In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A "Hypostatic Union" of Two Practices but One Person?Paul F. KnitterThis is going to be an awkwardly personal reflection. But that, I understand, is what the assignment given to the members of the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies panel "Constructing Buddhist Identities in the West" called for: I was asked to reflect upon "How I as a Western Christian have appropriated Buddhist practice and teachings into my religious identity." I'm (...) grateful for this invitation, because it has provided me with the occasion to realize, quite startlingly, that what I have thought and written about my "Buddhist-Christian identity" in the past really isn't quite accurate.But first let me offer a bird's eye, and therefore limited, view of my two-faced identity: I was born into a traditional, not very critical, Catholic family in the Chicago of seventy-three years ago. At thirteen, I decided (against my parents' wishes) to enter a minor seminary in order to become a priest, and went through the whole fourteen years of training. For the last four years of that training I had the profoundly good fortune to be sent to Rome, arriving there in 1962, two weeks before more than two thousand bishops marched into St. Peter's Basilica to start the Second Vatican Council (the renewing effects of which were much more lasting, it seems, in my psyche than in the psyche and structures of the Vatican!). Ordained a priest in 1966 and animated with Vatican II's new openness to other religions, I did a dissertation at the University of Marburg, Germany, on Christian theologies of religions. When I returned to the United States in 1972, I taught theology at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, and when I decided to leave the Catholic priesthood in 1975, I moved to Xavier University in Cincinnati, where I continued teaching theology for some twenty-eight years.It was during those years, in the 1980s, that I began not only to teach courses on Buddhism but also to practice daily Zen meditation. Gradually, I came to realize that Buddhism, its theory and practice, was seeping into and coloring the way I understood and practiced my Christian creed—to the point that in 2007 I took refuge in the Tibetan Dzogchen tradition and since then have been under the guidance of my teacher, Lama John Makransky. It was around this time that I faced the need to figure out just what or who I was—a Buddhist Christian or a Christian Buddhist. So, typical academic that I am, I wrote a book. [End Page 19]In Without Buddha I Could Not Be a Christian, I declared and defended my primary identity as a Christian who was thoroughly drenched in Buddhism.1 But when I recently read Rose Drew's penetrating analysis of various ways of blending dual religious belonging in her Christian or Buddhist? An Exploration of Dual Religious Belonging, I started to wonder.2 From her ethnographic study of actual dual belongers, she found that (a) some have a primary religious identity (the group to which I thought I belonged), (b) some alternate between both primary identities, (c) some cannot attribute primacy to either or any identity, and (d) some are too bewildered by it all to say anything.3 As I pondered Drew's description and analysis of her interviewees' meanderings back and forth across religious lines, I had to admit that I wasn't sure where I belonged. So when the request for this paper came along, I saw it as an opportunity to help myself sort things out.An Inappropriate AnalogyMy problem is that as my Christian and Buddhist practices have continued over these recent five to ten years, more and more, I cannot keep them apart. They remain clearly distinct, but unlike Roger Corless, of blessed memory, I have not been able to honor their distinct identities by practicing them, as Roger apparently did, separately: being a Buddhist from Monday to Thursday, and a Christian from Friday to Sunday (and then waiting to see what would happen). Rather, for me, when I am at Mass, I hear the words of the Scripture readings or of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Comparative Theology Is Not “Business-as-Usual Theology”:Personal Witness from a Buddhist ChristianPaul F. KnitterThe following reflections find their stimulus and start in a paper prepared for a doctoral seminar on comparative theology led by John Makransky at Boston College. I was asked whether I was a comparative theologian and, if so, what difference it had made in my professional work as a theologian and in my personal life as a (...) Christian. My basic answer was: “Yes, I think so” and “A lot!”In this reworking and expansion of that seminar paper, I hope to unpack that “a lot.” This will enable me not only to carry on the search for clarity (and integrity) that I began in my book Without Buddha I Could Not Be a Christian,1 but also to comment on the promise of comparative theology (CT) and why I fear that this promise all too often goes unfulfilled.What I’m getting at is capsulized in a blurb that John Thatamanil wrote for Michelle Voss Roberts’s Dualities: A Theology of Difference:2 “Comparative theology done well is a dangerous discipline precisely because it raises provocative questions and threatens to put an end to business-as-usual theology.” I fear that some comparative theologians are not taking their job seriously enough—or