This paper proposes the hypothesis that distinct religions and practices lead to equally real but substantively different final human conditions. This hypothesis of multiple religious ends arises at the convergence of three different questions:
The hypothesis has two sides. On the one side, it is philosophical and descriptive. It seeks an interpretation of religious difference that simultaneously credits the widest extent of contrasting, particular religious testimony. On the other side, it can in principle be developed in a particularistic way within any number of specific traditions. For instance, it may take the form of one Christian theology of religions among others. [1] My focus in this paper is primarily on the first side.
Discussion of religious pluralism is dominated by a question. Can religions recognize other ways to religious fulfillment than their own? The common typology of views – exclusivist, inclusivist, pluralist – presumes there is and could be only one religious fulfillment or ‘salvation’. [2] The typology then divides people according to their convictions about the means that are effective to attain this single end. Exclusivists contend that their tradition alone provides those means; inclusivists argue that other faiths than their own may prove functionally effective as implicit channels for the truth and reality most adequately manifest in the inclusivist’s tradition; pluralists maintain that each religious tradition provides its own separate and independent means to attain the one religious end.
The presumption of a single religious fulfillment is usually not a tentative claim but an axiom: there could be no more than one. The axiom challenges religious believers to recognize that those of other faiths actually are (in all truly important respects) seeking, being shaped by and eventually realizing the same religious end. All paths lead to the same goal. There may be variations in form and detail, but in relation to what the paths are for and where they are going, no difference is conceivable.
I suggest instead that there are real, different religious fulfillments. Gandhi wrote ‘Religions are different roads converging to the same point,’ and asked ‘What does it matter if we take different roads so long as we reach the same goal? Wherein is the cause for quarreling?’ [3] (Actually, it turns out it is all too easy to quarrel on exactly this assumption, as conflict within a single tradition or denomination frequently demonstrates.) But I ask, ‘What if religions are paths to different ends that they each value supremely? Why should we object?’ [4] Religious thinkers have long considered whether there are varying ways to salvation. They have spent little time considering whether there are different, real religious ends. Christian theologians, for instance, have seldom entertained the idea that there are actual religious goals that are not Christian ‘salvation’ at all. Those in religious studies have long emphasized the cultural and historical importance of concrete religious diversity. But when they consider the ultimate fruits of religious practice, most hesitate to suggest that this diversity could have any decisive and dividing effect. On the face of it, this is an odd conviction, since one thing that religious traditions seem to agree about is that the ends they seek are rather closely linked with the distinctive ways of life that they prescribe. This conviction also seems to offer no rationale for a serious study of traditions in their concreteness, since such specific differences do not correspond to any variation in religious outcomes. [5] It is hard to see how we can take the religions seriously and at the same time regard all the distinctive qualities that are precious to each one as essentially irrelevant in terms of religious fulfillment.
Those who affirm the validity of one religion and the utter emptiness of all others are ready to deny other traditions any but the most limited, ‘natural’ truths that might be discovered by human reason. Those who affirm the validity of many religions insist that important truth contained in any one religion should be of the general and abstract sort that they can then argue is equivalently available in the others as well. In contrast with both of these approaches, the hypothesis of multiple religious ends allows us to affirm, as religiously significant, a much larger proportion of the distinctive testimony of the various faith traditions. We can specify conditions under which various believers’ accounts of their faith might be extensively and simultaneously valid, affirming the various religious traditions as truthful in a much more concrete sense than either the most liberal or most conservative options in the current discussion allow.
If different religious practices and beliefs in fact aim at and constitute distinct conditions of human fulfillment, then a very high proportion of what each tradition affirms may be true and valid, in very much the terms that the tradition claims. This is so even if deep conflict remains between the religions regarding priorities, background beliefs and ultimate metaphysical reality. Two religious ends may represent two human states that it is utterly impossible for one person to inhabit at the same time. But there is no contradiction in two different persons each simultaneously attaining one of the two ends. Adherents of different religious traditions may be able to recognize the reality of both ends, though they are not able to agree on the explanation of how and why the two ends exist or on the priority they should be given. On these terms, salvation (the Christian end) may not only differ from conditions humans generally regard as evil or destructive but from those that specific religious traditions regard as most desirable and ultimate.
Academic study of religions seeks an understanding of particular religious traditions, not merely in terms of vague descriptive generalization, but through a thick appreciation of texture and detail. It attempts to approximate an insider’s perspective and to give full weight to the distinctive features that make a tradition unique. Scholars widely share and commend this ideal of what it means to do such study well, even if it is very hard to fulfill. It is less often explained why this should be the goal of religious studies. Of course many benefits can be proposed for such study. We cannot understand entire cultures and civilizations, wide swaths of human history, great works of human literature or perhaps the nature of human psychology without appreciating the differing religious forces that have shaped them. These are compelling reasons to study religion—as an adjunct to history or sociology or literature or psychology. But is there any religious reason for such study?
