions should be stressed and the ultimate unity on the level of the “faith” discovered.82 It seems that he programmatically takes a stand for community and against isolation—with the significant qualification that community must not be generated at the expense of diversity. Sometimes these opposite emphases lead Panikkar to evident inconsistencies. On the one hand, although he may say that “[i]f two views allow for a synthesis, we cannot speak of pluralism,”83 on the other hand, does not his own vitalistic view of dialogue emphasize the inevitability of a certain synthesis?84 He, indeed, calls his own 78 Cargas 1995, viii: “The cornerstone of Panikkar’s vision is integrative.”; Yadav 1987, 181: “Panikkar . . . is for discordant voices of human traditions, for multivocity. But Panikkar is also for unitive plurality, for interreligious concord and agreement, for unanimity and consensus.” The last major endeavor of Panikkar’s intellectual life seems to be integrative (DMTM, 150): “Ich bin zu einem Lebensstadium gelangt, in dem die vielen Fäden meiner Studienfächer zusammenkommen müssen, um ein harmonisches und doch pluralistisches Gewebe zu gestalten.” 79 IH, 96: “Pluralism means something more than sheer acknowledgment of plurality and the mere wishful thinking of unity. . . . Pluralism accepts the irreconcilable aspects of religions without being blind to the common aspects.” 80 See Chapter 2 above. 81 IH, 99: “We belong together, even if our notions and codes are incompatible. The radius and the circumference belong together even if they are mutually incommensurable. Pluralism belongs to the human condition.” 82 UCH, 25. 83 IH, 153. 84 See 2.1. above.

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way of thinking a “synthesis,” as well as something that should be pursued.85 My aim in the following is to prove that these kinds of inconsistencies are not only rhetorical slips: an inherent tension lurks in Panikkar’s vision and seriously questions the coherence of his radical pluralism—at least, if this is evaluated from the point of view of post-pluralistic criticism.86 3.2.2. “Faith” as an Anthropological Invariant It is evident that Panikkar’s demand for communication necessitates the existence of a point of contact between religions. Here is the touchstone of his pluralism. Does he succeed in finding such a point of contact between different religions, as required by his understanding of dialogue, without simultaneously reducing the essence of religions to one and the same principle or dissolving their identities? I have shown above that Panikkar’s understanding of religion could be seen as vitalistic.87 Religions are like plants that have the same substrate or root. That a kind of biological interaction can occur between different religions requires that they belong to the same category, at least in some respect. Panikkar seems to adopt the kind of methodological stance in comparative religion that involves searching for the common essence of religion, or at least perceiving religion as a category of its own.88 The following two quotations reflect Panikkar’s use of biological language. Moreover, these passages are very revealing since they aim

85

CP, 15. See also CE, 18; DMTM, 150–151, 171; SCD, 266–267. Panikkar himself has given attention to this inbuilt tension (SCD, 245): “Am I not contradicting myself criticizing universalism, i.e., acknowledging the factual incommensurability of ultimate rational systems, and at the same time offering a pattern which seems to claim universal validity? Am I not defeating my purpose criticizing the global syndrome . . . and advancing a universal argument against such totalitarian attempts?” In fact, Panikkar does not defend himself in front of these rhetorical questions he poses himself, nor does he deny their legitimacy. He contents himself only with stating the following and proceeds to deliberate upon the character of universal claims and the pars pro toto—effect: “I may be right or wrong regarding universalism or pluralism . . . but my position is still coherent.” On the other hand, with his mystical attitude he tries to go beyond this kind of question. See UCH, 22–23. 87 See 2.2. above. 88 This kind of understanding of ‘religion’ is especially characteristic of the phenomenology of religion (e.g., Mircea Eliade), to which, in my view, Panikkar stands very close. See, e.g., King 1999, 10–14; Murphy 2001, 37–38. However, for criticism of the meaningfulness of the whole category of ‘religion’, cf. King 1999, 35–81. 86

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at indicating the existence of some common denominator beyond the divergence of religions. In the first, Panikkar clearly expresses that all different religions are eventually rooted in the same ground: . . . the Philosophy of Religion I anticipate would not reduce all religions to one homogenous pudding. On the contrary, it would allow the most variegated beliefs and religious traditions to flourish in its field, uprooting only isolationism and misunderstanding . . . to make room for a healthy and natural pluralism. We will have a true Philosophy of Religion not by lumping everything together, but by discovering Man’s religious root, which grows, flowers and gives fruit in the most multiform way. Only the walls may fall, and private gardens open their gates. . . . Such a philosophy results only from the mystical adventure of seeing truth from within more than one religious tradition.89 [Italics mine.]

It is noteworthy that Panikkar sees this way of thinking to be a consequence of a multireligious experience, that is, of “the mystical adventure of seeing truth from within more than one religious tradition.” Even decades later90 he is willing to speak in a similar fashion about deep roots that connect different human perspectives: . . . when the roots (Wurzeln) go deep enough, we could assume that this root is perhaps the common root but that the tree . . . standing on these roots probably is not universal? . . . We are spiritually united but remain different. . . . And then our communion . . . does not consist of that we all mean the same, not that we could harmonize all interpretations, since there are inconsistent, opposing doctrines that could not be harmonized, even so one may find the roots . . . although these roots are so humble that they remain underground.91 [Italics mine.]

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IRD, 51–52. We should be aware of the difference in time between these quotations, for it proves that this idea has been a constant factor in Panikkar’s thinking. The first text was first published in 1968, i.e., coincidental to the pluralistic turn in his thought, whereas the latter originates from 1993. 91 MWDG, 43–44: “Ich würde Ihnen vorläufig und diskussionshalber zustimmen, daß, wenn die Wurzeln genügend tief gehen, wir diese Wurzel vielleicht als gemeinsame Wurzel annehmen können, aber daß der Baum . . . der auf diesen Wurzeln steht, vielleicht nicht universal ist? . . . Wir sind geistig sehr verbunden, aber wir bleiben verschieden. . . . Und dann ist unsere Verbindung nicht eine rein intellektuelle. Sie besteht nicht darin, daß wir alle dasselbe meinen, nicht darin, daß wir sämtliche Auslegungen in Einklang bringen können, denn es gibt widerspruchsvolle, gegensätzliche Lehren, die sich nicht versöhnen lassen; und trotzdem entdeckt man vieleicht [sic] die Wurzeln, wie Sie so schön sagen, wenn diese Wurzeln so demütig sind, daß sie unterirdisch bleiben.” Panikkar is here giving a response to a comment of Pinchas Lapide. 90

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In my view, these quotations provide a key to understanding how Panikkar solves the persisting dilemma of the theology of religions: religions are indeed different, but due to their common anthropological foundation, they are not irrevocably devoid of mutual communicability. This allows him even to speak explicitly about “Man’s religious root.” Since the roots of different religions are to be found at a deeper level, it is exactly there that he locates the point of contact enabling interreligious dialogue. Panikkar denies the existence of “cultural universals.” However, he sees that “human invariants” exist, which acquire versatile forms according to different cultures. They are based on a certain oneness of human nature.92 Clearly, religion belongs to the latter category.93 As a human invariant—i.e., as a kind of anthropological basic category—‘religion’ assumes a crucial meaning in Panikkar’s thinking. Even if he denies the possibility of attaining religion as such, a certain idealized concept of ‘religion’ or ‘spirituality’ seems to precede concrete religions in his thinking.94 How different religions belong to one and the same category can also be seen in the metaphors of “rivers” and “ways” analyzed above.95 Panikkar’s reformulated versions of these old similes still retain the idea of convergence, albeit only on a much deeper or more transcendental level than the original forms suggested: he assumes in his metaphor of roads that different ways eventually construct one and the same mountain, since religions are different aspects of one “Mystery.” Despite the fact that water is always contaminated in any concrete river, the river metaphor implies that it is water as such that eventually unites the different ones—albeit vaporized in the skies.

RPC, 107–108: “. . . there are no cultural universals, i.e. concrete meaningful contents valid for all the cultures, for mankind throughout all times. . . . But there are, for sure, human invariants. Every man eats, sleeps, walks, speaks, establishes relationships, thinks . . . But the way according which, each one of the human invariants is lived and experienced in each culture, is distinct and distinctive in each case”; SCD, 256; ITR, 258: “There is one human nature, but there are many human cultures.” 93 See IRD, xxi–xxiii; HRMR, 515–516; GRP, 390. 94 A similar interpretation is also provided in Bochinger 1994, 396: “. . . steht auch bei Panikkar das Thema der ‘Spiritualität’ im Kontext des Versuches, die Realität des Religiösen als eines ‘Ursprünglichen’ vor den ‘Entfaltungen und Ausgestaltungen’ der konkreten historischen Religionen zu erweisen.” 95 On these metaphors, see 3.1.2. above. 92

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Given the analysis thus far, Panikkar’s theology of religions could be summarized in the following way: the diversity of religions is genuine on the doctrinal and phenomenological levels. Therefore, religions cannot be said to be one and the same. Nevertheless, on the deep anthropological level, too—i.e., in the “underground”—where the roots of religions are to be found, there exists a profound tie between them. On the phenomenological level, Panikkar’s theology of religions could be characterized as radically pluralistic, although he seems to represent the kind of qualified essentialism that allows ‘religion’ to be seen as a single category, even though the “sameness” of different religions is located on the very transcendent level.96 With a view to obtaining a clearer understanding of Panikkar’s pluralism, I will next analyze what kind of bond unites religions on the deep level. A good way to begin is with his observation that a “constitutive religious dimension” belongs inexorably to humanity. Religiousness seems to be an essential, if not the most essential, feature of his anthropology: for him, man is always homo religiosus.97 It is exactly this religious dimension of anthropology that provides Panikkar with a pivotal point upon which to hinge interreligious dialogue as well as the integration of different traditions: since human nature is “metaontologically” one, the actual boundaries of religions could be overcome. Since “in a certain respect [religions] exhibit the same nature,” dialogue is an option.98 Even though human beings live their fundamental religiosity in different ways, it is this dimen-

96 For an interpretation of Panikkar that alludes to similar ideas, cf. Prabhu 1996, 11–12. 97 See CSR, 72, 79; SCD, 263; GRP, 377, 390; EM, 278: “. . . Man is unavoidably religious, homo religiosus.” 98 IRD, 69: “A genuine Philosophy of Religion in our times . . . has to be dialogical and like a net encompass the different religious experiences of mankind. The main thing favoring such an enterprise is . . . the fact that there exists something like a fundamental religousness, a constitutive religious dimension in Man, an inbuilt religious or basically human factor, whatever we may care to call it. . . . Mankind—human nature if one prefers, is metaontologically one. This allows the possibility of an experience that certainly implies overcoming the actual boundaries of a particular religion, without its betrayal.” [Italics mine.]; IRD, 21–22: “I am not suggesting that all beliefs are equal and interchangeable; I am saying that in a certain respect they exhibit the same nature, which makes dialogue, and even dialectics, possible. Moreover, I assert they are generally equivalent in that every belief has a similar function: to express Man’s faith, that faith which is the anthropological dimension through which Man reaches his goal . . .” [Italics mine.] See also Krieger 1991, 57.

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sion itself that binds humankind together. Different ways of expressing religiosity are therefore to be seen as complementary.99 As the above highlights, Panikkar wishes to emphasize differences between religions and to favor religious pluralism. Nevertheless, his thinking involves such a strong integrative propensity, due to which these differences may complement rather than contradict each other.100 Despite the distinctive cosmologies, anthropologies, and theologies, the deepest intuition of all religions cuts in the same direction.101 This “metaontological” oneness of religions becomes clearer in the light of how Panikkar utilizes analogies between “language” and “languages,” as well as between “faith” and “beliefs.” Panikkar understands that language is one of the human invariants. He says that “the primordial language” is “hidden” in spoken languages “not as a language . . . but as language,” which entails that language as a human invariant, in a certain sense, precedes concrete languages.102 Nevertheless, he emphasizes the fact that nobody speaks “language” in the abstract. Everybody has always to speak “a language.” Moreover, concrete languages are so autonomous that they do not even say “the same thing.” Instead, each of them represents a world of their own. This autonomy does not preclude mutual interaction of different languages. For instance, a language may borrow elements from another and then assimilate these into its own body.103 Comparing religions to languages also helps to explain why Panikkar denies taking any bird’s-eye perspective regarding religions:

99 MRDP, 31; RPMC, 109. Nevertheless, cf. AW, 91–92, with its rather formal articulation of religions and their different goals. 100 IH, 179–180: “Consensus ultimately means to walk in the same direction, not to have just one rational view.” See also Yadav 1987, 181: “There seems to be an irony here. In Panikkar’s theology of religious plurality, human beings have different, even dialectically opposed, forms of intelligibility. . . . The contradictory forms of expressions do not function in contradictory ways, however . . .” 101 BS, 66. See also SG, 39. 102 WCPC, 132. 103 IRD, xxiii–xxvi; IH, 163; WU, 114; SCD, 267. Concrete languages cannot be seen as only conveying information. The result of this understanding would be parallelism that is based on a “nominalistic” and “crypto-Kantian” way of thinking, and would ignore the strong autonomy of languages. Cf. also BR, 10 note 2. On “parallelism,” see 3.1.2. above. Panikkar’s refusal to see languages only as vehicles of information is founded on his dynamic understanding of words. See 1.2.1. above.

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  The linguistic model . . . makes it clear that we cannot compare languages (religions) outside language (religion) and that there is no language (religion) except in concrete languages (religions).104

A universal theory of religion would not be dissimilar to a universal language, which he discounts. As far as he is concerned, a universal language should not even be pursued. The emergence of a single and universal language would amount to the disappearance of linguistic richness and the impoverishment of the power of expression. Correspondingly, reducing the existing variety of religiousness into one single religion is a remnant of colonialist thinking and would have negative consequences, since one single religion cannot provide enough space for the multiplicity of human experiences and divine manifestations.105 This analogy between language and religion leads Panikkar to the following conclusions. First, any religion is “complete,” like any language is complete in that it can, at least principally, express everything. Secondly, any religion—again like any language—“is open to growth and evolution.”106 Panikkar also compares religion to language in the sense that religions are “equivalent to the same extent that languages are translatable, and they are unique as much as languages are untranslatable.”107 This comparison does not, of course, mean very much if it is not known to what extent languages are translatable and to what extent they are untranslatable. Thus it is essential to take into account Panikkar’s distinction between ‘terms’ and ‘words’. Without deviating to Panikkar’s philosophy of language,108 I could point out that ‘terms’, or epistemic signs, are translatable in as far as they are associated with some verifiable object. Correspondingly, ‘religious terms’

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IRD, xxvii. DAIE, 49–50; IH, 164; NRCUA, 169: “. . . we cannot express in one single language all the glamour and richness of the human experience. And I hasten to say that in one single religion we cannot express all the glamour and richness of the human experiences and divine manifestations either.” 106 IRD, xxiv: “Any religion is complete as any language is also capable of expressing everything that it feels the need to express. Any religion is open to growth and evolution as any language is. . . . From the internal point of view of each language and religion, it makes little sense to say that one language is more perfect than another, for you can in your language (as well as in your religion) say all that you feel you need to say.” 107 IRD, xxv. 108 More accurately in WT; Coward 1996. See also 1.2.1. above. 105

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are also translatable as terms. However, according to Panikkar, it is the ‘words’ that are not to be objectified that are more essential in languages as well as in religions. He sees the most fundamental words of religions as crystallizations of human experiences that vary with people, places and ages, and are therefore untranslatable.109 What we can do is something more holistic, and therefore also more complicated: We can only transplant them along with a certain surrounding context which gives them meaning and offers the horizon over against which they can be understood, i.e., assimilated within another horizon. And even then the transplanted word, if it survives, will soon extend its roots in the soil and acquire new aspects, connotations, etc. Similarly with religions: they are not translatable like terms; only certain transplants are possible under appropriate conditions.110

“Transplanting” vital words of religions seems to involve a risk, since a transplanted word may begin to live new life in the new surroundings. The hermeneutical process cannot be kept under control.111 When this process is genuine, translating and transplanting religious words as well as views requires that the “translator” speaks another “language,” that is, another tradition. In Panikkar’s view, an essential prerequisite of dialogical interaction among religions is therefore “intra-religious dialogue.”112 Ideally, “a new language” creating communion may emerge in dialogue.113 However, is not this idea of “a new language” contradictory to Panikkar’s rejection of the idea of a new and more universal language?114 Once again, the tension between dialogue and pluralism that is inherent in Panikkar’s thinking is evident here. His deliberate search

109 IRD, xxv: “When we say ‘justice,’ ‘dharma,’ ‘karunà,’ we cannot point to an object, but have to refer to crystallizations of human experiences that vary with people, places, ages, etc. We cannot properly speaking translate words.” 110 IRD, xxv. 111 Cf. also DPW, 92–94; CTBT, 17–18. 112 IRD, xxvi. 113 CTBT, 11; AW, 105; MFH, 381; IH, 172: “It is in this dialogue . . . where we forge the appropriate language to deal with the questions that emerge in encounter. Each encounter creates a new language.” 114 See DAIE, 49–50. However, cf. VE, 24, which should be interpreted as a revealing slip of the pen: “. . . this anthology may make an indirect contribution to modern language . . . by introducing into one language the riches of another and thus allowing for a more universal language, without at the same time whittling away the concreteness that all living languages possess.” [Italics mine.]

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for a common ground capacitating dialogue seems to clash with his emphasis on the radical difference of religions.115 Therefore, Panikkar makes an effort to locate the common ground enabling dialogue on as transcendent a level as possible. He pursues the “metaontological” character of this common ground of religions by distinguishing between three different levels existing in every concrete religion. On the socio-cultural level (r1), religions “are all equivalent, are historical facts”—and Christianity as Christendom belongs to this level. On the sacramental level (r2), on the other hand, religions are “complementary.” It is only through these levels that the third and most profound level (r3) can be reached.116 The following quotation illustrates this: My approach to religion 3 is always limited depending on r1 and r2. So that I cannot say regarding religion 3 that it is one or many; there is neither one nor many. I see it in and through r1 and r2 reaching as far as I can r3. . . . I am not saying that we are saying the same thing with different names. First, because r3 cannot be properly described; and, secondly, because I am not a nominalist, so that the name I give belongs to the thing in a certain way . . . the name is fundamental. Because this name is the way in which the religion 3 reveals itself to me.117

In spite of the diversity of religions on the socio-cultural (r1) and sacramental (r2) levels, there exists “religion 3” that solves the dilemma of the one and the many. Sometimes Panikkar names this level ‘faith’, principally to distinguish it from ‘beliefs’. Nevertheless, since faith is always embodied in beliefs, one cannot reach faith as “disembodied.”118 Panikkar wishes to evade an understanding according to which faith exists as a “thing in itself ” that just appears as belief. There can be no naked faith since faith exists inexorably only as articulated in a language of concrete tradition. Ultimately, faith is “tran-

115 This emphasis is especially strong in BR, 28: “Jede Religion ist wie eine Galaxie, die gleichzeitig ihre eigenen Denk-Kriterien und auch Wahrheits- und Wirklichkeitskriterien herausarbeitet.” 116 See MRDP, 16; AW, 27. 117 MRDP, 16. See also the following MRDP, 19–20: “. . . I think that here a radical humility is called for. I cannot have access to r2 and r3 if not through r1. I do not come from Mars nor from the moon to go straight into the heart of the matter. I have my parents, my education, my language etc. . . . And those who reject r1 . . . and get out of the Church, they should also get out of the planet.” 118 See IRD, 18; WSM, 9.

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scendental to belief.” It is an ineffable reality that cannot be reached as such.119 Therefore, faith in itself cannot be identified with any single ideology, culture, or religion.120 In spite of this, Panikkar postulates religion on level r3 and calls this, in the case of Christianity, for instance, “christianness.” This is depicted as a concept denoting the level that is more transcendental and ideal than political “christendom” or doctrinally defined “christianity.” Panikkar sees the core of christianness as “experiential,” and accordingly the most adequate concept standing for it would be “spirituality” and not “ideology,” or even “religion.”121 Only shifting to this actual spiritual level would resolve the competitive stance between religions.122 Since Panikkar strongly emphasizes the ultimate existential character of religion, his thinking betrays an obvious actualistic tinge: faith is rather an “act” than a substance.123 To put it briefly, he

119 SCD, 263; IRD, 12: “. . . the distinction between his faith (ever transcendent, unutterable and open) and his belief (an intellectual, emotional and cultural embodiment of that faith within the framework of a particular tradition . . .).” See also OCI, 11–15; SG, 154. Cf. also RPC, 103, 106, in which Panikkar takes a similar approach regarding the relationship between intercultural philosophy and concrete philosophies. 120 NRCUA, 175. 121 NVR, 293: “Christendom is all—embracing. It is a theo-political notion, a civilization, an ideology . . . Christianity is doctrinal, a culture, a religion. Christianness is experiential, a spirit, a spirituality. The three moments are probably inseparable and their relationship may be advaitic, but the emphasis shifts from the one to the other.” See also JTG, 104–107; ITR, 291; RHC, 191: “. . . this third level has also a dimension of transcendence, of freedom and iniative, which Christians along with others call the divine. . . . I consider this threefold division valid in any religion, so that if a Christian could call these three levels: Christendom, Church, Christ, a Buddhist may call them Sangha, Dharma, Nirvà»a, a Hindu Sampradàya, Karma, Brahman, a Muslim, Umma, Qur"àn, Allah.” 122 JTG, 108: “There is no question of competition, say, between Christ, Buddha, Krishna, or whomever. . . . If Christian theology is carried on within the perspectives of Christendom or Christianity, such problems may arise. But Christian theology today cannot ignore Christianness. . . . What we have to change is the very perspective of the question.” Cf. also UCH, 21: “One or many saviours, one or many ways are meaningless phrases in the realm of any ultimate human experience. What I propose is both the traditional Advaitic solution and the equally traditional Christian answer: religious truth is existential and non-objectifiable.” Panikkar’s methodology on this crucial point reflects the modern ambiance impregnated by neo-Hinduism that emphasizes mystical experience as the point at which religions can meet. On this, see Sharpe 1977, 76–77. 123 SG, 171: “. . . the classic, traditional concept of ‘act’ comes nearer the ultimate intuition of the divine reality than do those of being, substance, or existence.” See also SC, 72; OCI, 2–4; ITR, 254; GIA, 36.

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seems to solve the conundrum of religious plurality by momentarily fixing his eyes upon another level that could be characterized as “transcendental” and “metaontological.” This solution could be seen as a mystic one. Panikkar’s pluralistic theology of religions is to be seen against the horizon of the ineffable and of the silent.124 Pluralism ultimately rests upon “the Mystery,” as indicated in the following quotation: The Mystery towards which the religious experience of Humankind tends is neither the same nor different, neither one nor many: it is non-dualistic. It allows pluralism . . .125

Moreover, Panikkar says that one can address this Mystery only in the vocative. The name of the Mystery is thus not a ‘name’ in the same sense as in the everyday use of language, but a ‘Supername’.126 Undeniably, ‘Mystery’ is a concept denoting a meta-level—or paraphrasing Panikkar’s own words, a “metaontological” level. In using this concept, he refers to the reality to which the concrete names of religions point, or better to say, which is constituted by these names.127 Nevertheless, is there not a severe problem in these ideas about the “Supername” and the “metaontological” unity of religions? It seems that Panikkar himself is taking the precise bird’s-eye perspective that he has vehemently repudiated.128 Even the prefixes ‘super-’ and ‘meta-’ suggest this. Similarly, Panikkar speaks about the “meta124

WCPC, 130: “The problem of pluralism touches the limits of the intelligible (not just for us but in itself ). It poses the greatest challenge to the human spirit. It touches the shores of the ineffable and thus of silence.” 125 UCH, 24. Cf. also UCH, 22–23: “The thesis of this book is a mystical one. . . . The word ‘mystery’, though it belongs to a certain tradition, stands for that ‘thing’ which is called by many names and is experienced in many forms; thus it can be called neither one nor many. The problem of the one and many appears at the second stage, when the conceptualizing mind starts functioning in a particular way.” [Italics mine.]; JTG, 106: “To be sure, the mystics living in Christendom have always stressed Christianness . . .” See also GIA, 18. On this point, see also Jathanna 1999, 8. 126 See SC; UCH, xi; CP, 11. It is worth noting that Panikkar also speaks about “supername” in his later texts (e.g., CP), and thus it is not only a question of a remnant of his earlier Christology (e.g., SC). For a Christian, this Supername is Christ. See MRDP, 24–25; UCH, 5. See also 4.1., where Panikkar’s Christology is analyzed in detail. 127 Cf. CP, 19: “The Son of Man has many names because no single name exhausts the one named.” Cf. here also Lohr 1988, 540–541, for a representation of Ramon Llull’s understanding of the power of the divine names and the final coinciding of these names on the superlative level. Some affinities between Panikkar and Llull are addressed in 4.2.4. 128 Cf. 3.1.2. above.

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confessional core” and “trans-religious fellowship.”129 Hence, there seems to be a fatal intrinsic flaw in his radical pluralism if analyzed in the light of post-pluralistic criticism. Even though he wishes to think in a radically pluralistic way, his search for a common ground for interreligious dialogue leads him to propose that such an element could be found on some deeper or higher level that unites different religions and, correspondingly, forms the inner core of any tradition.130 Panikkar seems to acknowledge the possibility of this kind of criticism, for he tries to steer his thinking deliberately, and to some extent vaguely, towards mysticism: he calls his basic attitude “nondualistic.” Thus he affirms his inclination to the Hindu school of Advaita Vedànta, since the Sanskrit word ‘a-dvaita’ means ‘non-dualism’. However, he interprets this crucial concept of Hindu philosophy in quite an idiosyncratic way, claiming that Advaitic intuition alludes to something that overcomes both monism and dualism.131 This reinterpretation gives his invoking of the Advaita Vedànta tradition a rather distinctive tint, and thus he cannot be categorized straightforwardly in the context of Hinduism. It could even be said that his conception has a certain bias that springs from his Christian background.132

129

CCTM, 117, 123. Panikkar then adopts a perspective from the meta-level, as Milbank 1990, 175, cogently remarks: “. . . Panikkar’s unwise desire to fuse neo-Vedantic pluralism with Christian Trinitarianism exhibits a residual wish to affirm such a pluralist ontology independently of any tradition or any time-bound vantage-point.” [Italics mine.] Cf. also Panikkar’s thinking as depicted in my analysis through the critical remark of Schwöbel (1990, 33): “The pluralistic approach . . . seems to tend to develop a picture . . . of a common anthropological constant underlying all particular religious expressions, which allows their distinctive particularity only penultimate and preliminary status.” [Italics mine.] 131 IH, 46: “. . . any dualistic or monistic scheme appears insufficient. In fact, there is another experience which overcomes both monism and dualism. We may call this the trinitarian or advaitic intuition. Now the real trinitaria/advaitic approach is ineffable and non-dialectical (otherwise we would have subordination of the Spirit to the Logos).”; DMTM, 159; UCH, 142 note 92. 132 On Advaita, see, e.g., Klostermaier 1994, 413, which, on the other hand, advises against translating it as ‘monism’, for the latter has in its Western context such connotations that do not do justice to the meaning of the term in its original Indian context. See also von Brück 1991, 18. It should be noted, however, that both Klostermaier and von Brück are, like Panikkar, representatives of a new interpretation of Advaita. See also Eck 1995, 125–126. I consider Parappally (1995, 66) has it right when he states: “Indian Christian theologians like Brahmabandhav Upadyaya, Abhishiktananda, R. Panikkar, B. Griffiths, R. de Smet, K. Klostermaier, Sara Grant and S. J. Samartha argue that the advaitic system of Sankara should not be 130

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Sometimes, furthermore, Panikkar understands ‘advaita’ in terms of the classical question about the relationship of the one and the many. In this context, he considers the non-dualistic answer to mean that reality is “neither one nor many.” Correspondingly, the Christian concept of the Trinity functions in his thinking as a symbol for the radically pluralistic nature of reality.133 He combines these two perspectives with his claim that all major Christian doctrines are actually non-dualistic.134 It is rather clear that what Panikkar does with his “non-dualistic” is to shift his point of view to another level, and thus, in a sense, to evade criticism.135 In his own terms, pluralism belongs not only

interpreted in monistic categories. A monistic interpretation closes the way for any understanding of a relative reality of the world or the possibility of incarnation.” See also MacPherson 1996, 93. Panikkar seems to be willing to admit this (SCD, 274): “Using the word advaita or non-duality we do not refer to indian philosophical systems; we refer to a negation of monism without “falling” into dualism. Advaita is not a weakened monism or relative dualism, but an independent and third possible experience of reality.” See also SCD, 250. In any case, Advaita has had a crucial position in Panikkar’s thinking throughout the decades. Ahlstrand 1993, 94; MacPherson 1996, 23. For a pertinent account of the significance of Advaita Vedànta for construction of Orientalist representations of Hinduism, see King 1999, 118–142. Since Advaita Vedànta philosophy teaches the ultimate identity of àtman and Brahman, it is, however, often depicted as a monistic philosophy—i.e., as a philosophical doctrine that reduces many into one on the ultimate level. See, e.g., Brockington 1992, 21. Lipner (1994, 175) and King (2000, 153, 214) also characterize incidentally Advaita Vedànta as “monistic.” There has been a strong inclination in this direction especially in neo-Hinduism. See King 1999, 128. See also Mitra 1987, 109. Even though I cannot agree with every aspect of Mitra’s interpretation of Panikkar, her comments on the difference between Panikkar and the Vedànta tradition seem to be appropriate. See Mitra 1987, 120, where she states that Panikkar thinks in relational terms whereas the Vedànta tradition thinks more in substantive terms. Devdas 1980 is of particular interest because it shows that the modern Hindu reinterpretations of the Advaita Vedànta tradition elaborated by thinkers such as Aurobindo and Radhakrishnan can be seen as somewhat parallel with those of Panikkar. However, Devdas (1980, 619) also remarks in passing on the difference that exists between these modern interpretations and the classical exposition of •a«kara. It should be noted here that, on the whole, neo-Hinduism, as initiated by Vivekananda, is expressed in rather monistic terms. See, e.g., Boyd 1975, 59–63. 133 JTG, 110: “The Mystery of the Trinity is the ultimate foundation for pluralism.”; DMTM, 186–188; BS, 56: “Reality is neither monistic nor dualistic, but advaitic, trinitarian, and vital, that is, pluralistic (although) without separation.”; BS, 128–129; RPMC, 112. Cf. also UCH, 21: “Uniqueness is neither one nor many. It transcends the classical opposition between monism and dualism.” 134 GIA, 71. 135 See JTG, 109; SCD, 275: “. . . the advaitic intuition is not the denial of reason but the transcending of it.”

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to the level of logos but, properly seen, to that of mythos.136 He considers reality, which he tries to depict using non-dualistic and Trinitarian vocabulary, neither monistic nor dualistic. However, he also gives to understand that reality is neither one nor many. This kind of ambivalence is undeniably tantamount to eschewing a mystic and apophatic use of language in the sense of ‘neti, neti ’137 and, therefore, it reinforces my initial observation that Panikkar walks on a tightrope between holism and pluralism in a way that is not easy to articulate in terms of discursive rationality.138 Anyone analyzing concepts such as ‘advaita’ or ‘Trinity’ in Panikkar’s texts cannot avoid the impression that, despite his pluralistic rhetoric, he seems to be de facto very willing to interpret different religions as concrete embodiments of one and the same religiousness. For the sake of brevity, I will henceforward call this crucial dimension of the holistic side of Panikkar’s thinking constitutive spirituality.139 It is this constitutive spirituality that unites religions on the deepest level (r3), and provides a common soil upon which they can grow. I will now attempt to show more precisely how essential this kind of anthropologically constitutive spirituality is to Panikkar’s pluralistic theology of religions. 3.2.3. Perennial Wisdom Given that religions concretize spirituality belonging to humanness as such, does not Panikkar, in fact, jeopardize some basic tenets of his radically pluralistic thinking and reduce all religions to one ultimate 136

JTG, 110. Klostermaier (1994, 201) describes this method of Upanißads in the following words: “Every concept employed must at once be negated. Affirmation and negation at the same time, the neti neti, not this, not this, leads to a higher level of consciousness, where there is neither affirmation nor negation.” See also Klostermaier 1994, 203, 210–211. Cf. UCH, 127–128. 138 UCH, 23: “The problem of the one and the many appears at the second stage, when the conceptualizing mind starts functioning in a particular way.” See also SG, 147. See also Larson 1996, 80–81, 85–87, in which it is shown that Panikkar approves in principal of both the principle of identity and the principle of contradiction, but not of the third, namely, the principle of the excluded middle. Larson criticizes Panikkar for this basic solution that attempts to combine different logical systems. 139 This is, so to say, a terminus technicus that has been coined for this study in the hope of doing justice to Panikkar’s intention. First I considered ‘universal spirituality’ but rejected it due to the fact that Panikkar explicitly denies the existence of a single universal spirituality. See EM, 283. The term could have given a misleading impression to the reader. Cf. here also DPW, 36. 137

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reality?140 This is a crucial question. Anyone attempting to answer it should bear in mind Panikkar’s wish to repudiate a parallelism that is grounded on the nominalistic way of thinking, and according to which different religions only refer to the same thing with different names. His symbolist way of thinking is also much more subtle here: he understands that every name brings a new aspect to the “Mystery” which is approached by adherents of different religions in their own distinctive ways.141 Even though radical diversity prevails among religions from the phenomenological and doctrinal points of view, in Panikkar’s pluralistic theology of religions, this is all ultimately transcended in a certain sense. Nonetheless, the ultimate level is constituted through the different aspects that are manifest in that phenomenal and doctrinal diversity.142 Therefore, we cannot say that Panikkar dismisses concrete features of religions as secondary. Every religion uses its own language to refer to the same reality—the same truth subsisting everywhere: When a Christian says he believes in God the Father, in Christ and in the Holy Spirit, he does not believe in a deus ex machina ad usum christianorum, but in reality of truth subsisting everywhere, even outside the bounds of his own experience. But he conveys this truth in language inherited from his own tradition, and he can grasp its meaning only in those terms.143

In spite of the differences, truth thus seems ultimately to be one and the same thing. The passage quoted above betrays how essential the metaphor of language is to Panikkar’s theology of religions: religions as languages are autonomous, but their referent is reality itself. On the other hand, languages are unavoidable for we cannot speak about reality without any concrete language. According to Panikkar, the universal can be attained only through the concrete.144 140 Cf. UCH, 26: “I wanted to lay stress on the presence of the one Mystery (not necessarily the ‘same’ Mystery) in both traditions [i.e., Christianity and Hinduism].” [Italics mine.] 141 See UCH, 24–25. Ahlstrand emphasizes the fact that Panikkar’s “conceptual realism” is inherited from Thomism. See Ahlstrand 1993, 89–91. On the Thomist features that Panikkar adopted early in his career, see also Ahlstrand 1996, 13, 47–48, 113. 142 See UCH, 23, 29. 143 IRD, 19. 144 IRD, 56: “Any vision from within, with belief and personal commitment, includes at once the concreteness (and so the limitations) of that particular religion

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Panikkar often alludes to the wisdom of different religions, and expresses his intention to explicate and sum up human experience crystallized in the different cultures of the world.145 ‘Wisdom’ is a vital concept for him loaded with positive connotations. It helps him to bring together many significant themes of his thinking that are analyzed above: he sees praxis and theory merging together in wisdom. Moreover, wisdom demands “insight” (Einsicht), is tantamount to a formative “total experience” (Ganzheitserfahrung), and is “personal harmony with reality” ( persönliche Harmonie mit der Realität).146 Recovering holistic wisdom is the urgent task of philosophy, which Panikkar himself endeavors to accomplish.147 Wisdom as depicted in his writing seems to be even anthropologically constitutive:

and the universal truth it embodies.” See also UCH, 7; MJC, 173. It is worth mentioning that the essays in IRD are from earlier material and therefore it could be assumed that Panikkar would not speak in such straightforward way about “universal truth” after sharpening his pluralistic views. Nevertheless, cf. JTG, 107, in which he uses concepts such as ‘concrete’ and ‘universal’ in the following way: “Something is concrete (my belief, parents, house . . .) precisely because it embodies the universal (faith, parenthood, habitat . . .).” On the question of universality, see also CCE. Regarding the selections of IRD quoted above, it should be noted that the persistent idea of the common ground of religions pervades Panikkar’s pluralistic work—although in the course of time this common ground is alluded to in more and more subtle terms in order not to contradict his plea for radical pluralism. On the analogy of religion and language in Panikkar’s thinking, see 3.2.2. above. 145 See CE, 3; STC, 24: “It can only be risky to sum up in a few minutes 30 years of reflection and some 60 centuries of human experience. My perspective is not based on the most recent happenings in the intellectual world nor on the last book I may have read, but comes directly from an effort to concentrate the last 6000 years or so of human memory. I refuse to concede that my life is measured only by the rounds of the moon, sun, and stars, etc. We have this ancestral wisdom crystallized in language itself.” See also CE, 1–2; DMTM, 150; GRP, 379. Panikkar’s attempt could be labeled “primitivism” according to Jonathan Friedman’s categorization of different attitudes in the face of a new global situation. See Schreiter 1997, 25, in which the following is stated: “. . . primitivism . . . may be defined as an attempt to go back to an earlier, premodern period to find a frame of reference and meaning in order to engage the present. . . . Primitivism (Friedman’s term) might also be called ‘revitalization,’ that is, a use of an earlier period of history to give focus and direction to the present. . . . Primitivism differs from antiglobalism in that it is more holistic in its approach to what it wishes to retrieve. But, in any case, it calls for some invention of a tradition.” However, in Panikkar’s case we should speak about traditions in the plural. For his view of history, see 4.2. See also LSGV, in which his highly critical attitude towards globalization is particularly obvious. Cf. also GRP, 397–398; AW, 144–145: “. . . die Gefahr, sich einer Nostalgie der Vergangenheit hinzugeben, die vielleicht nicht ganz gesund ist . . . bin ich kein Romantiker in dem Sinne, daß ich glaube die Vergangenheit sei immer besser gewesen.” 146 See WWB, 14–21. 147 SCD, 229; CE, 1–2.