they are not following through with what they say they want to do. They are carrying on CT as business as usual.moving beyond business-as-usual theologyComparative theology, which two decades ago might have been considered a fade but has become a fixture in Christian theology,3 makes the bold, indeed thoroughly revolutionary, claim that in order to properly carry on the task of Christian theology, the traditional Christian sources—Scripture, tradition, the lex orandi or spiritual practice of the communities—are not enough. A Christian theologian, in order to be a Christian theologian, must also draw on the experience, teachings, scriptures, and insights of other spiritual communities and traditions. CT embodies Raimon Panikkar’s often [End Page 181] cited (at least by me!) dictum: In order to understand who I am, I have to ask who you are. And in order to know my God I have to ask about your God.4If what comparative theologians are here claiming is true, if my understanding of myself is incomplete without my understanding of you, then after I understand you, I can be pretty sure that my understanding of myself is going to be different—really different. Otherwise, I really didn’t need to talk with you in the first place! And this is why Thatamanil can rightly sound his unsettling warning that if CT is another form of business-as-usual theology, if it is not leading to some really new discoveries about oneself and one’s own tradition, then it is not living up to its job description. And that, as I tried to say elsewhere, is what I suspect might be the case.As I survey the output of comparative theologians over the past fifteen years, I sense that, with some promising exceptions among younger scholars, they are strong on comparing but soft on concluding. More pointedly, comparative theology, so far, has been more comparison than theology. There have been intricate comparisons of Christian texts with Hindu texts and of Christian theologians/mystics with Buddhist scholars/mystics. Striking similarities and stark differences have been noted and examined, sometime meticulously. But, where are the clear, creative, courageous conclusions as to what Christians can learn from these comparisons? What might need to be clarified or changed or discarded in traditional Christian doctrine? Especially on the neuralgic and politically dangerous (for Catholics) issue of the uniqueness of Christ, I am not aware of any comparativists who have learned anything new. I would be delighted to be proved wrong.5I suspect that the reason why some comparative theologians are caught in business-as-usual theology is that they are also still lingering under the influence of postmodernism’s and postliberal theology’s insistence on the dominance of diversity. In their concern to respect and defend differences, postmodernists and postliberals conclude that cultures and religions are more different than they... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dialogue and Liberation:What I Have Learned from My Friends—Buddhist and ChristianPaul KnitterMy co-coordinator for this conference, Kyeongil Jung, has given me a rather daunting assignment for this lecture: within no more than forty minutes, I am supposed to (1) draw some insightful conclusions for our conference, (2) bid farewell to Union Theological Seminary as I sail off into retirement, and (3) reminisce on the past fifty years of my (...) life. The easiest and most enjoyable of these assignments will, I suspect, be the most effective in covering them all: I’m going to focus on reminiscing.It all started for me more than fifty years ago as I stood in the Piazza San Pietro on October 11, 1962, having just arrived in Rome two weeks earlier to begin my theological studies at the Gregorian University. There, awestruck and euphoric, I watched Pope John XXIII lead some two thousand bishops into the Basilica of St. Peter to begin the Second Vatican Council. That council, especially in its revolutionary “Declaration on the Church’s Attitude toward Non-Christian Religions” (Nostra Aetate), is where for me things took off—where I first felt the challenge of religious diversity and the inspiration to take up the challenge. Vatican II opened the door and beckoned Christians to enter into a life-giving dialogue with other religious communities—and to work out a theology that would support and animate such a dialogue. That, essentially, has been the business I have been about over these past fifty years: laying the foundations for, and then trying to engage in, an interreligious dialogue that will be truly life-giving and world-healing.But on the occasion of this conference and of this lecture, surrounded by so many old and new friends, I’ve come to realize, with a stunning clarity that I did not have before, that what has inspired and guided me in my efforts to respond to religious diversity over these past five decades has been friends much more than books. Yes, over the years, I have tried to put in my required academic hours of study: I have developed a sizeable amount of what Germans call Sitzfleisch. But tonight, as I look upon the faces of so many old friends with whom I have walked, and of so many new, younger friends with whom I try to keep pace, it is clear to me that most of the theological convictions and spiritual discoveries that have sustained my professional and personal life have become true for