Chapter 3
Common Ground and Enemy
Territory:
How Should We Approach Adherents of Other Faiths?
David John Hesselgrave
Retired Professor of Mission, Trinity Evangelical
Divinity School, IL, USA
Published in
Global Missiology, Featured Articles, January 2005, www.globalmissiology.net
“Dear
God, I bet it’s very hard for you to love everybody in the world. There are
only four people in our family and I can never do it.” Nan.
“For
all the gods of the peoples are worthless idols, but the LORD made the heavens”
(Ps.
96:5).
Prologue
One
heirloom already passed on to my oldest son is a small shell-cover purse. It
was a prize possession of my paternal grandfather, David
Hesselgrave. Grandfather was said to have been an avid student of the
Scriptures and became an ordained minister in the Universalist
Church. When the first Parliament of the World’s Religions was held in Chicago
in 1893, grandfather was probably one of its most enthusiastic attendees. It
was there that he purchased the purse bearing the Parliament inscription. It
was there that he listened to the likes of the
Jainist “chosen one,” Virchand Gandhi, and the prominent Hindu
philosopher, Swami Vivekananda.
Most historians credit the 1893
Parliament with opening America to religions foreign to both
our continent and our culture. And therefore by the time the Second Parliament
of the World’s Religions was celebrated in Chicago’s Palmer House in 1993, the
situation was completely different. Not only were almost all
major (and many “minor”) world
faiths represented—most of them had found a home in
America. This time organizers attempted to
build on Swami Vivekananda’s pronouncement of one hundred years before: “We believe not only in universal
toleration, but we accept all religions to be true.”
Discussions relating to religion
and the particular religions often encounter roadblocks early
on. Few subjects are fraught with a higher degree of passion on the one hand,
and a greater diversity of opinions on the other. Open
discussions, therefore, often generate more heat
than light. Scholarly dialogues easily become mired in minutiae and often yield
little that is conclusive or helpful.
As
for the Christian mission to people of other religions, in the public arena the
very idea of mission is challenged by a pervasive relativism and loss of
absolutes, a general
misunderstanding of
what it means to be “tolerant” of other faiths, and repeated appeals to be
appreciative of religious diversity. In the theological arena mission is
challenged by a diversity of views as
to the relationship between Christianity and other world religions. In the missions themselves, there are various
opinions on how go about the task of relating
to adherents of other religions and communicating the gospel to them.
Where, then, should we begin and how should we
proceed? Since the nature and meaning
of mission is discussed in various places in this book we will proceed here by briefly reviewing the history referred to above and
by discussing the meaning and significance
of “religion” and “religions.” Then we will look to Scripture and consider various aspects of the missionary encounter with
other faiths in its light.
Two
Parliaments of the World’s Religions and their Aftermaths.
The religious context of the last decades of the
nineteenth and the first decades of the twentieth centuries did not auger well
for solid, scriptural answers to questions having to do with the encounter between Christians and
adherents of other religions. The rise of the Social Gospel movement; the inroads of Higher Criticism; and the
Parliament of World Religions at the
end of the nineteenth century were followed by the significant but inclusive Edinburgh Missionary Conference in 1910,
the Modernist-Fundamentalist debates,
the formation of various alliances including the International Missionary Council, serious discussions on the Christian
mission to non-Christian religions in I.M.C. in the 1920s and 1930s, and the inauguration of a Laymen’s Missionary
Inquiry After 100 Years (of missions from North America). Primary promoters of
the Inquiry were Rufus M. Jones of
Haverford College and William Ernest Hocking of Harvard. It put forward a “reconceptualized mission” that idealized
religion and depicted particular religions
as ways of thinking about a final truth to which all aspired. The aim of Christian missions was to contribute to that goal.
We
desire the triumph of that final truth: we need not prescribe the route. . . He
[the
Christian missionary, ed.] will look forward, not to the destruction of these religions, but to their continued co-existence
with Christianity, each stimulating the
other in growth toward the ultimate goal, unity in the completest religious truth. (Hocking 1932:44)
The Inquiry was undertaken by the initiative of
certain individuals. It was not inaugurated
by any ecclesiastical body as such and its findings were subscribed to by only one denomination. But it reflected
disenchantment with traditional missions on the part of more than a few. Indeed some liberals went so far as to say
that, so extensive and pervasive are
the truth and good of other religions, Christian missions are no longer necessary.
Unequivocal answers to these and
similar ideas were not long in coming from within the I.M.C.
itself. The most definitive and exhaustive response emanated from the voice and
pen of the Professor of the History of Religions at the
University of Leiden, (often spoken of as “brilliant”) Hendrik Kraemer. At the
behest of the I.M.C., Kraemer prepared a
response to the
Inquiry for the World Missionary Conference at Tambaram, Madras, India in 1938 and published it in his justly
famous book The Christian Message in a Non-Christian
World (Kraemer 1938). Though
Kraemer’s very formidable arguments were debated in Madras, and though the arguments of that book and other works
(see Kraemer 1958, 1962 et al.)
resonated with some readers over subsequent years (Edmund Perry to whom
we will shortly refer being one such), they were largely eclipsed by
considerations growing out of the Second
World War and its aftermath. The formation of World Council of Churches in 1948: the incorporation of
the I.M.C. into the World Council in 1961;
and important ecumenical gatherings in 1947, 1952, 1954 (cf. Brown 1957:35- 46)—all of these meetings were more or less
occupied with war and peace and a renewed and overriding concern for
church unity. As a result, Kraemer’s arguments for Christian uniqueness and exclusivism never received the
degree of attention they so richly deserved.
Unlike their ecumenical counterparts, post-World
War II evangelicals were primarily concerned
with reaching new peoples and planting new churches. The “common ground” of their central concern had more to do
with available means of communicating the
gospel to adherents of other faiths. For half a century and more, macro- and
micro-strategies for world
evangelization found their way from the headquarters of evangelical missions and the halls of evangelical schools to
the mission fields of the world. In fact, a case could be made for saying that evangelicals were better prepared to
encounter other faiths on their own turf than they were to meet
representatives of those faiths at the 1993 Parliament
of the World's Religions.
When 6000 delegates met in the centennial
Parliament, the common ground they pursued was a unifying statement on global ethics. An intermediate goal was a
“mystical experience of pluralism.”
Delegates were admonished to “ditch their doctrines.” They united in singing “Leaning on the everlasting
arms,” but only after excising Jesus’ name and changing the lyrics to “Oh, what fellowship. Oh, what joy divine. I
can feel the fellowship all around.”
As the nine-page global ethic statement evolved it was carefully crafted so as to avoid even one mention of the word
“god” lest Buddhists and others be offended
by its inclusion (cf. Hirsley 1993 and Jones 1993).
With plenty of time to prepare, conservative
evangelicals might have done well to schedule
a simultaneous consultation devoted to the uniqueness of Christ and his gospel.
As it was, some of them opposed any
identification with the Parliament; others attended as observers; and
most settled for the fact that Charles Colson was invited to address and audience at a peripheral event midway through the
Parliament proceedings. Without settling
longstanding and irritating issues having to do with establishing common cause with each other, evangelicals continued various
efforts to exploit “common ground” strategies
for evangelizing adherents of other religions.
Without
minimizing the importance of issues having to do with intra-faith cooperation,
it is the latter quest with which we concern ourselves here.
But to do so in a hopeful and helpful fashion we should “begin
at the beginning” lest we trip over unstated pre-understandings and assumptions
later on.
The
Source and Significance of Religion and Particular Religions
Thinking in generic terms, and because the Bible
does not use the word “religion” (we inherited
it from Cicero), we will opt here for Lactantius’ and Augustine’s understanding
of religion in terms of the linking or binding
idea inherent in the Latin word religare. In the
broad sense, religion has to do with binding, linking, or re-connecting people
to the
Divine, supernatural or transcendent, however
conceived. Particular religions, then, can be thought of as the various systems of faith and worship that attempt to
make this linkage or
reconnection possible.
