In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Thomas Merton’s Bangkok Lecture of December 1968Archbishop Rembert G. Weakland, OSBPreparations for the Meeting and its PurposeAfter being elected abbot primate of the Benedictine Confederation in September 1967, I was encouraged by discovering that the Benedictines and the two branches of the Cistercians (those of the Common Observance and those of the Strict Observance, or Trappists) worked together on missionary issues through an office in Paris called Aide à (...) l’Implantation Monastique (AIM).1 After World War II many new monastic foundations were made in the developing countries of Africa, Asia, and South America, commonly referred to as the Third World. These fledgling monasteries needed special care that frequently could not be provided by their founding monasteries in Europe or the United States. AIM sought to fill that gap. There existed an unwritten agreement among the three superiors of the two branches of the Cistercians and the abbot primate that the historical differences in the West among those following the Rule of Saint Benedict would not be emphasized in the new areas of expansion.One of the purposes for establishing AIM was to plan and organize meetings of monks and nuns in those vast areas of the world.2 Thus, AIM and its staff acted as the prime instrument for pulling together all the threads that went into the meeting in Bangkok in December 1968. They ultimately were responsible for selecting inculturation as the main theme to be treated.At that time, I noticed that this theme was frequently being discussed among us Superiors General in Rome, especially among those religious congregations with newer foundations in the developing countries of Asia, Africa, and South America.3 Many came to realize that this theme was important, not only for newer houses, but also for older ones in the Third World, as they too were rethinking how they engaged the cultures in which they had been implanted. We superiors devoted many meetings to this theme, bringing in experts in theology and anthropology to reflect with us on current thinking and to animate our discussions. Because of the positive treatment at Vatican Council II of the other great religions of the world, this theme was “in the air” at that time. In the Far East the question of inculturation for Catholic missionaries was not a new one in itself, as Christians had been posing it since the time of the first missionary efforts in China and Japan centuries before. For monks, however, it was being asked for the first time and with some urgency. Monasticism [End Page 91] posed questions of adaptation and accommodation in cultures already possessing deeply rooted manifestations of a similar way of life that went under the same label. Thus, since there was already a concept of monasticism and the existence of monks in Asian cultures, the Bangkok meeting was an occasion for reexamining the question of inculturation.At that same time there was a heightened sensitivity to any sign of a residual colonialism in many parts of the Third World. When Western groups made no attempt at inculturation, it was interpreted as old European cultural colonialism, or, as some were beginning to say, new American economic imperialism.When some Benedictine and Cistercian superiors in Asia suggested inculturation as the theme for this meeting, they added the suggestion that superiors of the founding monasteries in Europe and the United States should attend the meeting and interact with the superiors of the local houses. These superiors felt it was important for the founding superiors to gain a better understanding of the issues involved in cultural adaptation and that they be willing to give to the local superiors a broader berth for future developments. For this to occur, the presence of experts at the meeting was also imperative. It was then that Merton’s name was suggested. It was rightly felt that he was well informed about both Eastern and Western forms of monasticism and would be a font of insights and a ready guide for the discussions. In addition, his views—everyone agreed—would be well accepted by the Western superiors. Since the two languages of the meeting were to be French and English, Merton could also... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Religious Identity and Openness in a Pluralistic WorldRita M. GrossIn our final sessions after twenty years of working together, we have been asked to reflect in some way on identity and openness in a pluralistic world. Specifically, the question is, "How do I understand my own identity as a religious Buddhist or Christian in light of the fact that I am open to the validity of the beliefs held (...) by the other tradition?"Frankly, this puzzle seems like a no-brainer to me and always has. Religions are language systems, and no language is universal and absolute. End of problem. In one fell swoop, as we concede the relativity of all our language games, we also recognize that more than one language could be "valid," whatever that might mean. There is no reason to assume that all people speak my language and it would