When someone has done all the arduous work to grasp the unique texture of an unfamiliar religion, do they know anything that is religiously important? To be sure, there are a number of possible answers. Such study of a religious tradition may help us relativize and contextualize our own religion. It may show us that some of the same moral standards, philosophical questions and transformational methods are present in more than one tradition. It may foster an admiration for the intellectual and community accomplishments of another faith. These are important effects and they include dimensions of humility and respect for our neighbors that may have a genuinely religious character. Note, however, that such learning abstracts completely from the specific character of the religion that was studied. These insights have everything to do with another religion as an example, little to do with the religion itself. So the question still stands: is there anything religiously important about what is special in a tradition?
In an interesting way, this question converges with the self-understanding of religious traditions. Each holds itself out to adherents and inquirers as the fullest ultimate account of the nature of things and as an unrivalled path to human fulfillment. That is, each regards itself as a ‘one and only,’ and its distinctive features as crucially important to true understanding and human realization. It is typical for those within a faith to tell those who wish to understand its fundamental character that the best and only adequate way to do this is to proceed on the path of belief and/or practice that the faith lays out. Religions may commend behavior that is ‘generic’ or common to more than one tradition, but all encourage distinctive practices and beliefs.
Attention to the distinctive features of religions inevitably raises the question of disagreement. If two traditions conflict, then at most one can be correct. Exclusivists in any faith deal with such conflict by affirming the error of the differing tradition. If your religion differs from mine, you must be wrong. The key principle is ‘What is contrary cannot be true.’ Those who do not wish to attribute error to one religion in comparison with another recognize difference but sever it from religious validity. They are convinced that where religions differ, the differences are only apparent (because of the metaphorical and symbolic character of religious language) or are real but irrelevant for attaining religious fulfillment. If you think your religion is a decisive alternative to mine, you must be wrong. The principle here is ‘What is different cannot be important.’
‘What is contrary cannot be true.’ This principle is certainly correct when applied to two logically opposed propositions, or to two mutually exclusive states of affairs in the world. And yet we must be careful to see its limits. One set of paths may be valid for a given goal, and thus final for that end, while different ways are valid for other ends. ‘The ascetic life leads to peace’ and ‘The sensual life leads to joy’ might both be true confessions. There are personal states that cannot both hold at the same time for the same person. Yet there is nothing contradictory in affirming that they are realized by different people at the same time, or even by the same person at different times.
If the statements above were rephrased to read ‘The ascetic life is the only path to salvation’ and ‘The sensual life is the only path to salvation,’ we would have two conflicting claims. So at least one of them would have to go. Yet this absolute exclusion might be an illusion, fostered by the ambiguity around the word ‘salvation.’ If the word has the same concrete meaning in each of those sentences, then there is a conflict. But if in fact it stands for a different concrete end in each case, then the conflict is not real. To say the two paths both lead to ‘salvation’ then is only to say they lead to some type of desired end, not necessarily the identical one. [6]
The question is not ‘Which single religious tradition alone delivers what it promises?’ Several traditions may be valid in that sense. If that is so, the truly crucial questions become ‘Which religious end constitutes the fullest human destiny?’ and ‘What end shall I seek to realize, and why?’ Both questions have a clear objective dimension. I cannot effectively seek an end that is not actually achievable. Real human fulfillment has to be rooted in the way the world actually is. And it may objectively be the case that some ends encompass more possibilities than others. Both questions also include an irreducible evaluative dimension: what is to count as human realization? This approach challenges the second principle we noted above, the one that asserted what is different cannot be important. Different religious aims are profoundly important, if we once suppose that they relate to distinctively different religious ends. The ‘one and only’ testimony of the religions is truthful and trustworthy in presenting us with true alternatives.
Christians believe God is the creator and fulfiller of the universe. They believe this is truly the way the world is. Buddhists likewise believe there is a way the world is (even if they maintain that the particular way it is makes metaphysical terms themselves problematic) and it is undeniably different from the Christian conviction in crucial respects. There is a foundational level at which it is correct that what is contrary cannot be true. If there are such things as distinct Buddhist and Christian religious fulfillments, then one of three situations must follow. Ultimately, such Buddhist and Christian religious fulfillments as exist are embedded in a universe that more nearly accords with Christian convictions than Buddhist ones. Or such Christian and Buddhist religious fulfillments as exist are embedded in a universe that more nearly accords with Buddhist convictions than Christian ones. Or both are embedded within a universe which best corresponds to some other account.
But there is another sense in which what is contrary can also be true. Based on their views of the way the world is, Buddhism and Christianity each seek particular religious ends. The contrast in these ends may not be only apparent but quite real. And each end may be attainable. Whichever of the three scenarios above holds true, the religious ends themselves may still be real alternatives. In that case, adherents of religions with contrasting religious ends are quite right to see them as important alternatives, and to commend their own faith as the unique path to a distinctive religious fulfillment.
