The eminent and award-winning historian Robert A. Gross presents his long-awaited, immersive journey through Concord in the age of Emerson and Thoreau.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Religious Identity and Openness in a Pluralistic WorldRita M. GrossIn our final sessions after twenty years of working together, we have been asked to reflect in some way on identity and openness in a pluralistic world. Specifically, the question is, "How do I understand my own identity as a religious Buddhist or Christian in light of the fact that I am open to the validity of the beliefs held (...) by the other tradition?"Frankly, this puzzle seems like a no-brainer to me and always has. Religions are language systems, and no language is universal and absolute. End of problem. In one fell swoop, as we concede the relativity of all our language games, we also recognize that more than one language could be "valid," whatever that might mean. There is no reason to assume that all people speak my language and it would be illogical to claim that people who don't speak my language are deficient. The worth and utility of my language is in no way diminished because it is not the only language in the world. Language is a tool through which we communicate, and any language could be a useful tool, so long as we don't endow it with universal relevance, more freight than it can bear.There may or may not be a formless absolute that grounds all finite existence. All religions assert that there is, whether as a being or as an experience. But beyond that assertion nothing can be determined because all such assertions must be expressed in language or some other limited expression—an expression in form. There is no other option. Much as we might long to transcend expression in form and leap into mind-to-mind transmission, in a public medium that is not possible. Many of us may have intuited such experiences of mind-to-mind transmission, but when we open our mouths to speak, we can only do so in the realm of form. And so we are stuck with our myriad expressions of a formless, transcendent absolute and cannot even determine for sure if we are talking about the same thing when we try to express the inexpressible.Therefore, we are compelled to concede the limits of language. This is the solution to the problem of the coexistence of a strong individual religious identity with openness to the relevance of other religious languages. Other religions, as well as my [End Page 15] own, are nothing more than highly relative language systems. There is no logical or spiritual way for them to be anything more. It seems to me that copping to the limitations of language, to the inability of language ever to capture truth completely, is completely essential in the pluralistic world we now inhabit. It is hard to imagine how people could believe that the deity speaks Arabic, not Hebrew, or Hebrew, not Arabic, and biblical Hebrew (rather than any other version of Hebrew) at that! It is hard to imagine how people could believe that they have the actual words of Jesus in the red print in their new testaments, even though those words were originally written in a language he never spoke and were translated into an archaic English that we no longer speak and barely understand. Nothing but egotistical pride can drive such self-aggrandizement, such identification of my viewpoint, my verbal attempts to express my experience, with the eternal and ultimate Way Things Are.In light of the historical and cross-cultural information that is now more than abundantly available, the only rational and humane conclusion to be drawn is that all religious institutions and creedal systems are human constructions dependent at least in part, if not wholly dependent, on the particular circumstances of those who construct and utter them. Therefore, they are of limited rather than universal relevance. Their cultural specificity is too obvious for any other conclusion to be feasible. Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, and English are not universal languages, and only extreme hubris could claim the Formless Absolute speaks my language, not yours. Thus, even if our religions owe their genesis to some transcendent, nonhistorical source, they can be codified and captured only in a relative... (shrink)

Four areas have emerged as especially important foci for discussions of Buddhism and gender. First is simply gathering the information about women and gender – given that most Buddhists, especially Western Buddhists, were quite unaware of how male‐dominated Buddhism has traditionally been. Second, especially for Asian Buddhists, deep concern about the status of nuns and the need to restore full ordination for them in some parts of the Buddhist world has taken center stage. Third, especially for Western Buddhists, who are (...) usually converts to Buddhism and are generally lay practitioners, a whole gamut of questions about how to live as Buddhists in a non‐Buddhist culture became dominant. Finally, Buddhists, especially in the West, have taken up the issue of why there have been so few women teachers and leaders throughout Buddhist history and have begun to change that situation dramatically. (shrink)

Progressive supranuclear palsy is a movement disorder with prominent tau neuropathology. Brain diseases with abnormal tau deposits are called tauopathies, the most common of which is Alzheimer's disease. Environmental causes of tauopathies include repetitive head trauma associated with some sports. To identify common genetic variation contributing to risk for tauopathies, we carried out a genome-wide association study of 1,114 individuals with PSP and 3,247 controls followed by a second stage in which we genotyped 1,051 cases and 3,560 controls for the (...) stage 1 SNPs that yielded P ≤ 10-3. We found significant previously unidentified signals associated with PSP risk at STX6, EIF2AK3 and MOBP. We confirmed two independent variants in MAPT affecting risk for PSP, one of which influences MAPT brain expression. The genes implicated encode proteins for vesicle-membrane fusion at the Golgi-endosomal interface, for the endoplasmic reticulum unfolded protein response and for a myelin structural component. © 2011 Nature America, Inc. All rights reserved. (shrink)