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  Man is man because he or she is able to gain wisdom and longs for it. The third eye, salvation, enlightenment, satori, the resurrection—all are symbols of wisdom. We can truly say that, in this sense, wisdom is a human invariant.148

The ability to yearn for and correspondingly receive wisdom is thus a characteristic of being human. Wisdom is something anthropologically constitutive. The above analysis shows that Panikkar understands religiousness as something intrinsic to humanness, and even constitutive of being human. ‘Wisdom’ thus seems to be, in a certain sense, synonymous with words like ‘religion’ and ‘spirituality’. Therefore it is plausible to say that it is also a crucial theological concept in Panikkar’s thinking. This observation is further corroborated in the paragraph quoted above when he interprets the central soteriological concepts of different religions as symbols of wisdom. Since wisdom seems to be a fundamental concept for him, he could well be characterized as a kind of perennialist.149 Panikkar seems to be inclined to interpret versatile religions as concrete embodiments of perennial wisdom or, in other words, of constitutive spirituality: in their phenomenological manifoldness, religions do not merely originate in the same spirituality, they also teach the same wisdom.150 In Panikkar’s view, the core of any religion goes back to the ancient times of humankind.151 In my view, these evident perennialist overtones do not fit well with the pluralism he advocates. Accentuating wisdom and the primordial essence of traditions gives the impression that religions are, in some sense, just variations 148

DPW, 12. Characterizing Panikkar as a perennialist locates him among company that might question his pluralism: the perennialist way of thinking is very typical of neoHinduism with its strong inclusivistic tint. What comes to mind here is the idea of sanàtana dharma, which could, in this context, be translated as “perennial philosophy,” and which is reflected in all religious traditions. However, Panikkar very clearly stresses the concreteness in which perennial wisdom always incarnates, and therefore he should not be considered on a par with Aldous Huxley, for example. On the contrary, he comes near thinkers like Steven Katz, who deny the existence of any “unmediated” experience unformed by culture. On the perennialist position and related discussion, see King 1999, 120, 162–169. See also Whaling 1993, 552. Sykes 1984, especially 32–34, gives some interesting points not unrelated to Panikkar’s effort to find the resolution in “religion 3.” Cf. here also Coward’s critique of Panikkar (Coward 1979, 187–188) and Panikkar’s response (RHC). 150 See here especially DPW, 7–30. 151 CP, 15: “My religion, as Augustine said, goes back to the very beginning of humanity.”; CP, 13: “. . . that hope which seems to have a source above Man and which has accompanied homo sapiens since its existence.” See also WG, 115–116. 149

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on one theme—in spite of Panikkar’s perpetual effort to remind us that any experience or interpretation can occur only in the framework of some concrete tradition.152 In his writings Panikkar favors intercultural methodology. He aims to bring together material from various traditions in order to elucidate the issue at hand.153 His own work clearly exemplifies how dialogue between different traditions could be conducted. Indeed, this methodological approach implies that different traditions may equally well supply answers to actual problems, and these answers are in a way complementary. At the very least, these traditions cannot send us in opposite directions. If they did, intercultural methodology would not provide any way out of the blind alley, but would lead us to an even worse predicament—and here it is worth remembering that it is the existing pluralism that threatens the unity of humankind.154 Hence, intercultural methodology which, according to Panikkar, is appropriate when dealing with the question of “unbridgeable” human attitudes, necessitates seeking elements that are common to different human traditions. For this reason, it may not be so surprising that, in spite of radically pluralistic emphases, he seems to be on the brink of seeing the same primordial wisdom lurking behind different traditions. On the other hand, this means that he has found at least some minimum basis upon which to construct a new myth uniting religions, or a new language creating communication between them.155 What I am trying to say is that, after closer examination, Panikkar’s pluralism is not so pluralistic at all. There is an obvious holistic propensity in his thinking that draws him towards essentialist or perennialist views, albeit very subtly. This tendency is accompanied by another—namely, the realization that harmony can be attained only through some kind of confidence. I will be return to this later, but I will first summarize the analysis presented above.

152 An analysis of experience as consisting of the “pure experience,” the memory of it, its interpretation, and its reception in the cultural code, is provided in MJC, 82–83; GIA, 30–33. However cf. UCH, 60, in which Panikkar speaks about “naked faith” in an astonishingly straightforward way. 153 This is exemplified very well in the reflections in GIA, 54–63. 154 See 3.1.1. above. 155 Actually, the major aim of CE is rather revealing in this respect. See especially CE, 1–19. The content of Panikkar’s new myth is analyzed in 4.3. and 5. above.

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Panikkar’s conception could be articulated in the following way. Reality itself is pluralistic in the sense that one cannot impose any single system upon it. On the other hand, all religions are based on “faith,” on the kind of spirituality that is anthropologically constitutive. In my view, Panikkar’s view of religious pluralism could be illustrated by comparing the manifoldness of religions with a garden that has many distinctive plants. This manifoldness of plants, which gives the garden its beauty, is rooted in the same soil. Similarly, multiplicity in religions emerges from the common soil of human spirituality. This simile is appropriate, for Panikkar’s understanding of religions is apparently very vitalistic and even biological. Moreover, previous analysis has shown that he sees a space for genuine growth in the field of religions.156 This dynamic and spontaneous change is related to how reality itself, as well as human consciousness in its relationship with this reality, are developing. Interestingly enough, Panikkar seems to have a vision of this dynamic change that betrays an ultimate normative character even though he chooses his words very carefully.157 When religions give themselves to dialogue, some of their characteristics begin to strengthen, and a common “myth” may even begin to emerge.158 An effort to create a new myth uniting religions at the deepest level, and enabling communication without disrespecting the distinctiveness has become the prevailing theme in Panikkar’s theology of religions: even though he does not wish to construct an ecumenical Esperanto, communication demands some shared contact surface. It is undeniable that his thinking is heading in opposite directions. It may be a symptom of this tension that he utters his wish for “a higher and more comprehensive understanding” on the very same page on which he denies the possibility of speaking a “metalanguage.”159 156

See 2.2. above. See VE, 21: “. . . we present, insofar as possible, the total experience of Vedic Man against the present-day human horizon, in order to make the former intelligible and to enrich, challenge, and perhaps eventually transform the latter.” [Italics mine.] 158 IH, 173: “In my alternative the polarities remain and the ideal is not seen in a universal theory, but in an ever-emerging and ever-elusive myth that makes communication, and thus mutual fecundation, possible without reducing everything to a single source of intelligibility or to mere intelligibility.” [Italics mine.] Similarly, IH, 158: “If we want to cross boundaries, we will have to share in some common truths brought forth in common endeavor.” [Italics mine.] See also BS, 20–21; CE, 17. The question concerning the nature of this kind of common “myth” touches upon the question that is raised at the end of my study: to what measure do Panikkar’s thoughts implicate the idea of a new religion—or better to say, a meta-religion? See 5. 159 See PPUC, 160. 157

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Above I have shown how Panikkar finds the contact surface needed in constitutive spirituality, in that “transcendental” foundation upon which religion as a phenomenon of human life is based. It is worth noting, however, that the existence of this contact surface does not as such mean that communication between religions will be realized automatically. For instance, the following quotation discloses Panikkar’s zeal to create a deep communion (Gemeinschaft) in spite of the radical pluralism of religions: . . . I feel the non-incompatibility (Nicht-Unvertragbarkeit) of these three, or I could also say four, traditions in myself. This does not mean, however, that I am saying we can bring all doctrines of Christianity and all doctrines of Buddhism and Hinduism under one roof. . . . But incompatibility or mutual incommensurability of doctrines does not mean existential incompatibility of religions. . . . This difference of opinions is not tantamount to severing oneself from a much deeper communion (Gemeinschaft) . . . much of so-called incompatibility is based on something that can be overcome if one goes deeper.160 [Italics mine.]

We should therefore penetrate “deeper” than opinions and doctrines to the level of “the mystical act of faith.”161 This is the answer that Panikkar postulates162 to the question of where different religions 160 MWDG, 72–73: “. . . daß ich die Nicht-Unvertragbarkeit dieser drei, ich würde sogar sagen, vier Traditionen in mir empfinde. Das heißt aber nicht, daß ich sage, sämtliche Lehren des Christentums und sämtliche Lehren des Buddhismus und Hindismus [sic] kann man unter einen Hut bringen. . . . Aber Unvertragbarkeit bzw. gegenseitige Inkommensurabilität der Lehren bedeutet nicht existentielle Unverträglichkeit der Religionen. . . . Diese Veschiedenheit [sic] der Meinungen heißt nicht, daß man sich von einer viel tieferen Gemeinschaft ausschließt. Und dann habe ich auch etwas Drittes gefunden, daß viele von den sogenannten Unvertragbarkeiten auf Grundlagen beruhen, die man, wenn man tiefer geht, überwinden kann.” In order to understand this quotation, we should remember that, as shown above, Panikkar emphasizes spiritual praxis next to theory in the fundamentals of his interreligious thinking. It was also shown that his biographical circumstances flung him into a religious conflict of existential pressure. See 2.1. above. 161 See UCH, 60. 162 I intentionally use the word ‘postulate’ here, for Panikkar actually does not state any reasons for his thesis about the communion of religions on the level of “faith” or “religion 3.” He just takes it for granted, as an axiom of his theology of religions. Of course, the question of communion is a classical one, and providing a (theoretical) resolution satisfying everyone may be impossible. Assessing whether Panikkar is ultimately right or wrong is, however, beyond the scope of the present study. Obviously, his arguments on this point are rather intuitive or even existential in character. Cf. IH, 169–170: “. . . when trying to understand the religious phenomena of the human race, we cannot neglect our own personal religious dimension. . . . Only those who cultivate the religious dimension in their own lives can really dare to enter upon the excruciating task, of trying to understand what religion is all about.” The latter sentence means, in point of fact, that Panikkar presents

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could meet. The dialogical dialogue provides a practical method for this.163 The level on which the communion of religions may occur, and which is the goal of any authentic dialogue, is “religion 3” (r3). It is this stage that is to be pursued actively, for it has became obvious in the light of the above analysis that Panikkar regards the meeting of religions highly, and even considers it an imperative of the present era.164 At this point, it might be appropriate to pose a question that is particularly significant for the present study. Given that constitutive spirituality provides the basis for the communion of religions, does not this kind of spirituality have a normative role in regard to concrete religions? This would mean that Panikkar’s theological program has a strictly normative character. If this is the case, we might well expect his theology of religions to disclose, upon closer inspection, some exclusivist and inclusivist features in its relationship with existing religious traditions.165 I will endeavor to show in the next section that it is not a question of some unwitting or covert agenda, but that Panikkar explicitly pleads for religions to begin the journey towards transformation. 3.2.4. Harmony in Reality Panikkar’s pluralism seems to have assumed a more and more radical character over the years.166 Presumably, this refinement is also reflected in his understanding of constitutive spirituality. In my view, this holds true, since in the wake of the radicalization of pluralism has emerged a further argument to support his holistic attitude according to which harmony among religions ultimately rests on “confidence.”167 In his wish to take dissonant voices in religions seriously, methodological prerequisites for a practitioner of comparative religion that are reminiscent of the classical theological idea of theologia regenitorum. On the other hand, he thinks that every man is inherently religious. See 1.2.1. and 3.2.2. above. Nonetheless, is it not supposed in the above quotation that one either does or does not cultivate this inherent spirituality? Cf. also 2.1. above. 163 See 2.3. above. 164 See 2.1. above. 165 Cf. 1.1.3. above. On this, see especially D’Costa 1996 and also Dean 1987, 165, 168–169. 166 See above, especially 1.2.1. 167 There are casual examples connecting pluralism with ‘confidence’ in Panikkar’s earlier writings from the 1970’s, e.g., PPUC, 160: “Pluralism belongs to the order of confidence—that the other may be right also—of hope—that we may reach a

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Panikkar is obliged to adopt a confident and believing attitude— especially when encountering worldviews that seem to be evil.168 In any case, he tries to be simultaneously faithful to both pluralism and holism. Concepts such as ‘confidence’ and ‘trust’ have assumed crucial importance in Panikkar’s radical pluralism. Pluralism demands trust in reality itself, the kind of “cosmic confidence” that supports the ultimate harmony of reality. This kind of trust is, so to say, the logical first step in Panikkar’s effort to come to terms with pluralistic reality. It is true, however, that it seems to have been given emphasis only in his more recent texts. When I was analyzing his understanding of constitutive spirituality, I observed that he seems to slide into mysticism without providing arguments for why religions can meet on the “third” level (r3).169 With his concept ‘cosmic confidence’, he in effect affirms that the communion of religions is based on a resolution that cannot be argued for. The scope of ‘cosmic confidence’ surpasses the theology of religions: Panikkar sees this as the fundamental premise of reality as well as of all action.170 In keeping with his cross-cultural methodology, he uses the concept of versatile traditions to support his arguments. He identifies his own understanding of cosmic trust with the idea of the existence of a cosmic principle that provides reality with structure, and is expressed differently in different traditions—in India it has been called ‰ta, in the Chinese culture tao and in the Western world ordo.171 It is not only a question of human trust in the cosmos, since it is the cosmos itself that is the subject of this confidence, of this “confidence of the cosmos itself.”172 higher and more comprehensive understanding —of love—that embraces, makes room and accepts what it does not know or understand.” It is, however, only in his lecture “The Invisible Harmony. A Universal Theory of religion or a Cosmic Confidence in Reality?” (IH, 145–182), published in 1987, that he represents this view more programmatically. Cf. here also Jathanna 1999, 7–8, which points to Panikkar’s swaying between a theoretical and an existential-intuitive understanding of pluralism. 168 See IH, 82; OCI, 11. 169 See 3.2.2. above. 170 See IH, 175–176. For more in detail, see SCD, 280–282, in which Panikkar gives some convincing arguments for why cosmic trust provides the basis of different actions. 171 IH, 176; SCD, 281. 172 SCD, 281.

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The proper horizon of the concept ‘confidence’ in Panikkar’s thinking seems to be cosmologic-ontological, as with the concepts ‘pluralism’ and ‘dialogue’. It should be noted, however, that the idea of ‘cosmic confidence’ in a certain sense endows his Advaitic-mystic resolution with a more cosmic tint and thus expands it beyond the original context, the dilemma of the one and the many.173 The argument emphasizing confidence, nonetheless, is based on the idea of going beyond this dilemma. This means that Panikkar has not dispensed with his mystic resolution, even though he has provided it with a new aspect.174 Despite the constancy of the mystic tone, there has occurred a significant change in Panikkar’s argumentation: he has shifted his argumentation more and more from a “metaontological” to an ontological level—notwithstanding the fact that harmony in reality cannot be observed empirically but is “invisible” and thereby demands confidence.175 I will now attempt to prove that this shift is visible in Panikkar’s thinking. When he talks of “cosmic confidence,” Panikkar wishes to convey the idea that concord can ultimately be trusted as being the basic chord of reality regardless of the existing pluralism and incompatible claims of different worldviews. By way of illustration, he uses music as a simile: Music is here the paradigm. There is no harmonical accord if there is no plurality of sounds, or if those sounds coalesce in one single note. Neither many nor one, but concord, harmony. . . . This is the discordant concord: a kind of human harmony perceived in and through the many discordant voices of human traditions. We do not reduce

173

See 3.2.2. above. See how Panikkar defines ‘concord’, a concept that is closely related to ‘cosmic confidence’ (IH, 178): “Concord is neither oneness nor plurality. It is the dynamism of the Many toward the One without ceasing to be different and without becoming one, and without reaching a higher synthesis.” [Italics mine.]; IH, 179: “The very words by which we often express what we are striving for—‘unanimity,’ ‘consensus,’ ‘agreement,’ ‘concord’—all have a cordial or an existential core.” Cf. also CD, 75: “. . . cosmic confidence . . . is an ontic necessity superior to the logical principle of non-contradition.” [Italics mine.] This shift is apparently linked to the deepening of the cosmotheandric vision. Cf. 1.2.1. above. On Panikkar’s metaphysical vision, see especially 4.3. 175 A collection of Panikkar’s articles is revealingly named Invisible Harmony, which was originally the name of one of them. The full title of the original article is also very telling: ‘The Invisible Harmony, A Universal Theory of Religion or a Cosmic Confidence in Reality’. See IH, 145–182. 174

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them to one voice. We may yet want to eliminate cacophonies. But this again depends very much on the education and generosity of our ears. . . . We may somewhat enjoy the beauty of the symphony, the inexplicable concord out of so many dissenting voices. Pluralism tells us here that one should not assume for oneself (person or culture) the role of being the conductor of the human and much less of the cosmic orchestra.176

According to Panikkar’s pluralistic vision, differences ultimately form a harmonious whole. Optimistically, he would like to believe that such harmony exists even when the external circumstances are not encouraging. In other words, this harmony exists ontologically—at least as the object of hope and trust—, although it cannot be observed epistemologically. What is worth noting in the above passage is that, on the one hand, Panikkar gives the impression of wishing to “eliminate cacophonies,” and on the other hand, he explicitly warns of the need to “assume for oneself . . . the role of being the conductor of . . . the cosmic orchestra.” How should this be interpreted? In the spirit of Panikkar’s own simile, does it mean that harmonious music comes into being by itself in a process in which it is possible to participate and even to smooth out discord? In fact, this quotation clearly reveals Panikkar’s understanding of his own intellectual vocation. I have shown in many different contexts above that, according to Panikkar, dialogue as well as pluralism are based on reality itself.177 This means that one should simply trust in a reality that is the proper subject of the dynamic process. Hence it seems that, for Panikkar, reality is much more than the sum of its parts: a harmonious symphony emerges out of disconnected, even dissonant voices. The ultimate goal is not unity, but harmony among religions.178 On the other hand, the above analysis has shown that Panikkar sees man to be much more than just an epistemological subject

176

IH, 178–180. See also SNSE, 62. See 2.3. and 3.1.1. above. 178 GRP, 392; AW, 10–11. Here Panikkar obviously adheres to the heritage of pioneers of interreligious dialogue such as Ramon Llull and Nicholas of Cusa, who envisioned harmony among religions and even concord within discord. On Llull and Nicholas of Cusa, see Dupuis 1997, 105–109. Panikkar selected mottos from these pioneers of interreligious dialogue for IRD, xi–xiii. He supplies even more examples in RT, 57; IH, 177–179; CD, 74. It is rather strange that he does not mention Keshub Chunder Sen, a Hindu reformer with a strong vision of harmony among religions. See Parekh 1926, 186–187. 177

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observing the world outside. It is not only a question of how to apply hermeneutical theory.179 Man does have a decisive ontological significance in the transformation process of reality.180 There is a similar tension inbuilt in Panikkar’s self-understanding as a writer and an intellectual as in his understanding of the relationship between man and reality: on the one hand, he implies that, as a writer, he merely describes what happens in reality. In this sense his metaphysics could be characterized as descriptive. On the other hand, he interprets writing as meditation, in other words as contemplative participation in reality itself.181 Hence it could be said that the vision Panikkar arrives at through his intellectual work also contains a certain normative tone. In my view, it seems to be Panikkar himself who attempts with his writing to “eliminate cacophonies.”182 I will now examine the aspects of Panikkar’s thinking that betray a certain normativity and thus confirm the normative character of his vision. 3.3. T N  C S 3.3.1. The Transformation of Christianity Given Panikkar’s emphasis on the growth of religions, it is not very surprising that he wishes to guide Christianity to a new phase, for religions should go through a “transformation.”183 Although Panikkar denies pursuing any system or normativeness, does he not actually present in his work a strong claim to understand the Christian faith in a new way? For instance, he observes 179

However, this is also a crucial theme of Panikkar. See SCD, 251. See CD, 74. 181 See 1.2.4. above. Cf. also the enormous task that Panikkar sets for himself in CE, 1–2. 182 Cf. also CRS, 81 and IFOL, vii, in which, in the context of the simile of many windows (on this see 3.1.1.1. above), Panikkar states the following: “. . . although I am not saying that all windows are equally clean.” 183 JTG, 112; CSR, 79; MWDG, 123; IFOL, xiv; NRCUA, 184: “. . . I speak of conversion of the traditional religions, including of course Christianity itself, into something which is the deeper identity of those very traditions. A constant renovation and transformation, this is the radical metanoia referred to above. I am not advocating abandoning religions, but transforming them.” See also NRCUA, 176–178; SCD, 289–290, in which Panikkar identifies his position as one of “transformation,” not “reformation,” “deformation,” or “destruction.” For his terminology in this regard, see ITR, 260–266. 180

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in expressis verbis that there is a need for a “Copernican revolution” in Christian thinking.184 Thus he does not conceal his desire for the kind of profound change in theological thinking that could be characterized as a paradigmatic shift. He does not consider a “Vatican III,” or any other aggiornamento confined to the Church, enough, for the change should happen on the deepest level of understanding of the Christian faith. A proper aggiornamento should be understood on another scale altogether, “as Paschal newness, as a new Ushas in the very sense of the Vedas and Easter: a new creation.”185 Alluding to the history of the Ecumenical Church Councils, Panikkar envisions “a Jerusalem II.” Just as the apostles abandoned circumcision as inherited from the Jewish tradition in their meeting in Jerusalem, contemporary Christians should take another radical step leading towards a wider and more universal understanding of the faith. According to Panikkar, this entails overcoming “the circumcision of the mind,” and acknowledging that “a baptism of the Spirit” does not necessarily require “a baptism of water.”186 He even displays a certain Marcionist tendency as a consequence of his claim that Christianity should sever its ties with its Jewish origins.187 Panikkar uses his rhetoric to express the idea that Christianity should expand its horizon and admit the fundamental theological significance of other religions. He is not content with the expansion that has already taken place in the theology of religions.188 On the other hand, he seems to understand that Christianity plays a vital 184 See JTG, 108–109. John Hick, in particular, has spoken about a Copernican revolution in the theology of religions, see Dupuis 1997, 187–189. 185 RT, 17, 19; NVR, 291; CCTM, 124. Cf. CAM, 396–397, which reflects Panikkar’s earlier thoughts. 186 See JTG, 89, 114; RT, 19–20; NVR, 292. On the apostolic meeting in Jerusalem, see Acts 15:1–29 and Gal. 2:1–9. Cf. also OCI, 4–5. 187 GIA, 85: “Man hat schon seit langem viel von der ‘Enthellenisierung’ des Christentums gesprochen . . . Man spricht weniger von einem noch schwerwiegenderen Problem: der ‘Enthebräisierung’ der Mission Christi. . . . Das jüdische Verständnis der Geschichte hat den christlichen Gott auf den Herrn der Geschichte eingegrenzt, und die seinsbezogene Auffassung des Hellenismus hat ihn auf den Herrn des Seins reduziert. Dies ist die tatsächliche Herausforderung der Christen Asiens in einer postkolonialen Periode. Kann der Vater von Jesus Christus sich vom Gott der Geschichte und vom Gott des Seins befreien?” [Italics mine.] See also ITR, 281; AW, 149–151. The question arises whether Panikkar’s wish to take distance from Judaism clashes with his idea of mutual fecundation among religions. See Chapter 2. 188 See 1.1. above. When criticizing inclusivism, Panikkar mentions the declaration Nostra Aetate of the Second Vatican Council, as well as John Paul II’s theology of religions. Similarly, he rejects Rahnerian speculation about “anonymous Christians”

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role in this process.189 Perhaps this explains his persistent request for Christianity in particular to undergo profound transformation. 3.3.2. From Christology to Christophany: An Example of “Necessary Growth” The revision of Christology is one of Panikkar’s major demands.190 My aim in the following is to present the kind of Christological revision he has in mind, thereby giving an elucidative example of how profound the changes he pleads for are. The content of his revised Christology is presented below.191 Panikkar envisions a thorough revision of Christology in the contemporary world in which the meeting of religions is a necessity. In his view, prevailing Christology is deficient in that it has taken shape exclusively in the Western context.192 It is not a question of minor revision, because he suggests that ‘Christology’ should be entirely replaced by a new concept ‘Christophany’.193 What are the theological implications in the concept ‘Christophany’? What kind of programmatic features does it betray? Panikkar himself wishes this new concept to be understood in such a way that it does not imply any universalistic claim.194 In his view, Christophany

and any “fulfillment theology.” See JTG, 100–101 and also OCI, 6; TDD, 20. Cf. also UCH, 70–75. On these models rejected by Panikkar, see Dupuis 1997, 133–149, 158–179. It should be noted that he thus distances himself not only from the official Catholic position, but also from his own earlier theology of religions. For example, the first edition of Unknown Christ of Hinduism represented an inclusivistic and, in a sense, “fulfillment theological” position. See Knitter 1996a, 180–18. Cf. also Dupuis 1997, 149–153, 189. 189 See DAIE, 40. 190 PUEWC, 196: “We may need a whole new Christology.” 191 See 4.1. 192 See NRCUA, 173–174; CCTM, 114–115. 193 CP, 4: “. . . I wish to introduce the word christophany to represent a christian self-reflection to be worked out in the third millennium.” The concept ‘Christophany’ occurs in the title of CP, i.e., ‘A Christophany for our times’, as well in the subtitle of the second edition of UCH, i.e., ‘Towards an Ecumenical Christophany’, and thus seems to be rather significant in Panikkar’s later work. Nonetheless, I will continue to use the traditional concept ‘Christology’ as the meta-language of my research. 194 CP, 4. It should be noted that, when Panikkar speaks about the “universalisation of Christianity” (e.g., TWR, 5), he does not means christianizing the universe or other religions, but widening and opening Christianity towards the universe and its diversity. He thus uses the word ‘universal’ and its derivatives differently in different contexts.

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. . . does not even say that historical christianity should adopt this scheme. . . . It simply claims to offer a credible figure of Christ to those contemporary christians who think that in order to be ecumenical, open, tolerant and fully christian, they do not need to dilute their “christianness,” water down their fidelity to Christ.195 [Italics mine.]

Even though he tries to avoid giving the impression that everyone should unconditionally endorse the substitution of Christology with Christophany, there is a strong normative tone in the above quotation: revising Christological thinking is associated with positive words such as “contemporary,” “ecumenical,” “open,” and “tolerant.” The point is clear: the new Christophany is proposed as a far better option than predominant interpretations when facing the challenges of the contemporary world.196 In the same quotation, Panikkar betrays his interest in creating a new paradigm that is, in some sense, detached from “historical christianity” but does not cease to be “fully christian,” or even Christocentric. He gives to understand that Christianity as a historical phenomenon is not obliged to adopt the new Christophany but, on the other hand, this does not “water down . . . fidelity to Christ.” The latter is identified with “christianness” that, in Panikkar’s language, is tantamount to “religion 3.”197 Hence, Christophany seems to stand for religiosity of a higher level than traditional Christianity. Nevertheless, Panikkar sees Christophany as continuing the intentions of traditional Christology by providing it with new prospects.198 The category of “growth” is the one he considers appropriate for describing the relationship between his thinking and traditional theology.199 This category is of ultimate

195

CP, 4. See also CCTM, 121–123. 197 On different levels of religiosity, see 3.2.2. above. 198 Cf. UCH, xi, in which Panikkar states that, with the revised second edition of the work, he wishes to give an example of the kind of renewal that does not mean “rupture” or “prolongation.” It is quite plausible to presume that he means not only his own thinking, but also Christianity. The revision of the book functions as a metaphor of how religions should live and change. As has already been shown (2.2.), Panikkar understands the dynamics of religions as including mutations. Cf. UCH, 5: “The entire hypothesis of this book is that the power of the symbol may be so enlarged and deepened that each symbol—even if it is primarily and directly meaningful in that environment in which it originated—opens up experiences and realities not (yet) intended in the actual symbol.” 199 Cf. 2.2. above. See CP, 5; MCN, 243. 196

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significance for him, since it allows him to maintain both change and continuance regarding tradition.200 For Panikkar, being Christian is existential, not essential. This means that Christianity has no unchanging essence or doctrine, but is “an existential fact.”201 Its inner core is to be found in “christianness,” i.e., in the spirituality that belongs to level r3, which is constitutive of being human. Nevertheless, this constitutive spirituality is always incarnated in particular intellectual and ritual settings.202 By locating the core of Christian faith in the innermost experience, Panikkar tries to distance himself from exclusivism and to establish a point of contact between radically different religions.203 It is well worth noting, however, that he sees this r3 level as normative for levels r1 and r2, even though it can only be reached through them. In any case, the constitutive spirituality of the r3 level functions for him as the normative criterion according to which religions could be transformed and purified.204 Panikkar’s view that religions are constantly subjected to change and growth is based not only on his understanding of religiosity, but also on certain anthropological dynamics. He claims that if anthropology is taken into account in a sufficiently extended perspective, it is possible to distinguish the existence of distinctive religious forms corresponding to different stages of the development of man’s consciousness.205 Here may be the explanation why he does not urge everyone to adopt his theological model in his conviction that the

200

See IRD, 71–72. OCI, 2, 4. See also MRDP, 30; GIA, 38. 202 This idea is evident in JTG, 111–112, in which Panikkar once again uses slightly different terminology: However, both ‘christic fact’ and ‘christic principle’ refer here to the r3 level and constitutive spirituality. 203 JTG, 112; OCI, 9: “A christian can be christian without having to distinguish oneself in a contradictory way from a non-christian simply because the core of one’s own identity does not lie in any external criterion. To the contrary, it lies in the internal consciousness of one’s own being, which is not threatened by communion or even ‘fusion’ with ‘others.’” 204 See MRDP, 20. Panikkar’s understanding of the constitutive spirituality that belongs to the r3 level is surveyed in detail in Chapter 4. 205 See TWR, 5: “There is no question here of criticising certain religious forms that may be good in themselves and even dispensable to man at certain stages of the development of his consciousness and of the march of history . . .” For more detail, see 4.2. Note the similarity between Panikkar’s idea about “stages of the development of [man’s] consciousness” and the inclusivist strategy of many NeoHindus. On this, see Neufeldt 1987, 74–81; Komulainen 2000, 579–582. 201

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new consciousness will inevitably emerge; it is, so to say, in the air.206 He seems to think that the new theological paradigm also taking shape in his extensive work207 is rooted in classical Christianity, but is far better suited to the contemporary situation in which the meeting of religions is an imperative. On the other hand, he sees his own role as that of an intellectual sowing “living seeds which grow spontaneously.”208 Given Panikkar’s claim that “christophany . . . does not even say that historical christianity should adopt this scheme,”209 it is rather surprising that he disallows his Christophany to be interpreted against the background of classical heresies: Christophany should not be associated with Docetist Christologies, for he uses “the word more in accordance with phaneros of the christian scriptures: a visible, clear, public manifestation of a truth.”210 However, the concept ‘Christophany’ has a rather strong religious-phenomenological tint if measured against common academic parlance. This, in turn, may be interpreted as a hint that Panikkar’s Christology may, in the final analysis, be based on the general category of religion.211 The discussion thus far seems to be leading to the conclusion that Panikkar’s thinking operates within the framework of one distinctive understanding of ‘religion’. His pluralistic theology of religions seems to rest upon a rather simple basic solution that distinguishes two different levels: from the perspectives of the phenomenology of religions and doctrinal theology, authentic pluralism prevails among religions. Therefore Panikkar denies that different religions say “the same thing with different names.” However, a more integrative understanding of religions and the dialogical dialogue is possible on the most profound r3 level that is “revealed” on other more concrete levels. Since this ultimate level remains, in a certain sense, undefined and transcendental, Panikkar’s solution could be characterized as mystic.212

206

See CE, 48, 119–120; DAIE, 27–28; ITR, 293. Cf. 1.2.4. above. 208 MRDP, 32. 209 CP, 4. 210 CP, 5. 211 There is a strong affinity between ‘Christophany’ and ‘hierophany’ here. The latter is crucial in Mircea Eliade’s phenomenology of religion, and expresses an unbound manifestation of the sacred. See Eliade & Sullivan 1987. 212 See MRDP, 16–17; GIA, 82–83. 207

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It is significant that, according to Panikkar, even the r3 level does not allow the observation that the reality behind different names is the same. Since names are symbols, the most profound level of reality (r3) is dependent on the concrete names through which religions communicate. Thus he rejects “Platonic” and “Kantian” models of “two-story level reality” that suppose the existence of reality an sich behind the phenomenal world.213 He keeps on talking about Christ and Christophany,214 and unlike many other pluralists, he does not try to steer theology from Christocentrism towards, let us say, some version of theocentrism.215 The following quotation clearly illustrates the difference in emphasis between Christophany and Christology: Christophany stands for the disclosure of Christ to human consciousness and the critical reflection upon it. It does not totally depart from christology, although it does underscore: a) more passive attitude of receiving the impact of Christ . . . over against a more aggressive search by human reason for intelligibility . . . b) A reintegration of the Christ figure into a cosmological vision so that christophany ceases to be a specialized discipline about some past event, but tends to be a wisdom which discloses the meaning of something which claims to be Way, Truth, and Life . . . c) A thematic integration of the homeomorphic equivalents of what christians call Christ, so that, in principle, christophany includes every epiphany of the sacred or divine . . .216 [Italics mine.]

Panikkar thus understands Christophany to be more mystical than traditional Christology, more cosmological, and also more universal in the respect that its purview extends outside the boundaries of

213

For more detail, see MRDP, 24–25; RHC, 191. However, cf. MRDP, 26: “So it is not that I am stuck with a name, Christ. I can go without it, if you want. But I will not like just to drop it . . . I would prefer to purify that name, rather than dispense with it.” 215 On this debate, see Dupuis 1997, 185–201. An example of another kind of pluralistic theology of religion is that of Stanley J. Samartha (1994, 105–106), who claims that Christ-centred theology should ultimately be God-centred. Cf. also Samartha 1994, 128, 149, 175, in which he seems to adopt the kind of bird’s-eye perspective that Panikkar criticizes ( JTG, 111): “The Christian pluralist will not affirm that there are many saviors.” Here, again, Panikkar is attempting to be more radical in his pluralistic theology of religions than many others. 216 CP, 5. Panikkar’s epistemological wording is worth noting: it is a question of “a manifestation” and “the disclosure” of Christ to human “consciousness.” Of course, the ending ‘-phany’ gives the concept ‘Christophany’ apparent epistemological overtones. Nevertheless, in the context of Panikkar’s thinking, Christophany ultimately turns out to be ontological. See 4.1. and 4.2. 214

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Christendom. It also embraces “homeomorphic equivalents” in other religions.217 It is also important to note that Christ is integrated into a cosmological vision in Panikkar’s Christophany. He thus does not see Christophany as “a specialized discipline about some past event.” Instead, he is willing to characterize it as “a wisdom,” disclosing once again his tendency towards perennialist interpretations. Perennialism goes well with mysticism and the emphasis on cosmology— both of which aspects are evident in the following quotation that describes Panikkar’s christological program: It is only a question of emphasizing the personal spiritual life, the discovery of the kingdom of heaven, the pearl, the wholeness of the Mystical Body, the communion with the divine, the interior, historical, and at the same time cosmic and transtemporal Christ. . . . Christianness stands for experience of the life of Christ within ourselves, insight into a communion . . . with all reality, an experience that “I and the Father are one,” that labels do not matter, that security is of no importance, and that reflection also is a secondary source (although a primary tool). It is with hesitation that I use the phrase “mystical experience,” but perhaps there is no better way of saying it. Not without certain bias I chose the mystical Ganges as the symbol.218 [Italics mine.]