What, then, is the source of religion in general
and the various religions in particular? As one might expect, philosophers,
psychologists and anthropologists come up with very
different answers and explanations. Logically,
however, there are only four possible answers
to the source question: the source of religion must be God, man, Satan or some
combination of these three. The position that
seems to be in accordance with Scripture is that God is the author of religion
in the sense that he has created human beings as
worshiping beings and sought fellowship with man. In terms of
the particular religions, however, he
is author of true religion only. All other religions find their
source in man or
Satan, or man and Satan acting in collaboration
with each other.
Of course, to say this opens up a Pandora’s box,
particularly in our contemporary world. We are immediately confronted with additional questions having to do the
distinction
between true and false religions, the presence or
absence of truth in the various religions, and why God would allow false religions to exist in the first place.
Exclusivists,
inclusivists, and pluralists will clash on such
questions. Exclusivists believe that only one religion is true (or, at the very least, superior). Inclusivists believe
that truth is to be found
in all religions. Pluralists subsume all religions
under an overarching truth or reality of which all are reflections and to which all aspire.
The position taken here is
that of Christian exclusivism and that basically of the kind espoused by Edmund Perry when he writes,
Since from the
viewpoint of Gospel faith the one only True and Living God is the God of
Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and since
the Gospel alone brings men to this God, all
other faith claims and systems lead men away from him. Religion is therefore,
first of all, the generic term comprehending the universal phenomenon of
men individually and collectively being led away from God in manifold
ways by divers claims and systems. Religion in this generic sense exists of course only in the specific
religions, each of which is a concrete manifestation or actualization of a particular people being led
away from God in a particular way by a particular schema, but as a
descriptive term “religion” expresses the unity of human life being oriented
and organized away from the God of Gospel
faith through the diversity of creeds, codes, myths, cults and ways of
worship. (Perry 1956:88)
No doubt Perry’s lines will raise
the eyebrows of most and the temperatures of many. But
they accord well with the words of the Psalmist
above and, as we shall see, with the general
tenor of Scripture. In agreeing with Perry at this point, the words of C. S.
Lewis
come to mind: “ . . . I was not
writing to expound something I could call ‘my religion,’ but
to expound ‘mere’
Christianity, which is what it is and was what it was long before I was born and whether I like it or not” (Lewis
1960:viii).
We will not pause here to quibble about the
precise definitions of Perry’s “Gospel faith” and Lewis’s “mere Christianity.” Perry delineates the gospel in terms of
the “ . . . biblical story of a promise [to Abraham in Genesis 12:2-3], a person
[Jesus Christ as in Acts 13:32- 33] and a people
[the family of Christ, the Church
in Ephesians 5:25] (Perry 1958:26; italics
his, interpolations mine). As is well known, Lewis gives considerable space to “myth” in the early history of mankind. In both
cases we might have hoped for a more extended
discussion of the authority of the biblical text itself.
As for Perry’s definitions of “religion” and
“particular religions” they also entail a semantic problem because, according to his understanding, Christianity
itself does not really qualify as a
“religion.” But if that is a problem when it comes to general usage, it is no
problem at all for Perry because in his view it is Christ himself and not
Christianity that actually provides the
linkage or restored relationship with God that religions as such only purport to provide. And with that proposition we
find ourselves in complete agreement.
The
Theology of Man and His Religions—A Brief Introduction
If Genesis and Exodus are crucial to the story of the “religious man,” the first three chapters of Romans are crucial to his theology. In writing to the Romans, Paul introduces his letter by testifying to a central theme
informed by both divine inspiration and personal experience. He says, “The gospel is the power of God for salvation to
everyone that believes . . . For in
it the righteousness of God is revealed . . . as it is written, ‘The righteous shall live by faith’” (Rom. 1:16-17). In
the chapters that follow he lays out God’s
revelation concerning sin, justification, sanctification, glorification,
mission and Christian living—the major doctrines with which religion is
concerned. At this point, we will
primarily consider Paul’s doctrine of sin (i.e., hamartiology) dealt with in
Romans 1:18-3:31. These chapters
translate the stories of Genesis and Exodus into a basic theology of mankind’s relationship with the God who
made him and also with gods of his own making.
First, Paul
writes about what is variously called primal religion, tribal religion,
animism, dynamism and, sometimes, folk
religion (each of which has its own nuances but all of which are at least similar). He says that from the
very beginning the Creator God’s eternal
power and divine nature were made known to mankind by virtue of the things he made, but people did not glorify him nor did they
thank him. Instead, they deliberately set
of in a direction which caused them to became deranged in their thinking,
darkened in their affections,
derelict in their worship, and depraved in their behavior (cf. Rom. 1:18:32).
Now it is imperative that we
understand Paul’s teaching here. Though the word is not used
(we will take a closer look at it later in this book), Paul’s words furnish us
with a perfect demonstration of the significance of grace (Gr. charis).
Grace is usually defined in terms of the “unmerited favor”
of God, but that is only the half of it. Etymologically and
theologically grace is both God’s
goodness and gifts extended to man (unmerited to
be
sure) and also man’s recognition of God’s goodness and thankful
reception of his
gifts. To be full-orbed and complete, grace
must have both elements. What Paul is saying
is that, from the very first, God graciously made his power and Godhead known
to
people, but instead of responding by giving him
glory and gratitude, people chose to make
idols and worship or “link up” with those idols instead of with their Creator
God.
Second,
Paul goes on to deal with peoples that are thought of (and think of themselves)
as
being more “civilized” and as practicing religions that
are more “developed” and sophisticated (cf. Rom. 2:1-11). Romans and Greeks,
for example, celebrated those
proud philosophies expounded on Mars Hill in
Athens and in the Roman Forum. Of course,
Paul knows about them. And he also knows about the degraded worship of
Delphi and the unconscionable atrocities of the
Coliseum. Actually, the religions of Greece
and Rome could not survive philosophical reflection. Brahmanism (subsequently
elaborated into Hinduism), Buddhism, Judaism,
Christianity and Islam “ . . . are the only religions that have produced great systems of thought, exhibiting their
content in a
speculative and rational form” (T. Rees
1939:1250).
In this regard, Paul says that, no matter how
sophisticated their philosophies and embellished
their religions, those who look down their noses and judge the “degraded”
worship
of primals and tribals need only look within to their own nature (Gr., physis or essence,
disposition, natural instinct), heart (Gr., kardia
or thoughts, mind, feelings), and
conscience (Gr., suneideisis
or “co-perception,” moral
consciousness) to find a law by which
their own actions will be judged and judged to be unworthy.
Third, Paul looks at his own people and their
religion (Rom. 2:12-29). Jews boast of the
Covenant extended to Abraham and the circumcision
that sealed it. Jews boast of the Law
given through Moses and the injunctions that forbid the worship of any god but
Yahweh. But their proud boasting is not attended
by proper behavior and as a result the name
of God is blasphemed among Gentiles (2:24). True circumcision is an affair of
the
heart, and divine Law is a matter, not only of the
letter, but also of the Spirit.
Paul’s conclusion to the beginning section of
Romans in chapter 3 is that all persons of
whatever faith, face or race are abject sinners.
And they are so despite the fact that the only true God has revealed his person,
attributes and goodness at so
many times and in
so many ways. His conclusion can be expected to
be highly disconcerting to everyone. Look
at his propositions in Romans 3:10-12, for example:
No one is righteous,
no not one.
No
one understands.
All have turned aside
and become worthless. No one does
good, not even one.
By nature all of us proudly resist the notion
that these propositions apply to us. But, of
course, they do. Moreover, we even resist the idea
that they apply to all adherents of all religions on the face of the earth. Certainly
there must be some people somewhere who
seek
God and do so of their own accord. Can’t we at least categorize them as
“seekers” if not “saints”? As “good” if not “perfect”? As
anything but abject “sinners”?
