Abstract
Given that this is a book with the word theology in the title; the author (from Union Theological Seminary) and the people offering the blurbs on the back of the book are all theologians; and the book is published in a comparative theology book series, religious studies scholars might be reluctant to read it. This review is, at least in part, a plea for my colleagues to be self-critical about our preconceptions about theology and the work it seeks to do.
Christians will be interested in John Thatamanil’s definition of comparative theology, the effort to uncover general religious truths through the resources of other traditions; and they will also find appealing his discussion of the theology of religious diversity, which is thinking carefully about religious differences in complex societies. Because of these topics and the caliber of the author, press, and blurbs, no doubt many liberal Christian readers will be looking for an elegant way of establishing the value and veracity of Christianity within an increasingly secular and religiously plural world.
That is the bait. Then comes the switch—it turns out that this particular theologian takes very seriously the critiques of the main category of analysis. Against the backdrop of a thorough genealogy of religion, Thatamanil reminds readers—though this will not come as a surprise to most scholars of religion—that the so-called “world religions” only come into being historically as the combinations of many competing social, political, and spiritual forces.
On top of this, he shows in a compelling way how for the last 40 years—though the seeds were planted by Durkheim, Marx, Weber, Freud and Nietzsche a little over a hundred years ago— philosophers, anthropologists, and historians have been demonstrating that the concept of religion is quite particular to the modern west. It is a term that helps westerners to organize the modern world into distinct camps—al the better to know, and arguably to rule, their empires. The idea that there are discrete and coherent religions out there in the real world—separate teams in the same league—is an important taxonomical tool for the ruling classes, and this should make us suspicious. While many cultures had no obvious equivalent to the word religion when European societies began to divide up the world between themselves, now virtually every language has such a word. The very real problems this has created for Indigenous people, and for so-called “Hindu” (et al.) people of India, are well-known.
See the switch? Christians who thought Thatamanil would offer ammunition for apologists who wish to clarify the superiority of Christianity, might feel he has tricked them by undermining the unique inviolability not just of one particular team, but the whole idea of a league. Insiders who think he might resolve the tension created by his critique by announcing that deep down, all religions are the same, can forget it. Actually, he has something much more interesting in mind, but I will get to that in a moment.
There is actually a two-part bait and switch at work here—the first problematizes whatever notion Christian readers might have of religions as stable, autonomous, finite clusters of ancient wisdom. The second bait and switch is for those readers who come to this book with an interest in policy-relevant critical thinking about religious diversity. My more pragmatic religious studies peers will bracket the book’s insider language, but will look forward to learning what a cosmopolitan resident of one of the most diverse cities in the world can tell them about the political and logistical challenges created by religious diversity. That is the bait for my colleagues.
However, those of us—like myself—interested in the ways our healthcare, educational, and legal institutions might more sensibly respond to the theological and cultural diversity we see all around us will be initially disappointed by the fact that Thatamanil does not offer a map through the labyrinth of religious communities and claims in which we live. The book is not practical in that narrow or immediately-relevant sense.
So, if theologians and religious studies colleagues might be taken aback by this baiting and switching, the book nevertheless offers both types of readers an innovative way beyond the prisons we choose to live inside, to use Doris Lessing’s evocative phrase. By taking seriously the artificiality of the category of religion itself, Christians are encouraged to look askance at the truisms they have encountered throughout their lives. To learn the ways “religions” are all intimately constituted by neighbouring communities and social norms, is to grasp the ways these “faiths” are always not just amenable to, but arguably created through, dialogue with others. In this book (and for the author), Buddhism and Hinduism are the natural interlocutors with Christianity—but there are other traditions that will appeal to other readers, of course.
For religious studies scholars who are already equally suspicious of all religious claims—well, Thatamanil’s serious grappling with the secular critique of religion will demonstrate that it is possible to be unblinkingly critical, deeply familiar with the shortcomings of theology’s and our own field’s core categories, and yet be compassionately faithful at the same time.
Through its superb reasoning and artful prose, this book draws in both audience cohorts and offers an innovative account of the current crossroads at which conscientious believers stand in religiously diverse societies. Thatamanil illuminates a renewed, adult form of Christianity that is fully grounded in Christian history and theology but that refuses to reify either, and that seeks a deeper knowledge of the self through a vulnerability-inducing engagement with the other. In this way, he demonstrates what a critical Christianity might look like that takes seriously the complexity and wisdom in the many worlds around it.