Panikkar thus affirms the “mystical” overtones in his thinking. It is a question of the priority of spirituality and experience over rational reflection.219 The exclusive Jordan and the inclusive Tiber are followed by the divine Ganges as a symbol of a new, pluralistic phase—and, according to Panikkar, the Ganges is “mystical.”220 It is clear from the above that Panikkar’s is no Laissez-Faire pluralism. On the contrary, his understanding carries strong ontological, cosmic, and mystic overtones. There is in his writings a certain characteristic that highlights unbroken spirituality and distinguishes him from other pluralists with more leanings towards the Enlightenment tradition.221 217 The concept ‘homeomorphic equivalent’ is one of Panikkar’s many neologisms. The homeomorphic equivalent in another system is, in his own words (RPC, 102), “the function that is equivalent to that exercised by the original notion in the corresponding cosmovision.” See RPC, 101–103. 218 JTG, 113. 219 Cf. 2.1. above. 220 See JTG, 98–104. On the significance of the Ganges in Hinduism, see Peterson 1987. 221 See 1.1.3. above.

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On the other hand, I have shown that similar post-pluralistic criticism can be levelled at Panikkar as at other pluralists. Panikkar also seems to presume that it is ultimately possible to find at least some common ground that provides the Archimedean point for grasping religious pluralism—although he untiringly points out that this common ground is to be found only on a very transcendental level, and it can never be reached outside concrete religious traditions. It is thus possible to characterize Panikkar’s pluralistic theology of religions as revealing a certain amount of normativeness. First, he expresses the desire—and not without certain programmatic features—to see the transformation of concrete religions and the reevaluation of their doctrines.222 Secondly, pluralism assumes a quality that would allow it to be described as a sort of world-view.223 Pluralism and the dialogical interpretation of reality it entails seem to be taking shape as a new myth that could provide the basis for the encounter of religions.224 It is worth noting that Panikkar’s vision has strong resemblances to that of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Unlike most other pluralists who tend to strip off the distinctive characters of religions and thus end up with the ineffable and abstract Mystery,225 Panikkar highlights the fact that Mystery is constituted by many names. His methodology is thus one of enriching rather than stripping off. In this respect, his vision seems to fulfill Teilhard’s desire for a new mysticism that takes account of the complementary insights of other religions and finds unity through tension, instead of reducing the multiple to a common ground.226 There are a number of other points at which Panikkar seems to follow Teilhard’s initiative very closely.227 Nevertheless, my aim is not to examine how far these affinities bear wit-

Cf. also Yadav 1987, 181. See IH, 52–91; SCD, which discloses the seriousness and passion with which Panikkar defends pluralism. 224 See IH, 173. 225 On this point, see my summary of pluralist strategies in 1.1.3. above. 226 See King 1980, 34–35, 129–137. 227 Teilhard put forward to the idea of the transformation of religions, and insisted on liberating the Christian faith from that which is specifically Mediterranean. He even used biological language and envisioned the “synthesis” of accumulated traditions. See King 1980, 32, 34–35, 56, 97–98, 106, 130. See also the right-hand column of the table in King 1980, 142 expounding the central tenets of Teilhard’s “Road of the West” in contrast with the “Road of the East.” Almost every feature of this new form of mysticism is also evident in Panikkar’s thinking. The major 222

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ness to the direct or indirect influence of Teilhard’s writings on Panikkar. It is enough here to note the striking similarity of the basic orientation of these two thinkers, and therefore, to pay due attention to a certain Teilhardian flavor in Panikkar’s vision.228 My aim in the next chapter is to explicate the principles that undergird Panikkar’s pluralistic theology of religions and provide the basis of his daring vision that he calls “cosmotheandric.” The discerning of epistemological and ontological principles in his thinking confirms that his pluralistic theology of religions rests upon particular metaphysics, and accordingly discloses an ideological quality that is not consistent with the basic idea of pluralism.

difference is, however, that Panikkar does not subscribe to the evolutionism in Teilhard’s vision, as I have shown in 2.2. above. Another difference is that Teilhard never acquired a profound knowledge of Eastern religions and, accordingly, did not attach great importance to them: he felt that the Western way was, at least in some sense, superior. See King 1980, 123–143. 228 For Panikkar’s own thoughts on Teilhard, see CHT. Panikkar describes his own position in the following words (CHT, 63): “. . . not being teilhardian and . . . being with Teilhard.” See also CE, 79 note 3. Panikkar recalls that, during his early years, he was associated with Teilhard de Chardin even before he had heard the name of this famous French Jesuit. CHT, 62. Nevertheless, he sees a clear difference between himself and Teilhard (BS, 119): “. . . I am . . . pluralistic; which is something for which there seems to be little place in Teilhard’s system.” See also CTBT, 21 note 19.

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CHAPTER FOUR

THE PRINCIPLES BEHIND PANIKKAR’S THEOLOGY 4.1. C: C   S  B The strongest association Panikkar’s name evokes in the minds of most theologians is probably with cosmic Christology. This was the theme he elaborated in his theological dissertation The Unknown Christ of Hinduism (1964), for instance, even if his thinking was inclusivistic in those days. However, a cosmological interpretation of Christology seems to be a theme recurs in his work. As I mentioned in the previous Chapter, Panikkar has presented a new Christology under the title ‘Christophany’.1 Christology has always been a vital theme in Panikkar’s work, and thus cannot be ignored in the present study even though the focus is not on his Christology.2 Analyzing Panikkar’s Christology entails its own difficulties. My overall impression is that Christology is ultimately rather loosely related to other themes within his pluralistic thinking, for instance to his radical pluralism and cosmotheandric vision. Panikkar himself alludes to this kind of issue in his introduction to the second edition of The Unknown Christ of Hinduism when he refers to “new wine” and “old skins.”3 In spite of this, it looks as if, even now, he is emphasizing the significance of the Christological question. For instance, he said in a lecture in 1991 that “from the christian perspective, the entire modern problematic concerning

1 See 3.3.2. above. As I noted at the beginning of the present study (1.2.1.), the second, pluralist edition of The Unknown Christ of Hinduism (1981) differs significantly from the first edition. Panikkar has dealt with Christology in his pluralistic phase, especially in his articles MCN (1973) and CP (1992), and also in his concise study SC (1972). Actually, MCN was originally part of SC. 2 On Panikkar’s Christology, see Parappally 1995, 105–177; Menacherry 1996; Carney 1996. 3 See UCH, 9–11. Cf. also Carney 1996, 132: “I wish there were a single powerful text with which to participate in the dynamism of the Christological thought in Panikkar’s work, but he presents us . . . with a complex body of published material, spanning more than thirty years, into which his understanding of the Christ is woven.”

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inter-cultural and inter-religious questions hinges upon the vision of Christ.”4 I have therefore chosen to allot a separate Chapter to Panikkar’s Christology. I would first like point out the occasional accentuations that are, to some extent, inconsistent with his cosmotheandric metaphysics.5 It seems that, here too, Panikkar’s thinking has undergone a significant change that is not unrelated to its overall dynamics.6 A key theme, not only before the pluralistic turn in his theology of religions but also for some time after it, was the “theandric” nature of Christology.7 This means that the framing of the Christological question takes shape against the background of Hindu speculation that has little regard for the empirical world.8 On the whole, Panikkar apparently remains rather loyal to the heritage of Classical Christology in his earlier work.9 In the context of the cosmotheandrism that took shape in the 1970’s, Christology may look like an “old skin” that needs modification before the “new wine,” that is, the new cosmotheandric metaphysics could be expressed.10 Nevertheless, it should be noted that cosmotheandrism and the Christological revision it entails seem to be merely results of organic growth11 in the sense that ‘theandrism’ is simply extended to ‘cosmotheandrism’. However, the overall picture is further complicated by the fact that Panikkar has not simply substituted ‘cosmotheandrism’ for ‘theandrism’. There was a transitional stage during which he continued to use both terms.12 4 CP, 3. It is a prevalent opinion that the debate on the pluralistic theology of religions culminates in the Christological question. See, e.g., Knitter 1985, 171–172; Dupuis 1997, 190–193. 5 Panikkar’s cosmotheandrism is analyzed in 4.3. and 5. above. 6 On this, see 1.2.1. above. 7 On this, see 4.1.1. 8 See UCH, 127–128, 148–155; Boyd 1974, 89; Boyd 1975, 254. See also Komulainen 1998, 116–118. 9 See Menacherry 1996, 116–117, 247–251, in which it is shown that “theandrically” interpreted Christology has strong ties to the Christian tradition. Cf. also Menacherry 1996, 119: “The cosmotheandric vision of Panikkar is shaped by a fusion between the theandric vision of Christianity and the theocosmic vision of the Hindu relilgion [sic].” See also Menacherry 1996, 193. This kind of “fusion” is in line with the overall radicalization of Panikkar’s thought and the parallel tendency towards integration. See 3 above. Cf. also Ahlstrand 1993, 123–133. 10 See also 1.2.1. for my critical remarks on Ewert H. Cousins’ (1979b) interpretation of Panikkar. 11 See 1.2. and 2.2. above. 12 Cf. UCH, 20: “. . . a Christ who did not represent the cosmotheandric reality

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Next I will attempt to show that there has indeed taken place a significant systematic change in Panikkar’s thinking. I will begin with the Christology he presents in the second edition of The Unknown Christ of Hinduism (UCH). As I have already mentioned, this book contains plenty of material that mirrors Panikkar’s earlier Christological views—i.e., that Christ is primarily an ontological “link” between the relative and the absolute.13 In the following, I will refer to the kind of Christology that is very characteristic of Panikkar’s earlier theology as ‘Link Christology’. I will try to show that if this Link Christology is broadened in the light of his earlier Trinitarian theology (TWR), a plausible train of thought opens up that leads inexorably to Christophany, or to Christology that highlights Christ as a “symbol” of reality.14 The kind of Christology that is characteristic of Panikkar’s later theology I will refer to as ‘Symbol Christology’. Panikkar’s own descriptions of the organic change in his thinking seem to be accurate in the sense that he has absorbed many ideas, and combining these opens up new vistas. In my opinion, one such significant line of development is discernible in his Christology.15 4.1.1. Christ as a Cosmological Principle and an Ontological Link Panikkar suggested in his earlier work that the convergence of religions could be realized in a new category that is “theandric,” in

with one Spirit seeing and recreating all hearts and renewing the face of the earth, surely would not be my Christ . . .”; UCH, 48–49: “That theandric ‘thing,’ the concrete connection between the Absolute and relative which all religions recognize in one way or another, we could call ‘Lord’ but we may also call it ‘Christ’ . . .” [Italics mine.] Cf. also Menacherry 1996, 116–120. 13 UCH, 83: “[Christ] is not only the historical redeemer, but also the unique Son of God, the Second Person of the Trinity, the only ontological—temporal and eternal—link between God and the World.” See also UCH, 154–162. 14 See, e.g., CP, 6–7, in which ‘symbol’ is evidently the central Christological concept. The concept ‘mediator’ that reflects Link Christology occurs only when Panikkar seeks support from the Christian tradition. See also CP, 20, in which Christ’s function as harmonizing opposites is subordinated to his function as a symbol. Cf. TWR, 52, in which Christ’s function as a link is still predominant. 15 Panikkar himself makes a distinction that is actually parallel to my distinction between ‘Link Christology’ and ‘Symbol Christology’. Cf. CCTM, 122: “. . . the mystical Christ is not the same as the cosmic Christ. The cosmic Christ is a cosmological hypothesis. The mystical Christ is the Christian belief in the resurrection which allows the Christian to experience a Christophany in any manifestation of Reality, although, as any belief, it has also kosmological assumptions.”

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other words in which anthropological and transcendent aspects intertwine. The idea of “theandrism” arises from the Christian tradition, although in Panikkar’s thinking the concept is broadened to embrace the idea that all spirituality contains both a human element and a transhuman factor. Hence the concept ‘theandrism’ cannot be confined to Christianity, for Panikkar sees every religion as having a theandric dimension.16 In spite of this, and especially in his earlier work, he studies theandrism with a certain Christian bias in the sense that Christ is, so to say, a paradigm of the unity of the human and the divine: Theandrism is the classical and traditional term for that intimate and complete unity which is realised paradigmatically in Christ between the divine and the human and which is the goal towards which everything here below tends—in Christ and the Spirit.17

Even if all religions contain a theandric link between the absolute and the relative, according to Panikkar this is more evident in Christianity than in Hinduism, for instance. This is the impression that is given in the following quotation, in which Panikkar outlines the prerequisites that are required from the Hindu participating in dialogue: We [Hindus] need to swim in the stream of history without ceasing to fly in the air (àkà≤a) of the timeless. We need incarnation as much as transcendence, and we should take our i߆adevatà, the manifestation for us of the Divine, as a real symbol, something more than a mere sign.18

Panikkar sees overemphasis on the category of transcendence and a lack of historical consciousness as real threats for the Hindu. Closely connected to this, as mentioned above, is the fact that, for him, unity among religions cannot be founded on too transcendental a princi16 TWR, 69–70: “The term theandrism indicates with sufficient clarity these two elements of every spirituality: the human element which serves as the point of departure and the transhuman factor which gives it inner life and is its transcendent result.” Panikkar interprets, e.g., purußa and nara-nàràya»a as ‘theandric’ counterparts in Hinduism. UCH, 91 n. 128. See also VE, 366, 454, in which the core of the Vedic experience is seen as theandric. 17 TWR, 69. See CP, 20: “In Jesus Christ the finite and infinite meet. In him the human and the divine are united. In him the material and the spiritual are one—to say nothing of masculine and feminine, high and low, heaven and earth and, obviously, the historical and transhistorical, time and eternity.” 18 UCH, 59. See also UCH, 48–49; IRD, 17.

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ple, for incarnation and concrete symbols are needed. It is thus impossible to avoid the impression that, in this respect, Christianity has something to teach Hinduism. After his pluralistic turn, Panikkar’s Link Christology continues, at least to some extent, to be colored with a certain shade of his earlier inclusivism.19 Here he describes Christ using terms such as ‘link’, ‘mediator’, and also ‘conveyer’.20 By accentuating the role of Christ as the link between the absolute and the relative, i.e. between two mutually incompatible ontological categories, Panikkar re-asserts his interest in the Chalcedonian doctrine of the two natures of Christ. However, the hermeneutical model that was initially put forward as an interpretation of the significance of Jesus of Nazareth is transposed to a cosmological category, for Panikkar sees everything that functions as an intermediary as Christ: Christ, manifest or hidden, is the only way to God. Even by definition the unique link between the created and the uncreated, the relative and the Absolute, the temporal and the eternal, earth and heaven is Christ, the only mediator. Between these two poles everything that functions as intermediary, link, ‘conveyor’, is Christ, the sole priest of the cosmic priesthood, Ruler of the Universe par excellence.21

Panikkar’s Link Christology puts Christ on a cosmic horizon. Christ being the protological and eschatological principle, his significance reaches from the beginning to the end.22 This universal scope of Christology is intimately connected to Panikkar’s theology of religions, since the principle of the universal Christ is also the principle of every religion: This, then, is Christ: that reality from whom everything has come, in whom everything subsists, to whom everything that suffers the wear and tear of time shall return. . . . Hence from the point of view of Christianity, Christ is already present in Hinduism. The Spirit of Christ is already at work in Hindu prayer. Christ is already present in every form of worship, to the extent that it is adoration directed to God.23

19 Panikkar’s efforts to stress the pluralistic character of his earlier Christology are worth noting in this context. See UCH, 25–29; CP, 11. 20 TWR, 52. 21 TWR, 52. 22 UCH, 2–3. 23 UCH, 49.

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Hence all authentic religions are included in Christology. Panikkar establishes his pluralistic theology of religions explicitly upon cosmic Christology: The ultimate reason for this universal idea of Christianity, an idea which makes possible the catholic embrace of every people and religion, lies in the Christian conception of Christ: he is not only the historical redeemer, but also the unique Son of God, the Second Person of the Trinity, the only ontological—temporal and eternal—link between God and the World.24

Christ eventually becomes so abstract in Panikkar’s thinking that he applies the philosophical term ‘the christic principle’.25 This concept betrays the basic assumption of cosmic dimensions that tinges his Christology: as already mentioned, Christ is considered to be present in all authentic religions as their “principle of life.”26 4.1.2. Reality as Christophany Panikkar stretches his idea of Christ as the ontological link to the extreme, which has made his Christology more and more christophanic in character over the course of time. He does not locate Christ’s function between the absolute and the relative in his recent writings. In fact, the radicalization of his vision has lead him to dispense altogether with the very concept ‘absolute’.27 Instead, he has broadened his christic principle to embrace without exception the totality of being, reality as a whole: “. . . each being is a christophany, a manifestation of the christic adventure of all reality on its way towards infinite mystery.”28 All beings can thus be seen as manifestations of the christic principle. It is worth noting that in the passage just quoted, Panikkar

24 UCH, 82–83. Here Panikkar says that Christ is the only ontological link even though he also gives us to understand that Christ is only one name or aspect of the Mystery. In my view, this inconsistency may be seen as an indication of the fact that UCH still contains older material that mirrors Panikkar’s earlier inclusivist language. Furthermore, it should be remembered that he understands that each name or aspect always expresses the whole of reality. See UCH, 24–25, 29. Cf. also 3.1.1.1. above. 25 See JTG, 105, 112. Interestingly, Teilhard de Chardin has also employed this term. See King 1980, 193. 26 UCH, 20; PUEWC, 196. 27 See 1.2.1. above. 28 CP, 7.

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depicts reality, in some sense, as intentional. All reality is on the way “towards” infinite mystery.29 Elsewhere, Panikkar articulates the intrinsic communion of all beings with Christ, so to say, “from below,” i.e., from the perspective of things in the world—even if his reflection also begins here “from above”: . . . there is nothing but God, a God that as a absolute ‘I’ has an eternal ‘Thou’, which is equal to him and which is nevertheless not a second, but always a Thou. This Thou, which is the Son, is the whole Christ, including the new heavens and the new earth; all beings participate in this Christ, find their place in him and are fully what they are when they become one with him, the Son. All that exists, i.e. the whole of reality, is nothing but God: Father, Christ and Holy Spirit.30 [Italics mine.]

In speaking about beings in the world, Panikkar uses the word ‘to participate’ to denote how these are related to Christ. That all beings “find their place in him” means that every being is ultimately arrayed in the background of the christic principle. The direction of the utterances in the quotation is from the cosmos and its beings towards the divine. Moreover, passages such as the one quoted may give the impression that, according to Panikkar, the entire cosmos will ultimately be absorbed in Christ, or in the Trinitarian mystery.31 The christic principle ultimately embraces all that exists, since existence is nothing more than Christophany. Panikkar even seems to suggest that, from a transcendental flashing-like perspective,32 it is even possible to say, “there is nothing but God.” What is the issue here? Does Panikkar’s thinking disclose some pantheistic trait? As already mentioned, according to the thinking that dates back to Panikkar’s earlier phase, Christ is primarily seen as the link between God and the cosmos. This idea could readily be applied in the fields of the doctrine of creation and cosmology—it is undisputable that

29 However, it will be seen below in 4.3.1. that one essential feature of Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision is the rhythmic nature of being that excludes any idea of a goal. Cf. also 2.2. above. 30 UCH, 161. See also IRD, 83–84, 89, in which Panikkar presents Christian soteriology almost exclusively from the perspective of the Classical idea of theosis. 31 See also MJC, 174: “The entire universe is involved in the process. The entire reality, in christian language, I discovered half a century ago, is Father, Christ and Holy Spirit—which later on I called the cosmotheandric experience.” 32 Cf. 4.2. below.

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the Classical Christian tradition includes the idea that Christ is the agent in creating, ordering, and sustaining the universe.33 However, Panikkar does not stop there: He sees every being as a manifestation of Christ in its essence. The role of entities thus seems to be only in “participating” in Christ and manifesting Christ, even to “become one” with the Cosmic Christ. In fact, Panikkar defines being in a wholly Christological way as follows: “We are only in so far as we participate in the Logos. Every being is, and is only, a Christophany.”34 Being is thus participating in the christic principle, in the dimension of reality that is, if expressed in Christian terms, ‘Christ’. Panikkar’s ontology is simply Christophany.35 In the end, only Christ exists, and thus the christic principle is not only a crucial cosmological category, but also, in a certain sense, being itself. The above analysis thus reveals that the new Christology suggested by Panikkar, i.e. Christophany, is ultimately nothing more than universal ontology, and he may therefore depict being as “continuous incarnation.”36 The core of the Christian faith is to be found in the Christ experience that “amounts to the incarnation of that Mystery in us: Incarnatio continua.”37 On the question of pantheism, Panikkar’s thinking could be rather called rather ‘panchristic’. According to him, nothing but Christ exists in the end, for being is participating in Christ, or in other words, in being itself. In fact, it may be misleading to depict Panikkar’s thinking as panchristic, since he sees Christ to be only one symbol of reality itself.38 It should nevertheless be borne in mind that, for him, each name is a real symbol participating in the thing named.39 Moreover, the meaning of a sacred name is in danger of being dis-

See, e.g., Kelly 1978, 95–101. TWR, 53, 66. See also JTG, 112–113. 35 BS, 118: “To me every being is a Christophany, a revelation of that Christic mystery.” 36 JTG, 114. See also RT, 38, in which the incessant nature of creation is connected with pneumatology. CF. also DAIE, 37. 37 ICT, 320. See also MJC, 158–159. 38 Panikkar himself also attempts to repudiate erroneous reading (IFOL, xi): “How as christian could I not be christocentric, without subscribing though to any christomonistic or panchristic position? Are there not many mansions in the Father’s house?” Cf. here also BS, 119. See also OCI, 15. 39 See UCH, 29; MCN, 238–239. See also UCH, 6, 23. This interpretation of ‘name’ fits well with Panikkar’s understanding of language in general. See 1.2.1. above. See also Coward 1996. 33

34

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torted if interpreted outside of its mythic context.40 Panikkar seems to comprehend religions as language games that have to be taken as totality.41 His words that identify ontology with Christology should therefore be understood in close relation to his pluralism, and also to his cosmotheandric metaphysics. For him, Christ in particular is a cosmotheandric symbol.42 Christology cannot be isolated from the rest of his thinking. However, it is essential to note here that, according to Panikkar’s recent Christological thinking, Christ is the symbol that symbolizes nothing less than reality itself.43 As such, Christ cannot be only theandric, but is more extensively cosmotheandric.44 For this reason, Panikkar can even say that he prefers ‘Christ’ to ‘God’, since the latter is more restricted as a symbol.45 In the course of time, Link Christology has assumed new dimensions and deepened into Symbol Christology. Nonetheless, even in Symbol Christology, Christ has a certain “linking” and unitive role since the symbol of Christ manifests the unbroken character of cosmotheandric reality, or to be precise, the unity of its three fundamental dimensions.46 The Trinitarian model that Panikkar articulated in a brief meditation, The Trinity and World Religions, Icon-Person-Mystery (1970), is worth examining, with a view to further defining the relationship between Christology and ontology. Panikkar attempts to give a fresh interpretation to the Trinity in the context of the variety of human spirituality.47 Even if the ideas presented in the book are not entirely in harmony with his later vision, he makes a fundamental choice regarding ontology, knowing which helps in understanding his Christophany.48 40

MCN, 237. See also HCR, 49–50; IRD, xxiv–xxvii. 42 See Chapters 3 and 4.3. 43 CP, 6: “Christ is the christian symbol of all reality. . . . For the christian, Christ is that central symbol which embodies the entire reality.” On Panikkar’s understanding of the symbol, see especially WSM, 20–21. 44 CP, 20–21: “Christophany is the manifestation of the mysterious union of the divine, human and cosmic ‘dimension’ of Reality. . . . Elsewhere I have called this experience the cosmotheandric intuition. It suffices here to mention that the traditional vision of Jesus Christ throughout the ages has always seen in him the harmonious blending of these three dimensions of the real . . .” 45 MRDP, 23. For more detail, see 4.3.2.1. 46 See CP, 20–21, in which the ability of the Christ symbol to harmonize polarities is obvious. On the nature of cosmotheandric reality, see 4.3. below. 47 TWR, 42. 48 In fact, the concept ‘Christophany’ occurs in TWR. See TWR, 53, 66. 41

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According to Panikkar, the first person of the Trinity tallies with Buddhist-styled spirituality since . . . the Absolute, the Father, is not. He has no ek-sistence, not even that of Being. In the generation of the Son he has, so to speak, given everything. In the Father the apophatism (the kenosis or emptying) of Being is real and actual. . . . In begetting the Son he gives up everything, even, if we may dare to say so, the possibility of being expressed in a name that would speak of him and him alone, outside any reference to the generation of the Son. Is it here, truly speaking, in this essential apophatism of the ‘person’ of the Father, in this kenosis of Being at its very source, that the Buddhist experience of nirvà»a and of ≤ùnya (emptiness) should be situated?49

The Father evades any ontological categorization, for his transcendence is radical. Therefore Panikkar can deny the existence of the Father saying, “the Father is not.” Transcending all names, the Father even has no name.50 On the other hand, the Son corresponds with the personalist dimension of spirituality, which also includes the Indian way of bhakti.51 As the above quotation indicates, the Father empties himself in the generation of the Son and hands over his being to the Son. This original interpretation of kenosis entails a rather radical conclusion—that being belongs exclusively to the Son: It is the Son who IS, and so is God. It is the Son who acts, who creates. Through him everything was made. In him everything exists. . . . It is the Son, properly speaking,—and the Son was manifested in Christ—who is the Divine Person, the Lord. . . . Correctly speaking, then, it is only with the Son that man can have a personal relationship. The God of theism, thus, is the Son.52

Because of kenosis, the Father has no other name or being than the Son. Therefore, only the Son “is.” It is interesting that Panikkar 49

TWR, 46. TWR, 44: “The Absolute has no name. All religious traditions have recognised that it is in truth beyond every name, ‘un-namable’, a-nàma, an-onymos. . . . His transcendence is constitutive and he alone is authentically transcendent.”; TWR, 61: “The Father has no name because he is beyond every name, even the name of Being.” Here a critical remark is appropriate: Panikkar seems to say something ontological concerning the Father even if he tries to be apophatic. Moreover, ‘nonbeing’ is an ontological category. Cf. 4.1.5. for my analysis of Panikkar’s idea of the “Supername.” It seems to me that “Supername” should be ultimately understood to be the “name” of the Father that has no name. 51 TWR, 22. 52 TWR, 50–51. 50

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emphasizes the fact that the generation of the Son and the creation of the world are one and the same act,53 thus confirming that, in his Christology, being as such belongs entirely “to the kingdom and sphere of the Son.”54 Being is thus tantamount to participation in Christ. Given that the Son is the being of the Father, and that every being qua being participates in the Son, is it not a fair conclusion that every being is indirectly the being of the Father, or at least part of that being? And does this not entail that the relationship between God and the world is, at least in some sense, reciprocal? In other words, the critical question of whether Panikkar’s model warrants a sufficient distance between God and the world remains to be asked.55 From this point of view, it is interesting to read the following lines: All that exists, i.e. the whole of reality, is nothing but God: Father, Christ and Holy Spirit. All that exists is nothing but Brahman as sat, cit and ànanda, as being, consciousness and bliss, i.e. sat as the very support of all that in one way or another constitutes ‘being’; cit as the spiritual or intellectual link that encompasses and penetrates the total reality; and ànanda as the perfect fullness that receives into itself and inspires all that is tending towards it. There are not two Brahmans: nirgu»a Brahman ‘is’ sagu»a, precisely when it is, in the same way that ≤abda-brahman is parabrahman, precisely when it is said.56

Here, Panikkar’s view that “Brahman without attributes” (nirgu»a Brahman) and “Brahman with attributes” (sagu»a Brahman) refer to the same Brahman, or the divine ground of being, is worth noting. The difference, however, is that the first mentioned ‘is’ the last mentioned. Given what is said above, it is clear that Panikkar equates the Father with nirgu»a Brahman and the Son with sagu»a Brahman. Being is thus located in the latter. Panikkar has adapted the terminology of the Hindu theological school of Vedànta here. Stressing the importance of nirgu»a Brahman at the expense of sagu»a Brahman is a distinctive feature of the Advaita Vedànta school with which Panikkar sympathizes.57 He affirms this hierarchy in the following:

53

See RT, 38, and also BS, 128. TWR, 61. See also TWR, 44–47, 50–53. 55 On this issue, see 4.3., where Panikkar’s understanding of the reciprocal relationship between God, man, and the world is analyzed in detail. 56 UCH, 161–162. 57 See, e.g., Boyd 1975, 233–237, 240–241; Klostermaier 1994, 413–417. 54

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  The Trinity appears to us as sagu»a; but primordially it is nirgu»a . . . the Trinity is also sagu»a, in so far as we think it and in so far as we are ‘in’ it. Reality is Trinity and not a monolithic Divine Being because ‘in’ the Trinity there is also a place for us, sagu»a, without impingement on the absolute purity of nirgu»a.58

Thus, in Panikkar’s theological thinking, the Trinity seems to function as a conception that enables him to depict the Divinity simultaneously as Mystery that surpasses all definition (the Father—nirgu»a) and as present reality (the Son—sagu»a).59 One cannot escape the impression that, in solving the dilemma between pluralism and holism, he makes use of both the Trinity and the Hindu conception of Advaita.60 For him, the Trinity is a crucial idea with which he operates in various contexts. 4.1.3. The Meaning of Jesus of Nazareth in Cosmic Christology Panikkar’s Christophany inexorably evokes questions about the meaning of the historical Jesus. What is the role of Jesus of Nazareth in a Christology with such a wide and universal scope? In Panikkar’s thinking, Jesus does not exhaust the mystery of Christ. Christ surpasses mere Jesus. He understands Christ as the cosmic Christ whose soteriological function extends everywhere: This . . . is Christ: that reality from whom everything has come, in whom everything subsists, to whom everything that suffers the wear and tear of time shall return. He is the embodiment of Divine Grace who leads every Man to God; there is no other way but through him. . . . Is not he the light that illuminates every human being coming to this World?61

Even though Panikkar does not wish, in principle, to dispense with the Christian conception according to which Christ is “the historical redeemer,” and Jesus of Nazareth has “a special and unique relationship with . . . the Son,”62 his texts impart that, methodologically,

58 RT, 38–39. It is worth noting that Panikkar speaks about “the absolute purity of nirgu»a.” More recently, however, as a consequence of his radical pluralism, he has rejected any absolutism in the understanding of the divine. See 3.1. above. 59 RT, 38: “. . . the Trinitarian insight tells us that the Divine is both yonder being (asat, the Father, the Source) and this side of being (sat, the Son, the Receiver).” 60 See 3.2.2. above. 61 UCH, 49. 62 UCH, 83; TWR, 52.

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his Christology hardly attaches to Jesus of Nazareth. It is easy to find in his writings statements that minimize the value of history, or at least suggest that Jesus is of secondary importance.63 It seems that his Christology rests upon the following fundamental theological basis: the role of Jesus of Nazareth is confined to the background, and to providing a starting-point for Christian consciousness, whereas Christ holds the pivotal theological position.64 Therefore the question concerning the significance of Jesus of Nazareth for Panikkar’s theology could be tentatively answered in the following way: since Panikkar displays no special interest in Jesus of Nazareth, the significance of the historical figure is reduced to a minimum in his vision. Ironically, he could be accused of not remembering his own cautious words some decades ago, according to which “nobody for the sake of dialogue has a right to blur the issue by minimizing Jesus or overlooking the central Christian affirmation of the Lordship of Jesus.”65 Nonetheless, Panikkar denies that he was “escaping the scandal of the incarnation” or “ignoring . . . historical facts.” In spite of this rhetoric, it is difficult to avoid the feeling that, to a great extent, he has dispensed with Christian commitment to the historical figure of Jesus and eschews history.66 In fact, he has called not only for the “dekerygmatization” but also for the “dehistoricizing” of Christ.67 This critical and, so to say, minimizing attitude towards history does not alone give Panikkar’s Christology its distinctive character.68 In general, his Christology displays almost exclusive cosmologicalontological traits. This means that there are also many other points 63

See, e.g., UCH, 27, 29; IFOL, xii. This solution has a certain resemblance to Rudolf Bultmann’s and Paul Tillich’s existential theologies. See McGrath 1986, 127–146; Hägglund 1968, 404–410. See also Ahlstrand 1993, 163–164; Menacherry 1996, 211 note 138. However, cf. NRCUA, 173, in which Panikkar deviates from his regular Christological method. 65 CWR, 114. 66 JTG, 114. For a more detailed analysis of Panikkar’s criticism of historical thinking, see 4.2.1. It is true that he interprets Jesus of Nazareth as a manifestation of Christ (e.g., CP, 8). However, it should be remembered that, for him, every being is Christophany, as shown above. 67 CTBT, 8: “Decades ago I called for the dekerygmatization of Christ in order to free him from any dogmatic proclamation. Today I would ask whether we have to also dehistoricize him.” 68 Cf., e.g., Braaten 1984, 517–526. For an enlightening account in this connection, see Barth 2001, 401–404. On the complex issue of the theological significance of the historical Jesus in the modern discussion, see McGrath 1986, especially 1–3, 212–213. 64

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at which it differs from the mainstream Christian tradition, for example in the apparent total absence of classical perspectives on atonement and reconciliation.69 It is significant that he only very rarely refers to Jesus’ death and resurrection. Moreover, when he does, he interprets them not in the traditional sense, but rather as metaphors for the growth of religion towards fullness.70 Hence it could be concluded that Christophany does not accentuate the historical Jesus. Its main focus is rather on the cosmological and ontological horizon, for the christic principle infiltrates every religion and the whole of reality, and is even manifested in every being. Christ thus interpreted cannot be confined to Christianity, not even in the sense that Christ is more present in it than in any other religion, so to say. In fact, the fundamental theological resolutions that Panikkar’s Christology implicates are such that they eventually lead to a pluralistic theology of religions. Any exclusivism or inclusivism is out of the question, for his cosmic Christology, or Christophany, is intimately related to his pluralism. This is obvious, too, in light of the fact that Panikkar’s Christophany aims at overcoming the dilemma between universalistic claims about Jesus of Nazareth and world religions.71 What kind of approach does he take to attain this goal? How does he see the relationship between the cosmic Christ and the historical Jesus, in other words the dilemma between the universal and the particular that is inherent in classical Christian understanding? In the analysis that follows, I will attempt to highlight the argumentation that Panikkar uses to justify the two crucial claims in his Christology—that Christ is not exhausted in Jesus of Nazareth, and that Christ is not the only saving name. 4.1.4. Christ as a Category Surpassing Jesus of Nazareth Two different strategies emerge which Panikkar uses to argue that Christology cannot be confined to Jesus of Nazareth: what I will call his personalist argument rests on the distinction between the personal 69 On traditional views of atonement, see, e.g., Forde 1984, 5–41; Hägglund 1968, 171–174, 374–377. In fact, Panikkar does not conceal his critical attitude towards Anselm’s satisfaction theory, for instance. See CD, 98–99; AW, 21, 36–37, 63–64. Of course, there are many precedents in the classical Christian tradition, especially in the Patristic period, for Panikkar’s way of interpreting Christology in the cosmic context. See Dupuis 1997, 53–83. 70 See, e.g., UCH, 4. Cf. also UCH, 74. 71 See, e.g., IRD, 10.