In recognizing that what is ‘contrary’ in two religious traditions may in fact represent a forced choice between two real alternatives (and not the logical contradiction of two states, one actual and one impossible), we do not eliminate the ‘one and only’ dimension of religion. We transpose it to different key, one that contrasts, say, the specific Christian hope of salvation with other distinctive religious ends. In recognizing that what is different is often decisively important, we do not diminish the significance of other religious traditions. We actually enhance the imperative to learn about them in their unique specificity, to credit the ‘one and only’ dimension they claim for themselves. [7]
There is no ‘meta-theory,’ no neutral place which allows us to judge from above the religions rather than among them. I believe that it is inevitable and appropriate that religions interpret each other and the world within the categories of their own tradition. My interest is that they include in what they interpret the true difference, the true otherness of alternative religious life. The aim of a religious interpretation of religious diversity is to find, however imperfectly, an understanding of the other in its own integrity within the faith that is part of one’s own integrity.
Rather than ‘one way – all others error and torment’ or ‘all ways – equivalent religious outcomes,’ the grammar of religious diversity is more complicated. Faith traditions inevitably apprehend some specific religious end as the highest and fullest available to humanity. They may well see extraordinary ways to attain this end through religious traditions and practices other than their own. The grammar of religious diversity should also allow for the attainment of religious fulfillments other than the one a given tradition holds to be supreme. And it should allow for the possibility of religious failure, utter lostness. This grammar is neither a two option view (a right way and a mass of indistinguishable wrong ways) nor a no option view (all ways inescapably right, and right about the same thing). Instead it has four options: a specific and ultimate religious fulfillment, an ‘inclusivist’ way by which others may converge toward that fulfillment (even while initially unaware that they do so), achievement of religious fulfillments that are concretely quite different from that of the ‘home’ tradition (and which others may regard as superior), and a state without religious fulfillment at all. [8] This four term grammar is an appropriate one for religions to use in their interpretations of each other. I contend that the relations between the religions would be most fruitful and peaceful if each encountered the other with the full range of such a grammar in place. [9] It is the third term in this grammar, an actual variety of religious fulfillments, that is the most unusual note. It is largely absent in traditional Christian theological reflection on these matters and entirely missing in the (ironically titled) pluralistic thinkers who attack that tradition.
A religious end or aim is defined by a set of practices, images, stories, and concepts which has three characteristics. First, the set provides material for a thorough pattern of life. The religious end and the path that leads to it do not address only a limited dimension of life or one particular human need among others. They are ultimate in providing a framework that encompasses all the features of life, practical and sublime, current and future.
Second, at least some of the elements in the set are understood to be constitutive of a final human fulfillment and/or to be the sole means of achieving that fulfillment. For instance, for Christians, there is a texture of such elements making reference to Jesus Christ. Relation with Christ is believed to be integral to the deepest human fulfillment itself. Some Buddhists may maintain that all the teachings and instruments used to follow the dharma way are ultimately dispensable, even the eight-fold path itself. But they can only be discarded after use, and nothing else is fit to serve the same purpose: one may pass beyond them but everyone must pass through them.
Third, for any individual or community the religious pattern is in practice exclusive of at least some alternative options. Living in accord with the set of stories and practices necessarily involves choices. ‘The ascetic life leads to peace’ and ‘The sensual life leads to joy’ may both be true reports. But we can practice the observance of one more comprehensively only at the expense of the other. For our purposes it makes no difference that there may be a tantric claim that some particular combined practice of asceticism/sensuality will lead to peace and joy. This is itself a practice which, if followed, rules out either of the other two paths in their particularity. There is a distinct purity to an exclusive ascetic path or an exclusive sensual path. A path that is some determinate mix of the two excludes either of those other distinctive aims.
The relations among religious ends are, then, as diverse as the ends themselves. Some fulfillments may be similar enough that the paths associated with them reinforce each other to some degree, as typing and piano playing may both train the fingers. Other ends may simply pose no direct obstacle, one to the other, save the intrinsic division of finite time and effort needed to pursue both, like marathon running and single parenthood. Yet other ends are so sharply divergent that a decisive step in the direction of one is a move away from the other: strict non-violence and participation in armed revolution. It is obvious that there may be many goods or secondary goals that overlap on the paths to different religious realizations. Discipline is a quality essential to learning the piano or a new language. It is connected with both these different ends, but it is not identical with either of them. If discipline itself were the primary aim, then music or a language would themselves become instrumental means and not ends at all. What for some is an instrument is for others an end.
There is an interesting dynamic balance in the relation of religious ends. The more similar the aims, the more sharply contention arises over whether one path should supersede another. If the aims are nearly identical, this tendency is very powerful. To take a trivial example, if the end in view is word processing, few would not take sides between computers or typewriters as the more adequate tools. It is also true that in the case of such convergent goals, the common features of the religious aims provide a compensatory shared ground on which to struggle and work toward agreement, a set of shared criteria. On the other hand, the more incommensurable religious ends appear, the less they contend for the same ‘space.’ Losing weight and learning Spanish are separate aims with their distinct requirements. Though they have less concretely in common, there is a proportionally smaller impetus to substitute one for the other. These dynamics are key elements in understanding religious conflict and the possibilities for mutual understanding.
