Religious Diversity: Is Only One Religion Salvific? (Part 2 of 2)
“The humble, meek, merciful, just, pious, and devout souls are everywhere of one religion; and when death has taken off the mask they will know one another, though the diverse liveries they wear here makes them strangers.”
— William Penn
Pluralism
Pluralism begins with a simple observation: everyone is prone to argue that their religion is obviously the best, but there is no clear argument to establish the superiority of one particular tradition. Pluralists do not merely accept that there is a diversity of religions today but prescribe a theology of religions in which believe that all (or most) religions can be vehicles to salvation, and that all (or most) religions are basically the same in their power to do so. No one religion is the unique vehicle to salvation — in particular, Christianity is no longer the only path to salvation. So too, no tradition is in a privileged position to pontificate on the nature of the transcendent Reality, and all religions misconstrue the nature of that reality in some regard — it remains a mystery. Every believer may claim that their religion is in a privileged position with regard to salvation, but there are no neutral, rational grounds to determine that one religion is doctrinally or morally superior to others. (Some pluralists would eliminate any religion as salvific that is not minimally moral or compassionate or by some other criterion. But all the mainstream traditions of the world religions today are accepted.) All religious beliefs are human constructs and subject to our mental limitations and fallibilities. (Many believe that human personhood is the best model for a transcendent reality; others point to the limitations and dependency of being a person, and so the transcendent must surpass personhood altogether.) There is no need for proselytizing since all religions can be vehicles for salvation, and so trying to convert other should not be part of your religion. All religions are ways to salvation, whatever “salvation” may entail. That is, all paths lead to salvation, but we do not know what that postmortem state actually is.
The most famous pluralist is the late philosopher of religion John Hick. He proposed a “Copernican revolution” for the relation of religions, with all religious conceptions orbiting the “Real” in the center. This leads to a Kantian-inspired pluralism without the elaborate metaphysical overlay of “perennial philosophy” but having a similar effect. These pluralists argue that the Real is beyond all our categories and is experienced differently depending on the religious context of a particular person. All veridical religious experiences of the Real are “true” insofar as they are in fact experiences of the Real, but we cannot get behind the different “masks” of experience and know the Real-in-itself. Thus, the Real-in-itself is not personal or nonpersonal, moral or nonmoral, one or many, and so on — these masks are only categories imposed upon it in different cultures. To use an analogy from science: we never know an electron-in-itself; an electron appears as a particle or a group of them can appear as a wave depending upon which experimental set-up scientists employ; we can never see an electron as it is in itself outside of our experiments; whatever it is in itself remains a mystery — it is not a particle or a wave, but something capable of manifesting these phenomena when we interact with it in different ways. Similarly, believers experience the Real differently depending on their religious and philosophical beliefs, but the Real-in-itself remains a mystery: no substantive terms for phenomenal objects apply to it — like Kant’s noumenon, the Real-in-itself is beyond our ability to know or to conceptualize. So too, what happens to us after death is a mystery. Thus, each believer is wrong in believing that his or her view is better than others: all views are imperfect and dependent upon human beliefs. That is, the Real-in-itself is not known partially by each religious tradition but is unknown. Thus, we know much less about the transcendent reality than most religious persons are willing to concede — we may accept some formal attributes about its relation to the world (e.g., being a creator), but no more substantive attributes about the Real-in-itself.
A different approach for this position goes back to the Middle Eastern and Indian parable of a group of blind men who touch different parts of an elephant and mistakenly conclude from their limited perspectives that they know what an elephant is. In one common version, one man touches the elephant’s side and concludes it is a wall; a second man touches a tusk and concludes it must be a spear; a third feels the trunk and concludes it is a snake; a fourth touches a leg and concludes it must be a tree; a fifth man feels the elephant’s ear and the breeze it makes and concludes it is a fan; and a sixth man grasps the tail and concludes it is a rope. The observers laugh, and the men quarrel, each insisting that he alone is correct, and eventually fight. The moral of the parable is not that a transcendent reality has different parts that different believers experience but that believers are wrong in drawing final conclusions about its true nature from their own direct experiences.
Thus, perennial philosophers and pluralists require all religious believers to admit that their formulations are wrong in some fundamental sense because they do not know the Real-in-itself. All depictions are penultimate at best. Like Kant’s noumena, the Real-in-itself is an unknowable mystery, and we have to accept the limited value of any formulation and be content with operating with those formulations. We are stuck with not knowing the Kantian noumenal reality behind experiences and with not knowing the religious noumenon either. Even if mystics have a direct and unmediated experience of the noumenal reality, their accounts after the experience will always be conditioned by their beliefs and will reflect those beliefs — they will look back and see the Real through a cultural prism. Thus, those who argue for a pluralism as the proper relation between religious claims usually stress skepticism about doctrines and a radical ineffable mystery at the core of things. In sum, the actual nature of any transcendent realities and what happens at death remain a mystery — all human concepts are only “masks” that hide the true nature of things. No religious doctrines are literally correct in the final analysis. Thus, all doctrinal claims cannot be interpreted literally, although they remain factual in nature and cannot be reduced to, say, moral prescriptions. This leads to an agnosticism about their beliefs: even if believers reject a skepticism about there being transcendent realities, they have to accept that they do not know anything with certainty about those realities and that all our beliefs no doubt are flawed — it is not merely to hold all beliefs open to revision, but to accept that we are not in a position to know what beliefs to hold.