No. As
kind and courteous as such an inclination may seem to be, it actually is unkind as
well as being unscriptural. It is unscriptural not only because it denies what
God says but also what he is. He is the merciful “Seeking God” who
always seeks out sinners (and, in his grace, transforms
sinners into seekers before transforming them into sons!). Man’s
first inclination is to hide from him as did our first parents, not seek him.
Less obviously, however, this approach is unkind
because it thwarts his saving purpose. God “has
consigned all to disobedience, that he may have mercy on all,” says the apostle
Paul (Rom. 11:32). All are sinners by nature, by choice and by
decree of God. “That’s bad,” we say. Well, Yes. But also, No.
Why No? Because in his mercy God saves sinners. And
that’s the only kind of people he saves! C. S.
Lewis somewhere says that, if he had not become a Christian, he
probably would have become a Zoroastrian because that’s the only
other religion that takes evil seriously. Indeed it does. But, of course, as
Lewis understood and understood well, the problem with
Zoroastrianism is that it is devoid of the Savior!
For the history of mankind,
religion and religions, look first at Genesis. It all begins there. But for a
biblical theology of what happened back there in the beginning—a theology
of man and his religion and religions—look at Romans. The basics are all there.
Interreligious
Encounters as Invasions of Enemy Territory
In a
day of pluralism, inclusivism and relativism, to say nothing of a twisted understanding
of religious “tolerance,” the idea that the various religions constitute enemy
territory seems both hopelessly biased and insanely bigoted. As delegates suspected
at the first Parliament of the World’s Religions, and seem to have been completely
assured of at the second, religion should bring people together, not tear them apart.
And what about the good that is evident in all religions? When a Buddhist says,
“Do not do unto others what you would not want others to
do to you” is that not another way of expressing the Golden Rule?
When a Muslim recites the words “God is All-forgiving,
All-compassionate” is he not speaking the truth about God? Are teachings such
as these the teachings of enemies?
In this connection it is
important to understand that, as Hendrik Kraemer says, “ . . . even those
parts of another religion which might appear to be lofty and uplifting prove to
be parts
of a whole that is under the judgment of God” (Kraemer 1962:136). Also, we must
remember that when Edmund Perry speaks of
the various religions as leading men and women away from
God, he is thinking of religions as indivisible wholes, as systems that
Satan, disguised as an “angel of light,” employs to
predispose adherents to disbelieve
in the Christ of the biblical gospel. That, after all, is the
crux of their problem because the first concern of biblical faith
has to do with re-connecting people to God, and Christ is the
only “connection.” Missionaries almost invariably find themselves confronting “good”
people predisposed to misunderstand or, even misrepresent, Jesus Christ. In
this profound sense missionaries easily find themselves
frustrated and located in “enemy territory.”
We will more or less
confine this part of our discussion to anecdotal materials relating to those religions systems identified by Rees and
referred to above. But as we proceed we must remember that Christianity itself is by no means monolithic.
Throughout church history and still
today some great churches and throngs of so-called Christians have yielded to the wiles of Satan and given ground to
him. This being so, “Christian lands” themselves
often constitute “enemy territory” in the senses that Kraemer and Perry indicate, and therefore call out for missionary
witness.
Primal religions as enemy
territory.
It goes without saying that primal religion
(tribalism, animism, dynamism, etc.) exists not as one religious system but as many, each with its own deities,
intermediaries, remedies and rituals.
In many ways, tribal peoples and areas such as those of sub-Saharan Africa and the islands of the South Pacific have proved
to be fertile soil for missionary
endeavor. But they have also
proved to be resistant. Would-be Christian converts often find
themselves repairing to local medicine men under the cover of darkness. In many
areas, syncretism of this type is more the norm than an exception.
Part and parcel of primal or animistic religions is
the notion that there is a “high god” but that he is too far away to “connect” with people in the round of daily
affairs. Lesser gods, good and evil
spirits, ancestral spirits, and various sources of power, on the other hand, are near at hand. So are the shamans,
medicine men, sorcerers and workers of magic
who, in some measure at least, understand and manipulate those lesser gods and
spirits. In tribal religion it is of the essence that these intermediaries be
enlisted in an unending effort to
appease the spirits and fend off evil by means of prescribed rituals,
medicines, amulets, verbal formulae, and the like.
Primal religionists are “easily reached” but “hard
to win.” The very categories that we use—Creator
God, Redeemer, Savior, sin, salvation, faith (and even missionary!), are either lacking or misconstrued. Primal religionists
are predisposed to think of the Creator God of Genesis as far removed; the Christ of the Gospels as a
miracle-working medicine man or
shaman; prayers and the ordinances as powerful words and rituals; and missionaries as something other than just bearers
of a divine message. Indeed, the very system often conspires to re-make
missionaries into something other than—perhaps more than—the humble heralds and disciplers they are basically called to be.
Brahmanism and Hinduism as enemy
territory.
Indian
syncretism is of another sort. A well-known Christian apologist proposed that
we confront Hinduism head-on. His idea was that all religions
had to face up to the principle of non-contradiction. He
understood monism, but only philosophically and not existentially
as it is so widely encountered in India. And it is at the existential level
that we are really challenged by Brahmanism as it has evolved into the Hinduism
we know today. Intellectually we can understand that, if Brahman
is the Absolute and the only “real Reality,” all else must be
complementary and not “really” contradictory. Even Ego
(the Atman or individual Self or Soul) is Brahman. The farther one goes with this commitment
to monism the more frustrating it tends to become, however. To carry on serious conversations in a context where
“contradictory” philosophies (there are six main darshana
or divergent schools in Hinduism)
accommodate each other and evidence not only compatibility but complementarity takes a good deal of mental
gymnastics. And to actually visit the
temples and crematoria, and walk the streets and slums of Bombay or New Dehli, with the realization that Hinduism not
only allows for, but countenances these
rituals and inequities, is almost more than any sensitive soul can bear.
To me it all
seemed most incredulous until, during the course of doing some research on Hinduism, I happened upon a Hindu apologetic
prepared for Westerners by one of India’s
modern presidents most eminent philosophers, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan. In light
of the new awareness of Indian religion that followed the First
Parliament of the World’s Religions and in
the wake of philosophical and doctrinal controversies that plagued Protestantism and paved the way for the Laymen’s
Inquiry, Radhakrishnan explained Hinduism in a way that not only made it
plausible for India but almost appealing to the West. His work The Hindu View of Life was first published in 1927 but was followed by several similar works and has had numerous
printings since its initial publication.
By the time Radhakrishnan has worked his
philosophical and semanatic alchemies, all gods however low or high, all
spirits however numerous, all idols however crass, all mediators however diverse—all can be not only
accommodated but also celebrated. All worship, whether the grossest expressions
of bhakti
(devotion) or the strictest expressions of dharma
(law) are not only to be validated but appreciated. In his Hindu view, even caste (and the varna
or segregation on the basis of
color that was its original basis) is not only tolerated but necessitated if society is to progress. Brahman,
Karma, adhikara (degrees of spiritual
understanding or perception)—principles such as these explain it all.
One of
Radhakirshnan’s most arresting statements, and one that cuts against the grain
of popular wisdom, reads as follows:
In a sense, Hinduism may be regarded as the first example
in the world of a missionary religion. Only
its missionary spirit is different from that associated with the proselytizing
creeds. It did not regard it as its
mission to convert humanity to any one opinion. For what counts is conduct and
not belief. Worshippers of different
gods and followers of different rites were taken into the Hindu fold.
(Radhakrishnan 1927:28)
Indeed,
they were. Radhakrishnan may have been more than a historian at this point. He may
have been something of a prophet. Hinduism not only maintains a tight grip on
its own, it also attracts outsiders in this post-modern world.
It is like a giant web that, when seen in the right light repells, but when
shaded and shielded attracts and retains. The true God is
“swallowed up” in a false “Reality.”