The religious goal sought by any religious community is integrally related to a comprehensive pattern of life. A particular religious tradition would regard someone as fulfilled or liberated whose life had been most fully shaped by the distinctive pattern it fosters. Religious ends are not extrinsic awards granted for unrelated performances, like trips to Hawaii won in lotteries. To take a Buddhist example, no one is unhappy in nirvana or arrives at it unready. This is because the state of cessation is an achievement life on the right path makes possible. The end is not ‘enjoyed’ until a person becomes what the path to the end makes her or him. [10] The way and the end are one. [11]
To frame discussion of religions in terms of ‘ends’ may appear already slanted toward certain faiths. The implication that religion requires a transformation or journey perhaps fits better with so-called ‘historical’ traditions than those that might view the religious good as an already existing reality or situation into which insight is needed. But the definition of religious ends we have offered attempts to honor this distinction. More important, to focus on ends is to focus particularly on the perspective of persons living in pluralistic environments. Study of religions may be undertaken for the sake of purely historical or cultural understanding. But surely it exists primarily in the context of the human religious search, and this search is basically oriented to the ultimate conditions people hope to realize as individuals and communities. To consider religions in the framework of ends is, in part, to stress the connection of the study of religion to the concerns of people who are religious.
In its simplest form, the hypothesis of multiple religious ends is not committed to any particular metaphysical view. Obviously, the universe does have some ultimate character or order. One or more of the religions may in fact offer descriptions of that order that are substantially better than others. But the hypothesis requires only that the nature of reality be such as to allow humans to phenomenally realize varied religious ends. There are many different constructions of reality that might allow this, including ones that correspond closely to particular religious visions. [12]
The various religious traditions can agree that their ends are not only a transient phase in a person’s earthly life. They have a more permanent or transcendent character. All would seem to agree that though their religious end is not merely such a phase, it can in fact constitute a distinctive form and condition of life for adherents here and now. Our religious choices, practices and formation do determine distinct religious fulfillments in this life and in the next as well.
Recognition of diverse religious ends is the condition for recognition of the decisive significance of our religious choices and development, a significance that the particularistic witness of the individual religions collectively affirms. We can expect a fulfillment in line with the ‘one and only’ path that leads us to it. We may readily pose this question in terms of post-mortem destinies. But the point holds also if we consider religious diversity entirely in an earthly frame. Indeed, it is a recommendation of this approach that it maintains a consistency in the way religious ends are achieved in the historical realm and in any transhistorical realm. Whether in an eschatological future or here and now, our conditions of religious fulfillment are significantly constituted by the expectations, relations, images and practices that we bring to them. [13]
This is plainly the case with proximate historical forms of religious fulfillment: living a Christian life or following the dharma, for instance. The meaning, overcoming of selfishness, moral discipline and hope which persons experience in such historical religious fulfillment are permeated with the concrete elements of a tradition. The lives that lead to the rewards of a Buddhist monastic, a Muslim imam, a Hindu brahmin priest or a Baptist deacon have unique textures. In one sense this is a truism: we are able to distinguish these lives because they have different sets of practices. There are generic similarities in these cases: textual devotion, communal structures, ritual practices. But for any person who wishes to attain a religious fulfillment, generic elements alone are entirely insufficient. The person will need particular texts, a specific community, discrete rituals. Whether these historically and experientially distinct human possibilities remain different in an eschatological or transcendent framework, or all reduce to only a single positive religious condition (as both religious exclusivists and pluralists maintain) is in principle an empirical question.
Religious ends are not conditions that transcend the known parameters of humanity itself. We cannot posit some event that would be experienced as having the identical content and the identical meaning by persons who come to it with entirely different expectations, formation and categories. It is interesting that this kind of ‘blinding revelation,’ wiping out all the mediating structures that have been built up in a person’s distinct culture, tradition and personality, is often an axiomatic end point in both very conservative and very liberal theologies of religion. But any revelation consistent with humanity as we know it will condescend to the conditions of our knowing (even if stretching those conditions), not violate them. And any religious fulfillment will likewise be shaped by the categories of our experience. Religious ends may be transcendent, i.e. their existence is not causally dependent on the means humans use to approach them and they may endure after all earthly existence has passed away. But the nature of these ends as experienced by human subjects always reflects in part the paths that led to them.
We become different persons through our concrete choices and religious practices. Through these means we may increasingly realize a distinctive aim. In the characteristic religious dialectic, as we progress toward the realization of the aim, we at the same time develop an ever deeper and clearer desire for that end itself above all others. Finally, religious consummation is the entrance into a state of fulfillment by one whose aspiration has been so tuned and shaped by particular anticipations of that state, and by anticipatory participation in aspects of that state, that this end represents the perfect marriage of desire and actuality. It is a dream come true for one who has adopted that dream among all others.
We can certainly point to great figures in varied religious traditions who exhibit some common moral and spiritual qualities. But we can hardly deny the different textures of these achievements. The examples are clearly not identical, however similar selected items may be. If there is some sense in which our selected devotees all strike us as having a claim to be good people, it still appears that one would have to choose between one way of being good and another. It is also clear that people in various traditions pursue and claim to participate in religious attainments other than or in addition to moral transformation. The thesis of an identical religious end for all can be proposed with rather more impunity for the world to come than the current one, but in neither case is it persuasive if we are serious about the cultural-linguistic component of all experience.