Indeed, this leads to a major problem: this position tells all people that their beliefs are wrong in a major way. For example, the New Testament is wrong — we do not need to be Christian to be saved. All believers need to modify their beliefs about salvation, what happens after death, and the nature of God. But that one’s own religion is not absolute is difficult for many to swallow — most Christians believe that Christ is only one way to salvation. Christianity is reduced to merely another planet circling the Real. Treating all salvafic religions as equal is a value judgment that most theists do not make. Hence the reluctance of many believers to adopt this theology of religions. Nevertheless, under pluralism each religion is best for some people, and all are equally wrong in some basic regard.
Moreover, if God or some other transcendent noumenon is totally unknown, how do you know there is a personal, loving god, or that prayers work? How can Christians know if God is love? Can we know that the “Real-in-itself” is not personal or impersonal, loving or not, and so forth? How do we know that immoral action is not permitted? (Natural evil, i.e., the suffering that all sentient beings endure on simply by being alive on this planet, also presents a problem for inferring anything about the nature of a transcendent creator.) Most basically, how can theists trust God and practice their religion if they are not certain or at least confident that God exists? Pluralists are telling the faithful that they are all wrong in some important sense — you have got some important doctrines about themselves and others wrong because we don’t know what God is like or what will happen at death or what will happen to nonbelievers.
It is also important to note that for many pluralists, salvation is just about becoming less self-centered, regardless of what the religious think. Is this taking real religions and their practices seriously? Or is it a new religious goal that is being superimposed on all actual religions? It does not seem to be treated by pluralists as merely a more abstract umbrella category that all concrete religious goals fall into.
But pluralism requires that you must ultimately give up the distinctive doctrines of your religion as no more than “myths.” And this is the basis of the religious objection to pluralism: Hick is telling all believers that they are fundamentally wrong concerning the possible salvation of others and in their conception of God and salvation — such matters are ultimately mysteries, and believers have to accept that they do not know them. All teachings become tentative or symbolic, not anything believers can ultimately rely upon. But the religious have difficulty accepting any pluralism that means having to accept that their own religious claims are in some way incorrect or not well-founded or that all religions are of equal value or as “true.” Most believe their own beliefs are better ground epistemologically than others. Thus, most believers (including classical mystics) would reject this theology. There is a radical agnosticism in pluralism about transcendent realities that most religious persons reject: they want to believe that they know at least something correctly about transcendent realities even if there is a mysterious depth to such realities that we cannot know. If transcendent realities are truly ineffable, how can anyone be religiously committed and yet be tentative about the beliefs that their religious practices entail? How can the religious know what is an appropriate response to the transcendent if they cannot be confident that they know at least some aspects of it correctly? Again, how could theists worship or pray to something unknown? How would they know transcendent realities are moral or loving or otherwise worthy of worship rather than simply an object of awe or of fear? Thus, accepting pluralism can harm one’s commitment to one’s religious tradition.
Indeed, if no account of transcendent realities can be given, how can pluralists know that all religious believers are responding to the same reality? How can we know anything about such realities? How do they know such realities even exist? Or is all religion based on speculation only? Wouldn’t we need some access to such realities? Shouldn’t pluralists be skeptics instead? How do pluralists know that some believers in fact are in contact with a transcendent reality and their religion is better than others? Or how could theists be confident that there is only one god? For any religion, without religious conviction, if one only accepts one religion tentatively, how can they perform the acts the way that their religion requires? Moreover, with their agnosticism, how could pluralists know that loving or moral conduct toward others is the means to salvation? How could they possibly know that all religious traditions are vehicles for salvation? This is especially so since different religions see the world as presenting different religious problems and offer different cures to those problems. Theists want to accept that there is only one transcendent source (along with transcendent souls) — a creator that is personal, all-loving, and moral in nature. Thus, most believers want to deny there is a total mystery about transcendent matters, and exclusivists want to argue that there are ways to determine that one tradition and some doctrines are better than others.
In an attempt not to concede the moral high ground to pluralists, exclusivists argue that pluralists, Hindus, and Buddhists are all exclusivists too. They argue this so that everyone is in the same boat and therefore Christian exclusivists do not look so bad morally. But this is simply wrong. Remember that the exclusivist claim is a matter of salvation — i.e., you need to belong to a given religion or you will be damned. It is not that your religion is at the top of a hierarchy of religion (e.g., your branch of Hinduism is the top but others are not totally wrong). Buddhists claim that you must follow the Buddha’s teaching to gain enlightenment, but not that you are necessarily going to hell if not a Buddhist — the process of rebirths means that over time you may eventually be reborn as a Buddhist and eventually attain enlightenment. (There are also Buddhist universalists.) The Dalai Lama suggests we practice whatever religion we are comfortable with — that is the best way to become enlightened in a future rebirth. Indeed, any acceptance of a series of rebirths within the phenomenal world makes it hard to be an exclusivist: members of such religions are inclined to believe that if you fulfill the requirements of your own religion, you will end up in the “true religion” somewhere down the line. Thus, branches of Hinduism are typically more than inclusivist—they incorporate other Hindu and non-Hindu religions into a hierarchy with that branch alone on top.
So too, any philosophy or theology of religion such as pluralism cannot be a religious exclusivism — pluralists never say that you have to be a pluralist or you are damned. No pluralist says that you must subscribe to our theology of religion or you won’t be save. That is, pluralism is a philosophy or theology and makes claims that pluralists believe are true, but this does not make it a religious exclusivism concerning salvation: one does not have to adhere to the philosophy or theology of pluralism to be saved. It is a philosophy of the relation of religions, not a new religion itself. Rather, one remains in a particular religious tradition, even if, as a pluralist, one has to modify some of one’s first-order religious beliefs about transcendent realities and the salvific uniqueness of one’s religion. In other words, pluralism, like exclusivism, is a second-order claim about the relation of religions and is not itself a matter of salvation.