me—really true and trustworthy—because I have [End Page 173] seen them embodied in the lives of my friends and fellow searchers. Other people, in the kind of lives they live, have inspired me, challenged me, convinced me, more than any coherent, creative theological, philosophical, or political argument. That’s the kind of realization that becomes clear especially after one tips seventy. On some matters, you just have to get old before you can get wise.So let me spend this time with you this evening reminiscing on some of the Christian and Buddhists friends who have guided me and formed me over these past fifty years. They have also contributed to the gifts I have tried to bring to, and hope to leave behind for, Union Theological Seminary. Clearly, too, these friends embody and confirm what I suspect are some of the principal points of consensus for our conference on Enlightenment and Liberation. With only forty minutes to speak, and with seventy-four years full of friends, I’ll have to be painfully selective.karl rahner, john hick, stanley samartha: the theological challenge of religious diversityThree of my oldest friends, all of them now of blessed memory, were clear-cut and beautiful examples for me of both the honesty and the courage that are required in taking other religious traditions seriously. All three of them, in differing ways and degrees, recognized that if Christians are going to be able to engage in the kind of dialogue that Vatican II and eventually the World Council of Churches were calling for, then Christians and especially Christian theologians are going to have to do some heavy... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Overcoming Greed:Buddhists and Christians in Consumerist SocietyPaul F. KnitterAs I understand my assignment, I don't find it an easy one. I've been instructed to carry on a lopsided dialogue. Generally, what generates productive dialogue is a proper balance of learning and questioning. My assigned job in this exchange is to question more than learn—to offer some Christian queries about how Buddhists think we can overcome greed and find a (...) path out of the consumerist jungle that surrounds us. Actually, I'd prefer it the other way around, for I'm convinced that we Christians have some very important, if not absolutely vital, things to learn from Buddhists in our own efforts to deal with the jungle. And I will mention some of them. But, following instructions, my main focus in what follows will be on areas where I suspect that Buddhists can learn something, maybe something very helpful, in our shared efforts to deal with greed and the havoc it is working on people and planet.I need to specify my Christian voice in this conversation—or, as they say, where I'm coming from within the many and diverse neighborhoods that make up the Christian community. I'll be reflecting and speaking out of my knowledge of and experience with Christian liberation theology, especially as it has been born, developed, and taken new shapes among the poor and suffering of Latin America. The voices and concerns you will hear in my own remarks are originally those of Christian thinkers and activists such as Jon Sobrino, Gustavo Gutiérrez, Leonardo Boff.In order to bring some order into the swarm of insights and questions that these extremely rich presentations have stirred up in me, I'll gather my comments around two broad topics.The Inner and the Outer: Enlightenment and the Reign of GodMy first general area of conversation is a familiar one not just for the Buddhist-Christian conversation but also for all activists who call themselves religious: the need for, but the difficulty of, holding together the "inner and the outer"—action and [End Page 65] contemplation, personal and social transformation, or what I will term Buddha's enlightenment and Jesus' vision of the Reign of God.What Christian Liberation Theologians Need to Hear from BuddhistsFirst, let me simply list, and hold back from delving into, some crucial lessons that we Christians not only can but drastically need to learn.First, what Jesus and his followers call the Reign of God will be built on sand unless it is grounded in the personal, inner conversion of those who are trying to build it. The church will be only a empty building—or worse, a den of thieves—if its members, and that includes its leaders, are not transformed by the Spirit. Or, in Judith Simmer-Brown's words, "No fundamental transformation can take place anywhere without the joining of inner change and outer change" (emphasis mine). Or, in Ken Barnhill's words (quoted by Brown), "Social work entails inner work.... social change and inner change are inseparable." Or, in the powerful and widely quoted admonition of Thich Nhat Hanh: We have to be peace if we want to make peace. Christians know this, and they talk about it. But in my own life and in what I see in my church, how often we forget it in our efforts to get things done, in our concern for the institution, in our determination to bring about political change.Second, I both cringed and nodded approvingly when I read about Judith Simmer-Brown speaking about "idiot compassion." In opposing wealthy landowners in El Salvador, or in a business-controlled city council in Cincinnati, how often I have felt but perhaps not identified in myself and in my fellow Christian activists "...unskillful acts...the impulsive response based on insufficient knowledge [that] can quickly become ineffective, causing personal burnout." Such idiocy, grounded in goodwill, derives, again, from an insufficient balancing of the inner and the outer.Third, and more sharply focused on the suffering caused by greed, Judith offers a hope, or deep belief, that is often not clearly present among liberation theologians since... (shrink)