If we take religions in their thickest historical, empirical description, then ‘one and only’ judgements appear inevitable, almost tautological. In this life, there is no way to participate in the distinctive dimensions of Buddhist religious fulfillment but the Buddhist path. The only way to Jewish fulfillment is the Jewish way. The same is true of each tradition. Here again, the hypothesis of multiple religious ends coheres with the data we have before us, with the importance of a religion’s concrete texture. The impetus for study of religious diversity is the realization that we cannot assume we already know what it is like to be a Sikh or a Sufi. The only way to find out is to approach that tradition and its adherents directly. If we do so, we discover a unique complex of elements, interlocking patterns of life, which cannot be descriptively equated to anything else. To know one is not to know the others. Each is a ‘one and only,’ and their religious ends are many.
The difficulty of our human condition comes from a mixture of suffering, evil and ignorance. The religions diagnose these in different patterns and address them in diverse ways. There is no need to deny validity to any pattern save that of our own tradition. But there is every reason to expect that the specific nature of our destiny hangs upon adherence to one rather than others. Living in accordance with religious commitments, our life is formed by them. They make us who we are. We can judge how well we have abided by our commitments, but we cannot judge with certainty the grounds for the commitments themselves. We could no more judge what our life might have been like as a Methodist instead of a Sikh than we can compare the children we might have had with those we did. [14]
There are of course interesting cases of the combination of religious traditions: cases where people may follow both Buddhist and Confucian paths, for instance. This only reinforces the point we have been making. Were they not exclusive paths to unique ends, there would be no need to follow two ways, since the same range of ends could be achieved in either one alone. Both are practiced because each constitutes a unique pattern, yielding distinct benefits, benefits in this case regarded as compatible and complementary.
Religious ends are constituted by a unity of various discrete elements. In this sense, there is inevitable and extensive overlap among religious aims. As an aggregated sum of practices, doctrines and injunctions, no faith is without duplication elsewhere. If it is a Christian virtue to honor one’s parents or to keep a sabbath, then these virtues are realized in and through other religions as well. Truth or benefits that attach discretely to these elements in one faith must also attach to them in another. These truths are available in more than one tradition. However, both the mix of elements and the integrative principles that unify them vary significantly among the religions.
If we abstract from the specific aims of actual religious traditions, we can formulate other, more general functional ends that religions serve. They may organize and sustain major civilizations, as the world religions all have. They may foster certain generic moral attitudes. They may structure human institutions like the family. By substituting aims like these in place of the primary, explicit, and final aims of the religions themselves, one can judge the religions, correctly, as roughly parallel means of fulfilling these social functions.
These last two dimensions we have discussed – the similarity of specific items across traditions and the generic associated functions that religions may serve – coexist in every religious tradition with the unique particularities and the integrating ultimate vision that constitute the whole. The religious end of a particular faith is a compound of these three dimensions. If we give ‘religious end’ an abstract meaning – the achievement of some religious fulfillment among several possible alternatives and/or the successful function of religion to serve some generic social role – then we can say that many if not all paths truly achieve religious ends. There is an ‘any way’ sign at most forks on the religious journey. A number of turns will get you to a real destination, but not the same destination. If on the other hand ‘religious end’ is a concrete religious fulfillment of some determinate nature, as described by one of the traditions, then it is clear that it is constituted by certain features to the exclusion of others. There is an ‘only way’ sign at many turnings on the religious journey. In either case we must acknowledge that all these paths link with each other, that cross-over travel is a real possibility. At most points a ‘two way traffic’ sign is appropriate. Roads can bear travelers over the same ground toward different destinations, whether those travelers pass in opposite directions or go side by side for this overlapping leg of their trip.
The hypothesis of multiple religious ends offers the best account of this geography. It provides the only coherent foundation that can uphold each of three elements that I believe are essential for an effective and responsible understanding of religious pluralism. These three are ordinarily not thought compatible with each other, and many would not desire to see them as compatible. The first of these is the religious significance of careful study of faith traditions in their particularity. The second is the recognition of distinctive and effective religious truth in other religions, truth that contrasts with that of my own faith. The third is the validity of witness on the part of any one faith tradition to its ‘one and only’ quality, indeed to its superiority in relation to others. Where witness can have no meaning, it is dubious if dialogue may either.
This hypothesis presumes an open set of varied religious ends available for realization both within the historical horizon of human life and beyond it. The historical and eschatological sets may differ. For instance, some religious fulfillments that appear irreducibly distinct within the historical frame may ultimately collapse together in some future state. But this hypothesis does not presume that all faith-fulfillments do in fact reduce to one, either in the historical frame or eschatologically. Individuals and communities live their way through a cloud of live, alternative possibilities. In their passing, they make some of these possibilities rather than others concrete, as the act of detecting an electron ‘collapses’ a quantum probability distribution into an actual location or velocity.