Christ may be counted along with Rama, Krishna,
Gautama et.al.
as one of even the ten most prominent avatara or
incarnations. Sin, on the other hand, is not so much “defiance of
God” as it is “denial of self.” And, given a right understanding of
Karma, prayer is both superstitious and futile—like asking God
to abrogate his own law (cf. Radhakrishnan 1927:53).
The one who
masquerades as an “angel of light” must have labored diligently to devise this
system. And he must have worked overtime to predispose its adherents to accept
and disseminate it.
Buddhism as enemy territory
If tradition is to be trusted, Buddhism was
founded by Gautama Buddha about six centuries
before the Christian Era. “Gautama” (or Gotama) was the name of his particular subset of the Sakya clan. “Buddha”
means “Enlightened One” or “Awakened One” and it is in that name that the
essence of Buddhism is to be found. After years of arduous and unrewarded searching, Gautama sat down
under a pipal tree to meditate one day.
It was there that he awakened to the truth. And it was from there that he went
forth to preach the true dharma (law).
Buddha’s message was one of the most radical ever
conceived by man. It reflected the basic
worldview and the fundamental concepts of Gautama’s native India such as karma and
rebirth, but Buddha replaced Brahman with Nirvana and the doctrine of the soul (atman) with “no-soul” (an-atman). Without elaborating details, the Buddha’s worldview was that nothing is permanent but all is
in flux (annica);
that people have no personal or
individual identity; and that life is inevitably characterized by the kind of suffering (dukkha) that accrues to “attachment” to anything else,
anybody else, or any contrary notion.
The human problem is ignorance. The good news is that this kind of “suffering” can be overcome by treading an
eight-fold path that leads to various levels of “enlightenment” (moksha) including, eventually, Nirvana. Nirvana is the
“other shore” where there is no “suffering” because all “desire” has ceased—not
really “extinguished” as one might
blow out a candle but more as the flame of the candle ceases to burn because there is no more “fuel.”
As the “Buddha” Gautama took issue with the
religiosity of India expressed in much of its worship and social arrangements—and, especially, in the necessity to
conform. If he could not accommodate Hinduism it is also true that Hinduism
could not accommodate him. His was a
different message and mission. Buddhism was destined to develop and grow in other lands and in two primary forms:
Hinayana and Mahayana. Though Buddhists
may take exception to this usual way of distinguishing these major schools, it is nevertheless descriptive. Hinayana means “small
boat or raft” and is the kind of Buddhism
where enlightenment and Nirvana (sometimes erroneously thought of as “salvation” and “heaven”) are arrived at by means
of individual effort. Mahayana means “large
boat or raft” and is the kind of Buddhism where enlightenment and Nirvana are
arrived at by means of the mercy and merits of another.
Ultimately, Buddhism purports to provide a path to
enlightenment and Nirvana. But whether
by self-effort or the mercy of one or another boddhisattva or buddha, that path
invariably leads away from Christ who
alone is the Way, the Truth and the Life.
Judaism as enemy territory.
“Judaism”
as a term dates to Hellenistic times. It is used in only one passage in Scripture.
In Galatians 1:14 Paul says that he was so zealous for the “traditions of his
fathers”
that he was advancing in Judaism above others of a similar age. The word “Judaism”
(Gr., Ioudaismos) was comparatively new, but the
“traditions” were old and the “faith” was even older than
that!
As Christians we owe entirely too
much to our Jewish friends to even contemplate the idea that the Jewish faith
constitutes “enemy territory.” It smacks entirely too much of anti-semitism
and there is not the slightest bit of room for that in biblical Christianity. Far
from it. As a follower of Christ, Paul points to his kinsmen and says that they
are “Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory,
the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises. To them belong the
patriarchs, and from their race, according to
the flesh, is the Christ who is God over all, blessed forever” (Rom. 9:4-5).
But that is precisely where we part company. Later
in that same chapter (vss. 32-33) Paul quotes
Isaiah and says that the Jews “stumbled over the stumbling stone (i.e. Christ).
Judaism clung tenaciously to the law
and summarily rejected Jesus as either Christ or Lord. Judaism has changed
markedly throughout the past two centuries. Today’s Jews can be Reform, Orthodox or Conservative, faithful
to Jewish rites and rituals, uncommitted
agnostics or outspoken atheists. Yet all will be recognized as Jews. Only those who believe in Christ as their Messiah and
Lord are likely to be excluded from the Jewish community.
Why? For many reasons, but chiefly because from
time immemorial the vast majority of Jews have been implacably opposed
to receiving Christ as their promised Messiah. This opposition is, of course, made crystal clear in the crucifixion of
Christ. Soon after that Paul faced it
in the form of what he called the “traditions” (Gal. 1:14) by which he probably meant the additions to, and
interpretations of the Old Testament law such as those afterwards embodied in the Mishna. After the destruction of
Jerusalem opposition reached a certain
peak in the teachings and conspiracy of one Rabbi ben Zakkai at his school in
Yavne. But it is still evident today in opposition to Jews for Jesus and other missions to Jews, in efforts to reconstruct early
Christian history, in coverups of the Yavne
conspiracy; and in similar attempts to dispel the claims of Christ from serious
consideration on the part of Jewish
people (cf. Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan 1976 and Philip Moore 1996: esp. 307-91).
Never will I forget the response of an otherwise
affable Jewish rabbi from New York as we
conversed at the Western Wall in Jerusalem in 1968. When the discussion
developed to a consideration of the
messiahship of Jesus, he suddenly became irritated and, as he walked away,
said, “We Jews will never consider that man!”
Missions
to Jews invade enemy territory! Jesus said so when he faced Jewish leaders who
laid claim to being Abraham’s children while rejecting Jesus himself. In one of
his “hard sayings,” he said, “You are of your father the
devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires” (John 8:44).
Paul said so when writing to the Romans. He wrote, “As
regards the gospel,
they are enemies of God for your sake” (Rom. 11:28; emphasis mine). That’s bad
news! But there is good news too. The unbelief of the Jews resulted
in the gospel being
preached to the Gentiles. And the acceptance of the gospel by Gentiles will someday eventuate in the salvation
of the Jews (Rom. 11:11-12).
Islam as Enemy Territory
In the sixth century of the Christian Era a young
member of the Quryash tribe of Mecca named
Ubu’l Kassim joined the caravans that for centuries had traveled from Egypt in
the south to Damascus in the north.
At 25 he was employed as chief merchant by a rich widow named Khadija and in that capacity became
even more familiar with the religions of
Palestine. The Judaism and Christianity with which he became acquainted was for
the most part aberrant, but Ubu’l
Kassim was captivated by a desire to cleanse the shrine in Mecca of its
idolatry and superstition. After marrying Khadija his devotion to prayer and meditation culminated in a series of visions and
revelations from the angel Gabriel. Encouraged
by Khadija, he began writing these messages down on pieces of wood, stone,
leather or whatever was available. In time he came to be accepted as the “final
prophet” Muhammad (i.e. “the Praised
One”). His revelations in the Koran (Arabic, Qur’an, i.e. “Reading” or “Recitation”) were the final and most
authoritative of all previous revelations
including the Injil or Gospels, the Psalms and the Pentateuch (all said
to exist in corrupted form). The religion Muhammad founded was of course, Islam
(i.e. “submit” or “submission”).
But, in a profound sense, Islam did not begin with
Muhammad because Muhammad himself dated it to a line stretching from Adam to
Noah to Moses to Abraham. It is at that
point that he deliberately made a choice that was destined to rival the
decision of the Jews to reject their Messiah in terms of its impact upon world
history. Muhammad opted for Abraham’s
line but through the Egyptian concubine Hagar and their son Ishmael rather than through his wife Sarah and their “son
of the promise,” Isaac. In doing so he also
aligned himself with Isaac’s firstborn Esau who sold his birthright to his
younger brother Jacob for some red
pottage. Jacob’s name was changed to “Israel” (i.e. “strength with God”),
Esau’s name was changed to “Edom” (i.e. “red”). Like Ishmael before him, Esau the hunter gathered up his belongings and
journeyed east to the biblical Mt. Seir, part of a mountain range extending 120 miles from the Dead Sea to the
Gulf of Akabah. The Egyptians called
it “The Red Land” and “Edom” is the Hebrew or Canaanitish translation.