ABSTRACT During the current COVID-19 pandemic, we are experiencing physical viruses infecting our bodies, virtual viruses infecting our computers, and symbolic viruses infecting our thinking. This essay takes up each of these interruptions in a collective attempt to better understand how we are rhetorically and where we might go politically from here.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Being Benevolence: The Social Ethics of Engaged BuddhismRita M. GrossBeing Benevolence: The Social Ethics of Engaged Buddhism. By Sallie B. King. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 2005. 291 pp.This discussion of the social ethics of Engaged Buddhism is organized into chapters on four basic issues: the relationship between individual and society, human rights, nonviolence and its limits, and justice/reconciliation. Setting the context for these issues are an introduction, (...) a chapter on how Engaged Buddhist social ethics is built from Buddhist tradition, and another surveying Engaged Buddhist [End Page 174] ethical theory. The author's conclusions and evaluations of the movement, for the most part, are found in the last chapter, the book's eighth.In her preface, King explains a crucial decision she made regarding the extent of her analysis of Engaged Buddhism. She realized that an important question about Engaged Buddhism concerns its relationship with Western thought and decided that she could better focus on that question and "avoid muddying the waters" (p. xii) by not including Western Engaged Buddhist thinking in her survey. She further justifies this decision by claiming that Western Buddhists are still largely students of Asian Buddhists who need to overcome familiar cultural habits "to clearly perceive the otherness of Buddhism and what it has to offer" (p. xii). This decision makes sense in its own context, and I agree that many Western Buddhists seem to not understand that the spiritual and philosophical foundations of Buddhism are quite different from those of Western religions. Unfortunately, the decision to not include Western Engaged Buddhists also furthers a view that Buddhism is "foreign," and, therefore, not directly relevant to Westerners or to the issues that most occupy Westerners in our day. Many Western Buddhists are at pains to undercut precisely that view of Buddhism. However, I do concede that including Western Engaged Buddhists in her analysis would have complicated her task enormously.King's concerns about the relationship between Engaged Buddhist thinking and Western thinking have more to do with refuting the claim made by "traditional" Buddhists, both Asian and Western, that the Engaged Buddhist movement is merely the product of Western influences and, therefore, not truly Buddhist. She refutes this claim by demonstrating that the most influential Asian Engaged Buddhist leaders are intelligent, well-educated people who are unlikely to meekly adopt foreign ideas. Cogently, she argues that Western influences on Engaged Buddhism do not make Engaged Buddhism "the product of Western influences" and that the claim that Engaged Buddhism is the result of Western cultural imperialism denies what it is trying to protect: "the subjectivity and agency of the Engaged Buddhist leaders themselves" (p. 3). She demonstrates that Asian Engaged Buddhist leaders are selective about which Western concepts they include in their discussions of social ethics and that their thinking about social ethics has deep consonance with utterly basic Buddhist concerns, such as interdependence, the Four Noble Truths, anatman (lack of independent abiding self), the enlightenability of human beings, the importance of compassion, the importance of varied self-transformative practices, and nonviolence.Before delving into Engaged Buddhism's major concerns in depth, King provides a lengthy chapter in which she outlines Engaged Buddhist ethical theory. She does not claim that Engaged Buddhists have worked out a systematic ethical philosophy, but rather that certain ideas and claims underlie their recommendations and actions, although not all of them are used by every Engaged Buddhist or in every situation. Natural law ethics, which claims that ethical requirements are not culturally relative because they stem from the nature of reality itself, not human invention, is an important element in Engaged Buddhist thinking, she [End Page 175] claims. (King, however, does not discuss the difficulty that the different religions have very different analyses of the nature of reality.) Engaged Buddhists also use a developmental perspective, recognizing that, as individuals develop, ethical understanding also develops. That developmental perspective implies that ethics is more about principles than about rules. Engaged Buddhist ethics are holistic, in that intellect and emotion are not thought of as at odds with each other in ethical decision making, but are well integrated with each other. A nonadversarial stance is critical... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Buddhist Goddesses of India, and: Goddesses and the Divine Feminine: A Western Religious HistoryRita M. GrossBuddhist Goddesses of India. By Miranda Shaw. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006. 571 pp.Goddesses and the Divine Feminine: A Western Religious History. By Rosemary Radford Ruether. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005. 381 pp.These two very large books should be of obvious interest to those concerned with Buddhist-Christian interactions and comparative studies. (...) They are also especially timely and important, given how much goddesses and the divine feminine have been [End Page 175] overlooked and ignored by those involved in Buddhist-Christian interchange and comparative studies as well as by serious scholars of both traditions.These books will function mainly as goldmines of information about goddesses in Buddhist and Western religions rather than as theoretical and theological analyses about what is at stake in the presence or absence of goddesses and imagery of the divine feminine in either tradition. As is well known, imagery of the divine feminine is longstanding and of considerable importance in Buddhist traditions, even though it was not part of the earliest layers of Buddhist traditions, whereas the divine feminine is largely absent in more recent Western traditions, even though it was common in the ancient Near East. Thus, these two traditions are mirror images of each other’s historical development concerning the divine feminine. It would be fascinating to explore this difference between the traditions. Because neither book is comparative in any way, such questions are not entertained in these books, but at least both books provide a great deal of information that others may use in future explorations of such similarities and differences between the traditions.Most of Miranda Shaw’s analytical comments are found in her brief, thirteen-page introduction. The rest of the book is mainly descriptive. Most of this discussion concerns her choice of the term “goddess” to refer to the many nonhuman, divine females found in Buddhist art and literature. She notes that, while mention of Goddesses is widespread and long-term in works on Buddhist art and history, Buddhist studies in general has not paid much attention to goddesses, and the same basic information has been repeated over and over, with few advances in interpreting and understanding these figures. I would agree with this assessment. She also notes, correctly, that Buddhist goddesses have received scant attention in the recent spate of Western scholarly investigations of goddesses and the divine feminine. Nevertheless, as Shaw points out, various kinds of divine females occupy every niche of the divine hierarchy in Indian and Buddhist cosmology. Indeed, it would be impossible to look at any book about Indian Buddhist art without noticing many voluptuous, highly attractive female figures as well as some more fearsome figures.Shaw justifies her use of the term “goddess” by noting that this is the literal translation of the term routinely used for female divine figures in Indian Buddhist sources. This justification is pointed at several other scholars who have written about Buddhist “goddesses” from a Buddhist point of view but who have avoided the term “goddess” for various reasons, but mainly because of the complexity and explosiveness of that term in Western contexts. The term has also been avoided by Western Buddhist scholars because of possible misunderstandings or confusion that could be caused by the use of such a theistic term in the context of non-theistic Buddhism. Nevertheless, Shaw is correct that the common translation of the terms used in Buddhist texts would be “goddess.” In her discussion of the term “goddess,” Shaw also justifies this English terminology by arguing that the “deities,” especially of Vajrayana Buddhism, are not merely symbols created by human beings or projections of human experiences but have another, transhuman reality. The metaphysics of “deities” or “goddesses” in Buddhism is, however, an extremely complex and subtle matter that cannot be adequately discussed in the few pages Shaw devotes to this issue. [End Page 176]In the rest of her introduction, Shaw details her main emphases in her book, “the origins, iconography, and religious roles of each goddess and discussion of her place in Buddhist history and practice” (p. 4). She tells... (shrink)

While there may be no one single characteristic that differentiates humans as a species, it is the combination of differences from other species that makes us unique. The new edition of Being Human examines the psychology of being human through exploring different psychological traditions alongside philosophy and evolutionary theory, covering themes such as culture, cognition, language, morality, and society. Our nature - or 'essence' - is something that has preoccupied human beings throughout our history, beginning with philosophy and religion, and (...) continuing through the biological, social, and psychological sciences. Being Human begins by describing some of the major philosophical accounts of human nature, from Ancient Greek philosophers, such as Plato and Aristotle, to major British and Continental philosophers, such as Locke and Nietzsche. The book considers religious accounts of human nature, with their focus on the nature of good and evil, and scientific accounts of genetics and the brain, which underpin the distinctively human cognitive ability of language. Attention then turns to the ideas of the behaviourists, such as Skinner, Freud, and other psychodynamic psychologists, and humanistic-phenomenological psychologists, such as Maslow. Finally, human culture is discussed as the ultimate defining characteristic of human beings: culture represents our 'natural habitat' and what defines us as a species. This updated second edition includes increased coverage of social psychology and has a broader scope, in order to identify the defining characteristics of human beings. With reference to current psychological research and philosophical material, this is fascinating reading for students of psychology, philosophy, and the social sciences. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Courtesans and Tantric Consorts: Sexualities in Buddhist Narrative, Iconograhy, and RitualRita M. GrossCourtesans and Tantric Consorts: Sexualities in Buddhist Narrative, Iconograhy, and Ritual. By Serinity Young. New York and London: Routledge, 2004. 256 pp.This book is a welcome addition to the growing literature on Buddhism and gender. It presents information and explores issues on this topic in new and innovative ways. It is also well researched and well (...) written. Part of Young's innovation is her use of Buddhist art and iconography, which she takes as seriously as textual sources are usually taken in Buddhist studies. Many of her most interesting suggestions and conclusions result from the seriousness with which she takes Buddhist art as resource for understanding Buddhism more accurately and completely. The other foci are clear from her subtitle: narrative and ritual. There is much less attention to the canonical and philosophical texts of Buddhism that are so often invoked in studies of Buddhism and gender.Studies of sexuality or gender often end up primarily discussing new information about women and new ways of understanding women's participation in or exclusion from religion. This study is no exception, which is not in any way to fault the book. Young's analyses center on ways that women have been both included in the Buddhist world and excluded from that world. Among the many varieties of Buddhism, Young primarily focuses on early Indian Buddhism and Tantric Buddhism, which have the most provocative teachings about gender and sexuality. In Young's analyses, we see how women participated in early Buddhism in ways that have not been recognized in most earlier scholarship and ways in which they are excluded from Tantric Buddhism and most later forms of Buddhism that have not always been acknowledged.Young's interpretations of the traditional life stories of the Buddha are extremely innovative and interesting. She argues that the future Buddha's rejection of women when he left his home and family must be balanced with his reintegration into the world of women before and during his enlightenment experience. She argues that this reintegration is evidenced especially in his acceptance of food from Sujata and in the help he received from the Earth Goddess during his trials with Mara. Young argues that many Buddhists throughout the ages have focused on episodes in his life that deal with rejection of women but have not fully taken in the implications of the stories in which women become important allies in the mission of the Buddha.The sources for early Indian Buddhism most invoked by Western scholars of Buddhism are textual. These textual sources present a very mixed picture of women's lot in early Indian Buddhism. On the one hand, the Therigatha and some stories from the life of the Buddha present a relatively optimistic picture of women's possibilities and their acceptance in the early Buddhist community. On the other hand, texts present a constant message of the importance of renunciation, and much of the recommended renunciation involves women. Texts written by and for monks frequently conflate women with sexuality and hold women responsible for wayward monks' sexual temptations. Against this widely known material, Young calls upon the evidence of early Indian Buddhist art to argue that the monks' anti-women texts [End Page 174] do not tell the whole story about women in early Indian Buddhism. The art work, which was much more important for tutoring largely illiterate Buddhist laypeople, consistently portrays women voluptuously and positively. This contrast between text and art is so great that recently, during a slide show in a class I taught on ancient Indian Buddhism, a student asked point blank how monks could possibly sanction the voluptuous portrayals of women common in early Indian Buddhist sanctuaries. I didn't remember Young's cogent analysis at first, but eventually did reply, using her analysis. The monastic establishment controlled the discourse that eventually became the texts of early Buddhism, but the lay donors controlled the visual representations that decorated the sites where Buddhism was preserved. The lay donors were more than happy to represent the fecundity and beauty of women, without whom there would be no future donors or... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:I Am Speechless:Thank You, Colleague FriendsRita M. GrossBecause I had not seen half of these tributes before the session at which they were presented, I did not have a written paper, or even prepared notes, with which to respond to these colleagues. I was so touched by the care with which each person had prepared their remarks—a fully written paper in each case—and the wonderful things they said, that (...) when finally it was my turn to get up and take the podium, all I could say was, "I am speechless." That was my first response, but I am also very used to public speaking, so I did come up with some comments, which I reproduce here with some degree of faithfulness.I have known most of these friends for most of my professional life. I have traveled in India with two of them (Nancy and Kathleen), coedited or coauthored books with three of them (Nancy, Rosemary, and Terry), and cotaught with one of them (Paul). With everyone except Rosemary, we have visited each other's homes as well. One of the blessings of the academic life is sharing deep interests and concerns with one's colleagues, and I certainly have experienced that blessing. In person, I decided to respond to each person in the order in which they entered my life and I will also follow that format in these written comments.Nancy Auer FalkThe first person in this group whom I encountered was Nancy Falk, though, as she said, she doesn't remember me from those very early days. I entered the University of Chicago Divinity School in 1965, and because there were so few of us in those days, I clearly noticed a woman who was finishing her work in the same field I was entering—the history of religions. There were twelve women among some four hundred students at the Divinity School and six of us had entered that year! I remember that the professors were very worried about what to do with "all these women who now want to study religion." One of my professors said that he was changing some of the material he lectured on because of the presence of women in his class.In such an environment, I should have known better than to do a dissertation [End Page 89] studying women in religion and using feminist methodologies, which had not yet been developed, but which I did develop in my dissertation! It has taken me a long time to learn that telling the truth can exact a heavy price. I've often commented that all I've ever tried to do in my scholarship and in my thinking is to tell the truth. It's been hard to understand how that could be so controversial or so resented by so many people. But my dissertation was very controversial even though Mircea Eliade, who was still revered in those days, encouraged me to write the dissertation I did. But what I was doing was so controversial, largely I think, because I claimed that the sacrosanct University of Chicago methodology in the history of religions was inadequate, given that it simply had no tools with which to study the religious lives of at least half of humanity. Even years later I heard via some gossip train that students of the professor who most opposed my work were telling people that I was not supposed to have gotten a degree, but somehow, it had slipped though anyway. Now, some thirty-five years later, I am amazed at the level of insight I had as a graduate student in my mid to late twenties.During these graduate school battles, Nancy was already teaching at Western Michigan University, so I did not have her as an ally. But, as soon as I finished my degree, as she narrates in her comments, we began to work together on Unspoken Worlds, which, having been put together before computers, was extremely labor intensive. I really enjoyed the process of working together on that book. I enjoyed not having to hold back on anything. I enjoyed the give and take, the way we could put... (shrink)

Doctrinally, Buddhism is free of the myths and symbols that make some other religions so intractable to feminist reforms. In its philosophical views and its meditation practices, Buddhism has tremendous potential for deconstructing gender. In less than thirty years, we have gone from a situation in which almost nothing had been written about Buddhist women to a situation in which books and articles appear regularly. There is now a worldwide Buddhist women's movement, many women Buddhist teachers—at least in North America—and (...) a growing consensus that the traditional male dominance of Buddhism is a problem. Yet, despite the advances made in the last thirty years, Buddhism still privileges men above women. So is the glass half full? Are we well on the way to recasting Buddhism in ways that make it more adequate for its female followers? Or is the glass half empty? Is Buddhism still a religion that works better for men than for women, despite the changes of the past thirty years? In looking at the half-full, half-empty glass, I will consider three topics: first, Buddhism's potential for deconstructing gender, second, some reasons why this potential did not come to fruition historically, and third, some of the changing situations in the contemporary Buddhist world, both Asian and Western. (shrink)

Traite de la conception philosophique de Jacques Maritain qui a développé tout au long de sa carrière un système de pensée proche de celui de Saint Thomas d'Aquin. Cette étude s'inscrit dans la tentative de mettre en lumière les aspects fondamentaux de la quête de l'homme et de son rapport à la beauté d'après le philosophe Maritain.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Monopoly on Salvation? A Feminist Approach to Religious PluralismRita M. GrossMonopoly on Salvation? A Feminist Approach to Religious Pluralism. By Jeannine Hill Fletcher. New York: Continuum, 2005. 155 pp.Given that most practitioners of Western feminist theology, whether Christian or some variety of post-Christian, display remarkably little interest in issues of religious diversity and interreligious dialogue, I was both curious about this book and delighted to see someone combining (...) the words “feminism” and “religious pluralism” in a book title. However, I was also curious as to what this author might construe as a “feminist” approach to religious diversity. These days it is fairly common for a book written by a woman to contain the word “feminism” in the title, even though there may be little specifically feminist content in the book. Additionally, I have been [End Page 205] somewhat skeptical that there is a specifically feminist approach to issues of religious diversity. My issue with many other feminist theologians is not especially their lack of a specifically feminist approach to issues of religious diversity but their lack of knowledge about and interest in any religion other than Christianity and its near relatives.What I found is a good addition to the rather considerable library of theologies of religious pluralism written by Christian theologians. And there is a specifically feminist angle to the arguments made in this book, or at least an angle on issues of religious diversity that I have not seen utilized by others, the vast majority of whom are men, who have written such books.The five chapters of this book follow a predictable outline. The first chapter is devoted to framing the contours of the Christian theology, which will be the basis