The perspective I have outlined suggests that the capacity to recognize and accept the distinctive elements of another religious tradition can become a positive standard for the truth and adequacy of one’s own. In this closing section I will look briefly at a case in point. It has to do with the question of how the evidence of religious experience is to be weighed. Religious experiences vary and may even conflict at many points, seeming to cancel each other out. They do not uniformly testify to a single, detailed description of the religious ultimate. If religious experience is supposed to be evidence for some particular, confessional religious reality – for a specific kind of religious ultimate or a concrete religious end among others – then only some of it counts for that thesis and much of it goes in another direction. This could be taken as providing good reason not to believe in any religious claims at all. Some philosophers of religion suggest that if we were to take the traditions’ specific claims seriously in any concrete sense we would undercut the positive value of all religious experience as evidence, since it would then support a mass of conflicting propositions. On the other hand, if religious experience is weighed as evidence for some kind of religious ultimate, a mystery unknown in itself, then it might all be taken to point in the same direction. If religious experience is to count cumulatively as evidence for the same proposition, that proposition will have to be one of extraordinary generality. [15] If we are looking only for evidence that humans are in contact with ‘something more,’ with an ‘x,’ then we can count all religious experience as evidence in favor of our thesis. The testimony no longer conflicts. It all agrees: there is something out there, even if all we can say about it is that humans adopt this series of dispositions toward it. Religious experience will rule against each religion taken one at a time, but it will support religion collectively, all at once. This argument is made by those like John Hick, who are genuinely committed to defend a religious interpretation of reality as reasonable, in the face of rational critiques of all religion as illusion.
And yet there seems to be some sleight of hand in co-opting the specific accounts of varied religious ends as evidence for belief in one mysterious and virtually unspecified goal as the reality referred to in each case. The argument in defense of that move goes as follows. Since religious experiences are varied and even conflicting, there are only three options: to reject them all as illusory, to take a few as reliable and reject all others as false, or to take them all as symbolic or mythical representations of a real but mysterious reality. If one is committed to a religious outlook, the first option is ruled out. If one adopts the second option, then you have to explain away the religious experiences that do not have the ‘right’ confessional features without undercutting the validity of the experiences that do—a difficult task. Some version of the third option then must be defended as the best way to validate religion, because one can argue that all the evidence supports the religious hypothesis (though admittedly in a very loose sense).
This analysis of religious experience is flawed. In any other area when we are faced with diverse perceptions (including conflicting ones), it is extraordinarily unusual to conclude that none of these perceptions are in touch with the world itself but all are responses to an ‘unexperienced noumenon.’ [16] The more common strategy is to seek some reconciliation of the inconsistencies. If this can be done by ‘saving’ the validity of the perceptions themselves, this is rationally preferable to advancing a theory which drastically undercuts confidence in any connection between the perceptions and reality.
In other words, when confronted with quite diverse experiential accounts of an object or a person or an event, we do not usually limit our alternatives to the three given above. Those three options would be to take all the accounts as illusory, to hold that the different accounts cancel each other out and therefore make any particular description of the object improbable, or to conclude that all the experiences do reflect encounter with a single reality, but don’t tell us anything about that reality in itself, only about the kind of dispositions people develop after meeting it. This last approach especially seems very strained. When applied to the evidence of religious experience, it imposes a high level of consistency, even uniformity, on that experience, but at the cost of reducing its referential value to near zero.
In a recent book, Jerome Gellman has made a careful and convincing case for a quite different approach to religious experience and religious pluralism. [17] Gellman’s larger argument is that philosophical consideration of religious experience provides strong rational support for the existence of God. He considers the diversity of religious experience as a possible challenge to this argument. He notes that most of what is regarded as incompatibility in religious experiences can be dealt with in the same way that we deal with discrepancies in other varied experiences of the same reality. Different aspects of one reality may come uppermost in experience at different times and for different people. Here the cultural conditioning and personal idiosyncrasies which Hick wishes to make the sources of the entire content of religious experience (with a bare stimulus alone coming from the religious ultimate itself) are given full scope as significant factors.
Gellman’s thesis stresses that it is fully possible to have a determinate view of the religious ultimate and still to retain the evidentiary value of religious experience. In order to conclude that two experiences of God are incompatible,
Though such pairs of experiences exist, Gellman maintains they are fewer than often supposed. Major religious traditions have developed ways of harmonizing the dissonant experiences. Gellman says ‘The attempt at harmonization should be guided by the desire to accommodate as much of the appearances as is possible as indicative of reality. Any adjudication which in this regard saves more phenomenal content than another is to be preferred, everything else being equal.’ [19] Though conflicting religious explanations for the data of religious experience cannot all be correct, this does not remove the presumptive value of the data.