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identification of Jesus of Nazareth and the personal identity of Christ. It is only the latter that is constitutive of Christology. Logical argument questions the reversibility of Christological sentences and their exclusivist reading. Firstly, I will examine the personalist argument that aims at proving historical and external meanings to be only of secondary importance: according to Panikkar, the “myth of history” has led to a situation in which Christology is confined only to the incarnation of Christ.72 He claims that the question of Jesus also goes beyond spatiotemporal coordinates in traditional theology, for Christ is understood to be present in the sacraments and in “little ones.” To highlight this other mode of being of Christ, he says polemically that [n]o christian will say that the living Christ of his faith is only a being of the past and no christian will affirm either, on the other hand, that when he receives Christ in the Eucharist, for instance, that he is eating the proteins of Jesus of Nazareth who was walking in Palestine twenty centuries ago.73

He considers the word ‘Jesus’ to have two different meanings, the historical and the personal. The answer to the vital question “who is Jesus” is to be found in the latter: For the Christian, Jesus is not only the historical Jesus, but “the Risen One, [as] a Christ who as person enters in the very structure of his own personal existence.”74 This answer is arrived at through the following argumentation, which aims at proving that Christ cannot be placed in the category of the individual.75 Panikkar’s cosmic Christology is based on a distinction between ‘person’ and ‘individual’. This enables him to detach the true meaning of Jesus, i.e. his personal mystery, from a particular historical being. What, then, does he mean in his discussion about ‘person’ and ‘individual’? 72 UCH, 83; IFOL, xiii: “But it would similarly reduce christianity to a mere historical phenomenon were we to totally equate Christ with Jesus, the Eucharist with a pure remembrance of the past, and christian faith to mere adherence to a written doctrine conserved through translations and secondary sources. Is not ‘christian faith’ an experience of the present? Is not Christ the risen Jesus? And resurrection is not an exclusively historical category as much as it is not a chemical or gravitational phenomenon.” On Panikkar’s critical view of the “myth of history,” see 4.2.1. 73 MCN, 242. See also IH, 32. 74 MCN, 255–257. See also IH, 34. 75 MCN, 249.

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Here, once again, he subjects modern Western thinking to his criticism. This time he questions its inclination to blur the difference between the concepts ‘individual’ and ‘person’. Therefore, in his view, the idea of the individual person is ultimately contradictory.76 He sees the concept ‘individual’ as an abstraction, and furnishes this with two meanings that prima facie seem to be somewhat contradictory. On the one hand, an individual is a human being quantified in the context of a multitude of human beings, while on the other hand, the concept of the individual refers to a human being who is abstracted out of his or her communal context.77 These meanings of ‘individual’ seem more precise in the light of Panikkar’s definition of the concept ‘person’. According to him, the person is “always society, always relation between several centres.” He thus sees an inherent plurality in the concept, even though it is not a plural concept in the sense that it cannot be quantified.78 Panikkar takes one step further, and defines the person as “a centre of a network of relationships extending perhaps up to the very limits of the world.”79 This distinction between ‘person’ and ‘individual’ is followed by a further distinction between ‘personal identification’ and ‘personal identity’: personal identification is based on empirical data, on the external signs of the person in question, thus not touching the person proper. As far as Christology is concerned, this means that Christ is only seen as a great man of history.80 By personal identity, Panikkar 76

MCN, 254. MCN, 252–253, 249. 78 MCN, 254: “. . . the person disappears if we freeze those centres of relationships and handle them as if they were independent knots, which can be manipulated separately . . . the term ‘person’ does not, properly speaking, allow for plural, not only because each person is unique and thus non-quantifiable, but also because a peculiar plural is internal to the very concept of person: a person being always society, always relation between several centres or focusses [sic], so that the very concept of an individual and individualised person would be a contradiction in terms.” [Italics mine.] See also RT, 14,48; DD, 203; DMTM, 156; ICT, 320. In fact, according to Panikkar (IH, 122–124), pre-modern, non-Western cultures have this extensive understanding of the person. 79 MCN, 253. When outlining the extensive nature of the person, Panikkar refers to Father Zossima of Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, who taught on the solidarity of mankind even concluding that “everyone is really responsible to all men, for all men, and for everything.” MCN, 253 note 82. Cf. DMTM, 152: “Die Welt, vor der wir verantwortlich sind, ist nicht nur etwa meine Stadt, sondern das ganze Universum, gerade weil ich kein isoliertes Individuum bin.” 80 MCN, 255–256. 77

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means the nucleus of a human being that is involved in personal relationships: Personal identity is what responds to the question ‘who’ and it is expressed by the real name, the authentic ‘I’ which is only real when involved in the network of personal relationship.81

By reasoning thus, Panikkar is attempting to find a category in the framework of which Christology could operate regarding Jesus of Nazareth. By proving deficient a Christological method that concentrates on the historical Jesus, he is able to establish a new methodology that takes account of a more universal horizon.82 By locating Christ’s significance in the field of personal identity, he constructs a theoretical model that bestows on Jesus of Nazareth as a historical personality only marginal significance.83 The quest for the historical Jesus should be superseded by efforts to grasp his very essence, which cannot be found in history or in our inner world: Who then is Christ? He cannot be pointed out exclusively in the outer world of history, nor in the exclusively inner world of one’s own thoughts, feelings and beliefs. Morphologically speaking the figure of Christ is also here ambivalent and, in a way, theandric.84

In terms of argumentation, this is a crucial passage. Since the very identity of Christ is “ambivalent” and thus not to be found at any particular point in history, Panikkar is free to see Christ anywhere.85 This enables him to pursue his idea of homeomorphic equivalents of Christ in other religions, as well as his cosmic Christology and panchristic ontology. 81

MCN, 255. CP, 10: “Jesus can be objectively identified: he was born and died in specific times and places. We have caught him! But his identity may still escape us. . . . All too often christologies are concerned with the identification of Jesus.” See also IH, 31–32. 83 On this point, Panikkar’s methodology bears some resemblance to German Protestant theology as influenced by Kantian philosophy, according to which issues of faith are related to the area of the person, not of nature. See Moxter & Dalferth 1993, 504–505; Hägglund 1968, 374–377, 406–409. However, as Panikkar’s understanding of nature displays obvious personalistic traits, it would be misleading to read him in the light of Kantian philosophy. See NRCUA, 172; RPC, 108–109. On Panikkar’s “ecosophical” understanding of nature, see 4.2.4. Panikkar’s persistent criticism of Kantian philosophy should also be borne in mind. See, e.g., MRDP, 25; CP, 12; CD, 46; NCC, 338. 84 MCN, 257. 85 See also CP, 9–11. Cf. also CP, 12, in which Panikkar says about Jesus: “. . . his self, his identity, is an ever new presence, a constant re-creation.” 82

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A personalistic tint in Panikkar’s thinking, as well as a certain reluctance to lapse into monism, are worth noting here. After rejecting the historical level, he ends up seeing Christ not as an exclusively inner reality, but as ultimately ‘thou’.86 On the other hand, he also asserts that the meaning of the word ‘Jesus’ as a personal category allows us to “discover him as a ‘part’ or rather pole of our personal being, as one of the many traits that make our person.”87 To sum up, there are two premises in Panikkar’s Christology. First, he defines ‘person’ as an extensive and dynamic concept that is in tension with more outward ‘identification’. Secondly, he locates the real meaning of Jesus in the sphere of ‘personal identity’. He thus repudiates as idolatrous if the authentic ‘thou’ is confined to one particular object. This also seems to hold true for Jesus of Nazareth.88 To complement this personalistic argument implying criticism of Christological methods that put emphasis on the historical Jesus, Panikkar also presents logical argumentation. Both, in fact, have certain affinities and are directed against the occidental way of thinking that, according to Panikkar, is based on an exclusivist approach. His logical argument calls into question the Western way of identifying that, in his view, occurs in terms of ‘differentiated identification’ instead of in terms of ‘an identifying identity’.89 The Western analytical mind tends to furnish concepts with illegitimate exclusive meanings. As an example, Panikkar gives the sentence ‘the Christ is Jesus’ claiming that it cannot be interpreted as ‘Christ is only Jesus’. Correspondingly, it is not identical with the sentence ‘Jesus is the Christ’. The copula cannot be understood as reversible, as exclusive equivalence. Panikkar emphasizes the fact that, in philosophical terms, the ‘is’ does not inevitably mean ‘is-only’.90 In conclusion, the gist of his logical argument is that he does not consider ‘is’ sentences to imply exclusiveness.91 Along with this logical argumentation, Panikkar also puts forward

86

MCN, 257. See also CP, 10; IH, 76. MCN, 256. 88 See MCN, 257. See also IH, 33. 89 UCH, 13, 15. 90 UCH, 13–15. Cf. also IRD, 15. Similarly, Panikkar criticizes how the common use of the concepts ‘Christian’ and ‘Hindu’ presupposes mutual exclusiveness. See UCH, 15; MWDG, 72. Cf. also OCI, 8–10, 18. 91 Cf. Larson 1996, 78–82, which shows that Panikkar with his pluralism questions the principle of the excluded middle going thus beyond a two-valued logic. 87

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a theological argument for Christ being more than Jesus of Nazareth, which rests on a rather idiosyncratic understanding of the resurrection: When it is said, “He is Risen,” we may be allowed to understand that he is not here, he cannot be located with geographical categories or within merely historical parameters. It is as if angel were saying that his true resurrection is his absence, his not being here or there. He is above limited human horizons, above theological and philosophical speculations, well above any kind of worship, and yet he is present in his absence and we do not need to discover “Him” (as an object) in order for him to receive our acts, since anything we do for “the little ones” we do it unto him.92

The risen Christ is not limited by any geographical categories or historical parameters. In short, Panikkar has a number of arguments for why Christology should espouse a wide, even cosmic frame of reference. This leads him to adopt a very critical attitude towards methodology according to which Christology should adhere to the historical Jesus.93 My overview of Panikkar’s understanding of the relationship between Christ and the historical Jesus could be brought to the end with an observation that is closely connected to the methodological issues mentioned above. Interestingly, Panikkar is able to consider man as having a similar ambiguousness in his relationship with spatio-temporal coordinates as Christ has. He expresses this in the following words: “This center [of the whole reality], which also man is, cannot be localized; it stands nowhere or, better to say, . . . everywhere.”94 What does this mean? For what reason do Panikkar’s Christology and his anthropology share, it could even be said, this kind of theological principle of inaccuracy? Firstly, it should be taken into account that, in a certain sense, Panikkar’s understanding of being as participation in Christ permits 92

IH, 33–34. See also UCH, 14; ICT, 319. This reveals an interesting affinity between Panikkar’s and Paul Tillich’s Christologies. This is also noted in Knitter 1979, 659–660, which also mentions many other theologians with a similar approach. On Tillich and his distinction between the mystery and the finite medium mediating it, see Kelsey 1997, 92–93; McGrath 1986, 145–146. It is no surprise that Tillich has been criticized for not giving a proper place to the historical Jesus in his Christology. See Kelsey 1997, 100. For an anecdote divulging Tillich’s implicit proclivity to Upanißadic thinking, see Samartha 1996, 11–12. 94 DMTM, 169: “Der Mensch als àtman ist hier Mittelpunkt der Ganzen Realität. . . . Dieser Mittelpunkt, welcher der Mensch auch ist, kann nicht lokalisiert werden; er steht nirgendwo oder, besser, nach einer fast universalen Tradition überall.” 93

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him to utter similar things about man as about Christ. Moreover, he seems to have an obvious inclination to identify humanity with Christ, as his understanding of Christ as “resurrected human Life” implies.95 Could his Christology thus be characterized as ‘humanistic’? Perhaps this might be rather appropriate, given the constitutive standing of man in his cosmotheandric vision.96 Secondly, it must be noted that the original context of the words about the ambiguousness of man that were quoted above is a passage of text in which Panikkar tries to articulate Indic anthropology, and especially its concept àtman. There is an obvious affinity between the Hindu understanding of the ‘self ’, as àtman is usually translated, and Panikkar’s Christology. As shown above, Panikkar’s Christology rests on his understanding of ‘person’ that is strongly reminiscent of the way in which àtman is understood in Advaita philosophy.97 The following two features in particular seem to connect Panikkar’s understanding of ‘person’ with the Advaitic understanding of àtman. First, àtman is very dynamic and extensive, transcending the universe. Secondly, despite its infiniteness, àtman as such is the center of everything.98 Therefore, it may not be too far-reaching a conclusion to presume that Panikkar’s Christophany had taken shape under the influence of Advaita philosophy.99 Of course, these similarities notwithstanding, there is a profound difference between Panikkar’s vision and the classical Advaita Vedànta: his severe criticism of all absolute and monistic ways of thinking, and his unabated stress on pluralism, are enough to distinguish his thinking from Advaita philosophy.100

95

ICT, 319. See also ITR, 276. On the elevated role of man in Panikkar’s thinking, see 5. Being burdened with different meanings in different contexts, the concept ‘humanistic’ may be misleading. Nevertheless, characterizing Panikkar’s Christology as ‘anthropic’ or ‘anthropological’ is unnecessary, since the dimension of anthropology is already included in concepts such as ‘theandric’ and ‘cosmotheandric’. 97 See DMTM, 167–170; IH, 129–130. See also a provocative excerpt with a strong personal tone in MJC, 128–130. 98 For an overview of this crucial concept of Indian philosophy, see von Brück 1991, 31–37. Cf. BS, 17. 99 There is also an interesting affinity between the logical argument in Panikkar’s Christology and the tadatmya concept in Advaita philosophy. On tadatmya, see von Brück 1991, 33. 100 See 3.2.2. above. 96

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4.1.5. Jesus as the Revealer of the “Supername” Given this Christological basis, it is interesting to see how Panikkar understands the locus classicus of the theology of religions: “And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).101 Examining this issue will also clarify how Panikkar attempts to harmonize different names and different claims implied by them. This is a challenging task for his theology of religions particularly since he wishes to take seriously the vital symbols of different religions, and not to convey a “crypto-Kantian” tinge.102 In his interpretation of the classical passage of the Acts (4:12), Panikkar utilizes the kenosis hymn of Philippians (2:9), which states that God has bestowed on Jesus Christ who humbled himself the name that is above every name. It is on these grounds that he postulates the category of the ‘Supername’.103 The term ‘Supername’ does not mean that the name is above every other name.104 Instead, in a certain sense, it is located on another level.105 It is worth noting that, when discussing kenosis, Panikkar refers to the Indian concept ‘nàmarùpa’,106 which denotes non-ultimate reality with a name and a form. As he sees it, it is through kenosis that Christ has attained the level of reality that transcends the level of nàmarùpa. Hence Christ has revealed such a name that is “above every name.” This name is the Supername. In comparison with the above observations on Panikkar’s Christology, there is a certain methodological dissonance here: Panikkar is operating with Christology “from below.” This does not fit well with the in which he understands the Son as the symbol of Being.107 Primarily, 101 Panikkar is obliged to take this into account in his Christology. See SC, 17–18. Cf. also Knitter 1985, in which the passage is reflected in the title of the book. See also, e.g., Dupuis 1997, 286–288. 102 See CP, 12; NCC, 338. 103 MCN, 258–259: “‘Jesus’ is not the revealed name, but he reveals the Supername. . . . In point of fact, this ‘annihilation,’ this ‘emptying himself ’ made it possible to transcend the world of ‘forms and names’ and have certainly a name, but which is above every name.”; CP, 11. 104 See MCN, 258 note 93. 105 On this, cf. 3.2.2. above. 106 See MCN, 259. 107 This tension cannot be explained away in terms of chronology: MCN was written in roughly the same period as TWR, which expounds the Trinitarian issue. The same methodology surfaces again in MJC, although Panikkar prefers to speak about “christology ‘from within’.” See MJC, 86–87, 122.

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this methodological deviation may stem from the Biblical passage under scrutiny and the theme. There is something more essential lurking behind it. The tension between Christologies “from below” and “from above” shows how the cosmic Christ has been detached from the historical figure of Jesus of Nazareth. Thus Panikkar may, on the one hand, speak about Jesus of Nazareth who, through his kenosis, reveals the Supername.108 On the other hand, Christ is for Panikkar a vital symbol of cosmotheandric reality,109 even the Being itself through the kenosis of the Father. In sum, the idea of kenosis is present both in Panikkar’s doctrine of the Trinity and in his attempt to give adequate meaning to Jesus of Nazareth in his Christology. It is also worth noting that, according to Panikkar, Christ is not “the disincarnated principle of the eternal archetype.”110 Since the categories ‘universal’ and ‘concrete’ are both important to him,111 his Christ may be understood as a concrete, incarnated mode of the Supername. He acknowledges the fact that, with his arguments, he excludes “the view of an individual as universal Savior” and “the diluting of Jesus as a mere abstract or conventional sign for salvation.”112 In the light of the above, the relationship between Panikkar’s cosmic Christology and Jesus of Nazareth could be summed up as follows. There is an obvious hierarchy of concepts in Panikkar’s Christology: Christology is not exhausted in the historical Jesus since the resurrected Christ is more than Jesus of Nazareth.113 Correspondingly, “the Mystery” is not exhausted in Christ: . . . Though Christ is the Mystery in the sense that to see Christ is to reach the Mystery, still the Mystery cannot be totally identified with Christ. Christ is but one aspect of the Mystery as a whole, even though he is the Way when we are on that way. . . . Only for the Christian is the Mystery indissolubly connected with Christ; only for the Vaishnava

108 See also GIA, 93: “. . . das wahre Wesen Jesu die Transparenz ist.” The function of kenosis in Panikkar’s theology resembles the Christology of Keshub Chunder Sen according to which Divinity filled the void that resulted from kenosis, the utter abandonment of the self. See Boyd 1975, 29–30. A similar idea also arises in Tillich’s Christology. See Kelsey 1997, 92–93. 109 See also BS, 34–35, in which Panikkar interprets the cross of Christ as a cosmic symbol resembling a kind of mandala. Cf. Klostermaier 1994, 286–289. 110 MCN, 259. 111 See JTG, 107. 112 MCN, 260. 113 UCH, 14. See also UCH, 27.

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is the Mystery unfailingly connected with Vishnu . . . This would also apply for the so-called unbeliever, atheist, humanist . . .114

Such passages should not be interpreted to suggest that, according to Panikkar, pluralism prevails epistemologically, but ontologically there is one and the same Mystery. This would be tantamount accepting the kind of “nominalistic” or “crypto-Kantian” resolution that he vigorously rejects.115 He rather understands that every different perspective enriches the Mystery that, in a certain sense, is ultimately constituted through them.116 Therefore the Mystery, which encompasses the abounding richness of reality, is a totality surpassing immanence and transcendence: . . . this Mystery is not a purely transcendent divine reality in which we all worship or recognize, in our different ways, one and the same transcendent ‘God’. It is equally immanent and ‘this-worldly’; it is also ‘sagu»ic’ in character and even possesses a historical dynamism.117

Since the Mystery possesses a historical dynamism, its symbol should not be too abstract. This is the reason why Panikkar persists in speaking about ‘Christ’.118 Nevertheless, ‘the Mystery’ seems to be a vital concept in his Christology as well as in his theology of religions.119 The Mystery denotes something that seems to surpass even Christ. It functions as the name of the next level of the ultimate reality that is referred to in his Christology. I have already criticized Panikkar’s inclination to resort to the use of meta-language.120 Nonetheless, he distinguishes himself from other 114 UCH, 24–25. Similarly, MCN, 262–263: “Christ we said is not the revelation, not the revealed name, but the revealer of the name. The name Christ reveals is a Supername, . . . so saving that he who utters it—and the sounds and voices may be infinite—knows it for sure that in that name all the treasures of the godhead dwell in the most corporeal manner and also knows that that Name has splashed on the earth in innumerable tongues.” [Italics mine.] See also IRD, 20. 115 MRDP, 16: “I am not saying that we are saying the same thing with different names.”; CP, 12; NCC, 338. See also Carney 1996, 136. 116 See UCH, 23–24, 29; GIA, 21. 117 UCH, 26. 118 UCH, 27: “. . . Christ is still a living symbol for the totality of reality: human, divine and cosmic.” Other names include ‘Ràmà’, ‘Ì≤vara’, ‘Krishna’, ‘Purusha’, and ‘Humanity’, for instance, whereas concepts such as ‘God, ‘Matter’, ‘Truth’, ‘Consciousness’, ‘Love’, and ‘Spirit’ are not living symbols. See UCH, 27. 119 Note that Panikkar capitalizes the word ‘Mystery’. See, e.g., UCH, 29. In earlier texts the word is written in small letters (e.g., MCN, 260), although no major changes in the meaning and function of the word occurred. Cf. also CP, 7. 120 See 3.2.2. and 3.2.3. above.

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pluralists who show a similar tendency,121 for he deliberately tried to ward off the conviction that names could be severed from the reality that is named.122 Yet it is clear that the basic problem in his theology of religions is mirrored in his Christology—he wishes to assert concrete religions and, at the same time, go beyond their conflicting truth claims and create a basis for interreligious dialogue.123 Panikkar’s Christology accentuates Christology “from above.”124 It could even be said that its basic orientation surpasses that of cosmic Christology. He presents it as an alternative to Christologies with a historical or cosmic orientation, as the following quotation indicates: There is still a third hypothesis. Jesus would here be considered not only the Jesus of history (first alternative) and the human manifestation of the cosmic mystery (second hypothesis), but as the concrete anthropological symbol through which Christians come to experience the fullness of reality and the fulfilment of human life. Here Jesus is understood as disclosing the saving Supername, which in each case is known as naming the saviour of the particular believer or believing tradition. . . . In this third hypothesis Jesus relates thus to those outside the Western-Christian area not by means of the history of another people or by means of a general cosmic experience but by means of their own human traditions. Jesus in this case would be one of the names of the cosmo-theandric principle, which has received practically as many names as there are authentic forms of religiousness . . . [Italics mine.]125

In Panikkar’s view, Jesus is a concrete symbol through which one can reach the Mystery.126 The Mystery is not exhausted in this name, 121

See 1.1.3. UCH, 23; UCH, 29: “I repeat: it is not that this reality has many names as if there were a reality outside the name. This reality is many names and each name is a new aspect, a new manifestation and revelation of it. Yet each name teaches or expresses, as it were, the undivided Mystery.” 123 On this basic tension, see 3 above. See also CP, 16–18, in which Panikkar analyses his Christophany from this kind of perspective. The following quotation illustrates this (NCC, 338): “To affirm that there may be many Christs is not convincing for me, nor, I would submit, for any orthodox christian. To affirm that there is only one Christ . . . would amount to an equally unacceptable christomonism. Here is the christian theological locus for ‘advaita’—and for the indic contribution to a more adequate wisdom for our times.” 124 See, however, Panikkar’s own description in MJC, 122: “It is customary today to speak about a christology ‘from above’ in contrast to a christology ‘from bellow’. [sic] I shun labels, but if at all I would call this study a christology ‘from within’ . . .” 125 SC, 71–72. 126 If Jesus is perceived only as man of history, Panikkar seems to understand him as a sort of exemplar “living the fullness of humanness which includes the 122

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however, since “it can take any name that is sincerely invoked by the Children of Man.”127 To conclude, by utilizing a symbolic way of thinking and shifting to a kind of meta-level, Panikkar aims at creating a Symbol Christology that tallies with his pluralism: on the one hand, he purports to value particular religious symbols, and on the other hand, he tends to see them only as symbols of the Mystery that eventually transcends them.128 In spite of the autonomous character of particular symbols, the Mystery remains the most fundamental level, having “no name” and yet “all names” and thus allowing harmony among religions.129 The next question concerns the extent to which Panikkar’s Christology finds reception among Christians. I have shown that his relationship with the historical Christian faith is somewhat ambiguous.130 In any case, he defines a Christian as someone who has “discovered in Christ the symbol of the entire reality.”131 However, he does not wish to be a representative of Christomonism.132 Ultimately, his Christophany seems to be subordinated to what he evaluates as more significant, namely, reality and its dynamic character. Christ as a symbol and a manifestation functions as a kind of window through which to capture a vision of reality and man’s role in it.133 I will examine the kind of reality that opens up through this symbol, and how one can see it in the following section.

sharing of the Divine—revealing thus what we are called upon to become.” MJC, 177. Note the hierarchy of the concepts ‘Jesus’, ‘Christ’, and ‘the Mystery’, as suggested in the following quotations: CP, 7: “The christian knows Christ in and through Jesus.”; UCH, 24–25: “. . . Though Christ is the Mystery in the sense that to see Christ is to reach the Mystery, still the Mystery cannot be totally identified with Christ.”; NCC, 338. Cf. also CP, 14: “Christophany makes sense only within a trinitarian insight. Christ is the full manifestation of the Trinity.” See CP, 20–21; CHT, 70–71, which prove that Panikkar’s understanding of the Trinity is actually cosmotheandric, whereas this latter concept refers to the ultimate character of reality. On this, see 4.3. 127 DAIE, 52. 128 NCC, 337–338. On Panikkar’s symbolistic way of thinking, see 4.2.2. 129 Cf. GIA, 11: “Gott hat ‘keinen Namen’ und doch ‘alle Namen’.” See also GIA, 21. 130 See 1.2.1. and 3.3.2. above. 131 CHT, 62. Cf. IH, 127: “Christ will be for the Christian the symbol of the totality; for the non-Christian, only the symbol of the Christians.” Here, perspectivism is also valid. On this, see 3.1.1.1. above. 132 See NCC, 338. 133 See MCN, 262; WSM, 91–92; CP, 8, 20; JTG, 108.

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  4.2. T E   E 4.2.1. Stages of the Human Time-Consciousness

Before any analysis is attempted, Panikkar’s new epistemology should be located properly in the context of anthropological dynamics as he understands it. Therefore, I will give a brief introduction to his notion of the three different stages of human consciousness—i.e., ‘pre-historical’ or ‘nonhistorical’, ‘historical’, and ‘transhistorical’ or ‘post-historical’.134 His new epistemology as well as his entire theological vision are situated in the context of the third moment. It should be noted that his understanding of stages of time-consciousness provides the immediate context in which the new epistemology emerges. I will therefore give my analysis of these stages as a kind of prolegomena to his epistemology. Panikkar admits that he speaks inside the “historical myth,” despite the fact that he considers this to be only one—and actually the most negative—moment of human time-consciousness.135 It is worth taking into account that this witnesses his practical commitment to Western parlance for, according to him, “History is the western myth.”136 The mutual relationship of the three moments of consciousness is, according to Panikkar, to be understood “kairologically” and not “chronologically,” i.e., not following each other one after another. They are qualitative aspects of human time that exist side by side and are even intertwined; it is a question of different “acts” (Akt) occurring in the mutual “space” (Raum). The concept ‘kairological’ also comprises a somewhat temporal dimension: Panikkar specifies that he wishes to refer to “a certain temporal sequence” in accordance with the “unfolding” of individual and collective life.137 While seeming to discuss the history of human time-consciousness, he is actually attempting to speak only about successive, sometimes mutually intertwined stages of consciousness without committing himself 134 CE, 79–80. Panikkar presents these moments and their mutual relations in detail under the heading “The End of History. The Threefold Structure of Human Time-Consciousness” (CE, 79–133). It is worthy of note that this text was originally published in Teilhard and the Unity of Knowledge (New York: Paulist Press, 1983), as part of the Proceedings of a Centenary Symposium in honor of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. 135 See CE, 80. 136 CHT, 69. Cf. 1.2.1. above. 137 CE, 80; DMTM, 186.

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to the category of history. Of course, the critical question arises as to whether this kind of intention is even possible. In other words, is he not obliged to assume a kind of history when he speaks about “temporal sequence” or “unfolding”?138 The suspicion that Panikkar cannot completely dispense with historical-chronological thinking is confirmed by the fact that the three modes of consciousness sketched out by him closely resemble the classical theological series ‘generatio—degeneratio—regeneratio’. To prove this, it is enough to quote a rather lengthy passage in which he articulates this chronology of the development of consciousness: Primal Man pondered about the Gods as he wondered about Nature and about himself. The three elements were all there. And then, as human consciousness commenced its long course of analysis and introspection, this undiscriminated whole began to break up. With this, a second moment in human consciousness began to unfold: a great period of discernment and increasingly severed perspectives. . . . But there is yet a third moment in human consciousness: it is the still unachieved conquest of a new innocence, the synthesis of an integral experience . . . the dispersed pieces of the second moment are drawn toward reconstruction. . . . The vertical or divine dimension is no longer projected onto “another” being, but experienced as the infinite dimension of reality itself. The ideal of this divine, human and cosmic synergy has probably been present since the very emergence of consciousness, but it has been floating . . . and today it crystallizes in clearer and more coherent forms. There now seem to be signs of a real mutation in the overall dynamism of reality: a change in consciousness also implies a change in reality.139

In the beginning man was thus in an “undiscriminated” and holistic state. This state is a kind of lost paradise in Panikkar’s thinking. (Cf. generatio). Commencing the long course of analysis and introspection meant that disintegration in human consciousness began, and thus a kind of fall occurred. (Cf. degeneratio).140 Now the third stage is emerging, which entails the recovery of the original integrity 138 Regarding this, cf. also SCD, 244, in which Panikkar answers criticism of David J. Krieger (1996) that “accepting heuristically the myth of history I felt somewhat justified in using such a temporal pattern. But I should have been perhaps more clear in specifying that it was one particular language.” 139 CE, 16. 140 See IH, 167–168, in which Panikkar gives his interpretation that the Cartesian turn, with its method of doubt, launched the process of disintegration. See also CP, 3, in which the criticism is directed towards the “new science” (Nuova Scienza) of Galileo Galilei.

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of consciousness. (Cf. regeneratio). The “old innocence” cannot be recovered but, instead, it is possible to attain a “new innocence” that is characterized by a new confidence in reality and in life.141 The new innocence, which Panikkar also names “naivety” (Naivität), means simultaneously both something old and new.142 He even sees the emergence of “a mutation in human life altogether,” which entails the end of the supremacy of historical consciousness.143 Panikkar also depicts three moments, or “acts,” of human consciousness in another way that is in line with what has been said thus far: The content of primordial consciousness is simply “I am.” The second moment begins with a compulsive need to know, which nevertheless leads to dissatisfaction (Unzufriedenheit). The I becomes an object of observation, and the primordial consciousness disappears. It is replaced with the thought that “I am predicate, i.e. creature—man, Indian, Christian, citizen, body soul, a conglomerate of atoms, a particle in the cosmos, energy, individual,” whereas the third moment amounts to recapturing the primordial self-consciousness—although in a new form, “I am I” (ich bin ich).144 The third stage of consciousness is normative in Panikkar’s vision, although it is not restricted to a philosophy of life or to a positive and trusting attitude. It rather entails considerable theological consequences. For instance, the divine dimension is no longer seen as an “another” being, but as belonging to the constitution of reality itself.145 Panikkar’s theological vision and his idea of the transformation of religions could be located in the context of this new consciousness. Panikkar interprets different movements that promote peace and non-violence, as well as ecological currents and the revival of old

141

See IH, 168–169. DMTM, 156. 143 CSR, 76; BS, 67. On the other hand, Panikkar does not wish to discharge the temporal world, for he sees that the eternal can be experienced in the midst of the temporal. Therefore, it is a question of “tempiternity.” See, e.g., CD, 56–58; BS, 65. 144 DMTM, 184–185. According to Panikkar, awareness of the “non-fullness” (Unerfülltheit) of the Self that belongs to the second moment means the reality to which traditional religious concepts such as the Buddhist ‘du˙kha’, the Hindu ‘avidyà’, and also ‘original sin’ (Erbsünde) refer. See DMTM, 183. 145 CE, 16. Cf. also CHT, 69; DMTM, 149, in which Panikkar asserts the unbelievability of a monotheistic “God of history” in the light of world history, with Auschwitz as its culmination. For his alternative understanding of God, see 4.3. below. 142

   ’ 

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religiosity, as signs of the emergence of the third moment. Nevertheless, as an intellectual and a scholar of comparative religion, he is cautious about superficiality and extremities. In any case, it is worth noting that he refers to neo-religiosity positively. He cherishes the notion that this inserts cosmological insights into science, and thus manifests increasing discontent with the one-sidedness of scientism.146 Dialogue also contributes to the formation of the new myth.147 It is evident that Panikkar represents a way of thinking that makes a distinction between “new” and “old” consciousnesses. Since this kind of dichotomy is typical of New Age thinking, at least here, Panikkar has some affinity with the neo-religiosity that he values.148 Before analyzing this new consciousness in detail, I would like to make some remarks. As I pointed out above, Panikkar’s understanding of the dynamics of human consciousness reiterates the Christian scheme of generation, degeneration, and regeneration.149 However, he seems to have stripped this understanding of salvation history of its original content, and superimposed its threefold structure onto his own mystic vision of anthropological dynamics. Accordingly, his interpretation differs from the original one on some very essential points. First, Panikkar’s interpretation is not so concerned with salvation history, for he explicitly wishes to dispense with “the myth of history,” which belongs to another period, namely, that of degeneration. The end of this era is looming. It will be replaced by transtemporality— or to use another of Panikkar’s neologisms, ‘tempiternal consciousness’.150 The nature of this consciousness is addressed below. However, it should not go unobserved that Panikkar’s “tempiternity” has a paradoxical relationship with time and history. He states that

146 See CE, 120, 128, 137–138; BS, 87. Panikkar refers explicitly to the “Gaia hypothesis,” Wicca and Goddess spiritualities, and shamanism. Cf. also CSR, 78: “. . . the challenges to religious studies as we enter the Aquarian Age may be many, complex, and bewildering.” [Italics mine.] 147 SCD, 248: “Myths are not only geographically and historically distributed; they are also kairologically active. There is emerging, for instance, a sort of common myth among the people presently engaged and interested in such theoretical issues. This is related to the common language that the dialogue is creating . . .” Cf. also 3.2. above. 148 See Bochinger 1994, 34–35, which pays attention to the dichotomy between “old” and “new” consciousnesses as conflicting with the overall holistic tendency of New Age religiosity. 149 On this, see Hefner 1984, 328–337. 150 See CE, 17, 85, 131; GRP, 403; BS, 55.