Knitter asks Moser if the soteriological inclusivism he is proposing for our understanding of God can also be extended to our understanding of Christ: Christ’s death and resurrection do not constitute or bring about saving grace; they reveal it, thus leaving room for the possibility of other revealers. For Yandell, Knitter first clarifies that the necessary conditions for dialogue are not established before but in the dialogue. He then urges an epistemic humility for all Christian philosophers in view of the (...) ineffable Mystery of God—a Mystery that may well include, to the philosopher’s consternation, a “coinciding of opposites.”. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Rita Gross:Buddhist-Christian Dialogue about DialoguePaul F. KnitterThe following brief—all too brief—assessment of Rita Gross's contribution to our understanding and practice of interreligious dialogue is both professional and personal.It is professional in that ever since I first heard her speak at a meeting of our Society in Hawai'i in 1983, I have tried to read everything she is written that has to do with religious pluralism and interreligious dialogue (especially (...) with Buddhist-Christian dialogue). That is an impossible task; I cannot keep up with her; she is always coming up with something new—most recently her partially completed book manuscript Others, Identity, and Integrity: Surviving Religious Diversity (on which I am basing many of the following remarks).It is personal in that, as is the case with so many of us in the SBCS, Rita and I have been both colleagues and friends. And we've "done dialogue" together, a lot of it—in projects such as the Myth of Religious Superiority conference and book,1 the religious pluralism seminars for seminary professors that we taught at Auburn Seminary in New York City for two summers, and, most recently, in inviting her to Union Theological Seminary for our Religions in the City course.So, from what I have read and especially from what I have heard and felt as we engaged in conversations in the classroom or across a restaurant table, I, as a Christian theologian, have come to regard Rita as an invaluable partner in our Buddhist-Christian dialogue about dialogue. She keeps raising questions that, for a Christian theologian like myself, probe, stimulate, and sometimes sting, but keep me moving.Let me first describe where she has challenged Christian theologians, and then how we Christians can both engage and learn from her.The Danger and Impossibility of Exclusive (or Final) Truth ClaimsRita asks Christians (and Muslims) whether they are being self-contradictory—or maybe hypocritical, even imperialistic—when out of one side of their mouths they call for interreligious dialogue and out of the other insist that they have the God-given exclusive or final word on truth and human well-being. In this regard, she [End Page 79] makes three very clear and sobering claims that all religious persons committed to dialogue have to face.First, claims of superiority, whether in their exclusivist or inclusivist or particularist forms, end up strangling diversity. In the opening chapter of her book manuscript, she states with her usual crispness and clarity: "Exclusive truth claims and religious diversity are mutually exclusive... To say it again, religious diversity and exclusive truth claims are incompatible and do not mutually survive or thrive."2 In making such announcements, she is very clear that she is not questioning truth claims in themselves; only claims that hold themselves up as superior or final over all others: "I am criticizing only the exclusive truth claims attributed to a religious belief, not the belief itself.... I don't even find it problematic when someone says, 'Jesus is my only savior.' Only when their belief somehow mutates into the claim 'only Jesus saves you and you must believe that' do I raise objections and become frightened."3In this regard, she points out the discomforting contradiction between what religious people say about multiculturalism as citizens and what they say about multi-religionism as believers: "In our society now, there is at least a polite and superficial consensus that cultural diversity is here to stay and may enrich life. Minimally, people realize that cultural, ethnic, and class chauvinism create problems and are inappropriate, though they may be difficult to overcome. Regarding religious diversity, quite a different evaluation is often employed. Many people value the feeling that their religion is indeed superior to others and regard such religious chauvinism as a necessary component of religious commitment, or even a virtue to be cultivated among the faithful."4Second, the monotheistic religions seem to be the biggest sinners. Among the religions that squelch diversity and dialogue under the weight of exclusive or final truth claims, Rita argues, the monotheistic faiths are the biggest offenders. "Historically, such claims [to absolute truth] are much more... (shrink)