This is particularly so if the divine object is understood to have a complex nature. Gellman says that if some people experience God as loving and others experience God as just, ‘they may both be experiencing the true nature of God, a nature both loving and just.’ [20] Within most religious traditions, a certain spectrum of varying religious experiences is presumed. And within most religious traditions the religious ultimate is characterized in some way by having multiple attributes, even ‘polar attributes.’ [21]
More to the point, Gellman notes that alleged experiences of God ‘often include the perception of God’s inexhaustible fullness.’ [22] He suggests that in religious experience something about God is openly revealed or directly encountered, but that typically the same experience also includes a perception of God’s ‘inexhaustible plenitude, a plenitude only intimated but not open to view.’ [23] Gellman believes this is what religious people often mean in referring to their experiences as ‘ineffable.’ In a simple analogy, we might compare this to our experience of a person we know in a certain context as a neighbor or a co-worker. At some time we might hear from others who claim to know a quite different dimension of this person: perhaps they served with him in a war or know him as an outstanding musician or as a former professional athlete. We would respond one way to these alleged experiences if we felt confident we had a near-exhaustive familiarity with the person. We would respond quite differently if our own experience already included intimations of unknown spaces, years unaccounted for, signs of a prior life, even an indefinable sense of depth in the person. Strictly speaking, we had no experience of these other facets. But we might receive these new ‘contradictory’ accounts as reasonable confirmation of our prior intimation of something undisclosed. ‘I might have known that something like this was the case.’
Gellman, who holds God to be a personal being, says God is not only a personal being. God is ‘an inexhaustible being, possessed of an inexhaustible, hidden plenitude,’ save for that part of the plenitude with whose open, revealed presence the subject is graced.
Experiences of God as personal and experiences of the divine as impersonal are thus reconciled, with each retaining cognitive validity. It would not be possible to effect this reconciliation if the experiences in question were of the divine as nothing but personal and experiences of the divine as nothing but impersonal. It is the dimension of plenitude in the experiences that makes this possible.
Gellman’s concern is to rescue the maximum volume of religious experience as rational warrant for the existence of God. He offers this harmonization of diverse experiences simply as an example, showing that it is possible and therefore that diversity of religious experience cannot be used to rule out its validity as evidence for the existence of God. He also shows that to achieve this end it is not necessary to go to the extreme of denying that God is experienced as God actually is in any of these experiences. Instead, Gellman’s example shows that one can rationally maintain that in both experiences there is encounter with real aspects of one God. [25]
This also indicates that not all proposed reconciliations of this diverse data are equal. Gellman’s reconciliation of the data in terms of a personal God makes a striking comparison with another version offered by the venerable tradition of Advaita Vedanta. From this perspective, experience of a divinity with personal characteristics is experience of saguna Brahman (the ultimate with attributed qualities) as opposed to nirguna Brahman (the ultimate without such qualities). There is a clear hierarchy between these two. Saguna Brahman is a lower level of truth, suitable for people at an earlier level of spiritual development. [26] Nirguna Brahman is the true religious ultimate, and personalistic representations of it must eventually give way, dispelled as instrumental illusion. The two categories of religious experience are reconciled, but by making one an imperfect form of the other, an imperfect form which can be eliminated completely with no religious loss. A classic parable likens enlightenment to a person who believes they see a snake in the path and then realizes it is a piece of rope. In this realization the illusion of an animate agent evaporates, to leave only a true insight into impersonal reality in its place.
Personalistic theism, Gellman’s example, provides a reconciliation of a different sort. Here experience of God as impersonal and experience of God as personal are combined, with neither being reducible to the other, any more than we can say of a human that they are a person but not a body. If the object on the path actually is a snake, it does not lose the substantive inanimate properties one presumed it to have in mistaking it for a rope. It still takes up space, has length and width, weight, and so on. Those perceptions remain valid perceptions. Similarly, a human person has impersonal dimensions (physiological and physical properties) and personal ones. We may experience one to the near exclusion of the other, but neither is simply an imperfect form of the other. We could say that the saguna/nirguna distinction puts a stronger emphasis on ‘one true perception’ of the ultimate and narrows the complexity of the actual features of the divine ultimate. Personalistic theism affirms more thorough validity for both types of religious experience. If we accept Gellman’s criterion that we should prefer an account which rationally ‘saves’ the greatest referential value for the largest number of religious experiences, this is clearly a strong recommendation for such theism.
Gellman’s discussion of religious experience is very suggestive in a further respect. In discussions of religious pluralism, religious ends are often treated in a manner analogous to the treatment of religious experience. Ostensible diversity among religious fulfillments is viewed as a possible challenge to the reality of any religious fulfillment, just as differences among religious experiences might be thought to undercut the validity we can attribute to any religious experience. If people disagree about the religious ultimate they seek or experience, perhaps the notion of a religious ultimate is itself confused and none actually exists. If people disagree about religious ends, they cast doubt on the reality of any religious end. The problems are similar, and so are the responses.
For instance, Hick will say that nirvana and communion with God upon death are contradictory beliefs. If we grant that they are seriously proposed as alternatives, he contends we have only three options. All such faith in religious ends is nonsense; one end is real and all others illusory or unattainable; or the true content of religion, the true end, is some unknown positive condition on a plane far above such contradictions. Since in their view, recourse to either of the first two options would render any idea of religious fulfillment implausible, pluralists like Hick opt for the third. They maintain that the varied accounts of religious ends are all conditioned and incoherent anticipations of a final human condition that is beyond description by any such account.
