SHAFA ELMIRZANASTATE ISLAMIC UNIVERSITY SUNAN KALIJAGA, YOGYAKARTA,

INDONESIA 2012

Plurality is a fact of our contemporary world, both on a global scale and often on the level of specific societies. Throughout most of recorded history, humanity has experienced a rich plurality of religions. This is due to the manifoldness of the divine revelation and of its human pursuit in different cultures.

“Religions are many and varied and they reflect the desire of men and women throughout the ages to enter into relationship with the Absolute Being.” (Pope John Paul II in Asisi, 27 Oct 1986)

Those of us who engage in interfaith inquiry are variously inspired, perplexed, and—in some cases—even repulsed—by what we surmise as each other’s insights and practices.

Optimally speaking, we find that our various traditions share some of the same fundamental values that each of us cherish in our own religions, albeit expressed in different ways.

We also realize that we are being challenged to articulate our own religious identities in an increasingly religiously plural setting where others are, in many ways, listening and asking questions of us as we do so. What this means is that whether we like it or not to be religious today is to be inter-religious.

That great pioneer of the modern discipline of the history of religions, Friedrich Max Muller once famously wrote, “He who knows one religion knows none,” perhaps largely referring in his own scholarly context to those who aspired to become experts in the study of a particular religious tradition.

Today, this dictum seems to have significance well beyond the membership of the American Academy of Religion and similar scholarly societies.

In today’s increasingly religiously plural social contexts, these words suggest not only that a failure to engage pluralism is an act of self-marginalization within our own social contexts. They also suggest that, without some understanding of the faith of our neighbor, the religious person (or community) living in a religiously plural society cannot even understand oneself (or itself).

In the past, mysticism and mystics have been relegated to one of two categories: either that of the spiritual elite who embody the deepest form of faith, but who have little in common with ordinary life and the vast majority of their co-religionaries, or that of the eccentric spiritual fringe whose ideas and practices border on the heretical.

Today mysticism and mystics, formerly assigned to the fringe, have come to be seen in a new light. Both scholars and the general public have come to perceive in the teachings and lives of certain mystics a profound relevancy to the efforts of mainstream believers to integrate the challenges of pluralism into their own religious identities.

For example, David Tracy sees in the mystic tradition a means for analogically participating in pluralistic dialogue on religion. (Tracy, 1987) Similarly, Hans Kung, in establishing a common understanding with Eastern Religions, has turned to Christian mysticism's negative theology. (Kung and Julia Ching, 1989).

On the popular side, this interest is mirrored by, for example, the fact that English translations of the poetry of a thirteenth-century Persian Sufi writing in central Anatolia (Jalal al-Din Rumi) were—just a few years ago—the best selling poetry in the U.S.

In his essay entitled, “The Teacher and the Hermeneutical Task: a Reinterpretation of Medieval Exegesis,” Fishbane makes reference to the four-fold typology of medieval scriptural interpretation common to both the Jewish and Christian traditions.

For Jewish exegetes, this typology took the form of the acronym PaRDeS, where P=Peshat (the literal meaning); R=Remez (the allegorical meaning); D=derash (the tropological and moral meaning); and S=Sod (the mystical meaning).(Fishbane, The Garments of Torah: Essays in Biblical Hermeneutics, 1989, 113).

The tradition of rabbinic mystical exegesis known as Sod turned on the principle that the words of sacred scripture speak to the reader “without ceasing.”

“There is a continual expression of texts; and this reveals itself in their ongoing reinterpretation. But Sod,” Fishbane emphasizes, “is more than the eternity of interpretation from the human side. It also points to the divine mystery of speech and meaning.” (Garments, 120)

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Fishbane goes on to speak about the “prophetic task” of “breaking the idols of simple sense” and restoring “the mystery of speech to its transcendent role in the creation of human reality.”

He asserts that one of the primary functions of the mystical exegete—individuals like Ibn al-`Arabi and Eckhart —is “to continue this prophetic mission.” It is “in the service of Sod [i.e., mystical exegesis],” that mystical exegete like our masters mediate “a multitude of interpretations” as “they resist the dogmatization of meaning and the eclipse of the divine lights of speech.”

Taking our lead from Fishbane, we can assert that, as mystical exegetes, our masters seek to “transcend the idolatries of language” and to condemn “hermeneutical arrogance in all its forms….” (Garments, 120)

Meister Eckhart Ibn al-’Arabi

In they approaches to canonical scripture, Ibn al-`Arabi and Meister Eckhart fulfill the role of mystical exegete as Fishbane interprets it for us.

They believe unequivocally in an infinitely readable Text, and they champion this infinite readability in the hopes of combating the “idolatries of language” and “hermeneutical arrogance.”

Even according to Ibn al-`Arabi, each word of the Qur’an –not to mention its verses and chapters –has an unlimited meanings, all of which are intended by God. Correct recitation of the Qur’an allows reader to access to new meanings at every reading.