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  [t]empiternity is neither an everlasting time nor a timeless eternity, but the very soul or core of time . . . It is not experience of a past regained or a future suddenly grasped in prophetic ecstasis; on the contrary, it is the discovery of the irreducibility of the present, the fullness of time in the now. Tempiternity is timefullness.151

Panikkar’s idea of tempiternity does not aim at abating time. He wishes to highlight tempiternity as “timefullness.” Nevertheless, due to his critical attitude towards history, time-consciousness persists as a problem for him. Therefore, he attempts to put emphasis on the present moment.152 Even though man’s temporality remains “a scar . . . in the very heart of his being,”153 Panikkar understands that tempiternity may be experienced amid ordinary existence in time: transhistorical consciousness breaks through “in the midst of the very everyday reality.”154 Realizing this moment seems to demand, however, that one attains a particular stage of consciousness, as many religions suggest. This does not occur by itself. The soteriological aspect of Panikkar’s theology addresses the method through which this desirable awareness could be attained.155 History being a category that looks beyond the present moment loses its meaning in Panikkar’s theology whereas traditionally it has been a vital category of Christian faith. In contrast, Panikkar’s soteriology seems to have no room for the span of history.156 Salvation 151

IH, 8. See also BS, 55. See AW, 121. 153 IRD, 84. See also CHT, 69. 154 BS, 65. 155 BS, 85–86: “But this life must be won and, as the majority of religions emphasize, this true life is hidden in our present everyday existence. . . . Salvation is within reach of our hands, it is nearby and even within us, but we are in need of a revelation, a word, a redeemer, a gift of grace, a personal effort, a spontaneous decision, a teaching, a guru, or an awakening of the very best that is in us in order to attain it.” 156 Cf., e.g., Collingwood 1994, 46–52. It should also be observed that Panikkar’s thinking takes scant account of the tension between promise and fulfilment that belongs to the New Testament and hence characterizes contemporary eschatological discussion. On the other hand, some of Panikkar’s thoughts are faintly reminiscent of “present eschatology.” See, e.g., AW, 121. On contemporary discussion concerning eschatology, see Schwartz 1984, 513–539. See also Dupuis 1991, 45, in the light of which one could consider Panikkar, at least in this respect, a representative of Neo-Hinduism rather than of Christianity. His thinking also seems to have an obvious affinity with that of Mircea Eliade. Sharpe 1986, 215–216. Panikkar seems to put more emphasis than Eliade on the notion that one cannot regain the old innocence, but can only experience a new 152

   ’ 

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is rather “the discovery of the irreducibility of the present,” a state lived in the present tense in which time is integrated with “the vertical dimension which constantly intrudes on the horizontal temporal line.”157 The new innocence does not look backwards. It does not even remember the previous one or believe in the first innocence, since it would cease to be real innocence if it were aware of being the second.158 Secondly, it could even be claimed that Panikkar’s interpretation does not deal with salvation history, at least not in the traditional Christian sense of the word. He rarely uses the concept of salvation. As a matter of fact, he sees all soteriological expressions as tautologies—every human being is in any case pursuing the fullness of his being.159 Therefore, he does not see the Christian way to salvation as something radically new. A Christian theology opening outward will see that many doctrines considered unique are “humanity’s common good and that Christianity simply incarnates the primordial and original traditions of humankind.”160 According to Panikkar, there exists a correlation between consciousness and reality. For this reason, questions that are ordinarily considered epistemological are regarded as part of ontology in his thinking, as is shown below in detail. A change in consciousness therefore entails an ontological change.161 The relationship between the human and the cosmic is of somewhat analogous character in Panikkar’s thinking in the sense that occasionally, for instance when speaking about transhistorical consciousness, he alludes to the correlation of microcosm and macrocosm. The human subject not only participates in reality, but also innocence. Cf. here also the concept ‘secondary naïvité’, developed by Paul Ricoeur and employed by, e.g., Robert Bellah. King 1999, 49. 157 IH, 8–10. See also MJC, 167; AW, 100–101. 158 IH, 168. 159 CE, 129. See also IRD, 78. According to Panikkar, it is a question of “qualified” tautology since there are a number of opinions regarding the meaning and end of human life. 160 JTG, 102. See Jathanna 1996, 145–146, in which it is noted, on the basis of this passage, that in spite of his “radical pluralism,” Panikkar has a particular understanding of religion. This is also observed in Ramachandra 1996, 101. Panikkar understands that humankind, so to say, shares a primordial basic spirituality that then incarnates in different religions which are irreducibly different. See Chapter 3. See also IRD, 19; SG, 160; GRP, 397–398. 161 This ontological character of consciousness was also highlighted in my analysis of Panikkar’s understanding of dialogue and pluralism. See 2.3. and 3.1. above.

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mirrors and transforms it.162 Panikkar even uses the concept of man as an “image of the whole” (Abbild des Ganzen).163 This goes well with his overall way of thinking that man is rather an image of Reality than an image of God.164 4.2.2. Ontological Epistemology as a Solution to the Epistemological Dilemma What kind of world can be seen through transhistorical, or “tempiternal” consciousness? What is the nature of the epistemology or ontology implied in this consciousness? I will now try to answer these questions. This is a significant issue in examining the deepest structures of Panikkar’s thought. The solution is also of philosophical interest, since Panikkar boldly attempts to make room for a new understanding of consciousness and being. First, it should be emphasized that Panikkar’s program includes a call for a radical shift in epistemology. He wishes to challenge Western thinking at its crucial point. Referring to Plato and Aristotle, he names the issue as the problem of “the One and the Many” (Én kaì Pollá). He assesses this dilemma as “the great fallacy of our mind.” He imposes a demanding task upon himself, as he does not wish to float down the Scylla of a “deadly” monism or of the Charybdis of an “anarchic” plurality.165 Panikkar is not satisfied with the monism that has its most subtle form as theism. Neither is he content with dualism, since this leads to ontological atomism in the end. Nonetheless, he sees that both of these ways are based on a certain logic: if the observation of reality begins “from within” (von innen) one ends up in monism, and consequently, if it begins “from without” (von außen), then the result is atomism. Both procedures fail ultimately because of the same problem—the dilemma of the One and the Many.166 It is worth taking into account that it is this philosophical dilemma that lurks behind the vital concern of Panikkar’s theology of religions—how pluralism could allow room for both the manifoldness of religions and their 162

CE, 131. See also IH, 25. DMTM, 158. 164 In what sense man participates in reality and mirrors it, see 4.3. and 5. 165 See SCD, 234; CE, 6–7; IH, 51. For a concise and rather lucid treatise on this classical problem, see Johnston 1996, 47–48. 166 DMTM, 160. 163

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unity.167 Here the same question surfaces from a more philosophical perspective. Panikkar sees the dilemma of the One and the Many as persisting throughout the stages of the history of Western philosophy. For instance, in Neo-Platonism, the question concerning “mediation” was how the One at the apex of the hierarchy of being was related to the emanations below. In modern critical philosophy the question has concerned the nature of concept. Panikkar formulates this in the following way. Is the concept in itself the idea and thus real, or is it just an instrument that is the medium quo between human consciousness and the external world?168 As the problem of “mediation” presumes distinctions between ontology and epistemology, as well as between subject and object, Panikkar sees a serious flaw in the fundaments of Western philosophy. Hence it is no surprise that he so vehemently wishes to dispense with traditional Western epistemology. It is illuminating to observe how he introduces his own conception of epistemology when trying to show the problem of mediation as such to be just an ostensible one: if M mediates between A and Z, A already participates in a way with Z and vice versa—without this “mediation” would not be possible. Due to the fact that everything is already ontologically “ultimate mediation” and “communion,” there is no need for epistemological mediation. Being itself is thus “relation.” Panikkar’s argumentation moves from this relativity of reality to personal nature of everything. Eventually he connects this idea with the dynamic worldview of antiquity: everything is “alive,” as the ancient Greeks saw everything “full of Gods.”169 Nonetheless, this argumentation, which may look arbitrary at first glance, is possible given Panikkar’s premise that being a person is tantamount to relativity.170 Moreover, he also argues for the inconsistency of mediated knowledge in another way. In his view, knowledge must be based on 167

See Chapter 3. above. See SCD, 230, in which Panikkar even states the following: “Either the concept is the idea and the idea is the real thing (reality) or the concept is just a medium quo, a simple instrument. It has to relate the inner world of our mind with the external world of our senses. Here lies the difficulty and perhaps the philosophical crux of modern western philosophy. Here I insert my radical challenge.” See also RPC, 109–110; GIA, 22–23. 169 See SCD, 235. 170 See also 4.1.4., in which I consider in detail how Panikkar argues for the extensive character of Christology utilizing this understanding of the person. 168

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  immediacy, experience, anubhàva, intuition (clear and distinct ideas), symbolic awareness, apaurußeyatva, and the like, i.e., on something which does not need, for us, a further foundation or justification. There must be something immediate, i.e., something which does not need mediation—unless, as we shall see, mediation is seen as just another word for communion (com-munus). Otherwise we would fall into a barren regressus in infinitum.171

The existential nature of knowing means that mediation is not needed.172 Knowledge is ultimately based on being convinced rather than on argumentation. Interestingly, this existential argumentation is intertwined with a surprisingly deductive argumentation, which reminds us of the classic arguments for the existence of God: mediation cannot be the only form of knowledge, since the result would be an endless circle if nothing were immediate. Hence it may be said that Panikkar understands knowing existentially, and attempts to construct an epistemology with a certain amount of intuitiveness on the idea of “symbolic awareness.” This kind of epistemology does not need any mediation because the symbol is always “immediate” and “non-mediated.” The symbol does not “hermeneuticize” because it does not explain itself—this would be tantamount to ceasing to be a symbol. It simply “symbolizes.” If this were not the situation, the symbol would not be the actual symbol but rather the other element through which, in this case, it would be interpreted.173 But is not this latter argument tautology, since Panikkar seems to presume here exactly the understanding of symbol, for which he argues for? In my view, as far as Panikkar’s understanding of symbol is concerned, it would be more appropriate to speak of ontology than epistemology, because he gives such an ontic meaning to the concept ‘symbol’.174 The strong ontological character of his philosophical view is also evident in the light of the following words:

171

SCD, 231. For a rather similar epistemological idea in the Christian mystic tradition, cf. Johnston 1996, 70–71. 173 See SCD, 235–236; MFH, 302. 174 MFH, 301: “The symbol . . . is the thing as it really appears, as it really ‘is’, in the realm of beings. The symbol is nothing but the symbol of the thing, that is (subjective genitive), the peculiar mode of being of that very thing which outside its symbolic form is not and cannot be, because ultimately being is nothing but symbol.” See also AW, 56. 172

   ’ 

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It is improper to say that the philosophies of India have not known the critical paradigm of the european Enlightenment . . ., but the primordial problem is seen from a different perspective. The epistemological question is not ultimate. There is no split between epistemology and ontology. The logos of the on itself. Ontology becomes epistemology only when the verbum entis becomes the verbum mentis, i.e., when our logos divorces the on.175

Hence Panikkar considers that there should ultimately be no difference between ontology and epistemology. If this distinction is employed, however, it could be claimed that he puts his emphasis on ontology. When “logos divorces the on”—which is something negative in his view—“ontology becomes epistemology.” Ontology thus precedes epistemology, which originates only when the primordial integrity is split. There seems to be the obvious primacy of ontology over epistemology for Panikkar. Panikkar claims that the fundamental lapse of Western philosophy goes back to the times of Parmenides. The problem persists in that reality has been understood in terms of both being (on) and thinking (nous). When thinking becomes the “guardian shepherd” of being, it “freezes” being. The entire range of reality is therefore confined to what is possible in terms of rational thinking.176 Contrary to this, Panikkar himself wishes to stress that knowing is ultimately subordinated to being and its freedom.177 With his pluralism he wishes to reject “the parmenidean dogma of biunivocal correlation between thinking and being.”178 One of the fundamental premises in his thinking seems to be, therefore, that epistemology is ultimately ontological in character. With this thesis he attempts to provide an alternative to the traditional Western way of thinking.179 175

SCD, 236. BS, 122. See also GIA, 64–65. 177 On this point, according to Panikkar, Indian thinking can provide a corrective (BS, 123): “In India, the ultimate polarity . . . is not thinking and being, but being and wording. Or rather, being and speaking: being and letting being be . . . There is no way to control the flow of reality. Thinking is not the ultimate parameter. Being is just . . . explosion!” See also RPC, 110; HVW, xviii–xix. Even though Panikkar does not mention the concept of lìlà, his thoughts recall this vital conception of Hinduism, especially of vaiß»ava-bhakti, which conveys the spontaneous and free nature of divine action. See Vempeny 1988, 388–389; Lipner 1994, 254–256. 178 IRDR, 11. See also RPMC, 97. 179 Panikkar states introspectively (SCD, 236–237), “. . . I have . . . defended the intrinsic ontological character of epistemology.” Cf. Dean 1987, 170–172: “I found this ontological thesis absolutely breathtaking . . . an absolutely staggering and revolutionary ontological and theological claim. . . . I see Panikkar suggesting a radically 176

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This unbroken knowing—or rather the mode of existence related to it—also goes under the concept ‘contemplation’: Contemplation . . . is actually participation in the reality one contemplates, real sharing in the reality one “sees,” dynamic identification with the truth one realizes. Contemplation is not merely an act of mind, but is “touch,” real existential contact . . . contemplation is the actual building of the temple of reality, wherein the onlooker is equally part and parcel of the whole construction. . . . Contemplation is an ontological phenomenon.180 [Italics mine.]

Epistemology is subordinated to being in Panikkar’s thinking. Contemplation is therefore a mode of consciousness that is most appropriately characterized in the language of being and participation.181 Correspondingly, being surpasses consciousness.182 Therefore, full knowledge can be achieved only through participation that, in Panikkar’s words, is “more than just an epistemic activity.” He says that it is a question of “a life to be lived” rather than a theoretical resolution.183 All this has significant methodological consequences. Since thinking does not exhaust being, reason cannot be only method in quesdifferent ontological basis for interreligious dialogue and global theology, one that brings him close to John Cobb and the Whiteheadian tradition, or perhaps to Wittgenstein or Heidegger.” See also DD, 213. See also DPW, 45–47, in which ‘experience’ is highlighted as a participatory form of knowing. One serious consequence of differentiating epistemology from ontology is, according to Panikkar, that love no longer plays a role in the act of knowing. One can only calculate, but does not really know. See SCD, 271, 287–288. Cf. also IH, 98–99. Of course, Panikkar is not without predecessors in his claim of the ontological nature of epistemology. If his thinking is to be seen in the context of contemporary discourse, for instance, its proximity to existentialism is fairly obvious here, since existentialism gives priority to existence and being instead of knowing. See MacQuarrie 1973, 124–125. In particular, the following words of Heidegger are worth noting with respect to Panikkar’s thinking (quoted in MacQuarrie 1973, 125): “[K]nowing is a kind of being which belongs to being-in-the-world.” Panikkar himself sees Heidegger as an exception in the history of Western philosophy. See BS, 122. Furthermore, he refers to “all mystical schools” when defending his epistemological views. See MJC, 112. His thinking also has remarkable affinities with classical Hindu epistemology, according to which one comes into contact with what is seen, and even becomes this. On this, see King 2000, 147–149. 180 IH, 27. 181 BS, 45: “And contemplation, in spite of the origin of the word, stands for theoreia, jñàna, a knowledge that amounts to being.”; CL, 407: “To truly know is to become the thing known without ceasing to be what we are.” 182 DD, 202; NP, 238. To be precise, Panikkar sees consciousness only as one of three dimensions of the cosmotheandric reality. On this in detail, see 4.3. See also IH, 158–159. 183 MJC, 112–113.

   ’ 

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tions related to existence. In fact, according to Panikkar, rational thinking cannot even attain reality itself. The price of understanding is that the thing understood becomes an object or a concept. Moreover, “thinking out” (ausdenken) has a “corrosive power,” an inherent tendency to destroy its objects. For Panikkar, reality as such is nonetheless ultimately “thought-proof.” 184 There are similar thoughts of incommensurability between being itself and rational knowing in Panikkar’s hermeneutics, which plumbs the depths of cross-cultural understanding. He ends up emphasizing that next to the ‘logos’ is another, more fundamental category of ‘mythos’ that, even though being opaque to the subject himself, provides the prerequisites for understanding, and sustains the logos.185 This is also the reason why the dialogical dialogue is so vital for Panikkar’s methodology: it encompasses a wider range of reality than the dialectical dialogue since it is able to pierce through the logos on the level of the mythos.186 It is thus clear that Panikkar’s methodology leans on his thoughts about the relationship between being and thinking. It goes without saying that Panikkar has worked out his methodological stance in the framework of the humanities and theology. He is very critical of applying objectifying methodology when studying the human being.187 In a similar way, we have to be content with a certain amount of inaccuracy in observing the Trinity, since it is a question of such a reality that can be “experienced” only “from our own human vantage point.”188 Thus Panikkar’s epistemology, without doubt, belongs to the range of hermeneutical philosophy, at least in the respect that he emphasizes subjectivity and intuitivity as moments of knowing and understanding.189 184

See SCD, 282; IH, 85; BS, 122; CE, 52. See, e.g., IH, 72; DPW, 92–93, 96; BR, 27–28. 186 DD, 213; DPW, 96. See 2.3. above. 187 See CHT, 66–68. 188 CHT, 70. Cf. also the title of DMTM, which could be translated as ‘Man— A Trinitarian Mystery’. See also 3.2.2. above, in which I show Panikkar’s tendency to evade to the apophatic use of language. 189 Emphasizing subjectivity is typical, especially in the later work of Panikkar on which the present study focuses. Mitra (1987, 2–3) remarks plausibly: “In his earlier years [Panikkar] was interested in the objective study of religion. In Religionen und die Religion (1965) he attempted to work out the common structure of all religions from an objective perspective. In his later years he felt the need of a theology of religion and philosophy of religion which can be based on the subjective multi-religious experience.” Cf. also Dean 1987, 165–166, in which Panikkar is seen 185

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It is worth emphasizing the significance of the sapiental and noninstrumental dimensions in Panikkar’s understanding of knowing as a certain ontological participation in reality. For him, knowledge is not a means towards an end, but a purpose in itself. It even has a soteriological meaning, since it is for attaining human fullness.190 On this point, the vital role that the category of ‘wisdom’ plays in his thinking should be borne in mind.191 Correspondingly, he highlights the central meaning of ‘love’ in knowing.192 4.2.3. Indian Spirituality as a Corrective for Western Thinking How does all that is mentioned above relate to the encounter of Hinduism and Christianity that is the primary context of Panikkar’s thinking? As I have shown above, he alludes to India and its more unbroken philosophical legacy as a corrective for Western philosophy and the serious dichotomy in its foundations. The fundamental assumption of Western philosophy, the equivalence of being and knowing, is not universal and does not encompass the span of entire human experience, as the example of Buddhist philosophy shows.193 Panikkar does not spare his critical comments about mainstream Western philosophy. The emphasis on the human subject, i.e., the first person, that began with the cogito ergo sum argument of Descartes, as well as the objectifying stance of modern science that stresses the third person, have effected a forgetting of the second person. Therefore a gulf has been created between spirit and matter, subject and

to lean on Gadamerian hermeneutics. On Gadamerian hermeneutics, see, e.g., King 1999, 72–81. 190 See CD, 87–88; AW, 133; SSSP, 23. It is worthy of note here that, according to traditional Indian understanding, there is always a soteriological purpose in metaphysical knowledge. See Eliade 1970, 13. 191 See 3.2.3. above. 192 SCD, 288: “We can calculate without love, but we cannot truly know without love.”; CD, 87; NP, 236–237. See also DPW, 88–89. On this point, Panikkar obviously wishes to anchor himself in the Classical heritage. On the epistemological meaning of love in Thomas Aquinas, see Johnston 1996, 50–54. 193 IH, 59–60: “Let me be clear about this, betraying one of my most cherished metaphysical insights: The ultimate metaphysical assumption of the greatest part of Western civilization, since the Presocratics, is the conviction of the intimate correspondence between thinking and being. They may be ultimately the same or different, but they ‘theoretically’ match each other. And my contention is that this genial intuition is not humanly universal and thus not universalizable if we want to encompass the whole range of the human experience—or of the human fact. The Buddhist world, for instance, does not make such an assumption.” See also IH, 151; SG,

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object.194 Nonetheless, Panikkar finds an alternative tradition in Western philosophy. Shunning the legacy of Descartes, Hegel, and Husserl, he wishes to attach himself to another Western tradition that he sees to have been represented best not only by the “triad” of Jacobi, Feuerbach, and Ebner, but also by Hamann and Buber, for instance.195 “Thou” should have an unquestionable place next to “I.” An unbroken vision of reality should somehow incorporate the consciousness of other people. This is one reason why the dialogical dialogue is needed.196 Panikkar attempts to explain the origins of religious exclusivism through an analysis of the history of philosophy: it was due to a certain similarity of “thou-consciousness” and “I-consciousness” that an erroneous way of speaking about “a general consciousness” (Bewusstsein überhaupt) emerged. This concept was then “hypostasized” on an absolute subject, resulting in monotheism—regardless of whether one speaks about “God” or “Brahman”—, and the erecting of absolutes means the disappearance of pluralism.197 Since Panikkar understands that monotheism in general rests on the hypothesis of an omniscient consciousness that is identified with being itself,198 it is no surprise that his criticism of epistemology also contributes to his denunciation of monotheism. In spite of Panikkar’s allusions to Indian spirituality as a corrective for the West, there are a number of critical remarks on India in his work. For example, he states that such a basic symbol is needed “for integration of the three perspectives under which Man sees himself: as an I, a thou, and an it.” This would thus surpass the Hellenic categories with their bias towards “the objective anthropological vision,” as well as the Upanißadic ones with their bias towards “the

64. On the other hand, cf. IH, 158–159, in which Panikkar states about his thesis that “it contests one of the most widespread beliefs in the West as well as in the East—namely, that Reality is totally intelligible, that the noèsis noèse’s of Aristotle, the svayamprakàsha of the Vedantis, the self-intelligible and omniscient God of Christians, the total reflection of many spiritualist philosophers, is really the case.” 194 SCD, 238. Cf. also RT, 15; DD, 203–204. There is a certain inconsistency in the instances that Panikkar gives in different contexts. This is, of course, due to the plenitude and complexity of the history of ideas. 195 See CE, 144 note 17. Similarly DD, 215. Cf. SG, 232 note 151. 196 DD, 204. See also BR, 12; TLI, 605–606. 197 See DD, 204; IH, 83. See also 3.1.1.2. above. 198 See SCD, 245–246. On this issue, see more extensive treatment in SG, 101–147.

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subjective experience of Man.”199 He also expresses his unwillingness to go back to any kind of pre-critical idyll by falling into monism.200 It seems that he is particularly critical of Indian interpretations that favor monism. In any case, it is obvious that he does not wholeheartedly approve of all aspects of Indian philosophy.201 On the other hand, we cannot escape the feeling that Panikkar, at least in some measure, represents a position that could be characterized as ‘affirmative orientalism’. This term refers to the kind of stereotypical attitude that highlights the difference between the East and the West, giving preference to Eastern values. Namely, when criticizing the Western way of thinking, he gives us to understand that Eastern spirituality could act as a counterbalance to it, or at least as a stimulus.202 The primary target of his criticism is the modern Western way of thinking and, as already seen, it seems that, in his view, it is Christianity that needs transformation more than other religions. Correspondingly, the contemporary crisis that prompts the urgency of dialogue has Western origins.203 Panikkar wishes to attend to the spiritual impasse that is the practical result of Western thinking and its erroneous basis. This leads him to portray vividly the contrast between the hectic Western way of living and Oriental contemplativeness. This contrast is then given a further meaning in the context of the above-mentioned three moments of human consciousness. An obvious flavor of affirmative orientalism in Panikkar’s work is evident, for instance, in the way in which “the cosmic consciousness of many indic sages” is given as representative of the non-historical mode of existence, whereas the “Man of today’s media culture” who loses touch with the deep recesses of reality exemplifies the historical

199

See IH, 72. SCD, 232. 201 See also IH, 129. However, cf. MWDG, 106–107. See also what is said above (3.2.2.) about Panikkar’s interpretation of Advaita. 202 See SNSE, 60. See also GIA, 70. See Yadav 1987, 176–178, in which Panikkar is criticized for this kind of bipolarity. Cf. King 1999, 82–142, which in a post-colonialist spirit problematizes the entire orientalist way of thinking. It should also be noted that affirmative orientalism is a vital part of Neo-Hinduism. On this, see Will 1996, which examines the crucial role of Swami Vivekananda in disseminating the stereotype emphasizing the materiality of the West and the spirituality of the East. On orientalism, see also Said 1995, particularly 1–28. 203 See 1.2.1. and 2.1. above. However, cf. GRP, 402. 200

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mode of existence.204 Panikkar even characterizes the great task ahead as “perfecting that micro-universe we call ourselves, ‘realizing’ ourselves in the sense of the classic indic spirituality.”205 On the other hand, concentrating exclusively, or just too one-sidedly, on India and its religiosity would be a problem from the perspective of cross-cultural methodology that Panikkar wishes to employ and advocate.206 Perhaps it is for this reason that he is often content just to speak about “human fullness” or the “destiny of Man” as the goal of religion without any geographical or ethnographical qualifications. Hence the East and the West could be interpreted as symbols of the equivocality present in every religious tradition.207 The question remains, however, whether one could thus employ concepts that allude to the East and the West only symbolically without conveying some connotations related to the actual map of world religions. In my view, Panikkar’s standpoint is ambiguous here. There are plenty of passages in his work witnessing his wish to draw attention to Indian spirituality and to contrast it with the Western mentality that is logocentric and imperialistic.208 However, ultimately he seems to understand that authentic spirituality evades any attempt to locate it geographically.209

204

CE, 131. See also IH, 3–5, 47; CHT, 64; CD, 46–53, 83–85; DAIE, 37–38. CE, 132. Similarly DMTM, 185. 206 Cf. HVW, xii; CSR, 78: “Any contemporary approach to a truly human problem which is not tackled in a cross-cultural way smacks of cultural ethnocentrism. This ethnocentrism is the intellectual heir to the colonialistic attitude of times allegedly past.” Hence Panikkar should rather be a representative of post-colonialist criticism than of orientalism. Cf. also GRP, 402. 207 See CSR, 78; CD, 88; BS, 62; UCH, 128. Nevertheless, his way of emphasizing the development of man as the actual goal of religion situates Panikkar, at least in some respect, in the same category as many Neo-Hindus. Cf. also IH, 145; BS, 17: “. . . the major differences today exist not so much between ‘East’ and ‘West’ in traditional parlance, as on the interface between tradition and modernity—after all, ours is the epoch of multimedia and a multitude of spiritual seekers experiencing ‘other’ traditions. I should emphasize that these two centers, the ‘Eastern’ and the ‘Western,’ are not geographical locations but anthropological categories. Each one of us has an ‘East’ and a ‘West,’ an Orient and an Occident. ‘East’ and ‘West’ are symbols which denote two main emphases that have been stressed in some traditions more than in others, but which can in no way be considered the exclusive possession of one or another religious family.” [Italics mine.] 208 IH, 47, 148–149; PUEWC, 190–191. 209 Cf. JTG, 102, 113. The similarities between Panikkar’s idea of authentic spirituality and Mircea Eliade’s exposition of the unbroken spirituality and “symbolic thought” of the “primitive” man are worthy of note. See, e.g., Eliade 1996, 156–158, 453–456. 205

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In any case, it is worth asking what kind of position the “cosmic consciousness” that Indic sages stand for has, and what is the content of human consciousness when the goal of religion is attained. In fact, Panikkar depicts this state of cosmic consciousness enthusiastically and in a very poetic way: You can simply live there with the stars, the mountains and the animals, with the spirits of past and future. . . . Sharing in the unfolding of Life, . . . just walking in the divine Presence, as the ancients used to say, being conscious of the systole and diastole of the world, . . . being the mirror of the universe and reflecting it without distorting it, suffering as well in one’s own flesh the disorders of the world, . . . not being unaware of the forces of evil or the trends of history, but not allowing oneself to be suffocated by them, each of us overpowering these demons in our personal lives, understanding the songs of the birds, the sounds of the woods and even all the human noises as part of the vitality of reality expanding, living, breathing in and out, not just to go somewhere else (and never arrive), but just to be, to live, to exist on all the planes of existence at the same time: the tempiternal explosion of the adventure of Be-ing . . . this is transhistorical existence.210

Of course, given the poetic style of this passage, it may be wise to refrain from analyzing it too minutely. What is significant to observe is that cosmic consciousness seems to entail a certain authentic participation in the life of the universe.211 The core idea of this passage is amplified in a significant way when, elsewhere, Panikkar says that the experience of “rhythm” as a transtemporal experience comes closest to the Advaitic experience. It is thus a question of a kind of “ontonomic experience,” or the experience of the interdependence and interpenetration of everything, that is most suitably characterized by concepts such as ‘participation’ and ‘mysticism’.212 According to Panikkar, cosmic consciousness is tantamount not only to attaining “the fullness of time,” but also to the notion that individuality touches everything and that man is in an “ontonomic” relation with all things. He sees the Upanißadic mahàvàkya “I am Brahman” (aham brahman) as an expression of this kind of state of consciousness in which the human self and the universe paradoxically unite, so that “I am all the more myself, my self, the more my

210 211 212

CE, 132–133. See also PUEWC, 192; TDD, 25. On this, see also CL. See WSM, 46–47.

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ego has disappeared. I am then everybody and everything—but from a unique angle, so to speak.”213 Even if Panikkar refers to identifying the self and Brahman—which here may be interpreted as the whole of reality—, he attempts to avoid speaking in monistic terms. “A unique angle” emphasizes the plurality of perspectives. He does not wish to reduce the multiplicity of experiences to one universal experience, or to draw the conclusion that different experiences are ultimately one and the same. When depicting the mystic experience of Indian spirituality, he wishes to maintain pluralism along with holism. Stressing the uniqueness of the angle reflects the perspectivism that is one of Panikkar’s philosophical cornerstones.214 Perspectivism entails a certain emphasis on the subject distinguishing Panikkar’s interpretation from many others that tend to consider Upanißads in terms of monism. Could we see here a point in which the new innocence differs from the original? It is interesting to note that, in this respect, Panikkar’s thinking matches surprisingly well with modern thinking. Nonetheless, unlike Kantian transcendental philosophy, for instance, he emphasizes the fact that each perspective is bound up with a particular context. The “transcendentals” of Panikkarian anthropology—if such a Kantian expression is appropriate here—are different from each other and not as universal as those of Kantian philosophy. According to Panikkar, there are many perspectives that are radically different.215 In this respect, his thinking entails a critical attitude towards modernism, and thus even discloses postmodern features. On the other hand, given its holistic tone, his vision cannot simply be labeled postmodern, but rather implies criticism towards certain aspects of postmodern culture. He wishes to attach himself to the classical tradition of contemplation, and to give a new interpretation of it that highlights the irreducibility of the person to any abstract principle, divinity, or the

213 See CE, 132–133; CL, 407: “The more we are the other, the more we are ourselves . . . to be our true self we must transcend our ego and become also lily.” Cf. MFH, 301–302: “To be able to discover the symbolic difference, i.e., to discover me as symbol of myself or . . . to realize that my own being is one of the real symbols of the I (certainly not of my little ego), could perhaps be called one of the ways to reach the supreme experience.” [Italics mine.] Cf. also IH, 47; DMTM, 157. 214 See 3.1.1.1. 215 See CE, 13.

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Absolute—notwithstanding that his understanding of the person differs from that of modern individualism. It is also worth noting that, if examined carefully enough, his interpretation of contemplation is rather existentialist.216 This is particularly evident in the following passage, which portrays the contemplative as a kind of existential vagabond or anarchic believer: . . . contemplatives are startling. You cannot pin them down to anything. There is no predicting what they will do next, what their next move will be. The “fools” of Russia, India, and elsewhere, Platonic madness and the shaman’s enthusiasm could provide us with examples of this apparently anarchic phenomenon. They are led by the Spirit. The Spirit is Freedom and is irreducible to the Logos.217

This contemplative stance is closely connected with Panikkar’s understanding of the third moment of human consciousness: in fact, contemplation is the transtemporal mode in which one lives fully in the present moment.218 He compares the unmotivated action of the contemplative with the understanding of the Bhagavadgìtà that the highest action is desireless action (naißkarmyakarma) occurring for the sake of the act itself. This means, in his view, that the contemplative renounces the result of his action and treat things as they are so that the “kiss will be a kiss; the dance a dance; the poem a poem.”219 All this is highly significant for interreligious dialogue, since it is the contemplative that pave the way for dialogue. Conducting dia-

216 I employ the term ‘existentialism’ here in a rather loose sense in order to depict how Panikkar wishes to put emphasis on freedom, for instance. In general, existentialism is taken to allude to a number of philosophical schools that, in spite of their mutual differences, all give weight to ideas such as freedom and choice. Other important features of existentialism, which are easily discernible in Panikkar’s work, are a dislike for rigid systematization of thinking and suspicion towards human reason. See MacIntyre 1967, 147–149; MacQuarrie 1973, 16–18. What distinguishes Panikkar from many other existentialists is his high esteem for tradition—although he stresses simultaneously that traditions are in constant need of reinterpretation. One should also observe his vehement rejection of individualism. Cf. MacIntyre 1967, 147, 153. See, however, also MacQuarrie 1973, 102–104. On existentialist influences on Panikkar, see Ahlstrand 1993, 13, 32–34, 45, 77, 84–86. 217 IH, 18. However, cf. MWDG, 45–46, in which Panikkar portrays contemplation in more static terms. 218 See IH, 8–10, 18; BS, 45–46. See also PKM, 332–333, in which Panikkar depicts his pilgrimage of 1994 to the holy Kailàsa mountain of Hindus, stating that the peaks of mountains are “outside history,” they just “are there.” In this article Panikkar displays a rather similar understanding of the holiness of a place to that of Mircea Eliade. See Sharpe 1986, 215–216. 219 IH, 12.

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logue with the elements of nature and the living beings of the Earth, they demonstrate the inner meaning of the dialogue—it is a question of the kind of communication that occurs at the very heart of reality.220 Seen from a particular angle, Panikkar’s understanding of contemplation and different moments of consciousness resembles modern existentialism to a great extent. We may presume that he is not inspired only by Indian spirituality, but that he is also influenced by existentialist philosophy. The following passage is enlightening in this respect: . . . having discovered in the entire explanation of ourselves and of the universe at least one weak spot that makes the whole thing foundationless, we may as well make a jump, a metanoia, a conversion, and discover that, in spite of all our efforts, we were all the time assuming an unconscious trust in Reality, a confidence perhaps in life . . . it all may be a game, even a bad game at that, an illusory one, or whatever, but ultimately it is our game, our entertainment, our adventure. . . . It is to that fundamental human trust that I appeal—and personally confessing that I do not find the human adventure so dull, uninteresting, or negative.221

This passage emphasizes change that occurs on the level of the mind. In particular, the concept ‘jump’ betrays a certain Kierkegaardian flavor.222 Panikkar’s many words highlighting the adventurous character of being point in the same direction, towards the interpretation that he could be seen as a philosopher of life and as a sort of existentialist thinker.223

220 See BR, 19–20, with the subtitle ‘Der Dialog geschieht im Herzen der Realität’. See also 2.3. above. 221 IH, 169. 222 See, e.g., Liehu 1990, 261–276. See also CE, 51; SG, 153–154. See also VE, 70, in which Panikkar interprets the Vedas as speaking about “the existential leap.” 223 This is evident in the title of AW, which could be translated as ‘The Adventure of Reality’. See also AW, 71; MJC, 158: “. . . the sober and serene awareness that the indwelling of the divine mystery is not imagination, that I am participating in this cosmotheandric adventure of reality.” Cf. also Wei-Hsun Fu 1987, 159. Despite numerous allusions to Eastern philosophy, Panikkar’s thinking should be interpreted, at least to some measure, against the context of the existentialist tradition of Western theology. For instance, there is an obvious affinity with Sören Kierkegaard’s existentialism in his way of emphasizing the irrational character of authentic faith and a somewhat blind confidence in reality. See SCD, 282; GIA, 96; TDD, 26; PWA, 163. Cf. Liehu 1990, 238–276. On possible Kierkegaardian influences on Panikkar, see Ahlstrand 1993, 85, 191. It should be noted, however, that Panikkar would not

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In fact, this tendency is enhanced especially in his recent writing, and his texts could almost be classified as a philosophy of life with a certain bias towards positive thinking.224 In my view, Panikkar’s way of depicting life as an adventure affirms this. However, I would not wish to locate him in the miscellaneous category of positive thinkers, or to present him as a New Age guru. Still, it is essential to note his evident, and in some sense surprising, affinity with these popular phenomena, which in fact are ultimately rather Western in character.225 Nonetheless, it should be borne in mind that Panikkar’s idea of the different stages of human consciousness could be traced back not only to existentialism, but also to Advaita Vedànta and its neo-Hindu variations.226 Despite the substantial differences between Western existentialism and the Hindu school of Advaita Vedànta, both traditions may be seen as enhancing certain features of Panikkar’s thinking— and, in fact, this is a legitimate consequence of his cross-cultural method.227 subscribe to the individuality of Kierkegaardian existentialism. On diverse existentialist attitudes in this respect see, however, MacQuarrie 1973, 279–281. Moreover, Panikkar’s understanding of ‘confidence’ extends the attitude of an individual and betrays a cosmic tint. See 3.2.4. above. It is rather the emphasis on freedom and, thereby, on unexpectedness and the adventureous character of being that Panikkar shares with existentialism. See MacQuarrie 1973, 88, 177–178. Nonetheless, Panikkar’s optimistic sentiment separates him from existentialist authors in the more precise sense of the word. Cf. MacQuarrie 1973, 202–205, 262–265. Further features of Panikkar’s thinking that could be seen as betraying a strong tint of existentialism will be disclosed in 4.3. and 5. below. 224 GIA in particular is written in this kind of style, and has a surprisingly popular approach. See GIA, 17, 26–29. See also DPW. It is appropriate to note here that my overall impression is that Panikkar speaks extremely sparsely about sin, evil, and the tragic side of life. See, however, GIA, 115–134; AW, 38–40. Even though he highlights the contemporary predicament as the motivation for dialogue, his theology seems to comprise no doctrine of sin and atonement in the classical sense. On this point, see the critical comments in Ramachandra 1996, 89–90, 102–103; Cragg 1992, 217. See also Jathanna 1996, 147–148. 225 It is thus no surprise that Panikkar’s philosophy has not been given a proper reception among Hindus. See Mitra 1987, 125–132. Of course, it should be remembered that, in many different contexts, he has emphasized his aim to work out his thinking in terms of Western vocabulary, addressing the Western audience. On this, see 1.2.1. above. 226 Regarding the idea of different stages of spirituality, Mitra (1987, 91) sees an affinity between Panikkar and Swami Vivekananda. Vivekananda adopted Advaita Vedànta as the cornerstone of his Neo-Hindu philosophy. Neufeldt 1987, 77–78. Klostermaier (1994, 210–211, 219) depicts how crucial an abrupt change of consciousness is in Advaita Vedànta. 227 See, e.g., DMTM, 150. Ahlstrand (1993, 34) also pays attention to this when

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Panikkar could be seen as a representative of a certain of existentialism or “epistemology of enlightenment,” given that he affirms the existence of a higher mode of consciousness, which is attained abruptly. On the other hand, he considers this mode of consciousness an open possibility for anyone and, actually, as belonging constitutively to humanity.228 In any case, living in this most authentic mode of human existence means participating in reality itself. Interestingly, but not without certain inconsistency, Panikkar employs personalistic and cosmic vocabularies side by side when portraying this kind of existence: The “end of Man,” then, is not individual happiness but full participation in the realization of the universe—in which one finds as well one’s “own” joy . . . You need not worry about your own salvation or even perfection. You let live, you let be. You don’t feel so much the need to interfere with Nature as to enhance, collaborate, and “allow” her to be. In this vision, plainly, a God is needed. Nature is not a blind force, but has a divine kernel, or Lord, or even creator (if you think so). What is important is the realization that to follow Nature does not mean to follow blind mechanical forces, but to obey a divine plan, or rather a divine reality, which reveals itself to us in the shape(s) of all that we call Nature.229 [Italics mine.]

