Showing posts with label Trinity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trinity. Show all posts

Thursday, October 17, 2024

Love as God Loves Us: Embodying Inconvenient Compassion

I contend that compassion is an automatic byproduct of having shut out the outside world for a time to experience transcendence in its religious sense (i.e., reaching beyond the limits of human conception, perception, and emotion). Such experience as prayer, for example, or meditation can result in a heightened sensitivity in perceiving the world, including things and other people who are in proximity. Such sensitivity where other people are being perceived can illicit compassion to them. It is the bracketing experience itself, away from our daily life, rather than what is being prayed about or meditated on that triggers the generalized sensitivity and thus the enhanced readiness or inclination to feel compassion where it applies. I submit furthermore that with some beliefs regarding how God in the Abrahamic religions views us creatures in Creation, we mere mortals can assume to some degree the perspective that, given how God is depicted in scriptures, God would or does have in watching us in our own little worlds.


The full essay is at "Love as God Loves Us."

Taking God’s Perspective: Disgust to Compassion

I contend that compassion is an automatic byproduct of having shut out the outside world for a time to experience transcendence in its religious sense (i.e., reaching beyond the limits of human conception, perception, and emotion). Such experience as prayer, for example, or meditation can result in a heightened sensitivity in perceiving the world, including things and other people who are in proximity. Such sensitivity where other people are being perceived can illicit compassion to them. It is the bracketing experience itself, away from our daily life, rather than what is being prayed about or meditated on that triggers the generalized sensitivity and thus the enhanced readiness or inclination to feel compassion where it applies. I submit furthermore that with some beliefs regarding how God in the Abrahamic religions views us creatures in Creation, we mere mortals can assume to some degree the perspective that, given how God is depicted in scriptures, God would or does have in watching us in our own little worlds.


The full essay is at "Taking God's Perspective: Disgust to Compassion."

Wednesday, October 16, 2024

A Hindu Goddess Destroying and Recreating Other Hindu Deities: Contrasting the Christian Trinity

The Saundarya Lahari characterizes the Hindu goddess, Devi, as being the power behind the proverbial throne—meaning the thrones of the three main deities, Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. Without Devi bestowing her power on those (and all other) gods, they would “return to their primal, dormant state” until revived by the power that Devi wields as signified visually by the weapons that she holds.[1] Are those deities merely dormant, however, or are they destroyed when Devi withholds her power? For there is an appreciable difference between being rendered impotent or inactive, and being zerstört (i.e., destroyed). In Greek mythology, one thing that distinguishes the gods from morals is that of the two, only the gods cannot die. In Christianity, Jesus Christ survives the death of his corporeal body, which is transformed in the bodily resurrection on Easter in a way that would have perplexed Plato. Indeed, it is interesting to compare the Trinity with the relation of the foundational goddess Devi to the three main gods in the Saundarya Lahari, a poem doubtlessly written by a devotee of the goddess.

Verse 25 of the Hindu poem highlights the points that “Devi is supreme” and the other “divine beings . . . serve and praise Her. Devi provides the foundation for the gods and their worship.”[2] Francis Clooney’s translation goes as follows:

“Benevolent one, may the worship rendered to the three gods born of Your three qualities be as worship rendered to Your feet, for near the jeweled seat on which Your feet rest, they ever stand, folded hands adorning their crowns.”[3] 

Worshipping Brahma, who is the creator deity, Vishnu, who sustains the world by inhaling its pollution, and Shiva, the destroyer, is tantamount to worshipping the goddess, Devi, as the three gods stand at her feet, which in turn are associated with her power and thus protection. It is as if Devi is sitting on a throne, at the bottom of which the three main Hindu gods are standing. The image in Christianity of Jesus sitting on the right side of the Father may come to mind, though in that case, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are not separate deities, but, rather, are three manifestations of one God. To be sure, in Hinduism, the deities are considered to be manifestations of Brahman, which is consciousness/awareness beyond that of sentient beings, existence/reality, and bliss, and is not thought of as a supreme personal deity as is the Abrahamic deity. The supremacy of Devi is that of one deity over others (in terms of power), and in Christianity the Father and Son are of one substance rather than one manifestation of the God being superior to the other. Even so, the Christian image is hardly disparate here in imagining the special relationships in verse 25 of the Saundarya Lahari.

Swami Tapasyananda’s translation of verse 25 can be approached as providing additional details, albeit at the expense of the poetic and linguistically literal qualities of Clooney’s more concise version:

“The worship done at Thy feet, O Consort of Siva, is also the worship of all the three Deities Brahma, Visnu and Siva, who have their origin in Thy three Gunas (Rajas, Sattva and Tamas). They require no special worship, because they are ever waiting with their joined palms held above their diademed heads in salutation to Thee by the side of the foot-stool of diamonds that bear Thy feet.”[4]

Tapasyananda does not provide a commentary on this verse; even so, we can visualize the three main Hindu gods standing next to the foot-stool that Devi, who is presumably sitting (on a throne), is using to rest her feet. Again, Jesus sitting at the right side of the Father may come to mind. But the three main Hindu gods—those of creation, sustaining the world, and destroying the world, respectively, don’t all align with the three Persons of the Christian Trinity.