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“When meaning repeats itself for someone reciting the Qur’an, he has not recited it as it should be recited. This is proof of his ignorance.” (Fut. IV, 367. 3).

In fact, Ibn al-`Arabi regards the words of language as symbolic expressions, subject to the interpretive efforts, which he calls ta’bir (lit. the act of “crossing over”).

For him the truth of the interpretive effort presents itself in the act of crossing over from one state to another, and under this interpretation, difference becomes the root of all things since for the thing to be in a constant state of crossing is for it to be constantly differentiated, not only from other things, but also from itself (Fut. II, 518. 12).

◦ Thus, with respect to scriptural hermeneutics, our mastersappear to be convinced in the infinite potential for meaning inherent in the nature of divine revelation, especially in the form of sacred scripture.

◦ Such an understanding of the nature of scripture can be invaluable in dialogue because it demands that the person of faith not only take a stance of conviction within the teachings of his or her sacred texts, but also that they realize that this conviction—however deep it may be—does not restrict or exhaust in any way the potential meaning of these texts.

◦ If dialogue is authentic and brings about authentic transformation, then the encounter with the religious other should have some effect on our religious self-understanding, and therefore on our own readings of our own texts.

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Out of the depths of their monotheistic faiths, both masters are very concerned that, as human beings—being blessed with a special relationship to the Source of all Being—we never lose sight of our own limitations vis a vis God.

These limitations take many forms, one of which is the inherent inadequacy of our various languages and modes of discourse, and the limited understandings regarding God—who is ultimately and essentially beyond understanding—that they convey.

All too often, dialogue breaks down, or cannot begin because of a certain hubris with respect to our understandings of God. In the context of the encounter with the other, how many Christians are Christian because they feel that Christianity contains the “best” or “highest” understanding of the divine? How many Muslims are Muslim for the same reason?

jurist philosopher sufi theologian

I am not suggesting that the insights of the two masters regarding this issue of the “naming of God” should be interpreted to encourage relativistic thinking as a solution to this hubris. Such a reading of the masters would entail a gross distortion of their own epistemological frameworks and religious worldviews.

Instead, what I am suggesting is that our masters demand that we adopt postures of profound humility as we stand before—and, I would add, as we articulate to others—our most deeply and passionately held beliefs and doctrinal formulations. All the piety and passion one could possibly muster will not change the fact that our languages about God admit serious inadequacies and that, if we are to be truly faithful believers, we have to let “God be God” both within and beyond our various doctrinal formulations regarding Him.

For Ibn al-`Arabi “when a person rationally considers God, he creates what he believes in himself through his consideration. Hence he considers only a God which he has created through his consideration.”

Ibn al-`Arabi alludes to the two different dimensions of the human experience of God. The first is the “God created by the believers,” or the “God of Belief,” which changes according to the predisposition of the believer. The second is the Godhead, the unknowable Essence.

Contrary to common caricatures of Ibn al-`Arabi’s teachings, there is nothing wrong with the “God of Belief,” providing that the believers themselves are always conscious of the degree to which this experience of God is conditioned in significant ways by their own limited and particular consciousness.

Like Ibn al-`Arabi, Eckhart distinguishes between God as understood by the believers (the God we worship), on the one hand, and God as beyond images and concept, on the other hand, or between God and Godhead (Gotheit). In fact, like Ibn al-`Arabi, for Eckhart, the God who is the object of Christian worship and devotion is distinct from the indescribable Godhead. “God and the Godhead,” Eckhart maintains, are as different from each other as heaven and earth . . .

Furthermore, like Ibn al-`Arabi, for Eckhart, the worshipped God (the God of the believer) is “partly human construction, she/he exists only in relation to the worshipping community.” Eckhart writes, “when I stood in my first cause, then I had no God, . . . but when I went out from my own and received my created being, then I had a God, for before there were any creatures, God was not God, but he was what he was. But when creatures came to be and received their created being, then God was not God in himself, but he was God in the creatures.” Thus, Eckhart warns the believer “not to have a God who is just a product of his thought, nor should he be satisfied with that, because if the though vanishes, God too would vanish. But one ought to have a God who is present, a God who is far above the notion of men and of all created things.”

Where naming God speaks directly to issues of language and discourse and their inherent limitations, God created by the believer versus the Godhead, is a broader warning from our masters that we must always be aware of the ways in which we all, as human beings with limited understanding and perception, inevitably create God in our own image.

The point the masters are trying to make, however, is how important it is—if we are to avoid idolatry—to strive tirelessly to see the human, created, and thus derivative nature of our faith traditions.

One of the larger problems facing participants in Christian-Muslim dialogue is the interpretation of certain biblical and quranic verses which are generally interpreted in highly exclusivist ways and often cited by the opponents of dialogue.