Panikkar describes “full participation in the realization of the universe” as the “end of Man.” This means that man lives in harmony with “Nature.” Hence we can see that his vision contains characteristics of a cosmic religion: man plays a part in the cosmic process, “the realization of the universe.” As the latter expression conveys, Panikkar’s metaphysics are dynamic in the sense that it is not a question of any unchanging order of the universe. It is characteristic of his synthesizing way of thinking that his words cited above also contain a certain tint of prophetic religion: “a divine reality . . . reveals itself ” in nature. Moreover, following nature is tantamount to obeying a divine plan. she states: “The Existentialist heritage was common to Panikkar and the Protestant European demythologizers, but Panikkar has yet another source to draw from in his interpretation of faith, namely Hinduism.” Cf. also SG, 104–105, for a very existentialistic depiction of Buddhism. Interestingly, there are apparently some affinities between Buddhism and existentialism. See MacQuarrie 1973, 42–43. 228 BS, 11–12. See also BS, 28–29; CWR, 113–114; GIA, 137–140. On the Eastern “epistemology of enlightenment” and its relationship to Western constructivist theories, see King 1999, 181–184. 229 CE, 132.

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As I have stated, Panikkar searches for material for his new epistemology primarily in the Indian spiritual tradition, although he also feels familiar with the personalistic tradition of Western philosophy. It is therefore not surprising that we encounter a corresponding tension in his understanding of cosmic consciousness. This could be articulated in the following way: his thinking contains not only a cosmic but also a personalistic flavor.230 Above I posed in passing the critical question whether his appealing to personalism is proper in the end. This suspicion seems to be justified in the light of his own emphasis when he speaks about ‘personalism’ “in the traditional sense of the Christian una persona, the buddhist buddha-nature or the karmic universal solidarity.”231 If seen in the context of the whole of his thinking, in my view, this ambiguous assertion implies nothing more than that personalism is a mode of speaking that suits his pluralistic orientation.232 He frequently transforms concepts that he adopts, and personalism is no exception. Nonetheless, the personalistic mode of speaking conveys that he wishes to break away from sheer monism.233 His thinking has a persistent “dialogical” tint, even extending to cosmology, rather than any solipsism or introverted mysticism. This will be exemplified in terms of his understanding of ecosophy, which is the next object of my analysis.234 4.2.4. Ecosophy—a New Cosmological Vision Panikkar positions a concept with a definite personalistic flavor at the center of his ontological epistemology: the concept ‘mediation’ is substituted by the term ‘communicatio’ or ‘communication’.235 What is essential in communication is “communio,” which is a more primordial form of knowing than mediation. The possibility of communion lies in the fact that all beings share a certain “communal230 On this, see also CSR, 77: “A genuine peace would have to blend these three values, visions, experiences, both in a time-less/time-full (tempiternal) way and in a personal/cosmic manner.” [Italics mine.] Cf. also GIA, 107–112, in which personalistic and non-dualistic themes are intertwined. 231 SCD, 239. 232 See IH, 71. 233 See, e.g., BR, 21–22. 234 On this point, Panikkar differs from existentialism, even though he converges with it on many other points. Cf. MacQuarrie 1973, 281. On the other hand, it will be shown in Chapter 5 below that Panikkar, too, ultimately betrays a rather humanistic approach. 235 See SCD, 237, in which the etymology of the concept is also explored.

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ity.” According to Panikkar, this basis of communion could be called, by many names, including ‘Being’, ‘Nature’, ‘Matter’, or ‘the Mystical Body of Christ, of Buddha’.236 Panikkar speaks not only of communion of the human kind, but also of communion between all entities. His idea of dialogue ultimately also encompasses “things.” He wishes to take seriously the traditional idea of anima mundi and, on that basis, to recover ancient animism. This means that nature should also be observed from the point of view of dialogue, so to say.237 Stars, minerals, plants, and animals communicate as well as human beings and angels—even the solar system is a set of communication. “The Divine” is also “pure communication.” Hence Panikkar can see the whole of reality in terms of “pure communicability.”238 Polarity and mutual relations between entities are significant in such a reality, and the appropriate view of it can only be a holistic one.239 In terms of dialogue, Panikkar considers man to have a particular role, thus differing from things that lack the interiority and consciousness of man.240 Even though the epistemological interest could focus on one particular form of communication, i.e., human communication, he emphasizes the fact that human beings must not “excommunicate” themselves from earth and matter. He makes a concrete, even apocalyptic conclusion: all ecological disasters are ahead if we need mediation in order to communicate with the Earth and thus lose from our sight the “thou-dimension” of reality. The basis of human communication is in cosmotheandric communality, which means that human consciousness should be seen in the framework of the totality of reality.241 Man should therefore also have dialogue with the Earth itself. Mere “eco-logy” (Öko-logie) is not enough. There must also be room also for “ecosophy,” which adopts a dialogical attitude towards the Earth, seeing it as a Thou. In Panikkar’s ecosophy, the Earth has a certain revelatory meaning since man’s task is disclosed in dialogue

236

SCD, 237. DD, 217; CE, 58. See also BS, 53; NP, 243; BR, 19; CE, 149. 238 SCD, 238. 239 IH, 51. On the polarity of reality, see also BR, 17. Cf. also GIA, 55, in which Panikkar depicts his vision as sacramental and tantric. See also SSSP, 29. 240 DD, 217. 241 See SCD, 238. Cf. also IH, 122–123, 130–131, in which Panikkar perceives human rights in the wider context of “Cosmic rights.” 237

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with the Earth.242 This idea of dialogue with the Earth runs parallel with Panikkar’s fundamental view that man’s task is to participate in reality and its cosmic rhythms.243 Man’s relationship with the Earth should be like cultivating “her as one would a friendship or a garden, not as one would plunder a mine.”244 In fact, Panikkar even understands the Earth to be “our own Body” and “part of ourselves—of our own Self.”245 On this point, modern science and technology have fatally deviated, thus disclosing their distorted nature.246 If Panikkar’s severe criticism of the predominant Western technological way of thinking, and his alternative that builds upon the classic idea of anima mundi, are considered carefully, it could even be said that he wishes to replace Galileian science with something that could be characterized as a kind of Hermetic philosophy of nature.247 As said above, he even wishes to recover “animism,” with which he understands as “the experience of life as coextensive with nature,” leading to the affirmation that mountains and rocks are alive as animals and plants are alive.248 He stresses that science should not be separated from theology and cosmology. At the slight risk of oversimplifying, it could be said that his holistic way of thinking gives obvious preferentiality to the philosophy of nature and eschews the modern scientific approach.249 The Galileian understanding of science predominating in the West is based on the idea that nature can be controlled through mathematics. Panikkar rejects this kind of mechanical perception of nature and endorses the tradition of renaissance philosophy, which can be

242

See BR, 14. Cf. also GRP, 384. On cosmic rhythms, see especially AW, 158–159. See 2.3. above. See also GRP, 381; GIA, 141; SCD, 288–289, in which the idea of living according to cosmic rhythms is seen as the opposite of modern technology. 244 BS, 53. 245 NP, 244. 246 SCD, 287–289. 247 On Hermeticism and its influence on the Renaissance, see Yates 1967b. Yates (1967b, 490) defines the common feature of this tradition to be that its representatives “exhibit a similar type of philosophical—religious approach to the cosmos, involving regenerative experience and outbursts of religious esctasy.” Even though Panikkar does not put particular emphasis on ecstacy, two other features are more obvious in his thinking. 248 NP, 243. 249 See, e.g., CP, 3; GRP, 388, 398; SCD, 288. However, see also TLI, 596, 604–605, in which Panikkar positively assesses the recent writings of David Bohm, Fritjof Capra and some others who are calling for a new cosmology. 243

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seen as an alternative to Galileian science, albeit marginalized in the history of ideas.250 The Hermetic tradition was a significant factor in the thinking of Giordano Bruno, for example, who presented an alternative to his contemporary Galileo Galilei.251 It is easy to see some similarities between Panikkar’s ecosophy and Bruno’s Hermetic philosophy: Bruno perceives nature as a living organism with unity.252 On the other hand, due to its infinite character, the universe has no real center, and God is rather part of the rhythmic life of the universe than a separate object.253 It is evident that Panikkar’s ecosophical thinking, which sympathizes with the idea of anima mundi and criticizes mathematical and even experimental methodology, is much closer to the Hermetic tradition, which determines Bruno’s philosophy of nature, than Galileian science.254 With his criticism of predominant scientific methodology, 250 One encounters the names of prominent representatives of renaissance philosophy such as Pico della Mirandola and Marsilio Ficino in Panikkar’s works. See, e.g., CE, 26; IH, 178; NP, 243; SCD, 276. Panikkar has a high regard for early pioneers of interreligious dialogue such as Ramon Llull and Nicholas of Cusa. Moreover, both of these also worked out a philosophy of nature. See, e.g., IRD, xi–xiii, in which some thoughts of Llull and Nicholas of Cusa are given as mottos for the book. See also SG, 219 note 143, in which Panikkar characterizes the work De Deo Abscondito of Nicholas of Cusa in the following words: “. . . that precious jewel with splendors of the declining scholastic and the dawning Renaissance age.” The affinity that exists between Llull and Panikkar is addressed in Eastham 1993, xiii. On Panikkar’s high estimation of Llull, see also IRDR, 111–117. On the metaphysics of Llull and Nicholas of Cusa, see Lohr 1988, 538–557. 251 On the fundamental differences between the Galileian and Brunoan philosophies of nature, see Kirchhoff 1980, 7–20. The Hermetic character of Bruno’s thinking is also affirmed, e.g., in Yates 1967b, 490. 252 In fact, on this point Bruno can lean on the wider Hermetic tradition, one of the features of which is belief in the ultimate unity of the infinite reality. See Yates 1967a, 407. 253 Randall 1954, 242–243. See also TDD, 22. 254 See BS, 52: “Alchemy . . . was a monastic occupation. . . . The monk undertakes this task by beginning with Mother Earth and her elements, which are not only the physical but also the psychic ones . . . Indeed, all the elements are equally spiritual forces.” [Italics mine.]; SCD, 287: “Modern science is perverse. It has perverted the meaning of words by converting them into terms. For modern science, time is no longer the life-span of things but the derivate of space and velocity. Space is no longer the habitat and larger body of things, but just a measure; matter is just another parameter related to force and acceleration; and similar reductionisms with fire, light, energy and the like.”; RPC, 110; DPW, 47–48. See also CD, 83–92; NRCUA, 176; AW, 95–96. Worthy of note in this respect is Panikkar’s argument against nuclear power, according to which the splitting of the atom is “cosmic abortion” (kosmische Abtreibung). See GRP, 403–404. However, cf. Yates 1967a, 408, which states that Bruno’s vision, in spite of its Hermetic leanings, ultimately contributed to the origin of the Newtonian world-view. On the other hand, Nicholas of Cusa

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Panikkar takes up the view that has strong affinities with the premodern philosophy of nature. This comes to light, for instance, in the way in which he defines the concept of cosmology: in his vocabulary, it does not mean “a doctrine of cosmos,” but “experience how cosmos speaks to me (kosmos legein).”255 Hence we can see how Panikkar’s program discloses features that surpass the field of theology, which was the initial scope of my analysis. Given the holistic character of his thinking, this is not surprising: theology leads to anthropology, which in turn is closely related to ecological questions.256 Panikkar’s understanding of spirituality and religion is therefore loaded with cosmological implications.257 Why, then, are the perspectives of theology, anthropology, and cosmology so interwoven in his theology? The answer to this question lies in his cosmotheandrism. 4.3. C: T M In previous Chapters, I have analyzed Panikkar’s thinking from a number of perspectives and have attempted to expound some of its fundamental presuppositions. I have consciously deferred giving a detailed analysis of his metaphysics or, in his own words, “cosmotheandrism” until the end of my analysis. This metaphysical vision is, in a certain sense, the culmination of his thinking in chronological terms, too.258 Almost all of the themes touched upon above are

noted the tendency of discursive reason to reduce reality to its own categories and thus obtain only approximate knowledge of things. See Lohr 1988, 554. Cf. 4.2.2. above. However, cf. CE, 41, in which Panikkar gives us to understand that Llull and Nicholas of Cusa, for example, were under the spell of numbers. 255 WWB, 99: “Ich meine hier mit Kosmologie nicht eine Doktrin über den Kosmos, sondern das Erlebnis, wie der Kosmos zu mir spricht (kosmos legein).”; WWB, 101. See also NP, 242. See Levy 1967, 123. 256 According to Panikkar, a certain sacramental continuity prevails in the world (SCD, 288): “. . . ours is a sacramental world. The plant ‘enjoys’ being eaten by the animal. . . . The plant ‘becomes’ thus an animal; so does the small animal when eaten by the big one and both by Man. It is a eucharistic ‘commerce.’ Man in its turn is called upon to be transformed (eaten up) and become risen, divinized, enlightened, realized, liberated.” Interestingly, his academic career shows similar continuity (GRP, 377): “. . . hat mich der Chemie zur Philosophie geführt, Philosophie hat mich zur Theologie geführt.” 257 See, e.g., BS, 53–54; GRP, 396. 258 See also Raj 1998, 79. For good grounds for employing the term ‘metaphysics’ here, see MacQuarrie 1973, 240–243.

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from the earlier strata of his work, whereas his cosmotheandric vision crystallized gradually and reached its maturity around the late 1970’s. This line of development is obvious in light of the fact that, for rather a long time, Panikkar preferred primarily to use the word ‘theandrism’.259 The immediate context of this expression was originally, of course, Christological.260 I have already referred to the major change that occurred in Panikkar’s thinking as late as at the end of the 1970’s. One manifestation of this change was that the concept ‘cosmotheandrism’ replaced the concept ‘theandrism’. This means that he extended his purview to include the cosmic dimension, or at least, this extension also became explicit in his terminology. In my view, Panikkar took the decisive step from his earlier position, which was more in line with the classical Christian tradition, to a more idiosyncratic vision. A significant consequence of this transition is evident in his critical attitude toward the idea of the Absolute.261 There are also practical reasons related to the mode of representation why I present my analysis of cosmotheandrism after discussing Christological and epistemological issues. In my view, Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision is unfolded through these, even though, in a certain sense, it actually precedes them as ontological structure. Cosmotheandrism seems to belong to the level of Mystery, since it is Panikkar’s daring attempt to depict the primordial and mystical vision of reality that is crystallized in different traditions. On a philosophical level, this vision arises in the following way. The human

259

See, e.g., TWR, 69–80. See UCH, 48–50. 261 Regarding this change, cf. also Jathanna 1996, 142–143. On the radicalization of Panikkar’s pluralism and its consequences, see also 1.2.1. and 3.1.1.2. above. Nevertheless, a couple of remarks are appropriate. First, the chronology of concepts such as ‘theandrism’ and ‘cosmotheandrism’ is not entirely unambiguous. For example, the revised edition of The Unknown Christ of Hinduism in 1981 still contains old language in some measure. See UCH, ix–xii. Cf. Ahlstrand 1993, 125. Secondly, Panikkar seems to have been elaborating his metaphysical vision for years before he eventually gave it more a prominent and visible position in his writings. This impression is strengthened by the fact that the texts compiled in CE were originally published in rather small forums. See CE; DWVW, 7. On the other hand, the concept ‘cosmotheandric’ occurs now and then in the earlier sources of my study—e.g., in HEC, 204, in which the word is written as ‘cosmo-theandric’, thus giving the impression that the cosmic dimension is just being attached to the category of theandrism. Cf. also WSM, 34, in which the words ‘theandric’ and ‘cosmic’ belong to separate sentences but, in fact, are part of the same whole. 260

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subject participates through a symbol—i.e., Christ for the Christian— in that reality. As the analysis has shown, this participatory, or in other words epistemological, act has an intrinsically ontological character. Nevertheless, it is possible to distinguish the orders of epistemology and ontology regarding this vision, which is what I have tried to do in my analysis. In my view, this procedure emerges in an unforced way from Panikkar’s writings.262 As I have already said, I consider the cosmotheandric vision to be the crystallization of his thinking. Even if it fails to express the whole human experience in one integral vision, through it Panikkar succeeds in bringing together different themes in his thinking.263 As far as his cosmotheandric vision is concerned, the dynamics of reality and the grand role of man in that—ideas that have surfaced in my analysis as vital features of Panikkar’s thinking—are evident. Therefore, I hope that the circle will be made complete through the following analysis of his cosmotheandrism. In short, it is the metaphysical model providing the fundamental basis of all of his other themes, including the theology of religions. Moreover, Panikkar considers it to be even more: The cosmotheandric vision might well be considered the original and primordial form of consciousness. It has, in fact, glimmered since the very beginnings of human consciousness as the undivided vision of the totality. But in its primordiality, it is still an innocent and undiscriminated vision, which is quickly obnubilated by the more glittering regional discoveries . . . It seems that envisioning all of reality in terms of three worlds is an invariant of human culture . . .264 [Italics mine.]

The above citation shows that, with his cosmotheandric vision, Panikkar aims at presenting the constitutive spirituality in its primordiality and hence, so to say, in its integrity. It is no surprise that the constitutive spirituality of man as it is interpreted in terms of his cosmotheandric vision, provides him with a normative criterion accord262 Cf. also Panikkar’s own representation of the methodology of his cosmotheandric studies in DWVW, 9, in which he observes the intertwining of deductive and inductive methods. 263 Cf. also CE, 4–5: “For well over fifty years I have been thematically concerned with the problem spelled out in this book . . . my lifelong fondness for synthesis, theandrism, myth and apophatism, all vouch for this attitude which I now try to formulate as a hypothesis . . .”; IFOL, viii: “I would not like to give the impression that I have touched upon every possible subject . . . and left the whole in anarchic disarray. Ultimately, I feel that I have said only one thing, and perhaps really thought one single thought.” See also Podgorski 1996, 106; Ahlstrand 1993, 122. 264 CE, 55.

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ing to which he wishes religions to be transformed and assessed. With his cosmotheandrism he goes on to express in new terms what I have called ‘constitutive spirituality’—i.e., the spiritual experience that is the root of human religiosity.265 Cosmotheandric spirituality represents “the new innocence” to which one should, in Panikkar’s view, awake in the present predicament. Cosmotheandrism is tantamount to “the Copernican revolution” and facilitates pluralism.266 In fact, it seems to be Panikkar’s outline for the kind of new “myth” that he seems to be craving for—no matter if it is only budding and emerging.267 Nevertheless, achieving this kind of synthesis is a challenge that demands “new awareness.” According to Panikkar, this awareness originates from an experience that is born of “a new praxis of plunging into the depths of the human psyche, as much as soaring into the heights of the cosmic spaces and sensing the immanent-transcendent throbbings of the Divine.”268 It is clear how intimately cosmotheandrism is intertwined with the theme of the new innocence.269 It is through this that Panikkar tries to give a contemporary and adequate expression for the intuitive Trinitarian vision that he claims to find as a human invariant in every culture.270 He sees the triplex nature of reality as a cross-cultural pattern that is concretized in different ways in different cultures.271

265

See 3.2.2. above. See CE, 52; JTG, 108–109. See also 3.2. and 4.2. above. 267 CE, 17: “We cannot yet fully articulate the myth of the third moment, lest we destroy it. We could provisionally call it the unifying myth . . .”; CE, 52: “The new innocence is linked with the new myth. And the new myth cannot be spelled out; it is not yet logos. We see through it, although we can assume that subsequent generations may find opaque what is for us transparent.”; CE, 77: “This cosmotheandric intuition I have been trying to describe . . . represents, I think, the emerging religious consciousness of our times.” See also TDD, 14–15; AW, 32: “Vielleicht würde ich in Harmonie mit Küng sagen, daß was wir brauchen, nicht ein Weltethos, sondern ein Weltmythos ist, der uns eine gewisse Ehrfurcht vor den verschiedenen Kulturen und eine Anerkennung der Differenzen ermöglicht.” Cf. also CE, 4, in which Panikkar considers his cosmotheandrism as “a working hypothesis.” See also DPW, 72, in which cosmotheandrism is seen as the starting point of ecumenism as well as of the encounter of religions. 268 BS, 131–132. 269 CE, 47: “. . . we need to gain, perhaps to conquer for the first time on a global scale, a new innocence. . . . This integral experience is what I call the cosmotheandric vision, the third kairological moment of consciousness.” 270 Eastham 1993, viii; SCD, 275; CE, 55–56; STC, 26, in which Panikkar, for some reason, utilizes the term ‘cultural invariant’. Cf. SCD, 256. 271 BS, 104–105. 266

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Overall, as far as cosmotheandrism is concerned, it is a question of intuition, a new awareness that is gradually taking shape. Panikkar’s terminology displays this: he speaks about the cosmotheandric ‘vision’, ‘intuition’, or ‘experience’.272 On the other hand, since for him, the vision of reality is part and parcel of reality, it could be said that, ultimately, the issue of the cosmotheandric vision deals with reality itself.273 All this tallies with the new epistemology that was under scrutiny in the previous Chapter. In fact, Panikkar affirms that his cosmotheandrism ultimately results from an ineffable mystical experience, and it is therefore “a synthetic vision” rather than “an analytical conclusion.”274 It is worth noting that it is not a question of an individual mystical experience. Panikkar extends this experience to humankind as the following quotation with the capitalized word ‘Man’ shows: . . . in the long run it is the fruit of a simple and immediate insight which dawns upon Man’s awareness once he has glimpsed the core where knower, known and knowledge meet.275

Panikkar operates in the frame of his theological anthropology that dispenses with Western individualism and represents an intrinsically extensive and relational understanding of personhood. The cosmotheandric vision brings about profound anthropological transformation: Panikkar is even able to speak about a mutation that concerns the whole human race.276 However, there seems to be a certain dissonance since, on the one hand, he emphasizes that cosmotheandric spirituality exists in primordial traditions. The constituents of the new anthropology are thus to be found in the original human experience that is crystallized in the classical traditions, but then is threatened with extinction behind the fragmented knowledge of the modern era.277 On the other hand, discovering and realizing primordial spirituality entails 272 See, e.g., CE, 1, 59, 77. Cf. also DMTM, 178, in which he speaks about ‘die kosmotheandrische Einsicht’. On the participatory nature of the word ‘experience’, see DPW, 45–46. 273 NVR, 293. 274 CE, 72. Panikkar uses indefinite articles here. This may be interpreted as an indicator of his wish to speak about one possible vision. 275 CE, 72. 276 On this, see especially BS, 67. 277 See CE, 3, 55; BS, 77.

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mutation, in other words change and transition to something totally new. This inbuilt tension is reflected in Panikkar’s way of speaking about the “old” and “new” innocence. The relationship of these is— as already observed—the same as that of generation and regeneration that are separated by degeneration.278 According to Panikkar, the new innocence cannot be the original innocence just recovered and recaptured.279 The mutation he envisioned thus seems to mean that humankind advances through a change of consciousness to a new innocence. Historical consciousness will end, albeit through a catastrophe. In any case, a new transhistorical consciousness will emerge on the contemporary scene. Panikkar understands this to be represented already in cosmotheandric spirituality, and in the lives of those committed to a spiritual life.280 Moreover, he wishes to emphasize that there exists a growing number of people searching for new transhistorical spirituality. As an example of this, he refers explicitly to new religious movements.281 Is the core of this existing spirituality a remnant of the old innocence, or is it something totally new? In my view, it seems that Panikkar comprehends the issue in question as a process in which the new innocence is, in a sense, refined from the remnants of the old. This impression is given in his idea that monasteries could be seen as the “high places” of the “transformational alchemy of Man” who ascends toward a cosmotheandric reality that surrounds him.282 Panikkar’s overall tendency to stress the coexistence of continuity and rupture has already been noted.283 In fact, he understands that there is already “in man a kernel of Life that allows for regeneration.” It is “at this depth that the third moment, the new innocence, sets in.284

278

See 4.2.1. above. CE, 50, 52. 280 See CE, 47, 125; BS, 67, 71. 281 CE, 125 footnote 176. See also CE, 120, 128, 137–138. 282 BS, 67. Cf. also CE; 59: “Orthodoxies and traditionalisms of every sort have for over a century severely criticized modernity. They have told us that Man, estranged from the cosmos and cut off from God, cannot survive. The cosmotheandric intuition is in this sense both traditional and contemporary. It seeks to recover Man’s roots, but it goes further.” 283 See above, especially 2.2. 284 CE, 52. 279

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The scale of reinterpretation that Panikkar envisions can be seen at the beginning of The Cosmotheandric Experience (1993). He sees the aim of the book as “a radical re-orientation of contemporary Man by situating him in an open horizon embracing the millennia of human experience crystallized in the different cultures of the world.”285 The cosmotheandric vision surpasses the individual experience since it is drawn from “the last ten thousand years of human memory” of the Eastern and Western traditions.286 In his cosmotheandric vision, Panikkar attempts to bring together the scattered pieces of human knowledge. He is not content with a synthesis encompassing different religions or different aspects of comparative religion. He also wishes to take into account other academic disciplines.287 Before venturing to give a detailed analysis of the three components of reality as seen in Panikkar’s vision, I will say something about this threefold structure, and about what he wishes to express through it. I hope that this will make it easier to link cosmotheandrism to the other themes in Panikkar’s thinking that have been analyzed above—e.g., dialogue, pluralism, and the invisible harmony of reality. 4.3.1. The Trinitarian Reality One thing that emerged from my analysis above was that Panikkar understands reality to be ultimately harmonious, as the metaphor of the symphony of many dissenting voices suggests.288 Still within the musical metaphor, and perhaps at the risk of over-simplification, it could be said that the fundamental idea of cosmotheandrism is the Trinitarian character of the harmony of reality.289 Panikkar understands the Trinitarian character of his metaphysics to be a legitimate expansion of classical Trinitarian theology. The Trinity is not a monopoly of Christianity nor of Divinity for, according to the cosmotheandric vision, reality as such is Trinitarian. Therefore Panikkar 285

CE, 3. CE, 16. See also MacPherson 1996, 18–19. 287 STC, 26: “The cosmotheandric intuition would be that vision which, I repeat, brings together every scientific thread as well as all the other manifestations of the human spirit . . .”; CSR. See also CE, 1–2. 288 See 3.2.4. above. 289 In my view, the German translation of CE has a very appropriate and illuminating title, Der Dreiklang der Wirklichkeit, Die kosmotheandrische Offenbarung. (Salzburg: Anton Pustet. 1995.) 286

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can even say that “[e]very bit of reality has this trinitarian imprint.”290 This means that all existing entities present the “triune constitution expressed in three dimensions.”291 This threefoldness proves the ultimate harmony of reality for Panikkar. He argues this on the basis of the traditional understanding according to which three is the perfect number. A significant issue is that a triadic structure implies a relation that is not “closed up in a monistic short circuit or exhausted in a dualistic struggle.” This provides him with a prospect beyond monistic and dualistic solutions.292 Next to harmony, another advantage is that the triadic structure implies relationality. The relational character of being is of vital significance for Panikkar. I have shown in my analysis that his epistemology emphasizes the participation of a human person in the communion that belongs intrinsically to reality. This participation, or becoming “actively aware of those correlations,” is the proper “task” of the person, for Panikkar sees the distinctiveness of the person in its relational nature.293 Moreover, he seems to comprehend reality as, in a certain sense, personal.294 Therefore, he has to find a way to depict reality as such that, on the one hand, human consciousness genuinely participates in it, and, on the other hand, that tallies with the extensive meaning

290 BS, 128; MJC, 151: “. . . the traditional perichorêsis which here is not reduced to the intra-trinitarian realm, but extended to all creation. Is there anything ‘outside’ the Trinity?”; MJC, 174, 177; SG, 142; CHT, 70: “The Trinity is not a divine monopoly. . . . Besides what Christian tradition has called the immanent Trinity (ab intra) and the economic one (ad extra), I submit, there is the radical Trinity (in omnibus).”; GRP, 405: “Die Trinität ist ein gültiges Modell, nicht als eine Spezialität Gottes, sondern eine Grundbeschaffenheit der Realität.”; SCD, 276: “I am with tradition, although transcending it . . . when I apply this notion of radical Trinity, i.e., to reality. ‘The Trinity is the measure of all things’ wrote Marsilio Ficino . . . quoting the pythagoreans.” Marsilio Ficino was one of the most distinguished representatives of the Hermetic tradition during the renaissance. This may be interpreted as a further sign of Panikkar’s overall sympathy with it. Cf. 4.2.4. See also Yates 1967a, 406–407. 291 CE, 60–61: “Everything that exists, any real being, presents this triune constitution expressed in three dimensions. . . . All things are, as it were, androgynous and ambivalent because they are in fact trinitarian. The relations which pervade the universe penetrate the innermost chambers of every being.”; DPW, 72. 292 DMTM, 175; CD, 66. See also CE, 59–60, in which the three-dimensional character of reality is seen as overcoming an undifferentiated monism as well as a pluralistic system. Cf. also above 3.2.2. 293 MCN, 254; WSM, 46–47; SCD, 239, 264–265. See above 4.1.4. 294 See SCD, 239; CE, 142–143. See also 4.2.3. above.

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of ‘person’. For this reason, it is no surprise that Panikkar understands reality itself as relational. One significant corollary of this understanding of reality is that Panikkar’s thinking cannot be monistic. This is an important point, since his sympathies with both Western Christian mysticism and the Indian spirituality of the Advaita tradition could easily lead him in this direction. Any monistic metaphysics are also out of question for the reason that monism would mean the end of dialogue as well as of pluralism, which are of ultimate importance to him.295 Panikkar tries to repel the threat of monism by interpreting reality as irreducibly threefold and thus, as such, a harmonious whole that leaves room for diversity.296 The cosmotheandric vision sees reality as consisting irrevocably of relations: according to Panikkar, everything that exists “is wrapped in that radical relativity.” The radical relativity of being is the reason why cosmotheandrism entails criticism of the idea of the Absolute: everything being in relation with each other, there is nothing that is isolated from this communion, in other words “totally ab-solutus, solutus ab.”297 Relational ontology thus leads Panikkar inexorably to reject the classical monotheistic conception of God as an absolute, sovereign, and autonomous entity. The increasing criticism of monotheism in his work is to be understood in the light of his deepened cosmotheandric metaphysics.298 Relational ontology patently reveals the influence of Buddhism in his thinking.299 Buddhism comprises the idea of the relativity of being, 295

See Chapters 2 and 3 above. Cf. CE, 72: “Without denying differences, and even recognizing a hierarchical order within the three dimensions, the cosmotheandric principle stresses the intrinsic relationship among them, so that this threefold current permeates the entire realm of all that is.” 297 MRDP, 12. The radical character of Panikkar’s relational ontology is seen in WSM, 1: “. . . everything in the world is interrelated and that beings themselves are nothing but relations.” See also IRD, 5, and especially IH, 29–30, in which he argues the relational nature of reality with the idea of karma. On the nature of these relations, see SG, 135–137. In order to depict situations in which both relativity and autonomy prevail, Panikkar has developed the concept ‘ontonomy’. On this, see DPW, 94–95; NP, 240; Parappally 1995, 118–119. 298 Panikkar’s criticism of monotheism hence has a more philosophical basis (see SG, 92–100) than pluralism as such. Of course, Panikkar’s pluralism should be understood as an all-encompassing vision with distinctive ontology. Paying due attention to this overall horizon is important, for example, the following quotation could be understood rather differently in that case as a practical claim (IH, 83): “Any erecting of absolutes leads to the disappearance of pluralism.” 299 Existentialism should also be referred to here, since some of its forms high296

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expressed with the concept pratìtyasamutpàda, which is translated, for instance, as ‘dependent origination’.300 Moreover, this Buddhist idea contains other aspects that tally with the central tenets of Panikkar’s thinking. It entails an understanding that in the universe prevails a state of affairs that overcomes the dilemmas of both determinism and indeterminism, and of oneness and pluralism. Different aspects of reality are interwoven and thereby in mutual interplay. It is not a question of causal relations, but one of the simultaneity of all components and phenomena. Reality is hence ontologically one process that constitutes versatile components that cannot be reduced to one single principle. Since this kind of idea cannot be reconciled with God who is beyond these processes or reality, Buddhism rejects the theistic conception of God.301 Panikkar gives us to understand that the relational character of his ontology is more fundamental than that of Buddhism: for him, relations are not only constitutive of the whole, but the relational nature of reality “flashes forth, ever new and vital, in every spark of the real.” Any single entity can be understood only in its relation to the reality surrounding it.302 In any case, the new metaphysics necessitates a reinterpretation of the classical Christian understanding of God, or probably Panikkar would prefer to speak about the recovery of its original meaning. The nature of Panikkar’s understanding of God is addressed later in

light existence as “Being-with-Others”—i.e., it has an intrinsically relational character. See MacQuarrie 1973, 102–123, 127–128. See also Ahlstrand 1993, 111–119, in which possible Western influences—e.g., Trinitarian theology and personalistic philosophy—, on this point are noted. It is indicative of the complex provenance of Panikkar’s thinking that he himself also alludes to the Vedic tradition. See HVW, xv: “. . . the modern western individualistic perspective is foreign to vedic culture in which all is interconnected and the function of a bigger complex, as the famous upanishadic correlations, for instance, show.” 300 In fact, Kalupahana 1987, 484, gives two translations of pratìtyasamutpàda: ‘dependent origination’ and ‘dependent arising’. See also SG, 53–60. Cf. also von Brück & Lai 1997, 645, in which pratìtyasamutpàda is translated as ‘Entstehen in gegenseitiger Abhängigkeit’. King (2000, 120, 125) translates it as ‘inter-dependent-origination’. 301 Kalupahana 1987, 486; von Brück & Lai 1997, 645–647. See also King 2000, 80–82. See also SG, 16–23. Cf. also Chapter 3 above, in which Panikkar’s ardent desire for a model enabling both communion and pluralism was illustrated. 302 CE, 60: “I am not only saying that everything is directly or indirectly related to everything else: the radical relativity or pratìtyasamutpàda. I am also stressing that this relationship is not only constitutive of the whole, but it flashes forth, ever new and vital, in every spark of the real. No word can be understood in isolation. All words are relational.”