be illogical to claim that people who don't speak my language are deficient. The worth and utility of my language is in no way diminished because it is not the only language in the world. Language is a tool through which we communicate, and any language could be a useful tool, so long as we don't endow it with universal relevance, more freight than it can bear.There may or may not be a formless absolute that grounds all finite existence. All religions assert that there is, whether as a being or as an experience. But beyond that assertion nothing can be determined because all such assertions must be expressed in language or some other limited expression—an expression in form. There is no other option. Much as we might long to transcend expression in form and leap into mind-to-mind transmission, in a public medium that is not possible. Many of us may have intuited such experiences of mind-to-mind transmission, but when we open our mouths to speak, we can only do so in the realm of form. And so we are stuck with our myriad expressions of a formless, transcendent absolute and cannot even determine for sure if we are talking about the same thing when we try to express the inexpressible.Therefore, we are compelled to concede the limits of language. This is the solution to the problem of the coexistence of a strong individual religious identity with openness to the relevance of other religious languages. Other religions, as well as my [End Page 15] own, are nothing more than highly relative language systems. There is no logical or spiritual way for them to be anything more. It seems to me that copping to the limitations of language, to the inability of language ever to capture truth completely, is completely essential in the pluralistic world we now inhabit. It is hard to imagine how people could believe that the deity speaks Arabic, not Hebrew, or Hebrew, not Arabic, and biblical Hebrew (rather than any other version of Hebrew) at that! It is hard to imagine how people could believe that they have the actual words of Jesus in the red print in their new testaments, even though those words were originally written in a language he never spoke and were translated into an archaic English that we no longer speak and barely understand. Nothing but egotistical pride can drive such self-aggrandizement, such identification of my viewpoint, my verbal attempts to express my experience, with the eternal and ultimate Way Things Are.In light of the historical and cross-cultural information that is now more than abundantly available, the only rational and humane conclusion to be drawn is that all religious institutions and creedal systems are human constructions dependent at least in part, if not wholly dependent, on the particular circumstances of those who construct and utter them. Therefore, they are of limited rather than universal relevance. Their cultural specificity is too obvious for any other conclusion to be feasible. Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, and English are not universal languages, and only extreme hubris could claim the Formless Absolute speaks my language, not yours. Thus, even if our religions owe their genesis to some transcendent, nonhistorical source, they can be codified and captured only in a relative... (shrink)

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:Masao AbeJohn B. Cobb Jr.Masao Abe spent a year at the Blaisdell Institute in Claremont, 1965–1966. I was on sabbatical in Germany that year. On return I learned from many people that I had missed a great opportunity for an authentic encounter with a living Buddhist thinker who understood Christianity very well. Fortunately, he visited Claremont again, although more briefly, and this time I was able to take advantage (...) of his visit.I was, and am, convinced that Whiteheadians have much to gain from the encounter with Buddhists. At one level we can grasp and assimilate the idea of dependent origination or pratitya samutpada quite easily. For Whitehead too the ultimate reality consists in the many becoming one. For Whitehead human experience is an example of this reality and, indeed, that example is the one he most fully analyzed.On the other hand, we Whiteheadians incline to objectify the whole process. More often than with Whitehead himself, we are describing a process that is going on objectively out there. Abe taught me the difference. He liked to distinguish the perspective of the swimmer battling against the current in dangerous waters and observers on the bank. To understand that all unit events are instances of dependent origination is one thing; to experience oneself in that way is quite another. And what is especially important is to recognize that experiencing oneself is not objectifying one’s past or imagining oneself in the eyes of an observer. It is embodying the absolutely immediate, ever-changing reality that is experience now.Whitehead never thought of his ontological analysis as having direct religious importance. For him, as part of the understanding that all things are perpetually perishing, it constituted the ultimate threat to the meaningfulness of life. The