God as creator or Jesus Christ as manifesting the Logos may be thought prime facie to resonate with Brahma as the creator deity in Hinduism, but the fact that Brahma draws on Devi’s rajas guna dispels any such likeness under the rubric of creating. In his commentary on verse 53, which I will draw on below to make another point, Tapasyananda claims that the rajas, sattva, and tamas are not only qualities found in nature, but are also Devi’s creative power and are thus the respective origins of the three main gods.[5] If the parallelism between listing the three gods and the three gunas means that the latter are respective to the order of the deities, then Brahma, the god who creates the world is characterized by Rajas: “activity, passion, desire, attachment, and energy.”[6] Rajas “embodies movement, expansion and upward flow.”[7] In Christian theology, the creative agent in God is the Logos, or “word” or “reason,” which is that which later incarnates as Jesus Christ. The nature of God as an intelligent being is highlighted in the Logos, whereas passion and desire are among the qualities in which the Hindu god Brahma has its origin, which, by the way, means that Brahma has his origin in Devi’s creative power. Also, whereas the Christian God can be reckoned as being the source of the energy that is in Creation, Brahma can be characterized in terms of the creative energy itself, which comes from Devi. In this sense, the transcendent Christian God is more like Brahman than the Hindu deities. All except for Devi, however, as the devotee writes of that goddess,

“You are mind, You are air, You are wind and the rider of wind, You are water, You are earth, beyond You as You evolve there is nothing higher, there is only You, and when You transform Yourself by every form, then You take the form of consciousness and bliss as a way of being, O Shiva’s youthful one!”[8]

Besides being the basic elements that make up creation (though the ancient Greek philosopher Empedocles included fire along with earth, air, and water), Devi is mind, and thus awareness/consciousness. In verse 30 the poet writes to Devi, “You are eternal” and “I am You.” Both verses describe Devi close to how Brahman is described elsewhere (awareness, existence itself, and bliss). Devi pervades creation and even beyond, as there is nothing higher; “there is only You.” Perhaps it could be said that Devi is beyond functionality—having also an ontological existence that renders the goddess qualitatively different than the other gods and goddesses because only Devi can be understood in terms that apply to Brahman. In this sense, Devi is more like the Christian deity than are the other Hindu gods and goddesses, for which particular functions are emphasized (e.g., Shiva is the destroyer). In other word, Devi (in assuming Brahman qualities) can be thought of as the awareness and reality within which the big deities exist and perform their functions. It follows that in destroying the world, Shiva cannot destroy Devi.

Whereas both Brahma and the Christian God are associated with creating the universe, the god Shiva bears little resemblance to the Christian God, which as Paul and Augustine wrote, is essentially love. Compassion and mercy outweigh the destructiveness of God’s wrath. Shiva having its origin in the tamas guna, which is associated with “inertia, ignorance, delusion, darkness, and heaviness,” and represents “sloth, dullness, and downward flow.”[9] None of these qualities pertains to the Christian God, even in its wrath.

As for Vishnu, in that his origin is in the qualities of sattva, this god can be characterized by “truth, goodness, harmony, balance, and spiritual essence,” as representing “light, intelligence, and consciousness.”[10] Whereas Shiva destroys, Vishnu sustains, or saves the world at least in the meantime, and, furthermore, as having the qualities of goodness, harmony (peace), a spiritual sense, light, intelligence, and consciousness, Vishnu can be viewed in terms similar to Jesus. The second “person” of the Trinity (i.e., Jesus) is the Logos, which in turn, as reason, can be associated with intelligence. Indeed, Vishnu’s incarnation or avatar as the god Krishna has been likened to Jesus Christ, as compassion is salient to both the Hindu god and the incarnated manifestation of the Christian God (i.e., Jesus Christ). Indeed, the Christian Incarnation can be thought of as the consciousness of God winnowed through a (finite) human body.

Even given these likenesses between Vishnu and Jesus, the latter is a manifestation or “Person” of a deity, whereas Vishnu is a deity (among others). Also, the relationship between Vishnu and Devi is not between two manifestations (or “Persons”) of one God (though admittedly of Brahman, though that is not a deity). Devi is a goddess and Vishnu is a god; both are Hindu deities to be worshipped even though worshipping Devi is sufficient because Vishnu has his origin in Devi’s creative power (sattva). To be sure, it could be said that Jesus gets his power from the Father, as for instance when Jesus calls on God the Father in bringing Lazarus back to life. “Jesus looked up and said, ‘Father, I thank you that you have heard me.’”[11] Whether Jesus’ Father could cut off Jesus’ power such that Jesus would be rendered inactive or even destroyed (beyond just the death of his body) may be similar to asking whether Devi could render the other Hindu deities merely dormant or actually destroy them by taking away their power.