In
addition to their blood and territorial relationships, Ishmaelites and Edomites
became related by marriage when, along with Hittite and Horite wives, Esau
married Ishmael’s daughter Mahalath. Subsequesntly
both intermarried with Temanites, Kadmonites, Nabatheans,
Midianites, Yemenites and others tribal groups in the general area. In accord
with God’s promises to Abraham, Hagar and Ishmael many of these peoples prospered,
largely as a result of the caravan traffic intersecting Egypt, Petra, Palmyra, Damascus
and other great cities. Only gradually and over the centuries as the caravan traffic
gradually gave way to shipping did this change. Then those hardy Arabic peoples
came upon harder times. Finally, many of them were forced to abandon their
cities and wander over barren lands while fending for
themselves as best they could.
The Bible is replete
with references to these peoples, especially to Esau and the Edomites who became more or less representative (perhaps
because Esau personally chose to sell his
birthright). According to the Old Testament account, Joseph was sold to
Ishmaelites who took him to Egypt.
Edomites refused passage to the Israelites when they came out of Egypt and often took sides with Israel’s
enemies during the conquest of Canaan. Obadiah
prophesied that the house of Joseph will prevail over the house of Esau.
Malachi quoted Yahweh as saying, “I
have loved Jacob but Esau I have hated. I have laid waste his hill country and left his heritage to jackals
of the desert” (Mal. 1:2-3).
Immediately upon opening the New Testament we are
introduced to a genealogy that traces
the lineage of the Christchild to Abraham through Isaac and Jacob (Matt. 1:2). And then to one Herod the Great who was the last
independent king to reign in Jerusalem and
an Edomite (Gr., Idumean; Matt. 2:1). Herod set out to destroy the baby Jesus,
and failing in that, ordered the
slaughter of the innocents. It was one of his sons, Herod Antipas; who reigned in Jesus’ home area, mocked
Jesus and returned him to Pilate during
Jesus’ trial; and who had appointed the priests who plotted to crucify Christ.
The writer of Hebrews warns believers
not to be sexually immoral (Gr., porne) and unholy (Gr., bebelos) like Esau who “sold his birthright for a single
meal” and was turned down when he
“desired to inherit a blessing” later on (Heb. 12:16-17). Paul quotes Malachi
1:2-3 in Romans 10:13 and, when writing to the
Galatians, urges them not to return to the slavery of the law and dependence on the flesh represented by Hagar and
her son, but to embrace the freedom
proffered by God’s grace as symbolized by Sarah and Isaac (Gal. 4:21-31).
Currently, cases are made for concluding that
Muhammad was a great and good man; that “Allah” is a totally fitting name for the God of the Bible; that the Koran
contains high praise for Jesus; that
Shi’ite and Wahhabi fundamentalists are not representative; that the jihad
actually refers to inter-faith
dialogue; that Islam is a religion of peace; and so on. But better cases can be made for concluding that
Muhammad was as merciless as he was clever; that the Allah of the Koran is very
different from the Triune God of the Bible; that the Jesus of Islam is not the crucified and resurrected Christ of the
New Testament; that the Koran invokes
the persecution of Jews, Christians and all “unbelievers”; and that, until the shari’a
is the law of any land, that land
is part of the “world of war,” not the “world
of peace.”
None of the foregoing is insignificant. It is
impossible to understand Islam without taking
into account this biblical background and the bad choices of Abraham, Esau and,
of course, Muhammad himself. A key to
understanding Islam is that little Greek word bebelos in Hebrews 12:16. The primary meaning of bebelos
is “accessible” or “available to be trodden on.” By extension it means
unhallowed, profane or irreligious as opposed to hieros
or sacred (Vine 1982). In the final analysis, Islam is promoted by the sword, prophesies a judgment of works, and promises a
heaven of fleshly delights (for men). Far from being “spiritual” in the biblical sense, it is the archetype of
what may be termed “secular religion.”
It enfolds countless millions of upstanding and peace-loving
adherents
and other millions of nominals and folk religionists. But whatever their
status,
the vast majority of
Muslims convert to the God of the Bible and his crucified, risen Son only with great difficulty and often at a
tremendous price.
The Missionary Quest for Common
Ground
Throughout the history of the missionary movement
and, in America, especially since the
early years of the twentieth century, missiologists
and missionaries have concerned themselves with finding the best ways to
approach adherents of the foregoing and still
other non-Christian faiths. Obviously there must be
some common
ground or communication would be impossible. But where is it? What is its
nature? How can we
discover it? What are its boundaries? These are not
easy questions. But they must have answers.
Numerous proposals have contributed to discussions
of common ground. Discovering
points of contact, building bridges of
understanding, finding redemptive analogies and “eye openers,” establishing
identification with respondents, engaging non-Christians in
dialogue—all
have their advocates. All are characterized by certain assumptions and applications. Most can be understood rhetorically,
philosophically, sociologically,
anthropologically, and psychologically as well as
religiously. Many of them have at least some validity—some more and some less. Our primary interest here has to
do with the
possibility of establishing common ground on
spiritual and religious bases.
Problematic
approaches to establishing common ground
1. A “common search.”
At first blush understanding the missionary quest
for common ground might seem to be a
rather simple matter. It would seem to grow out of
the notion that religion itself represents
a search for God or truth or salvation as the case might be while particular
religions represent various ways of going about
that search and varying degrees of success
in its achievement. William Ernest. Hocking’s fulfillment approach to common
ground is an early example of this. Contemporary
examples can be found in the proposals of
people like Leonard Swidler, John Hick, Willard Oxtoby and Hasan Askari. If I
understand him correctly, Swidler, for example,
thinks of humans as evolving a kind of utopia
in which freedom of thought and action is somehow guided by mutual love and
respect. Religion serves both as the expression of,
and the vehicle for, achieving that kind
of culture and society. In Swidler’s words,
Human nature is directed at an open-ended,
endless, in-finite [sic.] all-embracing, comprehensive knowing and loving and
knowing freely acting. That total knowing and loving and knowing freely acting
that humans, both individually and communally have created over the centuries
is Religion, and the Culture that matches it. (Swidler 1992:115)
Swidler’s rather cryptic lines suggest that he
believes that Religion with a capital “R”
somehow
enlists adherents of all religions old and new, and involves them in this
common effort to create a “Global Culture” based on knowledge, love and
freedom.
As
interpreted by John Hick, the common search takes on something of an
“evangelical flavor.” He believes that, though the teachings
of religions are different, they are also complementary
because they represent a variety of ways in which mankind can achieve salvation.
He writes,
These
resources [i.e., various religions, ed.] have at their heart, I want to
suggest, an awareness that the great purpose of religion is salvation,
or liberation, as an actual transformation
of human existence; and a recognition that this is taking place (though in conjunction
with quite different systems of belief) within other ‘houses of faith’ as well as one’s own. (Hick
1985:5)
From a human perspective Hick’s understanding
certainly seems to merit consideration. Did not Augustine say that man is restless until he finds rest in God?
Did not Pascal talk about a void in
the human heart that can only be filled by God himself? Did not the prophet Jeremiah say, “You will seek me and find
me. When you seek me with all your heart,
I will be found by you declares the Lord” (Jer. 19:13-14)? Did not Jesus speak
to the Samaritan woman about a thirst
that could be quenched only by the “living water” that he gives (John 4:14)? Did not Peter’s
hearers on Pentecost seek a way to right the wrong they had done when they inquired, “Brothers, what shall we do?”