religious dimension came as a response to this threat.For Abe, of course, the full existential realization of what we are, is in itself salvific in the sense of healing. It puts an end to guilt, defensiveness, and attachment, and it makes us wholly acceptant of whatever is. It leads to, or perhaps is, enlightenment, expressing itself in wisdom and compassion. Given the history of Buddhism, one must accept the profound truth in this affirmation, although, given the history of Buddhism, one must also recognize that matters are never as simple as this formulation sounds.I have spoken personally of an example of what and how I learned from Abe. This is a testimonial that can be matched by scores, perhaps hundreds, of others. Certainly [End Page 119] in our ongoing Buddhist-Christian dialogue group, Abe was the foremost teacher. My goal in helping to organize this group was to give my fellow Christian theologians the chance to learn from him and other Buddhists. I am proud of the extent to which, especially because of Abe’s gifts as a teacher, my purpose was fulfilled.Appreciating the truth of Buddhism, and agreeing with Abe that Christian theology through the centuries has been distorted by clinging to substantialist modes of thought, I was particularly eager to engage him in a dialogue about the relation of Buddhism and Christian process theology, in particular a Christian process theology that recognized and appreciated the spiritual value of Buddhist enlightenment. Since Abe felt that Buddhists had something to learn from Christianity about social ethics, the suggestions of Christian theology, including its process form, for modifications or developments of Buddhism were not wholly lost on him. He supervised two dissertations by Buddhists on this topic, of which I was the official advisor, one by a Zen Buddhist (Chris Ives) and the other by a Pure Land Buddhist (John Ishihara, now Yokota). He criticized fellow Buddhists in our dialogue group for not being as open to learning from their Christian dialogue partners as these partners were open to Buddhist insights. In short he supported real dialogue, always ready to share his wisdom, and encouraging openness to further development of Buddhism.None of us is perfect, or, at least, none of us fulfills what someone else would see as perfection. In my judgment Abe was unnecessarily wedded to features of his Buddhist tradition that inhibited learning from Christianity, particularly in its process... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Global Healing and Reconciliation:The Gift and Task of Religion, a Buddhist-Christian PerspectivePeter C. Phan"No peace among nations without peace among the religions. No peace among the religions without dialogue between the religions. No dialogue between the religions without investigation of the foundation of the religions." Hans Küng's oft-quoted dictum proves even more apposite in the current international situation. Whether or not the September 11, 2001, tragedy and its aftermath (...) can be accounted for in religious terms, there has been a widespread perception that they were part of the conflict between Islam and the West and that this "clash of civilizations" has deep roots in different religious worldviews.Hindsight now shows us that "smart bombs" and armies do not and cannot resolve political problems in Afghanistan and Iraq or spread democracy in the world no matter how one judges the morality of these wars. The question then arises whether there are other ways and means to achieve world peace and reconciliation, to bring about healing among nations, and whether religions can be counted among these. More specifically, if religions can be harnessed to this task, which elements of the "foundation of the religions"—to use Hans Küng's words—need to be investigated in the dialogue among religions in order to bring about reconciliation among religions that in turns leads to reconciliation among nations?This essay explores how Buddhists and Christians can together serve the cause of peace and reconciliation among nations. I will first reflect on the nature, strategies, and spirituality of reconciliation. Next, I consider how the Buddha's and Jesus' teachings on justice, forgiveness, and reconciliation can contribute to global healing. To show the transformative power of these teachings, I conclude with some reflections on how the followers of the Buddha and Jesus can work together for world peace and global healing.Global Healing and Reconciliation: Strategies and SpiritualityAt first sight it seems preposterous and hypocritical to speak of global healing and reconciliation as the gift and task of religion. A brief glance at the history of global [End Page 89] warfare will persuade us of the sad fact that, in the words of Charles Kimball, "more wars have been waged, more people killed, and these days more evil perpetrated in the name of religion than by any other institutional force in human history."1 One is reminded of Jesus' injunction that we must first take the log out of our own eyes before attempting to take the speck out of our neighbor's (Matthew 7:5). Yet, religion