Francis Clooney’s translation of verse 26 of the Saundarya Lahari is relevant:

“Virinci [Brahma] returns to the five elements, Hari [Vishnu] ceases His delight, the destroyer [Kinasa (Yama, the god of death)] meets destruction, the lord of wealth loses wealth, the untiring array of great Indras also close their eyes, and in that great dissolution, O good woman, Your Lord plays.”[12]

On the one hand, Brahma seems to be destroyed by Devi, who returns that god to the five basic elements in the world; Kinasa is destroyed because he himself meets destruction; and, moreover, the word “dissolution” implies more than the gods merely going inactive. On the other hand, Vishnu no longer being delighted, the lord of wealth losing wealth, and the Indra closing his eyes may be interpreted as Devi merely rendering those deities passive by taking away their respective powers. Yet in describing the whole verse in terms of “dissolution,” the poet may have meant destruction rather than inactivity, given that the word “dissolution” has been defined as the “dissolving” or “separation” of something “into component parts”, as in “disintegration” or “death,” or the “termination or destruction by breaking down, disrupting, or dispersing.”[13]

Tapasyananda’s translation of the verse might be helpful too:

“Virincill (Brahma) is reduced into elements: Hari (Visnu) retires into passivity; Kinasa (Yama the god of death) himself dies; Kubera the god of wealth meets with his end; and Indra with all his followers closes his eyes in destruction. When such, O Sati (chaste Consort of Siva), is the state of all beings at the time of the total dissolution (mahasamhara) of the universe, Thy husband Sadasiva [Shiva] alone is sporting.”[14] 

Even though Vishnu being passive resonates with that god no longer having delights rather than necessarily being destroyed, Kinasa, Kubera, and Indra are clearly destroyed, given the respective words, “dies,” “meets with his end,” and “destruction,” respectively. Vishnu too seems to be destroyed rather than merely rendered inoperative because Devi leaves only Shiva, her husband, around “at the time of the total dissolution (mahasamhara) of the universe.” Maha Samhara can in general mean “destruction, annihilation, or dissolution.”[15] None of these words are consistent with, or imply someone merely being rendered impassive. The destruction presumably includes the gods, as, according to the Rig Veda, they came out of purusa’s head rather than having existed prior to the primordial human body out of which the heavens and the earth were carved.

Devi only excepts Shiva because out of the loyalty or faithfulness that a consort has to her husband, the wife gains power, and Devi is all about power. In his commentary on the verse, Tapasyananda explains that the indestructability of the couple, Siva-Sakti (i.e., Shiva and Devi), is due to Devi’s “whole-hearted faithfulness” (pativratya) to her husband, “which according to Hindu belief, is supposed to generate great power in a woman.”[16] Perhaps as a result of if such an augmentation to her power, it is so great that she can bring the other deities back into existence, rather than merely allow them to be active again. This would indeed justify her claim that devotees need only worship her to worship the three main gods.

For we find later in the Saundarya Lahari, in the Flood of Beauty (verses 42-91), in verse 53 specifically, that the three main gods, Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, “still play a part in the drama of beauty and pleasure surrounding Devi. To do so, they must exist after having been destroyed by Devi. They exist due to Her glance: “O beloved of the Lord, when Your eye shadow smears in play[,] Your triad of eyes displays three colors distinctly, and so recreates the three gods—Druhina, Hari, Rudra—after they’d ceased; Your eyes shine like the triad of qualities, sattva, rajas, and tamas.’”[17] In being recreated after they had ceased—being recreated means that ceased to exist rather than merely ceased to be active is the correct implication—the gods Druhina (i.e., Brahma), Hari (Vishnu) and seemingly inconsistently because Devi had not destroyed her husband, even Rudra (Shiva) are again existing. Tapasyananda’s translation of verse 53 fills in some of the details of Devi’s glance, which is enough to bring the main gods back into existence:

“O Consort of Isvara [Shiva]! Thy three eyes look tri-coloured when the black of the beautifying collyrium shines by the side of their natural white and reddish tinges, each keeping its distinctiveness. It looks as if these three colours represent the three Gunas of Rajas, Sattva, and Tamas, which Thou assumes with a view to revive Brahma, Visnu, and Rudra [Shiva] after their dissolution in the Pralaya, and start them once again on the creative activity.”[18]

In his commentary, Tapasyananda notes that the three colors represent the three gunas respectively, which Devi uses as the “creative power” with which to revive the three gods and enable them to be active.[19] By implication destroying them and rendering them inactive are distinct. Devi does both in destroying Brahma and Vishnu, as reviving rather than merely enabling activity are both done in verse 53.