for Fletcher’s entire approach to religious pluralism. An informative chapter on the history of the encounters of some Christians with members of other religions follows this. The third chapter, predictably, reviews and critiques the by now familiar Christian theologies of religious diversity—exclusivist, inclusivist, pluralist, and particularist. These chapters of review and critique are followed by two constructive chapters, one of which offers Fletcher’s specifically feminist suggestions and the other of which discusses how a Christian could honor both specific loyalty to Christianity and the ethical requirements imposed when one recognizes the theological legitimacy of religious diversity.The approach to Christian theology outlined in the first chapter frames Fletcher’s inquiry throughout the entire book. Given that the author is a Christian, it is not surprising that her theology of religious pluralism turns on her understanding of the terms “God” and “Jesus of Nazareth.” According to her, Christian theology revolves around two poles. The first of these is that God is an “incomprehensible mystery” (p. 9), which, for her, opens the possibility that people who are not Christians might have valuable insights into that which Christians call “God.” The other pole of Christian theology is the distinctively “Christian affirmations about what is known of God through Jesus” (p. 16). Balancing the incomprehensibility of God and the specific affirmations about God is the difficult task of someone seeking to construct a Christian theology of religious pluralism. According to Fletcher, a third component is also needed in a theology of religious pluralism. Theologians must also take account of the “complex nexus of personal, social, political, and religious contexts” (p. 21) in which their work occurs.The second chapter of this book contains an interesting account of some historical encounters between Christians and members of other religions. Much of the information contained in this chapter would be unknown to many readers of this book. One of the encounters supplied the title for the author. In 1609, a Hindu debater challenged Roberto de Nobili (1577–1656), a Jesuit missionary to Southern India who lived the lifestyle of a Hindu saṅnyāsi (mendicant). The debater said of de Nobili’s theological claims: “Does this man alone know God? Does he alone have a monopoly on salvation?” (p. 51). Though Fletcher speculates that early Christian encounters with people of other religions may have involved a measure of mutuality and equal interchange, by the time Christianity had become well established in Europe and [End... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 21.1 (2001) iii-iv [Access article in PDF] Editorial In this issue we publish a collection of articles using a dialogue format that we began in volume 19 of Buddhist-Christian Studies. Those articles, eventually published as the book Buddhists Talk About Jesus,Christians Talk About the Buddha (Continuum, 2000), asked Christians and Buddhists to critique the founder of the other religion. The format proved successful and provoked some good (...) methodological discussion (see Ingram, p. 75 ff).Thus, in this issue we continue the format with a new question: how have you used and/or learned from the meditative and prayer practices of the other tradition? The assignment drew enthusiastic response, especially from Christians who were asked to write about their experiences of Buddhist meditation. We are publishing five articles by Frances Adeney, Mary Frolich, Paul Ingram, Terry Muck, and Bardwell Smith, along with responses by two Buddhists--Grace Burford and Robert Thurman.In our next issue (volume 22), we will publish articles by five Buddhist authors and two Christian respondents. We will be interested to see if these articles give us clues as to why Christians were more eager to take on this assignment than were Buddhists.In compiling this collection of articles, we made three observations related to good interreligious interchanges. The first is that this form of dialogue requires a good deal of trust among the participants. Talking candidly about important features of the other person's religion runs the risk of offense.Yet the way the writers and respondents--mostly longtime members of the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies--wrote indicates that trust is developing.Of course, trust is essential for any kind of healthy dialogue. The reason for the development of interreligious dialogue in this century has been as a response to the level of destructive criticism so common to interchanges among adherents of the world's religions. To address this unacceptable level of conflict, it was necessary to step back and consciously adapt a stance of silent humility about and toward the religious other. As the dialogue movement developed, conversations began to punctuate the silence, conversations that hopefully demonstrated openness, understanding our mutual pasts and intertwined futures. Years of this kind of openness leading to understanding makes it possible to enter into a new era of dialogue, the era of constructive criticism made up of equal parts of honest commentary and unequivocal support.We have moved through this idealized paradigm of responses very imperfectly, of course. The level of destructive conflict is still unacceptably high, silent humility is [End Page iii] in sometimes short supply, openness drowned out by self-interest, and constructive criticism imperfectly practiced. Yet we must move forward, experiencing flashes of epiphany and enlightenment as humility, openness, and mutuality ride the wings of developing trust.The second observation--more a realization, actually--is that this form of interreligious interchange requires a high level of sophistication about religions other than one's own. It is hard to pin down the exact nature of this sophistication. It is not just knowledge about the other's religion that is required, although it is partly that. One cannot comment effectively about Buddhist meditation unless one has a certain fundamental understanding of what Buddhist meditation is. Christian prayer is not easy to define, but certain features of the practice are universally recognized among both theologians and practitioners. To conduct the kind of mutual evaluation asked for in this type of dialogue, basic levels of understanding are necessary.The dialogue as we envision it, however, goes beyond knowledge. In our letter of invitation to participants, we made it clear that we were also interested in writers who had some experience with the other religion's spiritual practice. As we received and evaluated submissions, it became clear that what gave the essays power and authority was the mixture of knowledge and experience of the others' spiritual practice. As you will see, it wasn't always the case that our writers had adapted meditative or prayer practice wholesale. But invariably their experience gained through learning about the practice led to changes: deeper, richer practice in their own tradition.This... (shrink)