is arguably the most powerful and effective institutional force for peace and reconciliation. To see how religion can bring this gift of peace to the world and achieve this task of global healing, a brief consideration of the nature and process of reconciliation is helpful.Etymologically, reconciliation means to cause two estranged persons or groups to meet each other again (re-, again + concilium, meeting). By extension, it means to resolve a dispute and to re-establish friendship and harmony, or, at a minimum, peaceful coexistence between opposed individuals or groups.2Reconciliation is both a process and a state of affairs. As process, it sets into motion a complex of agencies and strategies that cannot be used as a universally applicable recipe but requires appropriate tailoring to diverse contexts.3 The process includes certain intermediate stages as conditions of possibility for achieving the desired result. As a personal and sociopolitical state of affairs, reconciliation is an ever-fragile and elusive reality. Ultimately, because of human propensities toward violence and domination, total reconciliation and perfect peace is not achievable by human efforts but is hoped and prayed for as an eschatological gift bestowed by God or as a transcendent blessing beyond this world. This fact does not of course diminish our responsibility to bring about global healing by means of all the resources available, religious and otherwise.What Reconciliation Is NotIn our work for reconciliation it is essential to ascertain what it is not. In a helpful study on reconciliation Catholic theologian Robert Schreiter distinguishes three concepts that are allied to reconciliation but can distort its true sense. The first... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Acceptance of the Other as a Similarly Valid Path and Awareness of One's Self-Culpability:A Deepening Realization of My Religious Identity through DialogueKenneth K. TanakaAs the title of my paper indicates, two features of my identity have become more vivid as the result of my participation in the International Buddhist-Christian Theological Encounter (IBCTE) sessions. The first of the two stemmed from my rude awakening that not everyone involved with our (...) sessions accepted the assumption that the other was a similarly valid soteriological path.In one of our sessions a few years back, the discussion moved to a topic of the nature of "ultimate path," which, as it turned out, began to raise some extremely sensitive issues. An unusually tense atmosphere hung over the discussion table, a rare turn of events for our usually jovial dialogue group composed mostly of liberal-minded members. One of the Christian members gave voice to her fundamental view that Jesus was the sole path through which one can be saved. It was clearly what anyone would regard as an exclusivist position. In asking for further clarification, she reiterated her view that her Christian faith necessitated that she took that position, and that I as a Buddhist was, therefore, not included in that soteriological scheme. I responded to her that I understood that I would not be in her scheme since I was not Christian, but would I nevertheless be saved? After some hesitation, in so many words, she replied that I would not be! Had she been a member of a more conservative group, it would have been easier to accept that kind of a response, but coming from an academic with liberal leanings, her comments caught me off guard. But on the other hand, I appreciated her honesty in being true to her understanding of the tradition, for it seemed to me that it was not an easy thing for her to say.This short encounter has been etched firmly in my mind and, ironically, remains for me the most memorable moment among all of the IBCTE sessions attended. I did not pursue the matter further at that time (aside from the fact that time had run [End Page 41] out for that particular session), since I was aware that such an exclusive position (as distinguished from those of inclusivism and pluralism) was common among Christians. I just happened to have encountered it in a rather unexpected circumstance and was not prepared with a comeback.This encounter forced me to inquire about my own position concerning the salvation of people other than Buddhists. Would I regard her as not being saved? After some probing and reflection on my part, I can say with little hesitation that I would never be able to say, "no, you are not." I have no basis on which to refute what her time-tested tradition promises. I am not in a position to negate the claims of her tradition or to question the sincerity of her commitment. From my Buddhist perspective there is no universal criterion on which to make judgments about others. My personal view on this issue has been similar to John Hick's pluralism position, but without his insistence that all paths reflect and lead to the same truth.Perhaps, my view reflects a prevailing, modern or postmodern understanding of Shinran (1173–1262), the founder of my tradition (Jodo-Shinshu), who is often portrayed as an extremely liberal thinker as seen in the following words attributed to him from the Tannisho (emphasis added):Now, whether you accept the Nembutsu, entrusting yourself to it, or reject it, that is your own decision.These rather well-known passages reinforce the image of Shinran, particularly in the Jodo-Shinshu community in the United States, as an accommodating and tolerant thinker.However, the picture is a little more complex, for I am also aware that Shinran held what I refer to as an "exceptionalist" view. Based largely on his historical belief that with the arrival of Mappo, the Last Period of the Dharma, there were no other teachings appropriate for the age of spiritual decadence. While he was tolerant of others, thereby allowing even his... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 23 (2003) 77-83 [Access article in PDF] Responses Jeffrey Carlson Dominican University This is a revision and combination of two presentations originally given at the Annual Meeting of the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies in Denver, Colorado, in November 2001. The first was a panel presentation on the theme" The Possibilities and Perils of Double Belonging," and the second was a response to five panelists who addressed the (...) theme "Personal Religious Journeys." Multiple Belonging: Possibilities, Challenges, and the Ongoing Dominance of Christianity in Contemporary Buddhist-Christian Dialogue When I had the opportunity to welcome participants to the Fifth International Buddhist-Christian Conference organized and sponsored by the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies at DePaul University (then my home institution) in 1996, I cracked a joke along the lines of "it's so good to have so many Buddhist-Christians" here. No one laughed. At the recent International Parliament of the World's Religions events, in 1993 in Chicago and in 1999 in Cape Town, many participants needed hyphens or dashes to list their religious affiliations when they registered. And more recently, at the 2001 Annual Meeting of the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies, I conducted an informal poll of the audience at one of the well-attended sessions. I asked, "How many persons in the audience are not now and have never been Christian?" Only one person raised a hand. Buddhist-Christians. Or at least, Buddhists who used to be Christians. And so it was timely for the Society to initiate some sessions exploring the theme "The Possibilities and Perils of Double Belonging," coupled with a session on "Personal Journeys," in which several participants described boundary crossings between traditions as well as internalized combinations of them.Robert Schreiter has analyzed our topic and made a number of important observations, suggesting three distinctive ways in which one might describe double belonging. One might think, first, in terms of what he calls sequential belonging, in which "a person has moved from one religious tradition to another but retains some traces of the earlier belief." A second category is dialogical belonging, in which "two traditions dwell side by side within the life of a person, and there may be greater or less communication between the two.... The self that mediates this duality is... [End Page 77] seen as... a conversation that actualizes now one tradition and then another." Finally, there is simultaneous belonging, in which "a person has moved through sequential belonging but then chooses to go back and reappropriate earlier belongings on a par with current allegiances. This reappropriation does not entail subsuming one system into another but rather finding a way for them to coexist beyond dialogical belonging." 1 This simultaneous belonging, Schreiter says, is truly rare. He cites Raimundo Panikkar and Julia Ching as exponents of such a position. So, from Schreiter's point of view, when and if we speak seriously about the possibilities of double belonging, we may do well to clarify which form it is taking and which of these categories—sequential, dialogical, or simultaneous—most closely describes what we intend to assert—that is, if we are serious about these possibilities as live options. But there are opposing voices."If you are a Christian, it is better to develop spiritually within your religion and be a genuine, good Christian. If you are a Buddhist, be a genuine Buddhist. Not something half-and-half!This may cause only confusion in your mind....Don't try to put a yak's head on a sheep's body." So says His Holiness the Dalai Lama. 2 A host of other critical questions problematize the very notion of double belonging. For example: Do scholars in contexts like the American Academy of Religion and the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies, in an attempt to undo centuries of Western imperialism, become in their anticolonialist approaches what Wendy Doniger has called "cryptotheologians" and uncritical advocates for those non-Western traditions and cultures they study? 3 Another critique: When Westerners increasingly study Eastern religions, does the East appeal to the West, as Tessa Bartholomeusz has suggested, as an arena of superficial self... (shrink)