(Acts 2:37). And was not Paul’s
invitation on Mars Hill based on the intense desire of Athenian philosophers
to know about his “new teaching” (Acts 17:19)? Surely lost men and women have been engaged in a quest for God or for
something that he alone can give from
time immemorial. The missionary quest for common ground should be an easy one. The common ground is the almost universal
involvement in another and larger quest whether for God and truth, or hope and salvation.
Perhaps so. But then, perhaps not.
Who was it that did the searching after the Fall?
Not Adam and Eve. They were not “seekers”; they were “hiders.” And that is in
line with Paul’s words: “No one seeks for God. All have turned aside” (Rom.
3:11-12)? God is the “Seeker.” Jesus said as much when he said, “The Son of Man is come to seek and
save the lost” (Luke 19:10).
Seeming exceptions to this understanding may, in
fact, support it. Jeremiah, after all, was speaking on God’s behalf to a covenant people whom he already called
and blessed. And the response of
repentant Jews on Pentecost did not represent so much man reaching out for God
as it did a loving God reaching out to his erring children.
The
Lord Jesus speaks very directly to this issue. Far from endorsing the notion
that people are engaged in a common search for God and his
gifts of grace is Jesus’ dictum: “No one can come to me unless the
Father who sent me draws him” (John 5:44). By nature
people seek for substitutes but not for him. Perry is right. The various
religions represent ways in which humankind is being led away
from him, not toward him.
It is right that missionaries pray that they might be led to
people in whose hearts and minds there has been a providential
working of God’s Spirit. But it is wrong to assume that the search
for God (or for that which he alone can supply) is common. That idea is in
stark contrast to biblical teachings which indicates that it is
God who searches and God who draws men and women to himself.
Ever since Eden people have been running away
from
God. We have been hiding;
he has been seeking. We are the rebellious sinners; he is the loving God.
2.
“Religious similarities.”
The
“similarity approach” to establishing common ground is both very popular and
very problematic. Its proponents seek out
teachings and practices in the various religions that appear to be the same or similar to presumed
counterparts in Christianity hoping to build bridges of understanding thereby. But it is extremely difficult to
compare the various religions, and especially so when the Christian faith is
involved. For that very reason, comparative religions as a discipline of study
has tended to give way to the history of religions. Nevertheless, out of
differing motives and with varying degrees of success, comparisons continue to be made..
In an oft-referenced smaller work Eric Sharpe
attempts to define and explain some fifty words that have special and
correlative meanings in the world’s religions. His objective is to promote understanding of comparative religion in
general and the several religions in particular (Sharp 1971:115).
Leonard Swidler takes a quite different tack. He
selects seven words (redemption, liberation,
enlightenment, nirvana, heaven, communism, salvation) that he believes to be descriptive of the “goal of religion” and proceeds
to explain how these words are used and what they mean within the contexts of the various religions (Swidler
1992:12-17). As we have seen,
Swidler’s objective is to bring to light commonalities and complementary aspects of religion and religions so as to promote
unity and a new society.
In works that have already become evangelical
mission classics, Don Richardson emphasizes
the importance of discovering “redemptive analogies” and “eye openers” (e.g., the
Peace Child idea and ritual among the Sawi) that will enable non-Christian
peoples to understand the gospel (cf.
Richardson 1981). Richardson’s goal is to make the gospel understandable and
facilitate conversion.
It seems fair to say that all three authors are of
the opinion that that there are similarities between Christian and the non-Christian faiths that, properly understood
and exploited, will facilitate both
understanding and the fulfillment of “mission” as they understand mission. But, even though there may be some truth
to this, this approach is problematic in any case and especially so if one holds to the absolute uniqueness of the
“faith that was once for all delivered
to the saints” (Jude 3). Both philosophically and theologically, a communication approach that is over-dependent upon
the discovery and utilization of similarities
is open to question.
Here
again, Hendrik Kraemer is helpful. He points out that the attempt to catalogue similarities
“ . . . on such subjects as the idea of God and of man, the conception of the
soul or of redemption, the expectation of an eternal life or
the precedence of the community over the individual, etc., is an
impossible thing” (Kraemer 1963:134). In the first place, no religion
is an assortment of spiritual commodities that can be “ . . . compared as shoes
or neckties” (Kraemer 1962:135). On the contrary, every
religion is a unity or individual
whole in which each
teaching, myth, or ritual must be understood in relationship to all else. In the second place, when exposed to the light of
God’s revelation in Christ and the Scriptures
even those parts of another religion which might appear to be lofty and
uplifting prove to be parts of a
whole that is under the judgment of God (Kraemer 1963:136).
Kraemer’s words are in accord with Perry’s
understandings of religion and particular religions stipulated earlier in this chapter. Moreover, what he says is
quite easily demonstrated by the kind
of holistic examination advocated by both authors. Though conceived of as a “high god” in Chinese religion,
for example, Shang-ti hardly qualifies as being analogous to the God of the
Bible if one takes all of Chinese religion into account. Similarly, the “three bodies of Buddha,” the mercy
of Amida, and the faith displayed in Mahayana—all
such so dimly reflect supposed counterparts in Christianity as to be entirely misleading if taken to be anything approaching
mirror images. Even if we were to agree that the Allah of the Koran has been divested of the qualities of the
pre-Islamic Moon God of Muhammad’s
Quryash tribal people and therefore the same or similar to the God of the Bible (quite a stretch in itself), Allah’s very
nature (and not just Muhammad’s misunderstandings
of the Trinity) would make the deity ofChrist impossible.
Readers will have to judge the validity of
redemptive analogies such as Richardson’s well-known Peace Child analogy for themselves. That that particular analogy
functioned well early on in the
communication of the gospel to the Sawi seems to be beyond question. However, the Peace Child of Sawi tribalism is light
years removed from the Prince of Peace
of biblical revelation. Sooner or later—and the sooner the better—the
difference must become as crystal
clear to Sawi believers as it is to the missionaries themselves. To the degree that it does not Sawis will inevitably
be more syncretistic, less Christian.
Dissimilarities may in fact prove to be more useful than
similarities in communicating Christ
and the gospel. As often as not, this is the way that new knowledge and understandings are attained. After all, the
Christian faith (not as practiced, but as revealed) is absolutely unique.
There is no other faith like it. No other God; no other Christ; no
other Calvary; no other empty tomb; no other
redemption; no other salvation; no other heaven; and so on, on and on. That being the case, and especially when the
objective is to convert and disciple people, communication will often be
enhanced by pointing out differences. People
need to know that sin in Scripture and tsumi in Shinto, grace in the gospel and karuna
in Mahayana, Trinity in Christian
faith and Trimurti in Hinduism, biblical inspiration
and both wahy and
ilham in
Islam—not one of these pairs is really the same or, in
the final reckoning, even
similar. From the outset pairs such as these may be more clearly communicated by means of comparison and
contrast.
Plausible
approaches to the search for common ground
1.
“Points of contact.”
It is
customary for missiologists to speak in terms of finding “points of contact”
between missionaries and their hearers. Rhetoricians often speak
of establishing “identification” with one’s audience.
It is
not difficult to find examples of this kind of approach in the New Testament.
Since the Lord Jesus “came to his own” (i.e. his own people;
John 1:12), he did not have many encounters with those of other
religions. But we do have the well-known example of his use of
a water metaphor when speaking to the Samaritan woman at the well as recorded in the
fourth chapter of John.
Examples are more readily found in the ministry of
the apostle Paul. Perhaps those most often
pointed out are his statement to the effect that he became “all things to all
men in order to save some” (1 Cor.
9:22) and his approach to Athenians on Mars Hill. In his speech to the
Athenians he drew attention to their religiosity by noting that they had
erected an altar with the inscription “To the unknown god” (Acts 17:22-23). He
also quoted their own poets (probably
Epimenides and Aratus) to the effect that while God is the source of life he is also near at hand (Acts
17:27-28). It would be easy to read too much into these references to Greek religion and philosophy, however.