Pluralists obviously do make truth-claims that they claim are true (and thus that claims that conflict with these claims are false), but it is the exclusivists’ misdirection to see this necessary claim to truth as a form of exclusivism in matters of salvation. Of course, one can twist the meaning of “exclusivist” to mean only “making a claim to truth” — and of course, pluralists do make truth-claims and do deny claims that conflict with their truth-claims. But this common-sense sense of asserting truth-claims is not what “exclusivism” means in this context — i.e., exclusivism in the sense of “necessary for salvation” — and thus this twist certainly does not make pluralism a matter of salvation.
In sum, pluralism is not a vehicle for salvation but a theological or philosophical doctrine about the relation of religions. But unlike exclusivism, it does not make one first-order religion the exclusive vehicle to salvation. Pluralism gives “equal weight” to all first-order religions, but this does not mean that it gives equal weight to all philosophical positions on the relation of religions. If one applied the equal weight thesis to itself and its second-order competitors, one would end up with an infinite regress and no way of deciding any undecided issue. Both exclusivism and pluralism are both second-order claims about the relation of religions (as are the other three options discussed here), but only exclusivists claim that only one tradition is a vehicle to salvation. Pluralists would require all religions to modify their beliefs (traditional Christians say they gut orthodox doctrines), but they do not favor one religion over another.
Pluralists see the religious diversity in the world today as a defeater of exclusivism: a believer cannot give greater epistemic weight to their own beliefs. Exclusivists obviously disagree. Some pluralists (including Robert McKim, Gary Gutting, and Joseph Runzo) think that exclusivists should hold their exclusivist views tentatively and with less confidence, as does Philip Quinn — their beliefs are less secure than if there were no competitors. But I am not sure what that means when exclusivists are well aware of the alternative theologies of religion and do not see them as defeating their view. In addition, we should all hold our philosophical beliefs tentatively and open to revision, but why exclusivists should see their beliefs in a category that pluralists do not in is not clear. The conflict between pluralism and exclusivism still remains unresolvable in any neutral fashion.
Perennial Philosophy
Another modern attempt at reconciliation places all religious doctrines in a “perennial philosophy” framework. Perennial philosophers such as Huston Smith and Seyyed H. Nasr handle apparently conflicting claims from different traditions by accepting a pluralism of paths all leading to the same summit or different idioms expressing the same truth. All religions are “true” in the sense that each religion is an effective means to experiencing the same transcendent reality even if no specific doctrine is the final truth. Perennial philosophers argue that all traditions have distinct and unique “exoteric” shells but the same “esoteric” core, like a spectrum of colored lights arising from one common white light. They propose a metaphysical scheme with an unmoving Godhead at the center emanating spirit, minds, and lastly matter. They then interpret all religious doctrines in light of this scheme. Perennial philosophers differ from religious pluralists in supplying a metaphysics of the emergence of the world from the one transcendent reality and interpreting all religious doctrines in light of that metaphysics; pluralists, on the other hand, rely more on mystery and humility.
Perennial philosophy and pluralism may satisfy modern liberal believers, but these approaches must revise traditional religious teachings. A passage from early Theravada Buddhism represents classical religious thought: “There is one truth without a second. People, being confused on this point, claim there are many truths” (Sutta Nipata 884). Introvertive mystics believe they are experiencing a transcendent reality directly. Thus, there is less mystery than Kantians suppose, even if there is more to the transcendent reality than human beings are capable of handling. But there are no differentiated aspects of what is experienced in the “empty” depth-mystical experience (as with the elephant in the analogy), and thus having direct access to a reality is a problem for any idea of pluralism. Equally important, mystics also have different soteriological goals with different paths and values — i.e., different paths leading to different summits — not just different conceptions of transcendent realities. (Thus, even if there is a transcendent reality and all introvertive mystics experience that reality and merely interpret its nature differently, there is still no “esoteric unity” to all religions. Religions are genuinely different: they are encompassing ways of life with different goals and values—these cannot be dismissed as extraneous “exoteric” phenomena. And again, mystics from different traditions continue to dispute claims about the nature of the transcendent reality and human destiny. It is hard to see theists as heading for the same goal as Buddhists.)
Some may not speculate on what happens when the enlightened die, or all believers may believe that human conceptions cannot truly reflect transcendent realities, but they nevertheless all have particular ways of life that do not converge into one generic “religious way of life.” So too, believers may be willing to accept that their doctrines are only “partial truths” and not the complete truth, but they typically are not willing to accept that doctrines that conflict with theirs are equally true. People who have mystical experiences like to conclude that their experience confirms their religion’s beliefs, but they have to accept that mystics in other traditions feel the same way and that no one is in a position to determine who is correct.
Universalism
This position is simply that all people will ultimately end up in the state of salvation regardless of their beliefs and actions in this world because God’s mercy is so great. It is based on the Western theistic belief that God is all-loving, and no all-loving reality would consign any sentient being (even Hitler and child-molesting priests) to suffer in hell for eternity — a truly loving and merciful god would not permit that. Some early Christians believed this, but it became more popular in modern times.
Particularism
This position, like pluralism, also accepts mystery and agnosticism — i.e., that we not know the nature of salvation and the transcendent or what occurs at death. But it gives more weight to distinct religious paths and goals — i.e., one or more may be better or the best for what happens after death, but we don’t know. They accept that different religions are not simply different paths up the same mountain to salvation but involve distinct mountains — i.e., different religions genuinely differ in their doctrines, values, goals, and in what they see as the existential problem that needs solving and its cure. But particularists argue that we should practice the religion we belong to (or the one we feel most comfortable in) and remain agnostic as to what happens to members of other religions after death. “We don’t know what happens to you, and so we will not judge.” But again, you have to modify your beliefs in one regard: your religion may not be a unique vehicle for salvation — we just do not know. Particularism again downplays any proselytizing because there is no reason to assume that only your religion is the way to salvation. Rather, they accept more mystery.