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the context of how he comprehends the three constituents of cosmotheandrism. In any case, the fact that he does not wish to loosen his ties with the classical Christian heritage should be taken into account. In fact, he understands that it is the Trinitarian doctrine that has forced dispensation with the monotheistic understanding of God.303 He even says that the greatest challenge to Christianity in the third millennium is to grasp the profound difference between the God of the Hebrew Scriptures and the God of the Trinitarian faith.304 The third significant aspect of cosmotheandric reality, next to harmony and relationality, is its dynamic character.305 The cosmotheandric vision enables reality to be perceived as being in constant change. As I have shown in my analysis of Panikkar’s understanding of religion, he has a high regard for characteristics such as growth, change, and the dynamics of reality.306 This is not to infer, however, that the dynamic character of the cosmotheandric vision gave it to evolutionist, linear, or progressive features. On the contrary, Panikkar’s vision of reality is rhythmic.307 Reality constitutes dynamic commu-

303 GRP, 389: “. . . ich bin kein Monotheist, weil ich an der Trinität glaube, und die Dreifaltigkeit ist weder Monotheismus noch Polytheismus. Ich glaube, es läßt sich sagen, die Reduktion der Trinität auf Monotheismus versteht nicht, was die Trinität bedeutet.” [Italics mine.] See also SG, 141. As far as the classical Christian tradition is concerned, Panikkar apparently attempts, in a certain sense, to renew the Augustinian vision of the inherent Trinitarian nature of God—i.e., that the existence of God is constituted by absolute relationships. See Boff 1988, 57–58, 68, and also Kelly 1978, 271–279. See also Devdas 1980, 608. Panikkar explicitly quotes Augustine in CE, 76 n. 217. In contemporary discussion, he is not alone in his claim that Christian tradition should be interpreted in Trinitarian terms instead of in theistic terms that are just a later deviation from the original tradition. For more on this discussion, see, e.g., Koistinen 2000, 24–26. Nonetheless, the question could be asked whether Panikkar disregards some other significant aspects of the classical Christian tradition. 304 GIA, 74. See also GIA, 157. 305 MJC, 105: “Person is relationship because Being is relationship. Being is a verb, a communitarian, i.e. personalistic action: esse est coesse—and coesse est actus essendi.”; GIA, 95: “Die Gotteserfahrung lässt sich nicht objektivieren, sie ist ein konstanter Übergang, eine pascha. . . . Das Sein ist primär ein Verb, und nicht ein Substantiv.” See also GIA, 88–89. 306 See 2.2. and 2.3. above. At least the resemblance between Panikkar’s thinking and process philosophy and theology should be noted here. See especially Cobb 1996. Cf. IH, 61. On process theology and its re-evaluation of theism that is based on the idea of God’s internal relationship with the world, see also Fiddes 1993; Buckley 1997, 329. 307 CD, 16: “Being is rhythmic, is rhythm. . . . Rhythm is the deepest nature of reality, the very becoming of being, which is being precisely because it comes to be.” See also AW, 158–159.

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nion, “the cosmotheandric communality,” but this communication “is not a one-directional flow ending in a monistic omega point . . . but a rhythmic exchange which is precisely the very nature of reality.”308 Nevertheless, in spite of this disavowal of the existence of an “omega point” as the goal of the universe, it seems that the cosmotheandric vision does not deny that reality has a kind of beginning. Panikkar says that the rhythm of the universe originates in the following: We have at the very beginning a dimensionless triangle, a still point, in which the material element, the factor of consciousness, and the unfathomable freedom I call divine are all three already there. Then this triangle evolves: a spherical wave unfolding globally in all directions. There is a kind of rhythm, or breathing—the systole and diastole of reality—and these pulsations are what constitute time(s).309

Interestingly, this picture has some affinities with the idea of the Big Bang of modern science: Panikkar gives to understand that before the evolving and unfolding began and the rhythm originated, there existed a “still point,” a kind of intense singular point comprising three dimensions of reality. Cosmotheandrism functions as a metaphysical model, a kind of tri-dimensional system of coordinates or matrix that enables Panikkar to attain the holistic vision of reality with pluralism for which he has yearned. Relational ontology allows room for both unity in reality and differentiation.310 The Trinitarian idea of perichorèsis is crucial in this respect, since it highlights relativity and the dynamics of reality, or as Panikkar says, “the dance of the entire universe, . . . the constant rhythm of all.”311 With its rhythmic character, cosmotheandric reality also leaves room for change and growth, since the cosmos moves rhythmically without repeating itself.312 This is a very significant qualification with

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SCD, 238. BS, 104. 310 See WSM, 29, 41–43; SG, 140; CE, 58–59. 311 MJC, 167: “I am transient, or rather, I share in the perichorêsis, in the dance of the entire universe, in the constant rhythm of all, in the trinitarian or cosmotheandric display of reality.” On this classical theological concept, see Boff 1988, 134–148. 312 CD, 23: “Human history is dynamic. The very cosmos, while it moves rhythmically, does so without repeating itself. The status ante is an impossibility.” See also GIA, 89–90, which even displays a certain eschatological tint. 309

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regard to Panikkar’s organic understanding of religion and the idea of transformation that is implied in his view of dialogue.313 4.3.2. Theos, Anthropos, and Cosmos—the Dimensions of the Cosmotheandric Vision As anyone with knowledge of Greek knows, the concept ‘cosmotheandrism’ implies three dimensions of reality, in terms of ‘God’ (Theos), ‘Man’ (Anthropos, Aner), and ‘Cosmos’ (Kosmos).314 The relationship of these three poles is described in the following way: The three poles of reality are in the same way definitive (endgültig); they permeate (durchdringen) each other . . . everyone of the three poles is definitive, and they cannot be reduced to each other or to the assumed center. And still, everyone of these poles, so to say, presupposes the others and includes them. The reciprocal resonance is perfect.315

Hence the dimensions are not reduced to each other, or to any concept outside them. Nevertheless, they are inseparable and essentially belong together.316 Therefore Panikkar is able to say: “There is no God without Man and World. There is no Man without God and World. There is no World without God and Man.”317 What, then, do the concepts such as ‘God’, ‘Man’, and ‘Cosmos’ mean in this radically Trinitarian model that Panikkar has outlined? What sort of aspects of reality does he intend to portray with each 313

See Chapter 2 above. See also SNSE, 58, 61–62. See, e.g., BS, 104; DMTM, 178–183; CE, 72–75. Panikkar sometimes also uses the word ‘theanthropocosmic’. See, e.g., CE, 4; 54. He is aware of the fact that his vocabulary is only one among many, in this case Hellenistic. STC, 32. On the concept of ‘dimension’, Panikkar says the following (CE, 72): “The metaphor ‘dimension’ is intended to help overcome the monistic temptation of constructing a simplistic modalistic universe, viz. a universe in which all things are but variations and modes of one substance. At the same time, it presents an attempt to overcome the pluralistic temptation of positing two or more unbridgeable elements, substances or groups of reality which have only external or casual, and ultimately accidental links with one another.” 315 DMTM, 174–175: “Die drei Pole der Realität sind gleich endgültig; sie durchdringen sich gegenseitig . . . jeder von den drei Polen ist endgültig und nicht auf den anderen oder auf ein vermeintliches Zentrum zurückführbar. Und doch setzt jeder von diesen Polen die anderen sozusagen voraus und enthält sie. Die gegenseitige Resonanz ist vollkommen.” 316 CE, 60, 77; SCD, 276: “. . . the ‘persons,’ or the Divine, the Human and the Cosmic, are not three entities, three beings . . . The ‘dimensions’ are irreducible and yet inseparable. For this reason identity and difference do not apply, as there is not a ‘fourth’ (common) background . . . The dynamism between the ‘three’ is free . . .” 317 STC, 26. See also DPW, 72. 314

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of them? It seems obvious not to cling to the concepts as such, for he uses them in a particular way. He seems to understand the words ‘God’, ‘Man’, and’ ‘cosmos’ as symbols through which he can describe the central tenets of his intuitive vision of metaphysics. On the other hand, these concepts are rather abstract and general and, therefore, measured by Panikkar’s own standards, seem unfitting for “living symbols.”318 There is a distinct feeling that, with his cosmotheandrism, he is sketching out a kind of intellectual metareligion expressing the universal human experience in a language that is as general as possible, if not universal.319 This seems to be in conflict with the ideals he has explicated in his writings. To be more precise, with his outlining of cosmotheandrism, he is taking a step in a direction he has declared forbidden.320 4.3.2.1. The Divine Dimension of Inexhaustibility With the concept of divine, Panikkar wishes to refer to the “abyssal dimension” and the “infinite inexhaustibility” of everything, to the way that every being transcends both everything and itself.321 This inexhaustibility is not epistemological, in other words, it is not due to the deficient epistemological abilities of humankind, but to the ontological character of reality.322 This divine dimension is intrinsically connected with the relativity and dynamics of Panikkar’s metaphysics: the radical relativity of reality means that every being opens out the whole. Since every entity transcends itself and includes the dimension of freedom, the vital concept of spontaneous “growth” is warranted in Panikkar’s 318 Cf. Jathanna 1996, 147: “Kosmotheandrismus ist eine verallgemeinerte Interpretation des lebendigen Christus-Symbols. Dem steht Panikkars frühere Ansicht entgegen, dass neutrale Prizipien lebendige Symbole nicht ersetzen könnten.” Cf. UCH, 27: “In this book Christ stands for that centre of reality, that crystallizationpoint around which the human, the divine and the material can grow. Ràmà may be another such name, or Krishna, or . . . Ì≤vara, or Purusha, or even Humanity. But God, Matter, Consciousness or names such as Future, Justice, Love are not the living symbols that our research required.”; MRDP, 22–23; WSM, 79: “The symbols of worship cannot be generalizations.” 319 Nonetheless, cf. CE, 61: “In harmony with the greater proportion of human traditions, I call this dimension divine, but this does not imply that another name would not or could not do. . . . Some systems understandably prefer to call this [divine] dimension nothingness, emptiness . . .” 320 Cf. above 3.2.2. Cf. also EM, 280: “. . . living spiritualities are always concrete, incarnated, alive in the houses of Gods and Men.” 321 CE, 61. 322 DMTM, 179.

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model.323 This divine dimension of freedom enables participation in the cosmotheandric adventure.324 The divine dimension is thus the “mysterious” dimension of every being.325 At first glance, it would be easy to label Panikkar a pantheist on the grounds that he sees divinity as the “constitutive principle of all things.”326 This kind of conclusion is, in my view, too superficial. Panikkar does not load the concepts ‘God’ or ‘divine’ with the same meaning as in the classical traditions, although he considers his understanding of ‘divine’ as the abyssal dimension of everything to be in harmony with these traditions. It is not the concept as such that is decisive, but rather the idea that is expressed in the words the words ‘God’ or ‘divine’ in Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision.327 However, the question remains whether it is legitimate to use vital words of religious traditions in a certain, misleading sense.328 Panikkar 323 CE, 61: “Through every real being breathes a wind of reality, a prà»a . . . permeating every fiber of that being and making it real not only by connecting it with the entire reality, but also by suspending it over a fathomless ground which makes growth, life and freedom possible.” [Italics mine.] 324 See MJC, 158. 325 CE, 61; STC, 26: “. . . by God I understand that dimension without dimensions . . . It is the mysterious dimension of anything real.”; NP, 245. 326 CE, 61. See also SG, 134–135. 327 CE, 61: “In harmony with the greater proportion of human traditions, I call this dimension divine but this does not imply that another name would not or could not do. The basic perception here is the infinite inexhaustibility of any real being, its ever-open character, its mystery . . . its freedom, another language might say . . .”; DMTM, 179: “. . . die kosmotheandrische Intuition hat es nicht nötig, in solchen Wörtern ausgedrückt zu werden. Es genügt wahrzunehmen, daß der Mench die Tiefe seines eigenen Sein erfahren kann . . .” Cf. also SG, 171. See also MJC, 158. It is questionable whether this is legitimate. Does not Panikkar himself emphasize that every word should be understood in connection with other words? See CE, 60: “No word can be understood in isolation. All words are relational.” Is it therefore possible to detach, for instance, the concept ‘God’ from its classical usage and subordinate it to new metaphysics? Secondly, does it not seem that Panikkar deviates here to the kind of nominalistic way of thinking that he normally vehemently opposes, in other words that it is possible to substitute one word with another? Cf. 4.1.5. above. On the other hand, could this be an example of the transplantation of a word? See IRD, xxv. See also 3.2.2. above. 328 For instance, the question of Jathanna (1996, 147) is legitimate: “Nach dem Kosmotheandrismus ist Gott nur ein Pol, nicht aber der Grund und Schöpfer des Kosmos. Die Frage ist, wie sich dieser neue ‘Glaube’ zum biblischen Gottesglauben verhält.” See here also the criticism in Cragg 1992, 215. On Panikkar’s way of using words, cf. 1.2.1. above. Concerning the vocabulary that is employed in his cosmotheandrism, Panikkar makes the remark (CE, 75): “Perhaps we run into a semantic problem here. . . . To be sure, it is all only a way of speaking, but just as surely do modern Man’s idioms require a thoroughgoing revision, indeed, a new language.”

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occasionally uses the word ‘God’ because this word is one traditional symbol of reality, or life. Nonetheless, when he speaks about ‘God’, it seems that he ultimately wishes to refer to one dimension of the cosmotheandric reality.329 A better option would probably be ‘the Divine’,330 even though this also has a rather peculiar meaning: the divine dimension refers to the inexhaustibility and the “dimension of more and better” of being, in other words to the “Mystery of being.”331 4.3.2.2. The Anthropic Dimension of Consciousness The anthropic dimension of being means that every being is “within the range of consciousness,” in other words it is “thinkable.”332 Panikkar expresses this concisely and in a rather poetic way: . . . the waters of human consciousness wash all the shores of the real— even if Man cannot penetrate the terra incognita of the hinterland—and by this very fact, Man’s being enters into relation with the whole of reality.333

As the remark “even if Man cannot penetrate the terra incognita of the hinterland” suggests, Panikkar does not think that human consciousness de facto permeates reality. He rather wishes to highlight the fact that “thinkability and knowability as such are features of all that is.” Thus, the planet Pluto, for instance, did not begin to exist when it was found. It existed before that, and its very existence implied the ability to enter “into a relationship with human consciousness.” According to Panikkar, thinkability and knowability are thus features of all that exists.334 329 See, e.g., MRDP, 13: “. . . God—I am using the word as a symbol for the whole reality . . .”; TDD, 22: “. . . one of the most beautiful definitions of God . . . namely that God is a circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference nowhere.” See also GIA, 150–156. 330 In fact, in his thus far unpublished Gifford Lectures of 1989, Panikkar explored the divine dimension in detail with the purpose “to liberate the Divine from the burden of being God.” See Raj 1998, 174 footnote 30. Cf. also SCD, 272, according to which Panikkar does not wish to suggest that there is a kind of Divine substance beyond God: “. . . it is not necessary for me to postulate a Godhead beyond God, be it like Eckhart or Tillich, because this divine Abgrund is precisely the Father.” The last words are an obvious allusion to his understanding of Trinity in TWR. See TWR 44–50. See also GIA, 12. Panikkar’s elusiveness on this point is reminiscent of Heidegger who, with his vital concept of ‘Being’, cannot be classified neatly as a theist or an atheist. See MacQuarrie 1973, 252. 331 See CE, 74; CD, 90–91; GIA, 148–149. 332 CE, 61. 333 CE, 62. 334 CE, 62–63.

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One outcome of my analysis in the previous Chapter was to highlight Panikkar’s view that consciousness and being are not identifiable.335 Does he not seem to have an inbuilt conflict in his thinking if he suggests in his cosmotheandrism that being—at least de jure—belongs to the range of consciousness? This tension would be intolerable if he defined consciousness as the only constitutive factor of reality. Nevertheless, he does stress that being in the range of consciousness is only one of three mutually irreducible dimensions of reality, in other words, that being is not exhausted in consciousness.336 Since he sees that there is a “circuminsession,” a “perichorèsis” of three dimensions of the cosmotheandric reality,337 the dimension of consciousness is one dimension of being. Thus it permeates everything but does not exhaustively cover the totality of being.338 On the other hand, Panikkar’s particular claim about knowing is the ontological character of epistemology.339 In this regard, cosmotheandrism highlights this vital principle of his thinking, for it renders consciousness and knowability constituents of being as such.340 Nevertheless, the extent to which being could be characterized “bigger” than consciousness341 remains open to question, given that it intrinsically contains the dimension of consciousness—even though this is only one of three constitutive dimensions of the real that are not mutually reducible. In order to do justice to Panikkar, it should be admitted that his thinking is very subtle on this point. He indeed wishes to reject the notion that knowing is an independent category alongside being, or an even more fundamental perspective on reality.342 For him, knowing 335

See 4.2.2. above. CE, 62: “This does not mean that everything can be reduced to consciousness or that consciousness is everything. The cosmotheandric insight declares precisely that the three constitutive dimensions of the real are not mutually reducible . . .” 337 See CE, 76; SCD, 275–276; IH, 75. 338 CE, 62. See also UK, 143–150. Cf. Williams 1991. I do not find the criticism of Williams completely persuasive since he does not take into account the additional perspectives on the issue of the relationship of being and knowability that are provided by Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision. 339 For more on this point, see 4.2.2. above. 340 CE, 63: “I am not only saying that we could not know a being if it were not somehow related to consciousness, but also that this relation is constitutive of that very being. Consciousness permeates every being. . . . Were it not for this dimension, reality would not be knowable and awareness would be a superimposed and extrinsic characteristic.” 341 See DD, 213. See also AW, 40. 342 See, e.g., BS, 122; HVW, xviii–xix; CD, 69. 336

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is considered an essential part of being, and being as a category surpasses knowing without any doubt. However, the fact that being takes precedence does not mean that thinking could not be just as extensive, even if it cannot be equated with being. The freedom of being remains, and here is the proper place for pneumatology.343 This openness that belongs to being is essential for Panikkar’s vitalistic and dynamic understanding of religion and dialogue. Moreover, it also functions as the basis of his pluralism.344 4.3.2.3. The Cosmic Dimension of Spatio-Temporality The adjoining of the cosmic dimension with the divine and anthropic dimensions is the novelty of Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision, given a certain tendency among religions to renounce the world, or at least to subordinate immanence to transcendence. Panikkar suggests that a significant mutation has occurred in spirituality, which has revealed “the holiness of the secular.” The cosmotheandric vision stands for this kind of spirituality because it does “abandon neither time nor space” but makes room for them.345 Panikkar does not consider himself only to stand at the crossroads of Christianity, Hinduism, and Buddhism, but he also follows the path of Secularism.346 The 343 DD, 213: “The on is ‘bigger’ than the logos. The logos may be coextensive with the on, but still there ‘is’ the pneuma ‘between’, and ‘where Spirit, freedom’. And where there is freedom, thought cannot dictate, foresee or even necessarily follow the ‘expansion’, ‘explosion’, life of Being.”; JTG, 109–110; IH, 151. Cf. here also SCD, 275, 282; IH, 72; GIA, 97. Speaking about Spirit implies that the relationship of being (on) and thinking (logos) is, in a certain sense, analogical with that of the Father and the Son. This is a revealing example of the extensiveness of Panikkar’s scope. This feature, at least occasionally, turns his thinking into an impenetrable jungle of various influences. Cf. also CE, 61–64, in which he associates his cosmotheandrism with the Indian formula sat-cit-ànanda that has often been seen as the Indian parallel of the Christian Trinitarian doctrine. On this, see Boyd 1975, 235–237. Cf. also RT, 38; BS, 101–105; UCH, 161–162. 344 See IH, 159. It is worth noting that Panikkar connects the pneumatological dimension of freedom with the cosmic perspective and thus, in some sense, seems to turn upside down the scale of values as many religions have understood it. This probably explains why Panikkar associates Spirit with “opaqueness,” which is a characterization that is intuitively associated with matter rather than with Spirit. See JTG, 109: “If the Logos is the transparency of Being, the Spirit is, paradoxically, its opaqueness. The Spirit is freedom, the freedom of Being to be what it is. And this is, a priori as it were, unforeseeable by the Logos.” 345 BS, 83, 107. See also DPW, 36; NVR, 286–287; WSM, 11–12. Here, once again, Panikkar’s vision resembles that of Teilhard de Chardin. On Teilhard’s quest for giving the world and matter a proper place in his new mysticism, see King 1980, 28–32. 346 UCH, x: “. . . I am at the confluence (sa«gam) of the four rivers: the Hindu,

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cosmic dimension means that every being not only “stands in the World” but also “shares its secularity.” He, therefore, stresses that all that exists has a constitutive relation with matter and energy as well as with space and time.347 Panikkar emphasizes the fact that a possible extramundane or acosmic mystical experience is related to the world, even if in a negative way. The act of negating any relation to the world actually has the world as its referent. Therefore even an angel that is above matter and beyond space and time is tied with its existing references to the World.348 Of course, with his idea that everything shares the cosmic dimension, Panikkar does not wish to represent materialism. By highlighting the cosmic dimension in his metaphysics, he aims at refuting any spiritual monism or religious escapism.349 He wishes to perceive reality in a holistic way and to reject its dualistic division into spiritual and material domains. For him, reality is one and undividable, even if may include many distinctions and ontological gradations.350 According to cosmotheandrism, there exists a constitutive relationship between God and the World, i.e., material and spatio-temporality. Thus, Panikkar can even say that . . . there are no disembodied souls or disincarnated Gods, just as there is no matter, no energy, no spatio-temporal World without divine and conscious dimensions. This does not mean that God has a body like ours. Even superficially, no two bodies are the same; by analogy, God’s body differs from ours. On the other hand, it does mean that God is not without matter, space, time, body, and that every material thing that is, is God’s, or more precisely, God’s thing, God’s own World.351 Christian, Buddhist and Secular traditions.”; IFOL, xii: “How as secular person, could I not defend the importance and definitive character of the spatio-temporal structure of reality without worshipping them though as the only dimensions of the real? Is not the affirmation of the real, synonymous with sacred secularity?” See also RPWD, 52–53. See 2.1. above. 347 CE, 64; DAIE, 35. 348 CE, 64: “Even if we grant the possibility of an extramundane existence, even if we accept the reality of an atemporal and acosmic mystical experience, not only are all such figures of speech worldly ones, but the very act of negating any relation with the world already constitutes a relation, albeit a negative one. In a word, extra- or ultra-mundanity is already a secular feature and has the saeculum as its referent. . . . Even if we say that an angel is above matter and beyond space and time, these references already tie it to our World.” 349 See MRDP, 28; CE, 121; CD, 51; SCD, 272, which put forward Panikkar’s idea of “sacred secularity.” 350 CE, 64–66, 73; DAIE, 42–43. 351 CE, 66.

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Panikkar also strongly suggests that the purely immaterial and the exclusively material being are just abstractions.352 In its threedimensionality, cosmotheandric reality cannot be divided or separated. Therefore, the cosmic dimension is as essential as the other dimensions.353

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CE, 65–66. CE, 66: “Were it not for this spatio-temporal dimension, reality simply would not exist. Everything would be but the dream of a nonexistent dreamer who has only dreamt about the dream, without ever actually having dreamed at all. Were it not for the matter and energy, or space and time, not only would human discourse and thinking be impossible, but God and consciousness would also recede into sheer nothingness and meaninglessness. The final foundation for the belief that something exists is that the world exists; the ultimate basis for Man’s hope is the existence of the World.” 353

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CHAPTER FIVE

COSMOTHEANDRISM—THE ANTHROPOLOGICAL REDUCTION OF RELIGIONS? Cosmotheandrism is the culmination of Panikkar’s thinking with which he endeavors to offer a new myth that could provide a basis for dialogue and make religions mutually comprehensible.1 I have shown how cosmotheandric metaphysics gives room to many of Panikkar’s vital concerns—such as holism, relativity, harmony, dynamics, and spontaneity. There are still some questions to be answered, such as how to “classify” cosmotheandrism. What is the philosophical or religious background against which it is to be understood? It may be the intuitive vision of a new transhistorical moment, nevertheless, Panikkar endeavors to present it to the academic community. This makes it legitimately subject to evaluation in the light of existing visions and proposals. Indeed, Panikkar’s cosmotheandrism ends up being one vision among many, even if it aims at synthesizing all different traditions and spiritualities.2 Thus it is worth going into some detail about cosmotheandrism—and the words with which Panikkar describes his vision seem a good starting point: I should like to present this cosmotheandric principle with the minimum of philosophical assumptions. And the minimum here is that reality shows this triple dimension of an empirical (or physical) element, a noetic (or psychical) factor and a metaphysical (or spiritual) ingredient. By the first I mean the matter-energy complex, the cosmos; by the second, the sui generis reflection on the first and on itself; and by the third, the inherent inexhaustibility of all things: the cosmic, the human and the divine.3

Panikkar’s vision pursues the synthesis of traditional philosophical disciplines: cosmotheandric reality is one, but it can be seen from three different perspectives—the physical, the psychical, and the spiritual dimensions, which in turn can be seen empirically, noetically,

1 2 3

See CE, 150–152; IH, 82. Cf. Jathanna 1996, 147. CE, 71–72.

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and metaphysically. Since he aims at perceiving reality in a holistic way, he uses his cosmotheandrism in an effort to integrate different philosophical aspects that are differentiated in Western philosophy. As I have shown many times during my analysis, he wishes to side with primordial traditions against Western modernism, although he sees the reforming of these traditions and their application in the face of contemporary challenges as a vital task.4 In fact, some aspects of cosmotheandrism could well be considered in the light of Hermetic traditions: Panikkar’s “ecosophy” should be viewed as an effort to reject Galileian science and go back to the more holistic ways of thinking of Galileo’s counterparts.5 Cosmotheandrism thus provides the metaphysical basis upon which Panikkar establishes his ecosophical thinking. There is an obvious affinity between him and Hermetic philosophy, for the latter comprises the idea of reality as interaction between the divine, intellectual, and material dimensions.6 Cosmotheandrism could justifiably be understood as a fusion of the Christian “theandrism” and the Hindu “theocosmism.”7 However, it is worth noting that the Vedas already incorporated the idea of three worlds (triloka).8 In sum, the cosmotheandric vision could be characterized as an effort to revive holistic visions of primordial traditions for contem4 DPW, 7; DPW, 57–58: “Such is human wisdom grown out of traditions. It frees and removes us from the successes of our post-Enlightenment world, so that perhaps we will be enabled to gain a more universal human experience without remaining entangled in the hermeneutical net of the past three or four centuries.” See also BS, 52–57; 77–78; CE, 3, 55. 5 See 4.2.4. above. 6 Cf. Levy 1967, 124: “Renaissance speculation on the microcosm centered on the idea that human nature partakes of bodily, intellectual, and divine existence, uniting in itself the whole of the sublunary, celestial, and supercelestial realms. Human consciousness, by which man can know all things, connects him with all things.”; Kirchhoff 1980, 42: “Die Schrift Von der Ursache, dem Prinzip und dem Einen enthält die Darstellung der Brunoschen Eiheitsmetaphysik, seine Lehre vom Zusammenwirken von Materie, Weltseele und universeller Vernunft.” It is worth comparing the principles of Panikkar’s thinking with the thoughts of Llull and Nicholas of Cusa. On these, see especially Lohr 1988, 542, 550–551, 556–557. 7 Menacherry 1996, 119: “The cosmotheandric vision of Panikkar is shaped by a fusion between the theandric vision of Christianity and the theocosmic vision of the Hindu relilgion [sic].” Cf. VE, 70, 72–73, in which Panikkar gives to understand that the Vedas as such contain the idea of cosmotheandrism. 8 HVW, xiii: “It is not easy for contemporary Man to experience an undivided [Vedic] universe in which the triloka of the cosmic, the human and the divine or in other words the adhibhautika, the adhyàtmika, and the adhidaivika have either not been set apart or not substantialized as independent entities.” See also VE, 36–37. However, cf. also Klostermaier 1994, 112–113, 128–129.

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porary man. According to Panikkar, such primordial insights seem to be found especially in Western Hermeticism and in the core tradition of Hinduism, i.e., in the Vedas. Panikkar also tends to appeal to the mainstream traditions of the patristic and scholastic periods of Christianity.9 If Panikkar’s descriptions of each dimension of the cosmotheandric vision are looked upon very carefully, there is good reason to conclude that it is ultimately an analysis of human experience. Of course, this is legitimate in the light of his thinking, since he sees every religion as being based on the constitutive spirituality that is intrinsic in being human.10 Nevertheless, his description of the cosmotheandric experience is remarkably abstract and philosophical, in a certain sense even nonreligious. His cosmotheandrism seems to be more of an existentialist philosophy than a genuinely religious vision. It provides a sort of analysis of human experience: the divine dimension of reality means only that every being transcends itself, whereas the human dimension is reduced to the knowability of being. The cosmic dimension is tantamount to the intrinsic relationship of every entity with spatio-temporality.11 This would be unproblematic if Panikkar had not so vehemently located himself in the confluence of religious traditions and tried to emphasize religious vocabulary with its living symbols. In general, he aims at highlighting the ritual aspects of religions and their vitality.12 Moreover, he deliberately puts his cosmotheandrism into the category of religion, claiming that it represents “the emerging religious consciousness of our times.”13 9 See, e.g., BS, 52; CE, 24–32; VE, 3–35; HVW, xi; PKM, 334–335: SSSP, 26–27. Worthy of note are the numerous references to Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, e.g., in CE. Panikkar could, without doubt, be considered in the context of the classic traditions of both the East and the West. On affinities between these traditions, see King 2000, 34–35. 10 See 3.2. above. See also MJC, 158, 170–171. 11 See 4.3.2. above. 12 See, e.g., WSM, 56–57, 60–61, 79; FW, xii–xv; RPMC, 107–108; MRDP, 28: “An abstraction will not do—one needs symbols. And that is the power and responsibility of religion. Religions may never be ‘pure’ (again Platonism!); Things are ambivalent.”; UCH, 5: “The great danger today in the study of the encounter of religions lies in either eliminating all differences for the sake of reaching understanding, or in basing such understanding on a minimalistic structure that afterwards proves incapable of sustaining any religious life. Either procedure precludes any truly religious life.” [Italics mine.] 13 It seems that Panikkar has observed the abstract and philosophical character of his thinking (CE, 77): “This cosmotheandric intuition I have been trying to

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It seems that, when outlining a new myth that could bring religions together under the umbrella of authentic human experience, Panikkar happens to end up demythologizing some vital aspects of religion.14 Does this then mean that his cosmotheandrism is ultimately a kind of philosophic meta-theory positing in which adherents of different religions do not recognize their own spirituality? I have my doubts, for instance, whether many Christians are familiar with Christianity as transformed according to Panikkar’s standards. The foregoing analysis has shown that he has a strong tendency to interpret the central tenets of the Christian faith in terms of cosmology and ontology. This is exemplified in his Christophany, which plays down the category of salvation history and outlines instead a cosmic version of Christianity.15

describe, though expressed rather philosophically, represents, I think, the emerging religious consciousness of our times.” 14 See RPMC, 114; GIA, 44–54, in which Panikkar terms the fundamental experience that makes possible all other experiences as “the experience of God” (Gotteserfahrung). See also AW, 20. See also MacPherson’s proper observation (1996, 90): “. . . in the last phase of his trinitarian thinking, Panikkar feels the need to break with religion in general. The secular world became a dominant force in Panikkar’s later discourse on the Trinity.” Cf. also Ramachandra 1996, 86, in which it is predicted that Panikkar’s thinking will develop in a more and more secular direction. His ardent desire to dialogue with the secular world is most obvious in WSM, BS, and SG. On this point, Panikkar’s thinking has a strong tint of existentialism in that he begins his theologizing with human experience. See MacQuarrie 1973, 270–274. Of course, Panikkar may also lean towards religious traditions with a philosophical tone, such as Buddhism in its original form. What is relevant to the secular aspect of his thinking, is that Buddhism has aroused interest among many of our contemporaries expressly because it was seen as a break with the prevailing religiosity of his time. See von Brück & Lai 1997, 34–35, 387, and also Cousins 1985, 315. However, cf. King 1999, 148; Cousins 1985, 279–280. On the other hand, with its inclination towards metaphysical speculation, the Upanißadic tradition could also be seen as dispensing with external religious ritualism. See Klostermaier 1994, 193–194, 198, 204. 15 See above, especially 3.3.2.; 4.1. Cf. here also SCD, 264: “Some may think that this is a very ‘hindu’ idea of what it is to be a christian. It may or it may not be, but I do not feel the need to apologize, nor does this fact prove that it is a wrong notion or even an unchristian one. Indeed, if I declare myself a christian it is because my belief tallies with what I believe to be the core of the christian belief and I recognize myself in communion with the christian church.” [Italics mine.] Panikkar seems to affirm that his pluralism may be traced to Hinduism. See HEC, 203; GRP, 389. A certain cosmic tint—which may be comprehended as a dash of Hinduism—is obvious, for instance, in the way that he has tirelessly endeavored to see Christ as cosmological, or ontological. On this point, see Boyd 1974, 89, in which it is suggested that the Christian faith in Christ could give a special contribution to India, especially in the field of cosmology. See also Boyd 1975, 254. See Dupuis 1991, 45,

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The vital role that man plays in Panikkar’s cosmotheandrism is also worth noting. He could be considered a representative of humanism, even though his “humanism” has, so to say, utterly religious and metaphysical underpinnings.16 He does not work out his anthropology in terms of modern individualism, which he fervently rejects.17 Instead, he tries to anchor himself firmly to classic traditions. In anthropological terms, he operates with the correspondence of microand macrocosms that is to be traced in the Upanißadic and Tantric traditions of India and the premodern traditions of the West such as Platonism, Neo-Platonism, and the Renaissance philosophy.18 A significant feature of his anthropocentric thinking is the vision of man as intrinsically connected with the rest of reality: man is not an individual but a person that qua person has a constitutive relationship with his surroundings.19 For this reason, man can discover within himself “the whole human world” and even “the entire reality.” It is a question not only of the universe “penetrating” man, but also of man “permeating” the universe.20 Panikkar’s understanding of man even incorporates divine characteristics.21

in which a possible collision point of Christian and Hindu cosmologies is traced to their different attitudes towards history. See also Boyd 1975, 250–251. Dupuis ends up criticizing Panikkar’s inclination to dissolve the indispensable tie between Christ and the historical Jesus (1991, 187): “Raimundo Panikkar’s thought . . . betrays this link, weakening it and threatening . . . to reduce the Christian message to a kind of gnosis.” On Panikkar’s criticism of classical Christology, see also AW, 36–38. 16 See JTG, 112: “Each religion expresses one concrete form of humanness.”; CTBT, 14; ICT, 319: “Christ is resurrected human life.”; CD, 102: “Dialogue is a human act, on a human scale and with a human voice, in which men forge their humanness by discussing with words their divergencies.” See also WSM, 90–93; CCTM, 117–118; MJC, 174. See also MacPherson 1996, 90: “The later Panikkar left himself no other alternative but to centre the Trinity within the human person seeking and being sought by the Divine.” [Italics mine.]; Ramachandra 1996, 90: “. . . Panikkar’s flight from an absolute beyond the human self only creates a void which can now be filled by any definition of reality. It is ultimately the enthronement of the human self (and the myriad products of the human imagination) at the centre of reality.” 17 See, e.g., SCD, 265. 18 CE, 65. See also MJC, 172, and TLI, 596, in which Panikkar sees some recent scientific findings referring to this direction. On the principle of macrocosm and microcosm, see Levy 1967; Lipner 1994, 33–34; Klostermaier 1994, 198, 204, 292. 19 See IH, 122–124; CE, 75. 20 IRDR, xviii. 21 MJC, 157: “Why, then, should we not feel entitled to speak like a God? Personal dignity implies that we are not just one of the many rings in a lifeless chain of entities (even of Being), but that each one of us is unique, irreplaceable, because of infinite value, divine.” See also MJC, 128–130.