I believe that Gellman’s basic principles for religious experience hold here as well: the best accounts of the varied reports of religious ends will be those that preserve the highest degree of concrete validity in the largest number of them. Religious fulfillments as human states can be viewed under the broad heading of religious experience, after all. It is precipitous to conclude that because religious experiences are diverse, the only way to salvage their validity is to deny that any of their particulars are true and instead insist that they be packaged as unanimous evidence for a foggy ultimate beyond description. Likewise it is precipitous to conclude that because religious aims plainly differ, the only way to salvage plausibility for the attainment of any religious end at all is to imagine an end indeterminate enough to be the symbolic object of all these aims.
If we grant the reality of diverse religious ends, ‘conflicting’ religious testimony need not be discounted. Instead, the testimony may be essentially valid in both cases, about different conditions of religious fulfillment. The supposed incompatibility of religious experiences provides no cogent objection to the existence of one religious ultimate, but illustrates a practical incompatibility, the impossibility for any one person or community to realize contrasting priorities in religious experience at the same time. Nirvana and communion with God are contradictory only if we assume that one or the other must be the sole fate for all human beings. They cannot both be the case at the same time for the same person. But for different people, or the same person at different times, they could both be true. The fact that believers report accurately about varied religious ends does not undercut the trustworthiness of religious experience as evidence. Nor does it require that the varying religious traditions reject each other’s accounts as false and baseless. Each tradition may have its own inclusivist means to assimilate and affirm the validity of most of the other’s testimony.
To use an analogy, two contending scientific theories or schools of thought may be in agreement about nearly all of the relevant experimental data, and yet at odds about the nature of the reality it reflects. This difference in accounts does not invalidate all the data. The vast majority of the evidence may be rightly weighed as counting for both sides. It provides weighty reason to suppose that the right answer is to be found in one of the contending accounts and that where there is empirical agreement between the interpretations we have points of special interest. In such cases, one cannot contend that the alternative view has no predictive power or empirical basis. The argument turns on two issues. First, which paradigm is best able to encompass the truth in the alternative view while offering some additional value or knowledge as well. Second, what kind of problems and questions are considered to be the ones most in need of answers. A similar situation exists among the religions. One of the more hopeful implications of this fact is that in apologetic terms the religions need to compete to demonstrate their capacities to recognize the concrete truth in other traditions. Any faith tradition that proves unable to affirm and explain the distinctive value of others, in its own terms, will seriously compromise its universal claims.
In conclusion, let me highlight several features of this hypothesis of multiple religious ends. First, this hypothesis focuses on the religious traditions themselves and their accounts of their own religious aims. It is the religions as they actually exist – as patterns and complexes of life directed toward particular textures of human fulfillment – that are addressed, not a generic construct imposed on them. In my view it is a virtue to find religious significance and validity in the particularistic features a religious tradition itself values. This focus is consistent with the claimed intrinsic value of academic study and interfaith dialogue that deal with the ‘thick,’ distinctive texture of faiths. The hypothesis of multiple religious ends clearly provides a basis for such study and impels us to take the testimony of the traditions and their believers with great seriousness.
Though this approach affirms the value of confessional witness, it also relativizes any one tradition’s claim to have an absolute monopoly on truth. It indicates that more than one faith tradition may be correct in claiming to offer a distinctive human religious fulfillment. That is, it relativizes any single tradition not by the dubious claim to have a superior philosophical interpretation from an absolute vantage point above that possible for any actual religion, but precisely by the actual validity of other religious traditions themselves. It is not one imperialistic and absolute theory about religions that finally can or should curb any tradition’s grandiose claims, but direct encounter with the concrete living reality and truth of other religious paths.
The second notable feature of this hypothesis is the manner in which it deals directly with the cultural and historical conditioning of all religious life. Some interpreters put extreme stress on this conditioning, to disparage the capacity of any religious tradition to offer a distinctive, universal truth for all people. If we are to maintain any consistency in the way we treat religious subjects and the way we deal with other realities, it seems we ought to recognize that human knowledge and experience are partially constituted by the contexts and categories we bring to them. This includes the experience of religious fulfillment, both now and in the ultimate future.
The third feature I would note is that with the hypothesis of multiple religious ends our perspective on religious differences shifts somewhat in emphasis. Contrasts in ultimate metaphysical visions remain. Each religious tradition legitimately continues to make a claim to truth in this largest sense. And yet each one also is challenged to recognize a profound level of truth in other traditions: the reality of other options. If the ends advertised by the traditions are real, the differences between religions encompass not only the objective metaphysical facts, but evaluative commitments. We shift from dealing solely with flat issues of truth and falsehood to facing alternatives. We ask not ‘Which religion alone is true?’ but ‘What end is most ultimate, even if many are real?’ and ‘Which life will I hope to realize?’ Religious ends are not identical, and in reaching one we will not automatically attain others. That is, in approaching religious differences emphasis falls on the contrast of positive ends. In such a perspective, there are many true religions, and each one is an only way to its end.