Nor is there any need for syncretizing religions: one’s study of other religions may cause you to modify your beliefs — I know people who call themselves “Buddhist Jews” and “Buddhist Christians” — but one should still practice one’s own religion and accept that others may do the same.
If I understand the general Jewish position, Jews do not believe one must be Jewish to be saved: God gave Jews a particular assignment in restoring the world through following the commandments in the Old Testament, but God also communicates with people outside Judaism and thus is present in other religions.
Once one accepts that all our all-too-human conceptions are faulty, tolerance of others’ belief should result. But it must be pointed out that “tolerance” of other people’s beliefs can mean looking down on them from a sense of superiority — like being tolerant of children’s lack of knowledge. In short, not treating others as epistemological equals or showing appreciation of others’ beliefs. It can also lead to indifference to the entire issue of truth. Even if “interreligious dialog” is not for converting others but to learn more about others’ faith, most Christians apparently do no want to enter into such a dialog with other religions on basic religious theory (as opposed to cooperate on ethical action) because they do not treat other religions as equals but stress their own uniqueness. They may be interacting with others to deepen their own understanding of Christianity. But tolerance can also result from accepting that your own religious position may not be correct or from refusing to absolutize any religious doctrinal system as definitive.
Conclusion
Liberals like the last four options, but liberal forms of religion seem to be dying out or becoming arid, and thus any of these options being adopted widely is very unlikely. In various degrees, these options show respect for other people and their beliefs, not merely tolerate them. But the last four options would change how one sees one’s own religion and changes one’s practices at least a little, and that raises the question of whether proponents of these options really “tolerate” other religious beliefs. At least inclusivism, universalism, and particularism do not ask other religions to change very much. The central problem is any liberal approach will mean that one must accept the doctrines of one’s own tradition tentatively and open to revision, and that is very difficult to do. Indeed, accepting the diversity of religions can lead to losing interest in being religious at all: religious commitment may fade away once a tradition’s doctrines are not taken as literally and absolutely true but provisional. If all the religious can firmly commit to is a belief that there is more to reality than meets the naturalistic eye, living a religious life becomes rudderless.
As Arnold Toynbee once said, no one alive knows enough to say with confidence whether or not one religion is to the others — the question remains an open one (Huston Smith, The World Religions, p. 385). All of these options are a matter of how one sees one’s own religion and are ultimately a theological dispute and therefore hard to resolve. There are no devastating philosophical arguments for or against any of the six options except the moral problem with exclusivism (and exclusivists apparently are willing to accept the price). Agnosticism may work for nonreligious philosophers, but not for practicing believers — as a practical matter, people must make a choice and have concrete beliefs.
In the past it may have been rational to hold exclusivism when other religions and naturalism were not considered real choices. But today it is not rational to ignore other religions. You cannot put your figures in your ears and hum whether other religious options are mentioned. Rather, to be rational one must address other religious and nonreligious options and show that holding one’s religious position as at least as rational as holding the other live options. But unless one can show that holding the other options is less rational, one must concede that the justification or warrant for holding one’s own position is lessened. Still, it appears that one can rationally adopt any of the six options discussed above (including exclusivism) — rationality is a low standard if it only means examining your position and possible criticisms of it. It is ultimately a matter of adopting a theological position — philosophical analysis can only draw out the implications of each position. Faith will always involve risk.
According to demographers, by the year 2050 there will be more Muslims in the world than Christians. (Currently, between 20% and 25% of the world’s population is at least nominally Christian, and another 20% to 25% is at least nominally Muslim, but the Muslim world is growing faster.) Perhaps then there will be fewer exclusivist Christians if they accept that Christianity is not inevitably going to be the religion of all people. But this does not necessarily have to happen: perhaps Christian exclusivists will not be content to be in a perpetually minority religion, just as conservative Christian are fighting for control of American laws. But perhaps those who consciously decide to adopt a particular religion may not be as certain about it being the only vehicle to salvation and thus may be less likely to adopt exclusivism.
When asked, I recommend a qualified particularism. You can maintain your religion and its practices with one modification: accepting that you don’t know what will happen after death. Thus, you must admit that you don’t know what will happen to yourself or to members of other traditions (and of no tradition) after we die. (In general, I think that mystery should be stressed more than it is — we know less than we like to think we do. One of the basic doctrines of one of the religious may be correct, but we are not in a position to know.) Thus, you can’t condemn others for their choices or try to convert others. But refraining from objecting to others’ faith is in fact a major qualification: this still means that you are not absolutely certain about your own beliefs. But absolute certainty is not necessary for a life of faith.
In any case, for the religious of the world to find a way to live together is paramount. Exclusivism and the retrenchment of fundamentalism around the world inherently involve an “us versus them” mentality and can easily lead to intolerance and thus to violence and war against other groups. This is not to say that religion is the sole or principal cause of wars — economic and other social considerations are typically stronger motives. But today religion is one of the most divisive elements in cultures — indeed, religion (even if misinterpreted) is the legitimating force behind most wars and division today. Only with a religious legitimation can one justify such anger and hate. Thus, finding a way to curtail such hatred and violence is needed if we are to survive. And considering the mystery of it all, humility is more appropriate than the usual human response to anything of shouting “We’re No. 1!”