This interreligious dialogue--in which alternating chapters present each woman's thoughts, with a response by the other--grew out of a workshop Gross and Ruether presented in Loveland, Ohio, in 1999. Their conversations range across themes including: What is most problematic about my tradition? What is most liberating about my tradition? What is most inspiring for me about the other tradition? And, finally, religious feminism and the future of the planet. The two feminist thinkers and writers present widely diverging life histories and (...) faiths, but they reach agreement on the issue at hand--what Buddhism and Christianity can offer the struggle to create ecological sustainability. The work has no subject index. c. Book News Inc. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 23 (2003) 3-19 [Access article in PDF] Some Reflections about Community and Survival Rita M. Gross University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire Many studies have indicated that at both ends of the life cycle human beings more readily survive and flourish if they experience significant contact with other humans, if they experience nurturing, love, and relationship. Having physical needs met, by itself, is not sufficient. Both infants and old (...) people, as well as people recovering from serious illness, are much more likely to survive if, in addition to having their physical needs met, they experience the emotional well-being brought about by sufficient companionship.Though the issue is less discussed, one wonders why things would be different in those phases of the life cycle in which one is seemingly more independent. How can adults flourish and thrive without sufficient companionship, love, and community? How do adults react to the absence of these important elements of life? I would suggest that relatively helpless infants, invalids, and aged people simply die, but adults have enough power and independence to react to their loneliness and frustration in ways that lash out at the social fabric that fails to love and nurture them sufficiently. In Buddhist psychology an organism's two most frequent reactions to stimulation are grasping at something or aggression toward it. I would suggest that unnurtured adults express their frustration with loneliness and lack of love precisely in those two ways. We have discussed these reactions in our previous sessions on war and on consumerism and its attendant environmental degradation.I agreed very reluctantly to write a paper for this session on community. I am reluctant for two reasons. First, I have already written on community, do not wish to repeat myself, and am not sure I have anything new to say. Thus, I end up with the option of being more personal in my reflections than I usually am. (I know some of you will think that could not be possible, because I always go too far on that score. My apologies.) Second, as a female academic and someone with no family who has been single most of my life, I know only too well the loneliness and frustration that come with living in a society with declining "social capital," to use the phrase so aptly employed by Robert Putnam in his book Bowling Alone. The topic is simply too painful for me, because I know intimately, by virtue of their absence in my life, the importance of companionship, friendship, and community. I appreciated all the [End Page 3] graphs and documentation in Putnam's book, but despite my many years of intense involvement in the Buddhist world, I already knew in my gut the main thesis of his book. Nevertheless, much of what I will write about in this paper is informed by Putnam's book, as well as by David Korten's The Post-Corporate World and bell hooks's All About Love, both of which I recommend as relevant reading materials as we prepare to discuss the topic of community.By contrast, for our first discussions of community in our 1987 meetings, I was eager to make a contribution. 1 I had discovered something, or so it seemed to me, that was both painful and important. In the early 1980s I began to realize that despite the energy and loyalty I brought to my Buddhist community, I was still lonely and was not experiencing the friendship, community, companionship, and support that seemed to me to be implied in the act of "going for refuge to the sangha. " Instead, people constantly told me that being alone was essential to Buddhist practice—a claim that I would contend has more to do withWestern notions of individualism and self-reliance than with Buddhism. Understandably, these values are especially strong among convert Buddhists, who had to defy convention and assert their individuality in the process of becoming Buddhists. Nevertheless, we were signing on to honor the refuge of sangha, not merely the refuges of Buddha and dharma, a point that is still underappreciated by many... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:This Buddhist’s View of JesusRita M. GrossThe topic 1 of developing a Buddhist view of Jesus is challenging to me on many levels, for many reasons. Not the least of them involves my own unhappy childhood and young adulthood being trained as a member of a version of Christianity that expressed an extremely exclusivist position regarding religious pluralism. Nevertheless, I have long practiced Buddhist-Christian dialogue as a Buddhist, in (...) part as an antidote to that unhappy past, as a deliberate attempt to heal the wounds inflicted on me by an exclusivist and doctrinaire version of Christianity. So why does this task of developing a Buddhist view of Jesus remain difficult?In part this task is difficult because it is unfamiliar. In my world religions classes, I routinely present Jewish views of Jesus, but there is little reason to discuss Jesus in the perspectives of other major religions and I have almost never broached the topic. In my feminist theology classes, I again discuss feminist reactions to Jesus, but there is little reason to present a feminist Buddhist perspective on Jesus. Little Buddhist literature about Buddhist reactions to Jesus and few Buddhist assessments of Christianity exist, though the reverse is not true, 2 which perhaps indicates that fellow Buddhists have also felt little need to develop a reaction to or a position about Jesus. But it is also difficult because in Buddhist-Christian dialogue, we often discuss more abstract and less troublesome topics than the traditional Christian evaluation of Jesus, with its undeniably exclusivistic and universal truth claims. Thus, in many ways, I have been able to keep a distance between my own experiences of Christianity and my own experiences of Buddhism. Encountering Christians in Buddhist-Christian dialogue and teaching Christian feminist theology are really much simpler than trying to untangle my own Buddhist reactions to central Christian claims, including especially claims about the ultimate and universal significance of Jesus.Nevertheless, it is clear that my task in this essay is to react to Jesus as a Buddhist, something I have not done formally in any other context. Therefore, I have proceeded with the assumption that my task is to find the relevant Buddhist categories for interpreting Jesus in Buddhist terms, to delineate them briefly to non-Buddhists, and then to apply them to Jesus or to Christian claims about Jesus. This assignment is not as innocent or as easy as it seems at first reading. The first difficulty is determining who or what one is reacting to in the exercise of developing a Buddhist view of Jesus. Depending