Tapasyananda’s choice of the word, revive, is particularly interesting, as it may imply bringing back to life rather than merely existence. In Clooney’s translation of the verse, he uses “recreate” rather than “revive”:

“O beloved of the Lord, when Your eye shadow smears in play[,] Your triad of eyes displays three colors distinctly, and so recreates the three gods—Druhina, Hari, Rudra—after they’d ceased; Your eyes shine like the triad of qualities, sattva, rajas, and tamas.[20]

Clooney “opted for the more literal translation of punah srastum—the verb srj usually means ‘to create,’ whereas ‘revive’ is a weaker translation; it may be that [Tapasyananda] wanted to show that the deities were not dead, but only in a swoon.”[21] If so, then Clooney’s interpretation leaves Devi with more power, as more is needed to destroy and recreate than merely to render something (or someone) powerless. The poet’s point that a devotee of Vishnu or Shiva, for example, need only worship Devi, as the power behind those gods, rather than also worship them too, is stronger. In my own search, I found that punah srastum can also mean “to originate,” which bolster’s Clooney’s interpretation, which, by the way, is consistent with the inclusion in the verse of the word “cease.”

In short, Devi destroys gods rather than merely renders them impotent (non potentia). In viewing the big gods as destroyed and then recreated along in the cyclical paradigm of the religion, Hinduism differs fundamentally from the Abrahamic religions, wherein Yahweh/God/Allah is not created or subject to creation, but, rather, like Brahma, creates the universe. Neither is the Abrahamic God subject to being destroyed, given the divine attribute of omnipotence; nothing has power over God.

Furthermore, interpreting Devi as reviving the big gods may imply that the gods are alive. In the Christian New Testament, Jesus revives Lazarus, who is not a god. Reviving a person is distinct from when God the Father resurrects Jesus. Devi does not resurrect, or much less bodily resurrect, Brahma and Vishnu (and perhaps Shiva).[22] So from a Christian standpoint, Devi reviving gods and goddesses simply does not make sense. This is yet another reason for going with Clooney’s translation. Also, the ancient Greeks would not have understood how a deity can be destroyed and then recreated later, because immortality is a major attribute of a Greek god or goddess (being a giant is the other main requirement).

To be sure, in a general sense, God manifesting as the Father brings the divine manifestation that is Jesus back from having been killed. This is vaguely akin to Devi bringing at least two major gods back to existence after having destroyed them because the leitmotif is that of something divine ending and being brought back by something else that is divine. In Christianity, this has been referred to as God “self-emptying” of itself first in allowing itself to be incarnated alongside a human nature (albeit still fully divine and fully human: comprising one essence and two distinct rather than blending natures) and then to allow the Christ to die, which is more than merely being made inactive. In Hinduism, the main gods are destroyed then revived by the creative powers of a goddess, Devi. Devi herself does not suffer any self-emptying; in fact, being able to destroy and revive even gods means that her power is so great that only she is truly worthy of being worshipped, whereas in Christianity, all three Trinitarian manifestations, or “Persons,” of God are worthy of being worshipped in their own terms; worship of God the Father does not mean that neither the Son or the Holy Spirit need be worshipped. In contrast, the Saundarya Lahari, a poem of devotion to the Hindu goddess that empowers, destroys, and recreates all of the other gods and goddesses, asserts that given those powers, worship directed solely to Devi is sufficient; other divine manifestations of Brahman stand below Devi’s throne. Omnipotentia is, in other words, a very important divine attribute.

Yet another implication for Christianity is whether the Father’s power is great than that of Jesus, as the latter calls on the Father to revive Lazarus. If so, then being consubstantial (i.e., being of the same substance) does not necessary mean having the same amount of power. As manifestations of Brahman, according to Shankara, who was a Hindu theologian, Hindu deities are consubstantial, yet as the Saundarya Lahari insists, they differ greatly in power—Devi’s being so much more that she can destroy and recreate the other gods and goddesses. God manifesting as the Father in the Trinity, whose three manifestations are eternal and thus the two others cannot be destroyed and recreated by the Father, does not have that much power over the Son and Holy Spirit. In fact, it is the Son as the eternal Logos that is the Christian God’s Word that is that God’s creative power.