Comments?
© Richard H. Jones 2024
“The humble, meek, merciful, just, pious, and devout souls are everywhere of one religion; and when death has taken off the mask they will know one another, though the diverse liveries they wear here makes them strangers.”
— William Penn
Pluralism
Pluralism begins with a simple observation: everyone is prone to argue that their religion is obviously the best, but there is no clear argument to establish the superiority of one particular tradition. Pluralists do not merely accept that there is a diversity of religions today but prescribe a theology of religions in which believe that all (or most) religions can be vehicles to salvation, and that all (or most) religions are basically the same in their power to do so. No one religion is the unique vehicle to salvation — in particular, Christianity is no longer the only path to salvation. So too, no tradition is in a privileged position to pontificate on the nature of the transcendent Reality, and all religions misconstrue the nature of that reality in some regard — it remains a mystery. Every believer may claim that their religion is in a privileged position with regard to salvation, but there are no neutral, rational grounds to determine that one religion is doctrinally or morally superior to others. (Some pluralists would eliminate any religion as salvific that is not minimally moral or compassionate or by some other criterion. But all the mainstream traditions of the world religions today are accepted.) All religious beliefs are human constructs and subject to our mental limitations and fallibilities. (Many believe that human personhood is the best model for a transcendent reality; others point to the limitations and dependency of being a person, and so the transcendent must surpass personhood altogether.) There is no need for proselytizing since all religions can be vehicles for salvation, and so trying to convert other should not be part of your religion. All religions are ways to salvation, whatever “salvation” may entail. That is, all paths lead to salvation, but we do not know what that postmortem state actually is.
The most famous pluralist is the late philosopher of religion John Hick. He proposed a “Copernican revolution” for the relation of religions, with all religious conceptions orbiting the “Real” in the center. This leads to a Kantian-inspired pluralism without the elaborate metaphysical overlay of “perennial philosophy” but having a similar effect. These pluralists argue that the Real is beyond all our categories and is experienced differently depending on the religious context of a particular person. All veridical religious experiences of the Real are “true” insofar as they are in fact experiences of the Real, but we cannot get behind the different “masks” of experience and know the Real-in-itself. Thus, the Real-in-itself is not personal or nonpersonal, moral or nonmoral, one or many, and so on — these masks are only categories imposed upon it in different cultures. To use an analogy from science: we never know an electron-in-itself; an electron appears as a particle or a group of them can appear as a wave depending upon which experimental set-up scientists employ; we can never see an electron as it is in itself outside of our experiments; whatever it is in itself remains a mystery — it is not a particle or a wave, but something capable of manifesting these phenomena when we interact with it in different ways. Similarly, believers experience the Real differently depending on their religious and philosophical beliefs, but the Real-in-itself remains a mystery: no substantive terms for phenomenal objects apply to it — like Kant’s noumenon, the Real-in-itself is beyond our ability to know or to conceptualize. So too, what happens to us after death is a mystery. Thus, each believer is wrong in believing that his or her view is better than others: all views are imperfect and dependent upon human beliefs. That is, the Real-in-itself is not known partially by each religious tradition but is unknown. Thus, we know much less about the transcendent reality than most religious persons are willing to concede — we may accept some formal attributes about its relation to the world (e.g., being a creator), but no more substantive attributes about the Real-in-itself.
A different approach for this position goes back to the Middle Eastern and Indian parable of a group of blind men who touch different parts of an elephant and mistakenly conclude from their limited perspectives that they know what an elephant is. In one common version, one man touches the elephant’s side and concludes it is a wall; a second man touches a tusk and concludes it must be a spear; a third feels the trunk and concludes it is a snake; a fourth touches a leg and concludes it must be a tree; a fifth man feels the elephant’s ear and the breeze it makes and concludes it is a fan; and a sixth man grasps the tail and concludes it is a rope. The observers laugh, and the men quarrel, each insisting that he alone is correct, and eventually fight. The moral of the parable is not that a transcendent reality has different parts that different believers experience but that believers are wrong in drawing final conclusions about its true nature from their own direct experiences.
Thus, perennial philosophers and pluralists require all religious believers to admit that their formulations are wrong in some fundamental sense because they do not know the Real-in-itself. All depictions are penultimate at best. Like Kant’s noumena, the Real-in-itself is an unknowable mystery, and we have to accept the limited value of any formulation and be content with operating with those formulations. We are stuck with not knowing the Kantian noumenal reality behind experiences and with not knowing the religious noumenon either. Even if mystics have a direct and unmediated experience of the noumenal reality, their accounts after the experience will always be conditioned by their beliefs and will reflect those beliefs — they will look back and see the Real through a cultural prism. Thus, those who argue for a pluralism as the proper relation between religious claims usually stress skepticism about doctrines and a radical ineffable mystery at the core of things. In sum, the actual nature of any transcendent realities and what happens at death remain a mystery — all human concepts are only “masks” that hide the true nature of things. No religious doctrines are literally correct in the final analysis. Thus, all doctrinal claims cannot be interpreted literally, although they remain factual in nature and cannot be reduced to, say, moral prescriptions. This leads to an agnosticism about their beliefs: even if believers reject a skepticism about there being transcendent realities, they have to accept that they do not know anything with certainty about those realities and that all our beliefs no doubt are flawed — it is not merely to hold all beliefs open to revision, but to accept that we are not in a position to know what beliefs to hold.