on who or what one understands Jesus to be, or depending on which Christian claims about Jesus one comments upon, a Buddhist could have radically different views about Jesus. So clearly, the first task in developing a Buddhist view of Jesus is to determine which Jesus will be discussed. Then, secondly, it is difficult but important to maintain the primary focus as a Buddhist focus, using Buddhist rather than Christian categories to control the discourse. I say this because [End Page 62] much of the literature seems to compare Buddhism to Christianity, placing Christianity and Christian categories in central focus and matching concepts from the Christian point of view. I want to match concepts with Buddhist categories as my central reference point, fitting the Christian Jesus into a Buddhist framework.How should I, as a Buddhist, determine what is meant by the Christian category Jesus? As is evidenced by the radically different images of Jesus in popular Christianity, by much recent scholarship on the Gospels, and by a diverse body of Christological writings, Christians themselves would be hard pressed to give a definitive or a short answer to the question “Just who or what am I supposed to be discussing from a Buddhist point of view?” Am I to talk of the historical Jesus, of the Jesus of the Gospels, of the Jesus of the early church, or of Jesus as understood through central theological doctrines, such as Trinity and Incarnation, which are actually much later in their genesis? My assignment, which is to discuss “the Jesus of Christianity,” 3 does not really solve that problem, since there... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Crisis of AuthorityBuddhist History for Buddhist PractitionersRita M. GrossAs a Buddhist scholar-practitioner who is also a feminist, I have multiple loyalties. The potential for conflict between different standards could be great, and I have often been asked whether my fundamental loyalty is to Buddhist standards and Buddhist teachers, to the values of feminism, or to standards of academic scholarship. This is a question I always refuse to answer (...) because I myself do not experience any irreconcilable conflicts among these loyalties. Nor is this lack of conflict due to my keeping these three interests separate in my thinking or my work. Clearly, I have been more than explicit in the way that I have brought feminist concerns into my writings on Buddhism, my work as a Buddhist dharma teacher, and other issues I have taken up as an academic scholar. Though most scholars would be much less familiar with how I teach when I function as a Buddhist teacher at a meditation center, I am well known in those circles as someone who brings nonsectarian, feminist, and academic perspectives to Buddhists teachings. Finally, I was “out” as a Buddhist practitioner in academia long before the current younger generation of Buddhist studies scholars who do not hide their Buddhist identities came to the fore. I was also explicit about the fact that I was using Buddhist ideas as tools with which to think about various contemporary issues long before the new movement to regard Buddhist critical and constructive thought as academically respectable emerged.The fact that it seemed natural to me to combine these various concerns in my work does not mean that others approved of these unorthodox combinations. I suspect that in worldly terms, I could have been far more successful had I not insisted on blending these concerns in my work. Certainly in my generation, feminists did not do well in the academy, as is witnessed by the fact that almost none of those pioneering feminists ever secured a prestigious position from which they could influence the next generation of scholars. Nor is there a place in the academy for Buddhist critical and constructive thinkers; neither theological schools nor departments of Buddhist studies want to hire us. I have also faced frequent marginalization in the Buddhist world, both for being an academic and for being a feminist—though what success I have in [End Page 59] that world is also due to the unique perspectives I bring to Buddhist teaching as an academic and a feminist. Finally, as one of the very few Buddhists among the feminist theologians, I have frequently been extremely frustrated by an establishment that is far more conventional, Western, and Christian than it thinks it is.In this paper, I have been asked to focus on issues of authority in Buddhism, and I will focus specifically on issues and experiences related to working within Buddhist systems as a Buddhist thinker and teacher. This paper will consist almost entirely of an “insider’s” perspective on Buddhism and authority, rather than a paper looking at Buddhism from the outside, though this insider is a scholar-practitioner, not a practitioner who gets all her information about Buddhism only from Buddhist sources and Buddhist teachers. Needless to say, as a Buddhist critical-constructive thinker who has taken on several nontraditional issues, I have my own tales of brushes with Buddhist authority. One of the themes I wish to follow in this paper is a discussion of how I have managed to say what I want to say, even when it contradicts traditional Buddhist understandings, while also managing to do a great deal of dharma teaching and attain status as a relatively senior teacher in two Tibetan Buddhist organizations in North America. In fact, very few Westerners who practice in a Tibetan lineage have a higher title than the title “Lopon,” which is much better known to Westerners by its Sanskrit equivalent, ācārya. This title was given to me by Her Eminence Jetsun Khandro Rinpoche. (Westerners practicing other forms of Buddhism have far more teaching authority than is generally the case for Westerners practicing a Tibetan form of Buddhism.) Nor have I survived as a... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The International Buddhist-Christian Theological Encounter:Twenty Years of DialogueRita M. GrossIn a world riddled by conflict, religions must take a large part of the responsibility for initiating and perpetuating these conflicts, which often include disagreements about whose political system is favored by the deity or to whom the deity gave land. The slogan "No peace on earth until there is peace among religions" is more than true.No wonder some religious (...) leaders consider interreligious understanding and dialogue to be urgent. Debate and proselytization cannot be the major modes of interreligious interaction when so much is at stake. Rather, conversations that actually promote mutual respect, understanding, and tolerance are mandatory in a religiously plural world. Such dialogue and interchange has taken many forms over the years: large conferences, meetings of world-renowned religious leaders, study groups in the basements and classrooms of religious institutions, university classes, friends meeting over coffee for discussion, scholarly presentations, and deliberately organized dialogues between representatives of various religious.For twenty years, the International Buddhist-Christian Theological Encounter was one such dialogue, and this dialogue was unique in many ways. The group of people in dialogue was very small, always about thirty members evenly divided between Buddhists and