1. The quoted text is from Francis X. Clooney, Divine Mother, Blessed Mother: Hindu Goddesses and the Virgin Mary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 160.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Saundarya-Lahari of Sri Sankaracarya, trans. Swami Tapasyananda (Mylapore, Chennai: Sri Ramakrishna Math Printing Press, 1987), p. 72.
5. Ibid., p. 118.
6. Quoted text is from a search of the three names of the gunas at Brave.com (accessed October 14, 2024).
7. Ibid.
8. Verse 35 of the Saundarya Lahari. Francis X. Clooney, Divine Mother, Blessed Mother: Hindu Goddesses and the Virgin Mary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005).
9. Quoted text is from a search of the three names of the gunas at Brave.com (accessed October 14, 2024).
10. Ibid.
11. The Gospel of John 11:41 (NIV).
12. Francis X. Clooney, Divine Mother, Blessed Mother: Hindu Goddesses and the Virgin Mary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 160.
13. The Merriam-Webster Dictionary entry for “dissolution.” (Merriam-webster.com accessed on October 14, 2024).
14. Saundarya-Lahari of Sri Sankaracarya, trans. Swami Tapasyananda (Mylapore, Chennai: Sri Ramakrishna Math Printing Press, 1987),  p. 72.
15. Quoted words are from a search of the definition of Maha Samhara at Brave.com (accessed October 14, 2024).
16. Ramakrishna Math Printing Press, 1987), p. 73.
17. Francis X. Clooney, Divine Mother, Blessed Mother: Hindu Goddesses and the Virgin Mary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 160.
18. Saundarya-Lahari of Sri Sankaracarya, trans. Swami Tapasyananda (Mylapore, Chennai: Sri Ramakrishna Math Printing Press, 1987), p. 117.
19. Ibid., p. 118.
20. Francis X. Clooney, Divine Mother, Blessed Mother: Hindu Goddesses and the Virgin Mary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 160.
21. Francis X. Clooney, Personal correspondence, October 16, 2024.
22. I enclose “Shiva” in parentheses because of the contradiction in Devi having not destroyed Shiva and yet in verse 53, that god is included with the other two main Hindu gods as being revived by Devi. Although it is possible that another, prior verse has Devi destroy Shiva, which is unlikely because of the power that Devi (and the couple) gets for loyalty to her husband, I think it more likely that there is a contradiction in the text, which could indicate that it evolved over time, even after having been written, and perhaps more than one writer contributed to the poem. So it could be that in imposing unity on the poem, the error lies with the reader rather than the writer(s).

Monday, June 17, 2024

Christianity and Hinduism: On Manifestations of Divinity

Hinduism is a polytheist religion whereas Christianity is monotheist. Many gods versus one seems like a clear distinction, and I submit that it basically holds. Yet nuances exist that make the distinction murky both in Hinduism and Christianity. The key to clearing up the ambiguity lies in deciding whether being a manifestation of something else is enough to count as existing as an entity. In simpler terms, is a manifestation real, or is it merely an appearance?

The foremost Hindu philosopher thus far is without doubt Shankara, who lived during the eighth century, C.E. in southern India and whose school, Advaita Vedanta, is essentially non-dualism—monism being the competing school of thought.  Shankara held that the deities in the Hindu pantheon are manifestations of brahman, which can be thought of as the substratum that pervades the universe. Only brahman really exists. The essence, content or substance of the individual soul, or atman, is brahman. To be a manifestation is to exist in the realm of appearance, rather than being something (i.e., an entity) that is real (or in the domain of the real). Shankara’s metaphysical framework also includes the realm of illusion, and it is important to keep in mind that the deities, such as Vishnu, Shiva, Krishna, and Ram, are not illusionary. Rather, they are manifestations of something that is real, namely brahman.

One of my professors, Keith Yandel, argued that Hinduism is thus monotheistic because its deities do not exist as entities, but are merely manifestations of one thing (brahman). But brahman is not a deity, but can be thought of as ether that is everywhere.  This cannot be said to be monotheism, even though brahman is one rather than being composed of distinct entities. Yandel’s basis was in Western philosophy and Christianity, and I believe he interpreted Hinduism through those prisms to expand the domain of monotheism in religion.

The problem is that the word “manifestation” is also in Christian theology in reference to the divine—in particular, to the Trinity, which is composed of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Although the Latin word personae used to denote these three “persons” of the Trinity strongly implies that they exist metaphysically as entities, unlike Shankara’s Hindu deities, the corresponding word used in Eastern (Orthodox) Christianity translates as “manifestation.” That puts us in the soup. For if the three manifestations of the divine in the Trinity do not absolve Christianity of being monotheist, then neither do the Hindu deities as manifestations keep Hinduism from counting as monotheist.

Ironically, praying to Jesus, if He is taken to be a distinct entity that really exists as such metaphysically, corresponds to the dualist camp in Hinduism, which holds that the deities, such as Vishnu and Shiva as well as their respective successive incarnations, are metaphysically real as entities. In short, if Jesus really exists as a distinct deity even though it is of the same substance as the Father and the Helper, and the latter two are real entities too, then from the standpoint of Hindu theological philosophy, Christianity is not monotheistic. But Christianity descends from Judaism, whose basic plank is that God is one. Preliminarily, it seems like Orthodox theology has a better understanding of the nature of the Trinity than does Roman Christianity and its descendants (i.e., Protestantism). To be a monotheist, it would seem that a Christian oriented to Jesus Christ would pray to a manifestation of the divine rather than to a particular deity. Jesus appears to be a deity, and thus an entity, yet in terms of metaphysical reality is an appearance of something that really exists: God. But then Hinduism would also be monotheistic because its deities are manifestations too.