Indeed, this leads to a major problem: this position tells all people that their beliefs are wrong in a major way. For example, the New Testament is wrong — we do not need to be Christian to be saved. All believers need to modify their beliefs about salvation, what happens after death, and the nature of God. But that one’s own religion is not absolute is difficult for many to swallow — most Christians believe that Christ is only one way to salvation. Christianity is reduced to merely another planet circling the Real. Treating all salvafic religions as equal is a value judgment that most theists do not make. Hence the reluctance of many believers to adopt this theology of religions. Nevertheless, under pluralism each religion is best for some people, and all are equally wrong in some basic regard.
Moreover, if God or some other transcendent noumenon is totally unknown, how do you know there is a personal, loving god, or that prayers work? How can Christians know if God is love? Can we know that the “Real-in-itself” is not personal or impersonal, loving or not, and so forth? How do we know that immoral action is not permitted? (Natural evil, i.e., the suffering that all sentient beings endure on simply by being alive on this planet, also presents a problem for inferring anything about the nature of a transcendent creator.) Most basically, how can theists trust God and practice their religion if they are not certain or at least confident that God exists? Pluralists are telling the faithful that they are all wrong in some important sense — you have got some important doctrines about themselves and others wrong because we don’t know what God is like or what will happen at death or what will happen to nonbelievers.
It is also important to note that for many pluralists, salvation is just about becoming less self-centered, regardless of what the religious think. Is this taking real religions and their practices seriously? Or is it a new religious goal that is being superimposed on all actual religions? It does not seem to be treated by pluralists as merely a more abstract umbrella category that all concrete religious goals fall into.
But pluralism requires that you must ultimately give up the distinctive doctrines of your religion as no more than “myths.” And this is the basis of the religious objection to pluralism: Hick is telling all believers that they are fundamentally wrong concerning the possible salvation of others and in their conception of God and salvation — such matters are ultimately mysteries, and believers have to accept that they do not know them. All teachings become tentative or symbolic, not anything believers can ultimately rely upon. But the religious have difficulty accepting any pluralism that means having to accept that their own religious claims are in some way incorrect or not well-founded or that all religions are of equal value or as “true.” Most believe their own beliefs are better ground epistemologically than others. Thus, most believers (including classical mystics) would reject this theology. There is a radical agnosticism in pluralism about transcendent realities that most religious persons reject: they want to believe that they know at least something correctly about transcendent realities even if there is a mysterious depth to such realities that we cannot know. If transcendent realities are truly ineffable, how can anyone be religiously committed and yet be tentative about the beliefs that their religious practices entail? How can the religious know what is an appropriate response to the transcendent if they cannot be confident that they know at least some aspects of it correctly? Again, how could theists worship or pray to something unknown? How would they know transcendent realities are moral or loving or otherwise worthy of worship rather than simply an object of awe or of fear? Thus, accepting pluralism can harm one’s commitment to one’s religious tradition.
Indeed, if no account of transcendent realities can be given, how can pluralists know that all religious believers are responding to the same reality? How can we know anything about such realities? How do they know such realities even exist? Or is all religion based on speculation only? Wouldn’t we need some access to such realities? Shouldn’t pluralists be skeptics instead? How do pluralists know that some believers in fact are in contact with a transcendent reality and their religion is better than others? Or how could theists be confident that there is only one god? For any religion, without religious conviction, if one only accepts one religion tentatively, how can they perform the acts the way that their religion requires? Moreover, with their agnosticism, how could pluralists know that loving or moral conduct toward others is the means to salvation? How could they possibly know that all religious traditions are vehicles for salvation? This is especially so since different religions see the world as presenting different religious problems and offer different cures to those problems. Theists want to accept that there is only one transcendent source (along with transcendent souls) — a creator that is personal, all-loving, and moral in nature. Thus, most believers want to deny there is a total mystery about transcendent matters, and exclusivists want to argue that there are ways to determine that one tradition and some doctrines are better than others.
In an attempt not to concede the moral high ground to pluralists, exclusivists argue that pluralists, Hindus, and Buddhists are all exclusivists too. They argue this so that everyone is in the same boat and therefore Christian exclusivists do not look so bad morally. But this is simply wrong. Remember that the exclusivist claim is a matter of salvation — i.e., you need to belong to a given religion or you will be damned. It is not that your religion is at the top of a hierarchy of religion (e.g., your branch of Hinduism is the top but others are not totally wrong). Buddhists claim that you must follow the Buddha’s teaching to gain enlightenment, but not that you are necessarily going to hell if not a Buddhist — the process of rebirths means that over time you may eventually be reborn as a Buddhist and eventually attain enlightenment. (There are also Buddhist universalists.) The Dalai Lama suggests we practice whatever religion we are comfortable with — that is the best way to become enlightened in a future rebirth. Indeed, any acceptance of a series of rebirths within the phenomenal world makes it hard to be an exclusivist: members of such religions are inclined to believe that if you fulfill the requirements of your own religion, you will end up in the “true religion” somewhere down the line. Thus, branches of Hinduism are typically more than inclusivist—they incorporate other Hindu and non-Hindu religions into a hierarchy with that branch alone on top.
So too, any philosophy or theology of religion such as pluralism cannot be a religious exclusivism — pluralists never say that you have to be a pluralist or you are damned. No pluralist says that you must subscribe to our theology of religion or you won’t be save. That is, pluralism is a philosophy or theology and makes claims that pluralists believe are true, but this does not make it a religious exclusivism concerning salvation: one does not have to adhere to the philosophy or theology of pluralism to be saved. It is a philosophy of the relation of religions, not a new religion itself. Rather, one remains in a particular religious tradition, even if, as a pluralist, one has to modify some of one’s first-order religious beliefs about transcendent realities and the salvific uniqueness of one’s religion. In other words, pluralism, like exclusivism, is a second-order claim about the relation of religions and is not itself a matter of salvation.