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Panikkar is disposed to understanding the Earth as a living body, as is suggested by the concept ‘anima mundi ’.22 According to the “high anthropology” implied in his cosmotheandrism, the correlation of micro- and macrocosm means that enhancing man entails enhancing the cosmos.23 Panikkar thus desires not only a new anthropology, but also a new cosmology.24 Man is a unique being, “a reflection, an image of reality.”25 This distinctive role of man as “a Trinitarian mystery” is highlighted even in the title of one of Panikkar’s works.26 He gives to understand that this kind of “high anthropology” is to be found in different religions,27 which bears witness to the fact that his cosmotheandrism results from his cross-cultural methodology. Man’s role is not restricted to that of passively reflecting reality, however, since Panikkar emphasizes the significance of man in the fate of the whole universe. Man plays a part in the cosmic adventure not only as a “spectator” or an “actor,” but even as a “co-author.” He participates in cosmic rhythms, and correspondingly, these cosmic rhythms are transformed through his participation.28 The spiritual development of man goes hand in hand with the transformation of reality since, as has been shown, Panikkar understands that the person has an intrinsic ontological connection with reality.29 This explains why he puts so much emphasis on the significance of interreligious dialogue in the solving of contemporary problems:30 He 22

See CE, 137–139. See also 4.2.4. above. See CE, 65. 24 CE, 149; IH, 175; CD, 74. Among modern thinkers, Panikkar’s project has strong affinities with those of Mircea Eliade and Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. On Eliade, see Murphy 2001; Larsen 2001; Allen 2001. On Teilhard de Chardin, King 1980. Some of these similarities I have noted in passing during my analysis. One of the tasks in future research on Panikkar should be to highlight them. 25 CE, 73; DPW, 33, 61. 26 ‘Der Mensch—Ein trinitarisches Mysterium.’ (DMTM) 27 See IH, 146; CE, 65, 147–148; VE, 42. 28 AW, 192; SCD, 276: “To be Man is not just to be a small piece of intelligent matter crawling in the universe or a great individual walking on earth. Man is a conscious agent in the very destiny of the universe.” [Italics mine.]; DPW, 62: “. . . it is part of Man’s dignity of being commissioned to bring the universe to perfection. Perhaps one could call it the cosmic rhythm that enters and penetrates us and is transformed by us at the same time that we adapt to it.”; CD, 74. See also CE, 16: “There now seem to be signs of a real mutation in the overall dynamism of reality: a change in consciousness also implies a change in reality.” See also WSM, 42, 45–47; GIA, 102. See also 2.3. and 3.2.4. above. 29 CE, 130–131; BS, 71. See also CD, 71–72: CL, 408. 30 See 2.1. above. 23

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understands peace primarily as cosmic harmony that originates when everything is in its correct place and inner harmony prevails.31 It requires conditions that allow room for diversity, but in which everything has settled down in “interrelationship” and “concatenation.”32 In other words, Panikkar’s theology of religions is intimately connected with his cosmotheandric vision.33 This highlights an apparent problem: the prerequisites of the encounter of religions, as outlined in Panikkar’s work, seem to require commitment to a particular cosmology and mode of consciousness.34 He asks for “dekerygmatization” among religions, which implies a wish to subordinate doctrinal and intellectual aspects of religions to the kind of a human experience35 that he tries to articulate with his cosmotheandrism.36 Therefore, there is good reason to say that, when carefully analyzed, Panikkar’s radically pluralistic theology of religions discloses an inclusivistic way of thinking that interprets religions as culturally-bound concretizations of one cosmotheandric spirituality.37 There are even signs of exclusivism in his thinking. For instance, he shows his readiness to criticize passionately missionary zeal, which is part and parcel of many religions, and demands—at least between the lines—that religions dispense with their traditional understanding on this point.38

31 CD, 58–59: “What I should now like to emphasize is the mutual influence between Man and the World where peace is concerned. Each person reflects the harmony of the universe, when this person is in his or her proper place, and is not alienated. Thus, the cosmic harmony depends once more on the inner harmony of every being.”; CD, 77. 32 CD, 65: “‘Harmony’ means not only a coincidentia oppositorum but also a space in which there is room for all, without unitary reductionisms. . . . There must be an interrelationship among the parts of a whole in order that there be harmony. . . . Someone must discover the concatenation and see it as an order.” 33 See also CCTM, 119, in which the cosmotheandric structure (see SCD, 275–276) seems to function as the proper paradigm for harmony among religions: “. . . each religion is a dimension of the other. We could speak, with all due qualifications, of a certain religious perichoresis.” See also JTG, 112. 34 See here also 2.3. and 4.2. 35 CCTM, 121. See also IH, 169. 36 See CE, 1–4. 37 See, e.g., JTG, 112: “Christians may find in this christic principle the point of union, understanding, and love with all humankind and with the whole of the cosmos, so that in this concreteness they find the most radical human, cosmic, and divine communion with reality . . .” [Italics mine.] 38 On this, see 3.3. above. See also CD, 62, in which Panikkar demands, in the spirit of the title of the book, that prevailing culture with its threatening inclination towards being a “monoculture” should undergo “cultural disarmament.” See

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My analysis of Panikkar’s writings has shown that his pluralism is ultimately very programmatic and, in a sense, total in character,39 as the following passage illustrates very well. Even though he selects his words carefully, a certain amount of missionary zeal shines through: Christians have always had a tendency to convert. . . . I take it to reveal an inner urge for a constant transformation, for a never ending process of overcoming oneself and all the strictures of reality . . . In this sense I speak of conversion of the traditional religions, including of course Christianity itself, something which is the deeper identity of those very traditions. . . . I am not advocating abandoning religions, but transforming them. . . . A new religiousness is emerging. Man cannot live without it. The name I suggested from the Christian angle is christianness.40

Panikkar thus indicates his wish to see traditional religions convert to “the deeper identity of those very traditions.” He calls the new religiousness that thus emerges “christianness” in Christian vocabulary. I have shown above that he uses this word to refer to religion on the r3 level, in other words to the authentic core of every religion that is situated on the “metaontological” level.41 Cosmotheandrism is thus identified with the “christianness” of the r3 level that functions as the norm of the transformation of religions.42 Moreover, its essence is to be found in humanness itself, for Panikkar is able to say that “[t]his Christianness is the name for humanness as Christians also CD, 34–36. Even though Panikkar primarily rails against modern technological culture in this book, cf. JTG, 100–102; IH, 56, 62–64, 147–148, in which analogous criticism is targeted on different manifestations of Christianity. Cf. also CCTM, 120: “Christianity is becoming more and more open and is being purified of the inertia of the past—in spite of understandable fundamentalist backlashes.” [Italics mine.] Jathanna (1999, 10) also seems to observe this exclusivistic side of Panikkar’s thinking when he says: “Wittingly or unwittingly, particular religions are, in principle, left behind.” See also D’Costa 1996; D’Costa 2000, 22–23, in which the exclusivistic nature of any thinking is highlighted. 39 See above, especially 3.1. This strong programmatic element is evident in Panikkar’s 1977 lecture ‘The Myth of Pluralism, The Tower of Babel’ (IH, 52–91). See especially IH, 86–87. Cf. also SCD, 256–257. 40 NRCUA, 184–185. See also PPPR, 40: “. . . we should have emancipation from religions through religion itself, purification of concrete religions by the religious spirit of humanity. However, the religious dimension only exists in our concrete religious attitudes. For any critique of religion, positive or negative, I have to stand somewhere.” 41 See 3.2.2. above. 42 Panikkar considers the cosmotheandric experience to be “emerging religious consciousness,” as implied by the subtitle of CE (The Cosmotheandric Experience, Emerging Religious Consciousness). See also CE, 77.

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would understand it.”43 His cosmotheandric vision shows up as a sort of meta-religion with respect to concrete religions. This vision even seems to be the ultimate thrust and goal of all religions.44 That cosmotheandrism belongs properly to the meta-level is further affirmed in the light of Panikkar’s refusal to pursue any new religion.45 On the other hand, because of the growth and the mutual fecundation of religions, he expects new religious phenomena to arise and, therefore, encourages traditions to live on. He acknowledges that this process involves a certain risk, but believes that it is exactly in this process that man realizes his fundamental nature.46 Hence, the path he advocates surpasses establishing a new religion: the ultimate goal is to herald “a new innocence” and “a new awareness.”47 His program has a profoundly soteriological character, since the new innocence entails the birth of the cosmotheandric vision that perceives man as participating in shaping, building, maintaining, redeeming, and glorifying reality.48 43 CCTM, 117. See also CCTM, 125: “The Christian mission is specific. It is part of the human mission.” See also ITR, 291–293; AW, 27; GIA, 94. 44 In my view, Panikkar could be criticized in a similar fashion as Murphy (2001, 43) criticizes Eliade: “Eliade’s hermeneutics, then, is a totalizing discourse, that is, a discourse that subsumes all otherness into self.” In the final analysis, what Panikkar pursues to do is to embrace all human traditions and decipher their meaning through his cosmotheandric vision. Revealingly, in BS, 83, he qualifies the plenitude to which all human beings aspire as cosmotheandric. The reader could be reminded here that Panikkar defines religion as a way to the goal, to fulfillment. See, e.g., CE, 129; SCD, 268; AW, 91–92. 45 BS, 22–23: “Certainly, the trap of modernity would be to say, ‘Let us create a new religion.’ But this is na«ve and insufficient. We are too burdened both by the weight and the richness of tradition just to sweep it out altogether.”; MWDG, 112; CCTM, 120: “Christian-ness is then not a ‘religion’ in the sociological sense of the word, but the Christian way of experiencing the religious dimension of Man.” Cf. MacPherson 1996, 124–127, who states that, with his cosmotheandrism, Panikkar begins his journey towards a new ecumenical religion. 46 See above, especially Chapter 2. See also UCH, x; EM, 280; IH, 101. Panikkar says that he has felt that there is no return from a way like this. See WG, 122–123. Cf. also MRDP, 21: “My whole °tatattva as a Hindu-Christian theology is a plea for a Hindu-Christian religion . . .” 47 ITR, 285: “The interculturation I envisage is not a new religion or a more complicated theology. It is the very liberation of Man from the power of material and mental entanglements rescuing the true freedon [sic] of human dignity. Inculturation is a task ahead of us, a new creation . . .”; IH, 174: “What I am trying to put forward is not a counter-theory, but a new innocence. We should beware of so many reform systems that began with a greater universalistic impulse than the original systems and became new philosophies, new sects, or new religions.” [Italics mine.] See also IH, 177; CCTM, 123; CE, 150. 48 See CE, 16, 127; DPW, 1; IH, 27, 175; BS, 45.

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In conclusion, when studied critically from a post-pluralistic perspective, Panikkar’s radical pluralism reveals inherent problems analogous to those in many other pluralistic theologies of religions.49 Nevertheless, unlike most other pluralists, he does not found his theology on the Enlightenment tradition, but bases it on his idiosyncratic cosmotheandric vision, a vision which draws from primordial traditions that predate modern thinking.50 On the other hand, due to his willingness to take into account the contemporary world and to make room for secularity, his theology is at risk of resulting in existentialist-anthropological reduction of religiosity. It seems that human experience is a sort of upper concept in his thinking.51

49 Cf. 1.1.3. and 1.1.4. above. See also Jathanna 1999, 10. Cf. here especially Schwöbel 1990, 33: “The pluralistic approach . . . seems to tend to develop a picture . . . of a common anthropological constant underlying all particular religious expressions, which allows their distinctive particularity only penultimate and preliminary status. This does not only mean that the particular claims of Christian faith have to be subjected to a reductionist reinterpretation in order to make them compatible with the abstract universal, but it also means that all other religions lose their distinctive particularity and become examples of a general abstract notion of religion or instantiations of a general religious metaphysics.” [Italics mine.] However, cf. Cobb 1996, 47: “Panikkar rightly points to the diversity of metaphysics. The philosophical situation is as pluralistic as the religious one. One cannot solve the pluralism of religions by claiming universality for one’s own metaphysics.” In fact, it seems that, with his cosmotheandrism, Panikkar ultimately does this. 50 See DPW, 57–58; CE, 1–4. See also Jathanna 1999, 10: “. . . Panikkar does not seem to be, at a deeper level, much different from the universalistic-pluralistic projects of Wilfred Cantwell Smith, John Hick, Leonard Swidler and Paul F. Knitter, except in terms of locating pluralism more in the realm of attitude and confidence than in rational and historical thinking . . . he opposes the ‘universal’ of the universal theorists/theologians with the ‘cosmic’ of the cosmic trust. Both are, in two different ways, universals.” Vanhoozer (1997, 63) puts his words rather harshly: “Panikkar would doubtless wish to distinguish metaphysical monism from his vision of cosmic harmonic unity. But what looks like pluralism may merely be a muddier monism, where everything is a mixture of everything else in a kind of metaphysical perichoresis.” 51 See, e.g., SNSE, 58: “Religions grow and transform themselves. . . . The laboratory here is the living human person and ultimately mankind itself, but nobody directs the experiment. It is rather a human experience.”; SNSE, 60: “Every human culture represents in a peculiar and certainly limited way the whole possible range of the human experience under concrete given conditions.”; PPPR, 43: “The most central presupposition of pluralism is the conviction that no system can exhaust the horizon of human experience . . .” In this context, Panikkar’s inclination to see mysticism amid everyday life is also worth noting, e.g., in AW, 72: “. . . jeder Mensch ein Mystiker ist, mehr oder weniger, ohne sich diesen Namen zu geben. . . . Ich bin ein Mystiker, wie ein Zimmermann oder irgendjemand auch ein Mystiker sein kann, wenn er ein ganzheitliches Bewußtsein seiner Existenz hat und sich nicht auf eine empirische Realität beschränkt.”

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Even though the cosmotheandric vision is very imposing and seems to provide a genuine alternative to the predominant cosmological paradigm, its principal dilemma, if judged in the light of Panikkar’s starting point, is that it is ultimately only one more option among religions and ideologies. Of course, he himself wishes to put it forward as a new myth that enables communion.52 Nevertheless, his cosmotheandrism is, without doubt, one more alternative and thus— ironically—rather increases the prevailing diversity and dissension of world-views. On the other hand, if cosmotheandrism rather belongs to a “metalevel” with respect to these diverse religions, it is in danger of becoming a normative vision that is in obvious tension with Panikkar’s claims of radical pluralism.53

52

See CE, 15, 150–152; IH, 82, 86, 172–174. See RPMC, 104; PPUC, 160; PPPR, 42: “I repeat that pluralism cannot give rise to a supersystem or a superior point of view without, by that very fact, destroying itself.” 53

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CONCLUSION The purpose of this study was to analyze systematically the pluralistic theology of religions of Raimon Panikkar (b. 1918), a Catalanborn Hindu-Christian. The background chapter provided an overview of the emerging “post-pluralistic” stance of contemporary debate concerning the theology of religions, and also an introduction to the sources consulted and the methods used in the study. Post-pluralistic criticism was adopted as the frame of reference in this analysis of Panikkar’s thinking. The term ‘post-pluralistic’ refers to the kind of methodological stance that analyzes and explicates the constituents embedded in a pluralistic theology of religions that are ultimately to be categorized as exclusivistic or inclusivistic, and are thus in conflict with its objectives. The sources consisted of Panikkar’s key writings in English and German from the time of his pluralistic turn that occurred in his thinking at the end of the 1960’s to the beginning of the new millennium. Chapter 2 analyzed Panikkar’s understanding of the encounter of religions as a crucial factor in solving the problems of the contemporary world. Panikkar sees his own theological work as taking place in the confluence of religions, and as seeking a fresh interpretation of them. He wishes to prove almost programmatically the timelessness of religious traditions, as well as to deliver their inherent wisdom to contemporary man. Panikkar has tried to create a methodology of interreligious dialogue that could highlight the religious nature of dialogue itself: the ideal dialogue has to be “the dialogical dialogue.” He also considers it the proper method for dealing with different contemporary problems, since it leaves room for the dynamic development of religions. He considers interreligious dialogue not only a method but also a religious act. “Dialogical dialogue” means participation in reality, which means that its course cannot be regulated. The vitalistic understanding of the essence of religions, expressed in biological language, corresponds with the way in which he sees “growth” as the category through which the meeting of religions and their intrinsic orientation towards the future could be adequately

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portrayed. In Panikkar’s thinking, “growth” is related intimately to the context of the meeting of religions because it is the assimilation of different elements that nourish the organic growth process. Chapter 3 provided an analysis of Panikkar’s radical pluralism that has lead him to adopt a very critical attitude towards all monist and imperialist ways of thinking, which he considers not respectful of the principle of pluralism. The principal target of his criticism seems to be the proponents of the pursuance of one truth, which he views as a Western way of thinking. According to him, “the Western Syndrome” could be traced to the ancient Greeks, but it culminated in the modern thinking that began with Descartes. Pluralism means that there is no absolute truth. It entails dispensing with the monotheistic understanding of God, and throwing rationality aside from the throne onto which the modern era has lifted it. Panikkar denies the possibility of adopting a universal perspective from which religions could be made relative or viewed objectively. He considers religions autonomic wholes to the degree that their diversity jeopardizes even the possibility of comparative religion. Pluralism is so radical that it threatens the unity of humankind. Radical pluralism is only one side of Panikkar’s thinking, however. Alongside it he adopts a very integrative and holistic tone, as his endorsing of interreligious dialogue demands. Through this he wishes to build bridges between positions that are, in principle, unbridgeable. There exists an intrinsic tension between dialogue and pluralism in his thinking that could be encapsulated in the following way: ‘Dialogue’ conceptualizes his endeavor to build bridges between different human positions, whereas ‘pluralism’ describes the unbridgeable character of these positions. On the other hand, despite the inherent tension, both of these concepts go, so to say, hand in hand. Panikkar intends to advocate a middle way that could provide the basis for communication, although not for any single system. It is evident that his demand for communication necessitates the existence of a point of contact between religions. The touchstone of his pluralism is whether he succeeds in finding such a point of contact, as required by his understanding of dialogue, without simultaneously reducing the essence of religions to one and the same principle, or dissolving their identities. Studied closely, Panikkar seems to adopt the kind of methodological stance in comparative religion that involves searching for

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the common essence of ‘religion’, or at least perceiving ‘religion’ as a category of its own. Religions are indeed different, and pluralism prevails on the doctrinal and phenomenal levels. On the deep anthropological level, however, there exists a religious root of man that constitutes and unites humanity. In spite of the diversity of religions on the sociocultural (r1) and sacramental (r2) levels, there exists “religion 3,” which solves the dilemma of the one and the many. Sometimes Panikkar names this level ‘faith’, principally to distinguish it from ‘beliefs’. Nevertheless, since faith is always embodied in beliefs, one cannot perceive faith as “disembodied.” In the light of the analysis conducted in this study, it is possible to argue that Panikkar himself takes the very bird’s-eye perspective that he has repudiated. Even though he attempts to locate the point of contact, which is indispensable to dialogue, on as transcendent a “meta-ontological” level as possible, he still adopts a kind of normative meta-view of religions. Thus he ends up explaining religions on the basis of the same normative principle. Hence, there seems to be a fatal intrinsic flaw in his radical pluralism if analyzed in the light of post-pluralistic criticism. Even if he wishes to think in a radically pluralistic way, his search for a common ground for interreligious dialogue leads him to propose that such a constitutive spirituality could be found on some deeper or higher level that unites different religions and, correspondingly, forms the inner core of any tradition. The deeper analysis proves that his solution to the problem of religious diversity is ultimately a mystical one: Panikkar sees both the Christian doctrine of Trinity as well as the Hindu concept of Advaita as symbols of transcending the age-old dilemma between the one and the many. He is walking on a tightrope between holism and pluralism in a way that is not easy to articulate in terms of discursive rationality. Moreover, it was shown that Panikkar’s theological program has a strictly normative character. First, he expresses the desire to see the transformation of concrete religions and the re-evaluation of their doctrines. Secondly, his pluralism assumes a quality that would allow it to be described as a sort of world-view. The principles of his theology of religions were elucidated in Chapter 4 in order to prove the normative character of his vision as well as to explicate its contents.

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There was a shift from earlier ‘Link Christology’ to later ‘Symbol Christology’ that took place concurrently with the radicalization of pluralism. As Panikkar dispenses with the concept of ‘Absolute’ in his thinking, Christ can no longer function as an ontological “link” between the relative and the absolute. Thus Panikkar stretches his earlier idea of Christ as the ontological link to the extreme, which has made his Christology more and more christophanic in character over the course of time. He has broadened the “christic principle” to embrace without exception the totality of being, reality as a whole. The analysis thus reveals that the new Christology suggested by Panikkar, i.e., ‘Christophany’, is ultimately nothing more than universal ontology. Panikkar sees a serious flaw in the fundaments of Western philosophy, which tends to make distinctions between ontology and epistemology, as well as between subject and object. The entire range of reality is therefore confined to what is possible in terms of rational thinking. Contrary to this, Panikkar himself wishes to stress that knowing is ultimately subordinated to being and its freedom. The primordial unbroken knowing that goes under the concept ‘contemplation’ is depicted as something that should be rediscovered. The trans-historical epistemology of the “new innocence” means that knowing is contemplative participation in cosmic rhythms. It is a mode of consciousness that is most appropriately characterized in the language of being and participation. With his epistemology Panikkar attempts to provide a radical alternative to the prevailing Western way of thinking. The final object of analysis was the “cosmotheandric” vision that is Panikkar’s proposal for a new “myth” that will make communication possible. Moreover, it was shown to be the metaphysical model that provides the fundamental basis of all of his other themes, including the theology of religions. In his cosmotheandric vision he is aiming at presenting the constitutive spirituality in its primordiality and hence, so to say, in its integrity. It is no surprise that the constitutive spirituality of man as it is interpreted in terms of his cosmotheandric vision, provides him with a normative criterion according to which he wishes religions to be transformed and assessed. With his cosmotheandrism he goes on to express in new terms the spiritual experience that is the root of human religiosity. The cosmotheandric vision perceives reality as consisting of three irreducible dimensions—the ‘divine’ dimension of depth, the ‘human’

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dimension of consciousness, and the ‘cosmic’ dimension of spatiotemporality. Cosmotheandrism functions as a metaphysical model, a kind of tri-dimensional system of coordinates, or a matrix that enables Panikkar to attain the holistic vision of reality through the pluralism for which he has yearned. Thus he succeeds in bringing together different themes in his thinking: relational ontology allows room for unity in both reality and differentiation. With its rhythmic character, cosmotheandric reality also leaves room for change and growth, since the cosmos moves rhythmically without repeating itself. When analyzed in detail in Chapter 5, Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision was shown to be, on the one hand, an existentialist-anthropological reduction of religions and, on the other hand, an attempt to recover the holistic vision of primordial traditions in the contemporary situation. According to Panikkar, such primordial insights seem to be found especially in Western Hermeticism and in the core tradition of Hinduism, i.e., in the Vedas. He also tends to appeal to the mainstream traditions of the patristic and scholastic periods of Christianity. The influence of Buddhism is evident in the relational ontology of the cosmotheandric vision. The vital role that man plays in Panikkar’s cosmotheandric vision was also highlighted. According to Panikkar, man is intrinsically connected with the rest of reality. Man is not an individual but a person that qua person has a constitutive relationship with his surroundings. His vision of reality betrays a fundamental anthropocentrism, as he emphasizes the significance of man in the fate of the whole universe. Man participates in cosmic rhythms, and correspondingly, these cosmic rhythms are transformed through his participation. The spiritual development of man goes hand in hand with the transformation of reality. Panikkar thus operates with the correspondence of microand macrocosms that are traceable to certain classical traditions of India and the premodern traditions of the West such as Platonism, Neo-Platonism, and Renaissance philosophy. Panikkar’s understanding of pluralism and interreligious dialogue is intimately connected with his cosmotheandric vision. Thus one apparent problem in his pluralistic theology of religions is obvious: the prerequisites of the encounter of religions, as outlined in his work, seem to require commitment to a particular cosmology and mode of consciousness. When carefully analyzed, Panikkar’s radically pluralistic theology of religions discloses an inclusivistic way of thinking that interprets religions as culturally-bound concretizations of one

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cosmotheandric spirituality. There are even signs of exclusivism in his thinking. For instance, he does not conceal his readiness to criticize passionately missionary zeal, which is part and parcel of many religions, and demands—at least between the lines—that religions dispense with their traditional understanding on this point. With its critical utilization of a post-pluralistic perspective, the study has proved that Panikkar’s radical pluralism reveals inherent problems that are analogous to those in other pluralistic theologies of religions. Nevertheless, unlike most other pluralists, he does not subscribe to the Enlightenment tradition, but bases his theology of religions on his idiosyncratic cosmotheandric vision, which draws from primordial traditions that predate modern thinking. On the other hand, due to his willingness to take into account the contemporary world and to make room for secularity, his theology is at risk of resulting in existentialist-anthropological reduction of religiosity. It seems that human experience is a sort of upper concept in his thinking. Taken in the light of Panikkar’s starting point, the principal dilemma of the cosmotheandric vision is that it is ultimately only one more option among existing world-views and ideologies, and thus rather increases the prevailing dissension. If cosmotheandrism rather belongs to a meta-level with respect to diverse traditions, as Panikkar’s ideas about the transformation of religions implies, it is in danger of becoming a normative vision that is in obvious tension with his claims of a radical pluralism that does not allow any superior points of view.

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INDEX

Abhishiktananda, Swami 5–6, 101 Ahlstrand, Kajsa 5–8, 21–22, 24–26, 30, 32, 36, 43, 47, 49, 56, 59, 65–66, 86, 102, 104, 126, 137, 168–70, 177–78, 185 Ahn, Gregor 18 Allen, Douglas 202 Allen, John L., Jr. 2 Amnell, Matti T. 13–14, 16 Anselm of Canterbury 138 Aquinas, Thomas 162, 199 Ariarajah, Wesley 1, 4–5 Aristotle 156, 163 Augustine 6, 106, 186, 199 Aurobindo 62, 102 Barloewen, Constantin von 41 Barr, Robert R. 38, 40 Barth, Hans-Martin 4, 13, 137 Barth, Karl 3 Bäumer, Bettina 37, 41–42 Bellah, Robert 155 Bernhardt, Reinhold 2 Bevans, Stephen B. 3 Bidoli, M. 37 Bochinger, Christoph 40, 93, 153 Boff, Leonardo 2, 47, 186–87 Bohm, David 174 Bonaventure 6 Bosch, David 1, 12, 70 Boyd, R.H.S. 3, 5–6, 16, 36, 62, 102, 126, 135, 146, 193, 200–201 Braaten, Carl E. 137 Braybrooke, Marcus 1 Brockington, John 30, 102 Brown, Delwin 13 Brück, Michael von 101, 144, 185, 200 Bruno, Giordano 175 Buber, Martin 163 Buckley, James J. 186 Bultmann, Rudolf 137 Burrows, William R. 17 Capra, Fritjof 174 Cargas, Harry James 40, 90 Carney, Gerald T. 21, 42, 125, 147

Chenchiah, Pandipeddi 62 Clooney, Francis X., S.J. 10, 16, 59 Cobb, John B., Jr. 10, 13, 17, 160, 186, 206 Collingwood, R.G. 154 Cousins, Ewert H. 5–6, 21, 32, 35, 38, 42, 51, 55–56, 126 Cousins, L.S. 200 Coward, Harold 42, 96, 106, 132 Cox, Harvey 4, 42 Cragg, Kenneth 5, 29–30, 32, 170, 190 Dalferth, Ingolf, U. 141 Daniélou, Jean 43 Dardenne, Myriam 38 Davaney, Sheila Greeve 13 D’Costa, Gavin 2–3, 9–10, 13–17, 19, 110, 204 Dean, Thomas 18–19, 42, 47, 110, 159, 161 Descartes, René 74, 162–63, 210 Detweiler, R. 12 Devanandan, Paul 5 Devdas, Nalini 35, 62, 102, 186 DiNoia, J.A., O.P. 1–4, 9–11, 13–14, 16–17 Dostoyevsky, Fyodor 140 Driver, Tom F. 4, 9 Drummond, Richard Henry 2, 8, 36 D’Sa, Francis X., S.J. 42, 66 Dupuis, Jacques, S.J. 2–6, 11, 25, 31, 56, 58, 113, 115–16, 120, 126, 138, 145, 154, 200–201 Dürk, Birgitta 40 Dussel, Enrique 42 Eastham, Scott 31, 39, 175, 179 Ebner, Ferdinand 163 Eck, Diana L. 16, 101 Eckhart, Meister 191 Eliade, Mircea 91, 119, 154, 162, 165, 168, 202, 205 Feldtkeller, Andreas 1 Feuerbach, Ludwig 163 Ficino, Marsilio 175, 183

232



Fiddes, Paul S. 186 Forde, Gerhard O. 138 French, Harold W. 54, 58 Friedman, Jonathan 105 Gadamer, Hans-Georg 66 Galilei, Galileo 151, 175, 198 Gilkey, Langdon 9 Girard, René 14 Gogos, Manuel 46 Goreh, Nehemiah 16 Grant, Sara 101 Griffiths, Bede 101 Griffiths, Paul 10 Hägglund, Bengt 61, 70, 137–38, 141 Halbfass, Wilhelm 32–33, 62 Hamann, J.G. 163 Hauerwas, Stanley 13 Hefner, Philip J. 153 Hegel, G.W.F. 6, 163 Heidegger, Martin 30, 160, 191 Heim, S. Mark 4, 11–17, 19–20, 34, 50 Heimbach, Ruth 41 Hellwig, Monika 10 Hick, John 1, 9, 11, 16–17, 19–20, 115, 206 Huntington, Samuel P. 3 Husserl, Edmund 163 Huxley, Aldous 106 Jacobi, F.H. 163 Jathanna, Origen Vasantha 6, 9, 11, 14, 17–18, 24, 32, 36, 47, 50, 53, 60, 89, 100, 111, 155, 170, 177, 189–90, 197, 204, 206 John Paul II 115 Johnston, William 156, 158, 162 Kalupahana, David J. 185 Kant, Immanuel 74 Katz, Steven 106 Kappen, Sebastian 44 Kaufman, Gordon D. 9 Kelly, J.N.D. 70, 132, 186 Kelsey, David H. 143, 146 Kenntemich, Anton 39 Kidder, Annemarie S. 40 Kierkegaard, Sören 169 Kim, Jin 32, 45 King, Richard 3, 12, 16–17, 30, 33,

91, 102, 106, 155, 160, 162, 164, 171, 185, 199–200 King, Ursula 122–23, 130, 193, 202 Kirchhoff, Jochen 175, 198 Klimkeit, Hans-Joachim 16 Klostermaier, Klaus K. 27, 30, 63, 70, 81, 101, 103, 135, 146, 170, 198, 200–201 Knitter, Paul F. 2, 4, 8–11, 13–17, 19–20, 24, 42, 51, 116, 126, 143, 145, 206 Koistinen, Timo 13, 186 Komulainen, Jyri 1, 118, 126 Koothottil, Abraham 25 Kraemer, Hendrik 13 Krieger, David J. 3, 6, 42, 65, 89, 94, 151 Küng, Hans 1, 14, 17, 59, 179 Kuschel, Karl-Josef 1–3, 16, 62 Kuttianimattathil, Jose SDB 5–6, 9, 14 Lai, Whalen 185, 200 Lanzetta, Beverly J. 34, 42 Lapide, Pinchas 39, 92 Larcher, Gerhard 14 Larsen, Allan W. 202 Larson, Gerald James 18–19, 42, 103, 142 Levy, Donald 176, 198, 201 Liehu, Heidi 169 Lipner, Julius 30, 70–71, 102, 159, 201 Llull, Ramon 29, 58, 100, 113, 175–76, 198 Lohr, Charles H. 58, 100, 175–76, 198 MacIntyre, Alasdair 13, 168 MacPherson, Camilia Gangasingh 8, 21, 24–25, 27, 32, 35, 45–46, 49, 56, 102, 182, 200–201, 205 MacQuarrie, John 160, 168, 170–72, 176, 185, 191, 200 Matthes, Axel 41 McGrath, Alister E. 13, 137, 143 Menacherry, Cheriyan 23–24, 32, 44–45, 125–27, 137, 198 Milbank, John 10, 13–14, 19, 47, 101 Mirandola, Pico Della 175 Mitra, Kana 25, 34, 37, 46, 102, 161, 170

 Moltmann, Jürgen 10 Monchanin, Jules 5 Moxter, Michael 141 Mundadan, A.M. 51 Murphy, Tim 88, 91, 202, 205 Neufeldt, Ronald 54, 58, 81, 118, 170 Neuhaus, Gerd 14 Newbigin, Lesslie 2, 10, 13, 17 Newman, John Henry 61 Nicholas of Cusa 6, 29, 58, 113, 175–76, 198 Niewiadomski, Józef 14 Nirmal, Arvind P. 4 Ogden, Schubert M. 2, 9–11, 13–16 Pannenberg, Wolfhart 2, 10, 14 Parappally, Jacob MSFS 4, 44, 101, 125, 184 Parekh, Manilal C. 63, 113 Parmenides 159 Pathrapankal, Joseph 36 Pennington, M. Basil 38 Pesch, Otto Hermann 2 Peterson, Indira Viswanathan 121 Pieris, Aloysius, S.J. 4, 9, 19, 46, 52 Placher, William C. 13 Plato 156 Podgorski, Frank 6, 42, 178 Prabhu, Joseph 6, 22–23, 42, 94 Race, Alan 2, 14 Rahner, Karl 3 Raj, Anthony Savari 5, 21, 43, 47, 51, 78, 82, 176, 191 Ramachandra, Vinoth 6, 21, 29–30, 46, 51, 89, 155, 170, 200–201 Ramakrishna 54, 58, 81, 84, 102 Randall, John Herman, Jr. 175 Ratzinger, Joseph 2 Reese, Thomas J. 8 Richards, Glyn 81, 84 Ricoeur, Paul 155 Rogers, M. 37 Ruether, Rosemary Radford 9 Ruokanen, Miikka 2 Saarinen, Risto 1, 16–17 Said, Edward W. 12, 164 Salhanda, Chrys 2

233

Samartha, Stanley J. 5, 9, 16, 19, 46, 101, 120, 143 Saïkara 101–102 Schmidt-Leukel, Perry 9, 15 Schreiter, Robert J. 2–3, 7, 9–10, 13, 29, 51, 89, 105 Schwager, Raymund 14 Schwarz, Hans 154 Schwöbel, Christoph 10, 14, 17, 101, 206 Sen, Keshub Chunder 63, 113, 146 Shanta, N. 37 Sharpe, Eric J. 2, 81, 99, 154, 168 Sheridan, Daniel P. 31, 42 Sinner, Rudolf von 5, 20, 47 Smet, R. De 101 Smith, Wilfred Cantwell 9, 11, 17, 19–20, 42, 206 Soleri, Paolo 38 Steiner, George 30 Strolz, Walter 8, 29, 39 Stuart, James 5–6 Suchocki, Marjorie Hewitt 9 Sugirtharajah, R.S. 12 Sullivan, Francis A., S.J. 2 Sullivan, Lawrence E. 119 Surin, Kenneth 10–12, 17 Swidler, Leonard 2–3, 42, 86, 206 Sykes, Stephen 106 Tapia, María del Carmen 7 Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre 62, 122–23, 130, 150, 193, 202 Thangaraj, M. Thomas 3 Tholens, Cornelius 38 Thomas, M.M. 5, 10, 17, 21, 51 Tilley, Terrence W. 12–13 Tillich, Paul 137, 143, 146, 191 Troeltsch, Ernst 62 Upadyaya, Brahmabandhav 101 Vachon, Robert 6, 8, 20 Vanhoozer, Kevin J. 14, 20, 206 Veilleux, Armand 38 Veliath, Dominic SDB 5, 8, 23, 28, 43–44, 66 Vempeny, Ishanand S.J. 159 Vivekananda, Swami 102, 164, 170 Wei-Hsun Fu, Charles 42, 169 Werbick, Jürgen 13, 16 Whaling, Frank 18, 42, 106

234 Wilfred, Felix 3, 6 Will, Paul J. 164 Williams, Paul 47, 192 Williams, Stephen 36 Williams, Rowan 10, 19, 35 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 160

 Yarnold, Edward Yadav, Bibhuti S. 89–90, 95, 122, Yagi, Seiichi 9 Yates, Frances A.

1 18, 42, 47, 49, 164 174–75, 183