Even if Western Christians come to think that they are praying to a specific manifestation of God (i.e., Jesus), such an understanding of the Trinity would imply that Hinduism is monotheist. Furthermore, to claim that Jesus is divine seems, at least to my Western mind, to mean that the Son of God is itself an entity that is real (i.e., exists as an entity, rather than as a manifestation of something even though that something is of the same substance). This way of understanding Jesus is consistent with dualism in Hinduism, in which its deities are real entities and so Hinduism is polytheist.  But then wouldn’t Christianity be as well? Must Jesus be a manifestation of the divine for Christianity to be monotheist? But then does it even make sense to pray to a manifestation that is in the realm of appearance rather than the real? Is there any way to finally square this circle?

If divine reality goes (or is sourced) beyond the limits of human conception, perception, and emotion as Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite suggested in the late 5th or early 6th century, C.E., then all we have access to is manifestation (and illusion). Faith is oriented beyond this, hence to what only can be belief that Jesus exists as a real entity, but the content of this belief can only be a manifestation to us. But then why can’t Shakara’s Hinduism be monotheist? Furthermore, if revelation holds that the persons of the Trinity exist metaphysically as entities even within the limits of our cognitive reach, then how can we stop the inference from the Hindu school of dualism that Christianity is actually polytheist—assuming that the Father and the Son really exist as distinct entities even though they are consubstantial (i.e., of the same substance). Put another way, can divine manifestation be applied in one religion with it being monotheist and yet be applied in another religion that is polytheist, or are both Christianity and Hinduism monotheist faiths? Can Christianity be thought of as being monotheist with three distinct really-existing entities of the Trinity while Hindu dualism is needed to keep Hinduism polytheist?

To say that the whole thing is a mystery is true, but this is also a cop-out (i.e., a way to side-step or escape the problem without solving it). In Hinduism, Krishna is associated with love, and in Christianity, Jesus is too. Can we say that a Hindu prays to the Lord Krishna while a Christian prays to the Lord Jesus? This makes both religions seem polytheist. But Augustine and Paul both wrote that God is love, and it can be said that Jesus is a particular manifestation of love both personified (manifesting as such, rather than really existing as an entity) and preached in the Gospels. But then would not Lord Krishna as such make Hinduism monotheist?

The solution might lie in distinguishing Christian theological love (i.e., God is love) from Hindu brahman (i.e., the ether that pervades existence). Christian agape (i.e., self-emptying, or selfless) love may manifest metaphysically as the Trinity in a way that maintains oneness to a degree that Krishna as a manifestation of brahman does not. The key may lie in the distinction between theological love and metaphysical ether. If so, do we even know how theological love is distinct from the varieties we encounter and experience in our world? Can we say that brahman as ether counts as divinity as distinct from metaphysical substance, or else how it is that manifestations that are divine (i.e., deities as appearances) can be of something that is not itself divine in its very nature? Lord Jesus and Lord Krishna may be pointing to two very different things, the difference of which affecting what it means to manifest something.

Monday, June 26, 2017

Religion As Metaphysics: A Category Mistake

The claim that God is real, or even that God's existence is reality, is problematic chiefly because it incurs the category mistake of treating religion as through it were metaphysics. Rather than being an atheistic argument, obviating the mistake privileges God's radical transcendence. To be sure, viewing religion through metaphysical lenses is problematic for some other, relatively minor reasons as well. 

For one thing, pondering the metaphysical in religious garb may actually be the human mind looking at itself as though through a mirror. “God, as a metaphysical being, is the intelligence satisfied in itself, or rather, conversely, the intelligence, satisfied in itself, thinking itself as the absolute being, is God as a metaphysical being. Hence all metaphysical predicates of God are real predicates only when they are recognised as belonging to thought, to intelligence, to the understanding.”[1] Accordingly, theology “is pre-occupied with the metaphysical attributes of eternity, unconditionedness, unchangeableness, and the like abstractions, which express the nature of the understanding.”[2] But Kant claims that God’s “existence is not susceptible of proof from reason.”[3] Feuerbach explains that the “proof of the existence of God transcends the limits of the reason.”[4] In other words, if God transcends the limits of our intellects, then God as a metaphysical being must go beyond our understanding and its attributes. Hence Feuerbach insists that, “to religion God is not a matter of abstract thought,--he is a present truth and reality.”[5] God as a reality is distinct from attributes of the human mind.

Does this mean, then, that God’s reality is of feeling?  Feuerbach thought that God was a mere projection of human feelings. The philosopher claims that God “in the sense of a nomen proprium, not of a vague, metaphysical entity, is essentially an object only of religion, not of philosophy,—of feeling, not of the intellect.”[6] But whereas reason seeks to ponder reality—even being the real in Kant’s self-serving idealism—feeling is oriented to human experience, which is hardly reality itself. In other words, if God extends (or is based) beyond the limits of human perception too, then feeling also falls short from getting us to the reality of God.