Pluralists obviously do make truth-claims that they claim are true (and thus that claims that conflict with these claims are false), but it is the exclusivists’ misdirection to see this necessary claim to truth as a form of exclusivism in matters of salvation. Of course, one can twist the meaning of “exclusivist” to mean only “making a claim to truth” — and of course, pluralists do make truth-claims and do deny claims that conflict with their truth-claims. But this common-sense sense of asserting truth-claims is not what “exclusivism” means in this context — i.e., exclusivism in the sense of “necessary for salvation” — and thus this twist certainly does not make pluralism a matter of salvation.
In sum, pluralism is not a vehicle for salvation but a theological or philosophical doctrine about the relation of religions. But unlike exclusivism, it does not make one first-order religion the exclusive vehicle to salvation. Pluralism gives “equal weight” to all first-order religions, but this does not mean that it gives equal weight to all philosophical positions on the relation of religions. If one applied the equal weight thesis to itself and its second-order competitors, one would end up with an infinite regress and no way of deciding any undecided issue. Both exclusivism and pluralism are both second-order claims about the relation of religions (as are the other three options discussed here), but only exclusivists claim that only one tradition is a vehicle to salvation. Pluralists would require all religions to modify their beliefs (traditional Christians say they gut orthodox doctrines), but they do not favor one religion over another.
Pluralists see the religious diversity in the world today as a defeater of exclusivism: a believer cannot give greater epistemic weight to their own beliefs. Exclusivists obviously disagree. Some pluralists (including Robert McKim, Gary Gutting, and Joseph Runzo) think that exclusivists should hold their exclusivist views tentatively and with less confidence, as does Philip Quinn — their beliefs are less secure than if there were no competitors. But I am not sure what that means when exclusivists are well aware of the alternative theologies of religion and do not see them as defeating their view. In addition, we should all hold our philosophical beliefs tentatively and open to revision, but why exclusivists should see their beliefs in a category that pluralists do not in is not clear. The conflict between pluralism and exclusivism still remains unresolvable in any neutral fashion.
Perennial Philosophy
Another modern attempt at reconciliation places all religious doctrines in a “perennial philosophy” framework. Perennial philosophers such as Huston Smith and Seyyed H. Nasr handle apparently conflicting claims from different traditions by accepting a pluralism of paths all leading to the same summit or different idioms expressing the same truth. All religions are “true” in the sense that each religion is an effective means to experiencing the same transcendent reality even if no specific doctrine is the final truth. Perennial philosophers argue that all traditions have distinct and unique “exoteric” shells but the same “esoteric” core, like a spectrum of colored lights arising from one common white light. They propose a metaphysical scheme with an unmoving Godhead at the center emanating spirit, minds, and lastly matter. They then interpret all religious doctrines in light of this scheme. Perennial philosophers differ from religious pluralists in supplying a metaphysics of the emergence of the world from the one transcendent reality and interpreting all religious doctrines in light of that metaphysics; pluralists, on the other hand, rely more on mystery and humility.
Perennial philosophy and pluralism may satisfy modern liberal believers, but these approaches must revise traditional religious teachings. A passage from early Theravada Buddhism represents classical religious thought: “There is one truth without a second. People, being confused on this point, claim there are many truths” (Sutta Nipata 884). Introvertive mystics believe they are experiencing a transcendent reality directly. Thus, there is less mystery than Kantians suppose, even if there is more to the transcendent reality than human beings are capable of handling. But there are no differentiated aspects of what is experienced in the “empty” depth-mystical experience (as with the elephant in the analogy), and thus having direct access to a reality is a problem for any idea of pluralism. Equally important, mystics also have different soteriological goals with different paths and values — i.e., different paths leading to different summits — not just different conceptions of transcendent realities. (Thus, even if there is a transcendent reality and all introvertive mystics experience that reality and merely interpret its nature differently, there is still no “esoteric unity” to all religions. Religions are genuinely different: they are encompassing ways of life with different goals and values—these cannot be dismissed as extraneous “exoteric” phenomena. And again, mystics from different traditions continue to dispute claims about the nature of the transcendent reality and human destiny. It is hard to see theists as heading for the same goal as Buddhists.)
Some may not speculate on what happens when the enlightened die, or all believers may believe that human conceptions cannot truly reflect transcendent realities, but they nevertheless all have particular ways of life that do not converge into one generic “religious way of life.” So too, believers may be willing to accept that their doctrines are only “partial truths” and not the complete truth, but they typically are not willing to accept that doctrines that conflict with theirs are equally true. People who have mystical experiences like to conclude that their experience confirms their religion’s beliefs, but they have to accept that mystics in other traditions feel the same way and that no one is in a position to determine who is correct.
Universalism
This position is simply that all people will ultimately end up in the state of salvation regardless of their beliefs and actions in this world because God’s mercy is so great. It is based on the Western theistic belief that God is all-loving, and no all-loving reality would consign any sentient being (even Hitler and child-molesting priests) to suffer in hell for eternity — a truly loving and merciful god would not permit that. Some early Christians believed this, but it became more popular in modern times.
Particularism
This position, like pluralism, also accepts mystery and agnosticism — i.e., that we not know the nature of salvation and the transcendent or what occurs at death. But it gives more weight to distinct religious paths and goals — i.e., one or more may be better or the best for what happens after death, but we don’t know. They accept that different religions are not simply different paths up the same mountain to salvation but involve distinct mountains — i.e., different religions genuinely differ in their doctrines, values, goals, and in what they see as the existential problem that needs solving and its cure. But particularists argue that we should practice the religion we belong to (or the one we feel most comfortable in) and remain agnostic as to what happens to members of other religions after death. “We don’t know what happens to you, and so we will not judge.” But again, you have to modify your beliefs in one regard: your religion may not be a unique vehicle for salvation — we just do not know. Particularism again downplays any proselytizing because there is no reason to assume that only your religion is the way to salvation. Rather, they accept more mystery.