Since the “unknown god” was unknown,
Paul did not obligate himself to empty the Greek concept of false notions. And
Paul readily moved from the general idea of Greek writers to the specifics of special revelation and Christ’s
incarnation. Far more significant was Paul’s declaration that the gods Athenians did worship were idols and that their
vaunted philosophy grew out of
ignorance (Acts 17:29:30).
While significant, points of contact such as the
foregoing do have definite limitations that must be taken into account. Even acts of generosity and kindness
designed to overcome animosity and suspicion in making initial contacts can be
misinterpreted as the case of the Auca
martyrs and numerous similar incidents demonstrate. In the final analysis, Kraemer’s assessment of points of contact is worthy
of consideration. He writes,
. . . there is only one point of
contact, and if that one point exists, then there are many
points of contact. This one point of contact is the disposition and attitude of
the missionary . . . Such is the golden rule, or, if one
prefers, the iron law in this whole matter. The way to live up
to this rule is to have an untiring and genuine interest
in the religion, the ideas, the sentiments, the institutions—in short, in the whole
range of life of the people among whom one works, for
Christ’s sake and for the sake of those people. (Kraemer
1963:140 emphasis his)
2. “Interreligious
dialogue.”
Generally speaking, missionaries are most
comfortable with monological communication and much less comfortable with dialogical communication. In a chapter on
dialogical communication of the gospel, however, John R. W. Stott reminds us
that the Lord Jesus “ . . . seldom if
ever spoke in a declamatory, take-it-or-leave-it style. Instead, whether explicitly
or implicitly, he was constantly addressing questions to his hearers’ minds and
consciences” (Stott 1975:61).
Whereas
among liberals interreligious dialogue is often proposed as a means of
discovering common ground with nonChristians, among conservatives it should be regarded
more as a means of disseminating the gospel among them. Whereas among liberals
interreligious is often proposed as a means of establishing commonality, among
conservatives
it should be recognized that it is quire possible that dialogue will end in controversy
and even disputation.
Let’s explore that a bit. Bypassing Old Testament
examples such as Elijah’s famous contest
with the prophets of Baal (1 Kgs. 18), let us focus briefly on dialogue in the
New Testament. In the New Testament
the word appears almost exclusively in its verb forms (dialegomai and dialogizomai). Though the Gospels make it clear that Jesus
never hesitated to enter into the
give-and-take of two-way conversation as John Stott says, there is no clear indication that Christ employed
interreligious dialogue in the sense we are using the word here even though the cognate verb dialogizomai (“to converse or discuss with” but with emphasis on the discussion aspect) is used
in the case of one confrontation between
Jesus and the scribes and Pharisees (cf. Luke 5:21-24).
Dialegomai and dialogizomai are used much more prominently in the case of the
apostle Paul. He engaged in dialogue
in the synagogues (Acts 17:2, 17; 18:4, 19), in the market place (Acts 17:17), in the school of Tyrannus (Acts
19:9), and in the church at Troas (Acts 20:7, 9). In all of these cases it is apparent that Paul’s intention was
to establish the truth of the gospel,
not establish common ground with them. In at least one context—Paul’s defense
before Felix—dialogue is put in a negative frame of reference. On that occasion
Paul made special note of the fact
that his Jerusalem accusers did not find him “dialoguing” or causing riots in Jerusalem or in its temple and synagogues (Acts
24:12).
We are safe in concluding that interreligious
dialogue is questionable as a means of establishing
common ground. To the contrary, it aims at commuicating the gospel and convincing hearers of gospel truth at the risk of
inviting debate and culminating in dissension.
Careful inquiry supports the conclusion of Gottlob Schrenk when he writes,
In the New Testament there is no instance of the
classical use of dialegomai in the philosophical sense. In the sphere of revelation there is no
question of reaching the idea through dialectic. What is at issue is the
obedient and percipient acceptance of the Word spoken by God, which is not an
idea, but the comprehensive declaration of the divine will which sets all life
in the light of divine truth. (Shrenk 1964 vol 2:95)
Positive
approaches to establishing common ground
In bringing
this chapter to a conclusion we will focus on some approaches to establishing common ground that, when properly understood,
would seem to be almost entirely positive.
1.
“Christian rational presuppositionalism.”
Though
it is not uncommon for missiologists to think of the differences between
Hindu-Buddhistic and Judeo-Christian worldviews and ways of thinking as being
so great as to constitute an almost unbridgeable
philosophical gulf between them, Carl F. H. Henry begs to differ. He recognizes,
for example, that within the “Brahma-all” [i.e. Brahman, ed.] and “Buddha-all” worldview there is only room for
incompleteness and ignorance, never for a law of noncontradiction or the biblical notion of sin. This would seem to
nullify both
(“Western”)
rationalism and (Christian) revelationism as bases for common ground. But Henry
says that is not so.
There is, in fact, no
perspective, oriental or occidental, that would not be assisted by a good course in logic, or that does not soon
sacrifice universal validity if it neglects the law of contradiction. The laws of logic are not a speculative prejudice
imposed at a given
moment of history as a
transcient philosophical development. Neither do they involve a Western way of thinking even if Aristotle may have stated
them in an orderly way. The laws of valid inference are universal; they are elements of the imago
Dei. In the Bible, reason has
ontological significance. God is himself truth and the source of truth.
Biblical Christianity honors the Logos of Gpd as the source of all meaning
and
considers the laws of thought an aspect of the imago.
(Henry 1990:109-10)
Though
I would be among the first to say that the missionary to Hindus and Buddhists must
be able to understand and reason from “within” their all-encompassing monistic
worldview, nevertheless there is a profound sense in which Henry must be
correct. There are, indeed, differing worldviews
and ways of thinking. There are even different types of “Western
logic”—classical, modern, propositional, symbolic, and so on. But more fundamentally
there is but one truth and one logic—both grounded in the person and nature
of the Creator God. He is both Truth and the Source of truth. He is also the
basis of logical validity and the “law of noncontradition” because he cannot deny
himself (2 Tim. 2:13). He is also the basis of propositional
truth and the “law of correspondence” or agreement
with what actually is the case because it is impossible for
him to lie (Heb. 6:18).
“Christian
rational presuppositionalism” is neither racial nor cultural as Henry observes.
It is philosophical and theological. Insofar as the
missionary is truly Christian, the foundation of anything that he or
she might be, think, understand, do or say can and should be the
unshakable but humble conviction that the God of the Bible is truly God. Only
to the degree that persons of any race or culture come to
know him will they be able to think his thoughts after him and only to the
degree that think his thoughts after him will they be able to think rightly
about God’s creation, man’s religions and their own condition.
2.
Biblical theology.
The
concept of biblical theology developed because of the need to distinguish
between Reformation period scholastic and church tradition
theologies on the one hand, and theologies developed on the basis
of Scripture on the other. However, in the process of time,
the meaning of “biblical theology” has tended to take on the complexions of whatever church, school or
group might employ the term. In this book the term is almost invariably used to refer to theology that is not
only based on the Bible itself but also on the unfolding revelation of the Bible story as it proceeds from Genesis
to Revelation. In various contexts we
have emphasized the importance of communicating that
larger story and
not just fragments of it or lessons growing out of it. Here I would emphasize
the importance of using the approach of that kind of biblical
theology as a basis for establishing common ground.
Gregory
Beale, whom we have mentioned above, writes as follows:
The New Testament writers typically do not make reference
to specific pagan religions, philosophies,
and their belief systems. Some of the exceptions
to this, as is well-known, are 1 Corinthians 15:53; Titus 1:12; Acts
14:11-18; and, above all, Paul’s address to the Athenians in
Acts 17:16-34. (Beales
forthcoming: p.75?)
Once again I invite readers to consider Beale’s
treatment of Paul’s Athenian address but with the distinct purpose of noticing the unique way in which Paul’s
approach qualifies as that of
“biblical theology.” Notice how Paul excerpted basic teachings from the Old Testament account and utilized them in a way that
appears to be grounded in general or natural revelation but upon closer
examination is actually grounded in Scripture:
“God who made the world” (vs. 24)—Gen. 1:1, Ex. 20:1.