Such an evasive thing that reality is, for besides being mistakenly likened to the human intellect and its abstract ideas, and even feeling, belief itself has been allowed to take center stage. The belief affirming God’s sui generis existence in particular has been allowed to become the definitive litmus test in theistic religions; “belief in the existence of God becomes . . . the spiritual import of the idea of God, a chief point in religion.”[7] For example, a person is “a Christian only through this, that he believes in Christ.”[8] Whether the person values the teachings or the example of Jesus is only indirectly related—the key being the belief in the metaphysics of Christ’s unique existence, or reality. Accordingly, Feuerbach makes the following remark: “If the existence of God, taken by itself, had not rooted itself as a religious truth in minds, there would never have been those infamous, senseless, horrible ideas of God which stigmatise the history of religion and theology.”[9] It is fully in line with the nature of faith, Feuerbach argues, to slap a nonbeliever on the face rather than turn the other cheek, which could alternatively be the Christian’s focus.

In short, the belief that God exists is all that counts to the theist, who is prepared to fight on behalf of the belief, for it is easier for the human mind to grasp such a belief than the nature of God’s reality itself. “The existence in the existence of God is the belief in a special existence,” Feuerbach explains, “separate from the existence of man and Nature.”[10] In other words, “Existence, empirical existence, is proved to me by the senses alone; and in the question as to the being of God, the existence implied has not the significance of inward reality, of truth, but the significance of a formal, external existence.”[11] The special nature of the existence thus goes beyond the belief in whether God exists. As Feuerbach points out, God “is not only a being for us, a being in our faith, our feeling, our nature, he is a being in himself, a being external to us,--in a word, not merely a belief, a feeling, a thought, but also a real existence apart from belief, feeling, and thought.”[12]  

The transcendence of such a real existence is unfortunately undercut by the heavily anthropomorphic nature of the god-man type. Hence Feuerbach makes the following distinction: “But it is equally perverse to attempt to deduce the Incarnation from purely speculative, i.e., metaphysical abstract grounds; for metaphysics apply only to the first person of the Godhead, who does not become incarnate, who is not a dramatic person.”[13] The Trinity thus incorporates the idea that “God is universal, abstract Being, simply the idea of Being; and yet he must be conceived as a personal, individual being.”[14] God as a historical person is difficult to reconcile with the universal quality of reality itself. Likewise, it is much easier to relate Brahman than Vishnu or Shiva to the real in Hinduism. To say that the atman (soul) is the same as Brahman, which pervades everything and everywhere, is of a different relation than that which exists between the atman and one of the deities.

Yet even to say that the Christian Godhead or the Hindu Brahman is real—and in a sense that does not dovetail with the nature of reason or feeling—is misleading, for the association involves the category mistake of taking religion as metaphysics. Is eternity really a metaphysical concept? Is reality a religious concept? If God is the Creator of what exists, then to reduce God to that which is real mistakes the Creator for the creation. Stopping at reality thus falls short of God’s radical transcendence. To yearn experientially for the very condition behind or aside from reality extends the experience of transcendence. To think of God as not depending on reality, but, rather, as giving rise to it pushes the deity that much further away from the entrapments of human understanding, which so likes to capture the divine rather than fall away. To ponder God’s kind of existence as sui generis is thus to unhinge it from even being the real. That sort of existence is distinctly religious, and given the religious notion of transcendence the nature of God’s existence necessarily transcends our intellect. So how could we expect to stay long with the comparatively easy metaphysical notion of reality? It’s time for religionists to leave the foreign garden of metaphysics in order to return home to finally ponder, just what is the native fauna among the untended weeks in the proverbial Garden of Eden?  


Related: Spiritual Leadership in Business: Transcending the Ethical, a short book that is available at Amazon in print and as an ebook.



1. Ludwig Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, George Eliot, trans. (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1957), 37.
2. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 54.
3. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 201.
4. Ibid.
5. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 199.
6. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 186.
7. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 201.
8. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 329.
9. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 202.
10. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 203.
11. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 201.
12. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 199.
13. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 52.
14. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, 213.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Is God the Father Marginalized in Christianity?

The name of Jesus (or Christ) is common on Christian lips. “Jesus saves” is a typical expression, whereas expressions highlighting the Father or the kingdom of God are much less frequent, and explicit references to the Holy Spirit (or Ghost) are essentially missing. As the three manifestations, or “persons,” of the Trinity are consubstantial (i.e., of the same substance), the hypertrophy (i.e., maximizing one part of a system) is worthy of investigation. This is not to say that equal attention to all three is optimal; Jesus himself says in the Gospels that he came to preach the mysteries of his Father’s kingdom. This statement implies that followers of Christ should focus most on the Father and his kingdom. That this is not the case suggests that historical and contemporary Christianity has missed the point. This should hardly be surprising, for throughout the Gospel of Mark, strangers get Jesus’ point whereas the disciples tend to miss it.