Nor is there any need for syncretizing religions: one’s study of other religions may cause you to modify your beliefs — I know people who call themselves “Buddhist Jews” and “Buddhist Christians” — but one should still practice one’s own religion and accept that others may do the same.
If I understand the general Jewish position, Jews do not believe one must be Jewish to be saved: God gave Jews a particular assignment in restoring the world through following the commandments in the Old Testament, but God also communicates with people outside Judaism and thus is present in other religions.
Once one accepts that all our all-too-human conceptions are faulty, tolerance of others’ belief should result. But it must be pointed out that “tolerance” of other people’s beliefs can mean looking down on them from a sense of superiority — like being tolerant of children’s lack of knowledge. In short, not treating others as epistemological equals or showing appreciation of others’ beliefs. It can also lead to indifference to the entire issue of truth. Even if “interreligious dialog” is not for converting others but to learn more about others’ faith, most Christians apparently do no want to enter into such a dialog with other religions on basic religious theory (as opposed to cooperate on ethical action) because they do not treat other religions as equals but stress their own uniqueness. They may be interacting with others to deepen their own understanding of Christianity. But tolerance can also result from accepting that your own religious position may not be correct or from refusing to absolutize any religious doctrinal system as definitive.
Conclusion
Liberals like the last four options, but liberal forms of religion seem to be dying out or becoming arid, and thus any of these options being adopted widely is very unlikely. In various degrees, these options show respect for other people and their beliefs, not merely tolerate them. But the last four options would change how one sees one’s own religion and changes one’s practices at least a little, and that raises the question of whether proponents of these options really “tolerate” other religious beliefs. At least inclusivism, universalism, and particularism do not ask other religions to change very much. The central problem is any liberal approach will mean that one must accept the doctrines of one’s own tradition tentatively and open to revision, and that is very difficult to do. Indeed, accepting the diversity of religions can lead to losing interest in being religious at all: religious commitment may fade away once a tradition’s doctrines are not taken as literally and absolutely true but provisional. If all the religious can firmly commit to is a belief that there is more to reality than meets the naturalistic eye, living a religious life becomes rudderless.
As Arnold Toynbee once said, no one alive knows enough to say with confidence whether or not one religion is to the others — the question remains an open one (Huston Smith, The World Religions, p. 385). All of these options are a matter of how one sees one’s own religion and are ultimately a theological dispute and therefore hard to resolve. There are no devastating philosophical arguments for or against any of the six options except the moral problem with exclusivism (and exclusivists apparently are willing to accept the price). Agnosticism may work for nonreligious philosophers, but not for practicing believers — as a practical matter, people must make a choice and have concrete beliefs.
In the past it may have been rational to hold exclusivism when other religions and naturalism were not considered real choices. But today it is not rational to ignore other religions. You cannot put your figures in your ears and hum whether other religious options are mentioned. Rather, to be rational one must address other religious and nonreligious options and show that holding one’s religious position as at least as rational as holding the other live options. But unless one can show that holding the other options is less rational, one must concede that the justification or warrant for holding one’s own position is lessened. Still, it appears that one can rationally adopt any of the six options discussed above (including exclusivism) — rationality is a low standard if it only means examining your position and possible criticisms of it. It is ultimately a matter of adopting a theological position — philosophical analysis can only draw out the implications of each position. Faith will always involve risk.
According to demographers, by the year 2050 there will be more Muslims in the world than Christians. (Currently, between 20% and 25% of the world’s population is at least nominally Christian, and another 20% to 25% is at least nominally Muslim, but the Muslim world is growing faster.) Perhaps then there will be fewer exclusivist Christians if they accept that Christianity is not inevitably going to be the religion of all people. But this does not necessarily have to happen: perhaps Christian exclusivists will not be content to be in a perpetually minority religion, just as conservative Christian are fighting for control of American laws. But perhaps those who consciously decide to adopt a particular religion may not be as certain about it being the only vehicle to salvation and thus may be less likely to adopt exclusivism.
When asked, I recommend a qualified particularism. You can maintain your religion and its practices with one modification: accepting that you don’t know what will happen after death. Thus, you must admit that you don’t know what will happen to yourself or to members of other traditions (and of no tradition) after we die. (In general, I think that mystery should be stressed more than it is — we know less than we like to think we do. One of the basic doctrines of one of the religious may be correct, but we are not in a position to know.) Thus, you can’t condemn others for their choices or try to convert others. But refraining from objecting to others’ faith is in fact a major qualification: this still means that you are not absolutely certain about your own beliefs. But absolute certainty is not necessary for a life of faith.
In any case, for the religious of the world to find a way to live together is paramount. Exclusivism and the retrenchment of fundamentalism around the world inherently involve an “us versus them” mentality and can easily lead to intolerance and thus to violence and war against other groups. This is not to say that religion is the sole or principal cause of wars — economic and other social considerations are typically stronger motives. But today religion is one of the most divisive elements in cultures — indeed, religion (even if misinterpreted) is the legitimating force behind most wars and division today. Only with a religious legitimation can one justify such anger and hate. Thus, finding a way to curtail such hatred and violence is needed if we are to survive. And considering the mystery of it all, humility is more appropriate than the usual human response to anything of shouting “We’re No. 1!”
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© Richard H. Jones 2024