Christians, and it was always a highly select group whose members were invited to join after deliberations among the group's leadership. Very few such groups have had the good fortune to meet regularly over so many years. This combination of a small, highly qualified group of dialoguers and the ability to meet often and regularly fostered a uniquely in-depth conversation characterized by candor and trust.Over the years, the journal Buddhist-Christian Studies has recorded many of the deliberations of the International Buddhist-Christian Theological Encounter, known informally as the Cobb-Abe group. In this issue, we publish comments from the final meetings of that group, the final installment of an ongoing record kept by this [End Page 3] journal. (There are rumors that the group might eventually be reconstituted, but, for now, an era in Buddhist-Christian dialogue has ended.)As can be ascertained from its informal name, this group owes much to the leadership and initiative of John Cobb and Masao Abe. These two friends, both concerned about what Buddhism and Christianity might learn from each other, wanted to establish an ongoing meeting of a small group of Buddhist and Christian thinkers who could come together with an agenda of only honest interchange. Members of each "team" needed to be firmly committed to their own tradition and expertly knowledgeable about it, but knowledge of the other tradition was not required in any way—only willingness to be in open conversation without agenda. Members of the group did not do cross-tradition representation; scholars of Buddhism who found their spiritual home in Christianity were not members of the group, and vice versa. For the most part, members of the group were "scholar-practitioners"; over the long term, those who were religious leaders without academic training did not find the group meaningful or become core members of the group.The agenda of open listening and honest interchange was not simply an academic exercise. John Cobb and Masao Abe both hoped that in-depth, ongoing interchange, without pressure to agree or disagree in obvious ways, to find points of similarity and difference, would lead to significant mutual influence between the two traditions. Both claimed that the goal of dialogue could not be to convince others to change their point of view, but to modify one's own outlook based on learning from one's dialogue partner, a process John Cobb called "mutual transformation through dialogue."1 Based on the conviction that one's own religious tradition might not possess all the truth and wisdom in the world and could actually be improved by listening and dialogue, this claim that the purpose of interreligious interchange is mainly listening, understanding, and possible (mutual) self-transformation, runs counter to many peoples' assumptions about the purposes of conversations with people of other faiths. On the other hand, a rush to change was not encouraged either. The recommended method did not involve deliberate syncretism but an organic process of deep... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Suffering of Sexism:Buddhist Perspectives and ExperiencesRita M. GrossHaving been assigned the topic of suffering and sexism for this conference and celebration of Paul Knitter’s career and work, I feel qualified to address that topic. I have suffered a lot because of the work I have done on sexism, including a very diminished career. After nearly fifty years of demonstrating the presence of sexism in religious studies and in (...) Buddhism, and taking a lot of flak and criticism for bringing to light many things that many people simply don’t want to know, I would be delighted if such discussions were no longer needed. That, however, is not the case. So bringing together these two s-words—suffering and sexism—is very potent. The only effect of sexism is suffering. Forming identities and organizing society on the basis of male dominance have no redeeming benefits that offset the suffering.However, it is critical that we understand what is the real issue as we begin these reflections on suffering and sexism. I have long contended that, rather than trying to reform gender roles or discern what an ideal set of gender roles might be, the fundamental problem is the very existence of gender roles—any set of gender roles whatsoever. Does the shape of our genitals really predetermine our hearts, minds, longings, and abilities? Does it have anything to do with one’s ability to think theologically or to excel at spiritual disciplines? Gender roles severely and arbitrarily constrain people. That is the real suffering of sexism, and that, rather than male dominance, is the true problem. Male dominance is only one of the more unfortunate results of the constraint of arbitrary and binding gender roles. Thus, the suffering of sexism needs to give way to freedom from the prison of gender roles.engaged buddhism (and christianity) and the suffering of sexismUnfortunately, the engaged Buddhist movement has been very slow to recognize that the suffering of sexism is something engaged Buddhists should care about, or even that is exists. Doubly unfortunately, many engaged Christians are no more likely to take up issues of gender justice very forcefully. It is not uncommon for books on [End Page 69] engaged Buddhism or Christianity to omit the topic altogether. If it is discussed at all, a single issue, such as bhikkshuni ordination in the Buddhist case, is often the only gender issue discussed, rather than the full topic of Buddhist androcentrism and patriarchy.It is very frustrating and disappointing when those who wax eloquent on economic and political justice are completely silent on sexism and gender justice. How can they possibly imagine there could be economic or political justice when women still lack political and economic equality because they lack both equal access to all culturally valued pursuits and to reproductive freedom? Yet many engaged Buddhists and Christians seem to see no contradiction at all between advocating for economic and political “justice” at that same time as they advocate against women’s religious equality and reproductive freedom. Even if they don’t advocate against things that are essential for women, they are often silent on those issues.It’s very easy to criticize the IMF, the World Bank, or US foreign policy, things that we Buddhists don’t and can’t control, things that even Christians can’t control. But we do control our own religious institutions, whether Buddhist or Christian. So why don’t engaged Buddhists and Christians even discuss Buddhist and Christian sexism and patriarchy? We could change those institutions in a heartbeat, if we chose to do so. Why don’t we? I challenge engaged Buddhists and Christians to become much more aware of the suffering of sexism and much more serious about ending it in Buddhist and in Christian institutions.received generalities regarding buddhism and genderIf one looks at the world’s various Buddhisms, especially in Asia, superficially less so in the Western world, it would be impossible to avoid the conclusion that Buddhism is seriously infected with the sexism of male dominance. All the leaders and most of the teachers are men. Male monastics are well supported, while female monastics barely survive. Lack... (shrink)