The purpose here is to imagine the ways in which a matrix for dialogue which is centered around nodes derived from key points of conversation between our mystic masters can provide a framework for this dialogue which is more fruitful and more grounded in orthodox/mainstream tradition than those currently available.

The Quranic polemical verses:

◦ O ye who believe, take not the Jews and the Christians for friends [or “guardians.”] They are friends [or “guardians”] one to another. He among you who taketh them for friends [or “guardians”] is (one) of them. Truly, God guideth not wrongdoing folk (5:51).

◦ And the Jews say: Ezra is the son of God, and the Christians say: The Messiah is the son of God. That is their saying with their mouths. They imitate the saying of those who disbelieved of old. God fighteth them. How perverse are they! (9:30).

A common radically exclusivist interpretation of these verses is that Jews and Christians are corrupted peoples practicing corrupted traditions of worship and belief. As such, they can never be trusted to be “friends” to the believers. Moreover, these peoples are understood to be the enemies of the faithful since God himself “fights them” (qatalahumu llahu).

Biblical exclusive verses which presents Jesus as the ‘one [and only] mediator’ between God and humanity (1Tim 2: 5); that there is ‘no other name under heaven’ by which persons can be saved (Acts 4: 12); that “no one comes to the Father except through me [i.e., Jesus] (John 14: 6); that Jesus is the only begotten Son of God (John 1:14); and that whoever sees him sees the Father (John 14:7).

Hence Jesus is viewed as the only one who truly and fully reveals God. It is, in part, on the basis of verses such as these that Jesus is claimed to be the particular and unique savior of the world.

What the traditions of exclusivist interpretation of both these verses have in common is that they tend to be uninformed from within as well as from without.

By “uninformed from within,” I mean they are usually deaf to alternative interpretative possibilities from within their own tradition.

By “uninformed from without,” I mean they are usually articulated with little to no experience of genuine encounter with the other, or if there is experience of the other, it is short-lived and highly negative.

The point of conversation between the masters that immediately comes to mind when faced with the problem of the quranic and biblical verses cited above is the infinite potential for meaning inherent in the nature of divine revelation.

Within the context of the Ibn al-`Arabi-Eckhart matrix for dialogue this important hermeneutical principle would by no means require an a priori dismissal of the more exclusivist interpretations of these verses. Rather, what this principle would do is remind the participants in dialogue who are aware of these verses and their exclusivist interpretations, that other possibilities for interpretation exist which may well be equally defensible within the context of the larger tradition and thus, depending on the authoritative consensus of the community of believers, may be equally or even more orthodox in nature.

Two complementary activities need to be done:

◦ The first of these activities would be to imitate the masters themselves by delving as deeply as possible into all the contextual resources available for interpreting these texts.

◦ The second of these activities would also involve a certain imitation of the masters when it comes to their common valorization of experience and its importance in interpreting sacred scripture. In this case, the experience that would be most significant would be that of the encounter with the religious other. The matrix and its node of the infinite potential for meaning of scripture would encourage interpretations of all scripture—especially passages which purport to speak about the religious other—to be rooted in actual experience of that other. Simple reason dictates that any interpretation of what the Qur’an, for example, says about Jews and/or Christians is de facto faulty if it cannot stand in the face of a given Muslim’s authentic relationships with Jews and/or Christians.

A primary illustration of this in Christian-Muslim dialogue is the Christian doctrine of the Trinity and/or the doctrine of the Incarnation and the Muslim doctrine of tawhid.

Through the node of the matrix that has to do with the “naming of God” we hear our two masters asking us never to lose sight of our creaturely limitations —especially the inherent inadequacy of our modes of discourse to convey an understanding of God.

Another way of putting this is to say that we do not preserve the integrity and sacredness of our doctrinal formulations by absolutizing them in such a way as to exclude all others. Rather we preserve this integrity and sacredness precisely by humbly recognizing that the deepest understanding of these inherently limited linguistic formulations must leave room for validating and dignifying the religious experiences and formulations of others, no matter how different they may be from our own.

Through the node of the matrix that has to do with the distinction between “God created by the believer,” on the one hand, and the “Godhead,” on the other, the two masters remind us that however passionately we may believe in the articles of our faiths or however passionately and devoutly we may perform our rituals, the moment we begin to use these beliefs and practices as weapons to establish the dominance of the self over others is the moment we mark ourselves as servants of our own egos rather than of God.

By interpreting scripture with a hermeneutic of the infinite potential of meaning, by never forgetting the oneness and ubiquitousness of the divine Being, by recognizing the limitation of our theological language and our success distinguishing between the “God” we create and the ultimately ineffable Godhead, we truly plumb the depths of our relationship to God by opening ourselves to the goal at the heart of both Islam and Christianity: to transform the believers into better and better beings, more deeply committed to the service of God and one another.

“Religion alive… calls the soul to the highest adventure it can undertake.”