“He himself gives to mankind life and breath” (vs.
25)—Gen. 2:7, Isa. 42:5. “He made from one man” (vs. 26)—Gen. 1:28.
“Having determined . .
. the boundaries of their dwelling place” (vs. 26)—Deut. 32:8. “That they should seek God” (vs. 27)—Isa. 55:6.
The point being made by Beale and other scholars
whom he cites is that Old Testament teachings
and events basic to redemptive history lie behind Paul’s statements in his Athenian address {as well as in other New Testament
cases having to do with the communication
of the gospel to adherents of other religions}. As a means of establishing
common ground that is extremely important in and of itself. But an additional
needs to be made here. Though for
obvious reasons the apostle Paul did not call attention to specific references in the Septuagint on the occasion
reported in Acts 17, if and when on a later occasion that kind of referencing would have been possible his initial
proclamation would have served as
preparation for it. That too is important because biblical theology in the sense we use the term here is essential to
discipling the ethne.
3.
“Missional theology.”
Paul Hiebert has suggested that what he calls
“missional theology” is especially important when presenting the gospel to those of other religions and cultures.
While systematic theology is needful
to an understanding of Christian concepts such as God, man, sin, salvation and the like, it is missional theology
that enables missionaries to understand the beliefs and practices of non-Christian respondents with regard to these
and similar concepts. And, after all,
it is what they
believe and practice that plays such a large part in whether or not they will be converted to Christ
and mature in the Christian faith (cf. Hiebert
and Tienou 2000).
Heibert
speaks of theology here, but as an anthropologist. He is calling upon
missionaries to do what Kraemer says is so necessary—namely, to
take an “untiring and genuine interest in the religion, the
ideas, the sentiments, the institutions” of the people among whom
they work. It is that kind of “close-up” indigenous understandings and
practices that the missionary must take into consideration
if the gospel is to be contextualized effectively.
In fact, in knowing not only what respondent think about God, man, sin and salvation
but also why they think as they do and behave as they do, they missionary is
sometimes enabled to
instruct them as to their own misguided faith even as he or she instructs them concerning biblical faith.
Take,
by way of example, the annual Obon festival
widely celebrated in Japan. It is a time in
mid-summer when many Japanese invite the spirits of departed ancestors back
into their homes for a brief time of celebration and respite
before accompanying them back to their burial
places from where they will depart for another year of suffering in the
netherworld. What is involved here, of course, are entirely different (Buddhist)
notions of the world, the “Divine,” man,
evil, judgment, salvation and so on. Japanese celebrants, however, may take
little notice of much of this. Indeed, many if not most of them may not even
know the underlying story of how Mokuren
prevailed upon the Buddha to life the veil so that he could get a glimpse of his mother in the netherworld.
The reluctance of the Buddha to do so
is understandable when one realizes that in that momentary parting of the veil
Mokuren saw his mother being crucified in one of the ten hells (obon
means to be crucified upside down). Brought to a level of
awareness, the story of Obon
furnishes a vivid backdrop for relating the meaning of Christ’s
cross.
Understood
this way, missional theology enables us to stand wherever they may be standing (whoever “they”
may be and wherever they may be standing), thus temporarily making their
ground to be common ground for the dissemination of the
gospel.
4. “Missionary
self-exposure.”
Finally, we
repair yet once more to the wisdom of Henrick Kraemer when he says, “. . . there is
only one point of contact, and if that one point exists, then there are many
points of contact. This one point of contact
is the disposition and attitude of the missionary” (Kraemer 1963:140). Do we sometimes despair in our
quest for common ground? Does it sometime
seem that all attempts are bound to fail if not because of their obduracy then because of our inability? No. Look again at what Jesus and Paul and all
writers of Sacred Writ have to say
about humankind in their natural state. Review Paul’s assessment in Romans
1-3 yet one more time. Clearly, what is common to all of us is our
sinful state before a holy God. That is the
common ground on which both Christian missionaries and their non-Christian hearers stand. We must not
only admit it; we must insist upon it. If there is any one key that unlocks what in some cases at least may seem
to be an impenetrable door to common ground, that key might be called
“missionary self-exposure.”
Why so?
First,
because part of the attraction of most religion systems is the part played by
very human persons who somehow have attained the status of
“saints” or “sainthood.” True adherents emulate or even worship them without
ever having seen either those men and women,
or themselves for that matter, as “sinners” in the biblical sense of the word!
Now if the missionary comes as another “saint” how can those
adherents be expected to know what a “sinner” is? After all,
the truth is that Christ Jesus saves only sinners. So sin and “sinnerhood” can
and must be explained. But how much easier to understand if they are permitted
actually to see one!
Second, because, as
was true in of Christ himself, skeptics are constantly on the lookout for the foibles and failings of anyone who lays
claim to being “good” or possessing “truth.”
Christ’s contemporaries could find no fault in him. But the same is not true of
us.
Our auditors experience little difficulty in
discovering our inability to live up to either their standards or our own, much less God’s. Unless and
until we sincerely and humbly confess that
we too are subject to temptations and failings, and in need of divine
forgiveness, we deny them the privilege of witnessing the operations of divine
grace.
Finally, because we have Paul’s own example of
“self exposure.” He always made it clear that he preached Christ and not himself; that he himself was weak and
unworthy of being Christ’s
ambassador; and that he was, in fact, foremost among sinners (1 Tim. 1:15). Invariably, the common ground between Paul and his auditors
whether in Athens, Berea, Corinth, or Ephesus was this: all alike were sinners
and, once saved, all alike were sinners saved by grace.
Sooner or later the whole world must discover that
its sickness is sin and the remedy is Christ. We missionaries should be able to
identify with that. We are—or, at least were-- part of that world.
Conclusion
The
search for common ground has engaged many brilliant minds and dedicated hearts over an extended a period of time. That fact alone
argues for its careful consideration as well as its validity and value. But,
however that search might progress and whatever turns it might yet take,
we must always remember that it is the gospel of Christ alone that has the power to both divide and unite. That gospel says
that we are all sinners and alienated from the one true God. In the final analysis we need not search for common
ground with those of other races and cultures, traditions and religions. We
already stand together with them on common ground before a holy God. The
question for us is, “How do we proceed from that point so that they might understand the gospel?” The question for
them is, “What will they do with that gospel?”
Epilogue
According to family records, which admittedly may
be somewhat biased, Grandfather Hesselgrave
was physically impressive and extremely bright. He was not beyond making serious mistakes, however. As a young man he
assayed the future possibilities of two developing centers of commerce and
communication—Chicago in Illinois and Lodi in Wisconsin—and decided to homestead in the latter area! He was qualified
to practice law and actually practiced
it but amidst other pursuits he never bothered to take the examination necessary for recognition by the
state.
His
greatest mistakes, however, were theological and religious. Grandfather was so impressed by the love of
God that he found no place for his righteous wrath. When a Universalist Church was established in Lodi in
1875, the names of Grandfather and
Grandmother
Hesselgrave were at the top of the membership roster! Grandfather was an active Universalist lay preacher as well. And then
there was the problem of that deep and positive
impression that he carried away from the First Parliament of the World’s Religions in Chicago in 1893.
After a time the Universalist congregation in Lodi
dispersed. Later the church building was
sold to a fledgling Evangelical Free Church congregation and, when the Free Church
constructed a large and attractive sanctuary on the edge of town, the
old church became the museum that it is today. Grandfather’s son Albertus Leroy
and his wife became born again Christians.
And his namesake grandson with his family were called as missionaries to Japan. There they were privileged to preach the
gospel, win some away from the Shintoist and Buddhist religions—and some from irreligion!—to Christ, and have a
small part in establishing the
thriving Evangelical Free Church of Japan.
I believe
that Grandfather Hesselgrave was certainly sincere. But I also believe that he
was sincerely wrong.
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