This church has an explicit Christocentric focus. (Maliz Ong) 

The default, or “party-line,” which is hardly ever questioned within Christianity, goes something like this. “Concerning Christ’s life the Creed speaks only about the mysteries of the Incarnation (conception and birth) and Paschal mystery (passion, crucifixion, death, burial, descent into hell, resurrection, and ascension). . . . ‘All that Jesus did and taught, from the beginning until the day when he was taken up to heaven,’ is to be seen in the light of the mysteries of Christmas and Easter.”[1] Along this line, Jesus is focused on himself, which implies that he is not just the intercessory means to the Father, but also the end-point. Unfortunately, this assumption is one that Jesus himself does not hold in the Gospels. Accordingly, the nearly monopolistic focus on Jesus Christ is problematic.  

The Logos became man “in order to do his Father’s will.”[2] The incarnation is thus a means; the focus should rightly be on the Father’s will.  “Jesus came to Galilee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God.”[3] In Luke, Jesus says, “I must preach the kingdom of God to the other cities also, because for this purpose I have been sent.”[4] He views himself and his life as a means to something else—I dare say, something that he views as more important than himself. Were the kingdom of God synonymous with Jesus, he would say he must preach about himself. I came to preach the mysteries pertaining to myself. In saying he came to preach the kingdom of God, Jesus distinguishes himself from his Father’s kingdom.

Lest it be construed that Jesus is the king of the kingdom, as per the “Christ the King” feast day at the end of the liturgical calendar, Jesus refers to the kingdom as his Father’s rather than his own.[5] We know from the ancient Greeks that deities cannot die; this is the main way in which the Greek gods and goddesses differ from humans. Presumably immortality holds in the case of Jesus’ Father (as well as Jesus Christ). So the king of the kingdom cannot be the Son because the Father always exists. That Christians regard Jesus as a king (the Romans do so to taunt the Jewish leaders) suggests that the focus on Jesus is exaggerated. Reason itself should not be so offended, as if the mind goes on holiday when it comes to religion.

A more troubling problem pertains to the Christ-centric historical approach ensconced in the typical Christian mindset. Both the kingdom of God and its king, Jesus’ Father, are marginalized. That is to say, scant attention is devoted to them—the obsession on Jesus Christ crowding them out as the go-between is treated as an end in itself. To treat a means as an end is deeply problematic in itself, especially if the means views itself as a means. In coming to preach on the mysteries of his Father’s kingdom, wherein his Father’s will is done, Jesus is not focused on himself. Ignoring this point, however, his followers have focused on him, and thus ironically deviate from following his lead. It is reasonable, I submit, to posit that a follower should be focused on what the leader says is his focus. If this focus is not on the leader himself, then a follower goes against the leader in focusing on the latter.

Lest it be argued that the invisible kingdom and its king are too far removed from human perception and cognition to be grasped—hence the mediator is necessary—the presumed knowledge of divine revelation undermines the claim. In other words, that the religious, theologians, and laity tend to assume that they cannot be wrong about revelation being revelation (and even on how it must be interpreted!) undermines the claim that the Father and his kingdom are too distant theologically to be petitioned and entered, respectively, directly. Put another way, the sheer declarativeness in typical statements pertaining to revelation belie the claim that a Christian’s focus cannot be on the Father or his kingdom.

To be consistent with Jesus’ own approach, a Christian is therefore rightly focused on the Father’s will and his kingdom more than on Jesus Christ. I am assuming here that the end being served by a means is more important that the means itself; hence the use of served by. In terms of religious objects, the Christian imitating Jesus is most focused on the Father and his kingdom. The latter two would be central to the Christian’s mindset and Christian liturgy. That is to say, worship of the Father primarily, in line with, “Our Father, who is in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” In spite of this prayer taught by Jesus, “In the name of Jesus” is much more likely to be in a petition, prayer, and sermon or homily. In fact, the all-consuming gravity of this obsession has left little if any space for references to the Holy Spirit.

 Christians on the street are more likely to ask, “Have you accepted Jesus Christ?” that preach on the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven. The hackneyed question may legitimately be answered by another, “Have you?” The declarative certainty of the likely response undercuts the Christian’s premise that 1) humans are not infallible, 2) belief does not constitute knowledge, and 3) the Father (and his kingdom) are too distant theologically, or “wholly other,” for human beings to relate to, or focus on, directly rather than through an intercessor or mediator. This is not to say that following Jesus’ example and teachings is not important; rather, it is to make this point.



[1] Catechism of the Catholic Church, Part 1, Sec. 2, Ch. 2, Art. 3, para. 3, line 516.
[2] Ibid, line 512.
[3] Mark 1:14-15.
[4] Luke 4:43.
[5] Matthew 26:29.