A Comparative History of Catholic and Aš‘arī Theologies of Truth and Salvation: Inclusive Minorities, Exclusive Majorities 2021011076, 2021011077, 9789004461703, 9789004461765

Citation preview

A Comparative History of Catholic and Ašʿarī Theologies of Truth and Salvation

Currents of Encounter studies in interreligious and intercultural relations Editor in Chief Marianne Moyaert (Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, the Netherlands) Editorial Board Catherine Cornille (Boston College, USA) – Marion Grau (MF Norwegian School of Theology, Norway) – Paul Hedges (NTU, Singapore) – Henry Jansen (Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, the Netherlands) – Bagus Laksana (Sanata Dharma University in Yogyakarta, Indonesia) – Willie L. van der Merwe (Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, the Netherlands) – Jonathan Tan (Case Western Reserve University, USA) Founding Editors Jerald D. Gort Hendrik M. Vroom (†) Advisory Board Gavin d’Costa (University of Bristol, Department of Religion and Theology) Lejla Demiri (University of Tubingen, Center for Islamic Theology) Nelly van Doorn- Harder (Wake Forest University School of Divinity) Jim Heisig (Nanzan Institute for Religion & Culture) Mechteld Jansen (Protestant Theological University, Amsterdam) Edward Kessler (Woolf Institute and Fellow of St. Edmund’s College, Cambridge) Oddbjorn Leirvik (University of Oslo, Faculty of Theology) Hugh Nicholson (Loyola University Chicago, Department of Theology) Anant Rambachan (St. Olaf College, Northfield, USA) John Sheveland (Gonzaga University) Mona Siddiqui (University of Edinburgh, School of Divinity) Pim Valkenberg (Catholic University of America) Michelle Voss Roberts (Wake Forest University School of Divinity) Ulrich Winkler (University of Salzburg, Center for Intercultural Theology and the Study of Religions)

volume 66 The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/coe

A Comparative History of Catholic and Ašʿarī Theologies of Truth and Salvation Inclusive Minorities, Exclusive Majorities By

Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour

leiden | boston

Cover illustration: Vatican crossing over Al-Azhar, reflecting the comparative character of the monograph. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Abdelnour, Mohammed Gamal, author. Title: A comparative history of Catholic and Aš’arītheologies of truth and salvation : inclusive minorities, exclusive majorities / by Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, [2021] | Series: Currents of encounter : studies in interreligious and intercultural relations, 0923-6201 ; volume 66 | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2021011076 (print) | LCCN 2021011077 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004461703 (paperback) | ISBN 9789004461765 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Salvation–Comparative studies. | Salvation–Catholic Church–History of doctrines. | Salvation–Asharites–History of doctrines. | Christianity and other religions–Islam. | Islam–Relations–Christianity. Classification: LCC BL476 .A23 2021 (print) | LCC BL476 (ebook) | DDC 234–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021011076 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021011077

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 0923-6201 isbn 978-90-04-46170-3 (paperback) isbn 978-90-04-46176-5 (e-book) Copyright 2021 by Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour. Published by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. Koninklijke Brill NV reserves the right to protect this publication against unauthorized use. Requests for reuse and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

“He who knows one religion, knows none.” MÜLLER 1882: 12

∵

Contents Transliteration and Dating xi Acknowledgements xii Introduction 1 1 The Importance of the Subject 1 2 The State of the Field 2 2.1 Rifat Atay 5 2.2 Mohammad H. Khalil 6 2.3 Esra A. Dag 7 3 Critical Evaluation and Objectives of the Monograph 9 4 Methodology (from Theology of Religions to Comparative Theology) 10 5 Methodical Concerns 12 5.1 Important Qualifications and Limitations 14 5.2 Periodization and Structure 15 5.3 Overview of the Monograph 16

PART 1 Salvation in Early Catholicism and Early Ašʿarism 1

The Early Catholic Theology of Salvation 21 1 The Salvation Epistemology of the Early Church Fathers 22 1.1 St. Paul (d. c. 64/67) 22 1.2 The Inclusivist School 23 1.2.1 Justin Martyr (d. 165) 24 1.2.2 Irenaeus (d. c. 180/90) 25 1.2.3 Clement of Alexandria (d. c. 215) 27 1.2.4 Origen (d. c. 253) 29 1.3 The Exclusivist School 30 1.3.1 Ignatius (d. c. 117) 31 1.3.2 Tertullian (d. c. 240) 31 1.3.3 Cyprian (d. 258) 32 1.4 Augustine and the Consolidation of Exclusivism 37 2 Soteriology of the Early Church Fathers 42 2.1 The Apokatastasis 42 2.2 Christ’s Descent into Hell 46

viii 2

Contents

Early Ašʿarite Theology of Salvation (Hadith-Based Theology) 52 1 Early Ašʿarite Epistemology of Intra-Muslim Salvation 53 2 Early Ašʿarite Intra-Muslim Soteriology 58 3 Early Ašʿarite Epistemology of Inter-Religious Salvation 61 4 Early Ašʿarite Inter-Religious Soteriology 62 5 Early Ašʿarites and the Question of Intercession 63 6 Conclusion and Comparison 64

PART 2 Salvation in Mediaeval Catholicism and Mediaeval Ašʿarism 3

St. Thomas Aquinas’ Theology of Salvation 69 1 Aquinas’ Epistemology of Salvation 70 2 Aquinas’ Soteriology 76 3 Thomistic Influence on Later Theologians 79

4

Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī’s Theology of Salvation (Sunnah-Based Theology) 86 1 Al-Ġazālī’s Theology of Intra-Muslim Salvation 88 2 Al-Ġazālī’s Theology of Inter-Religious Salvation 92 2.1 Al-Ġazālī and the Question of Intercession 94 2.2 Can Non-Muslims Be Called Muʾminūn “Believers”? 95 2.3 Good Deeds vs. Correct Faith 96 3 The Ašʿarite Theology of Salvation after al-Ġazālī 98 4 Conclusion and Comparison 101

PART 3 Salvation in Modern Catholicism and Modern Ašʿarism (Vatican vs. Al-Azhar) 5

S alvation in Modern Catholicism (Massignon, Rahner and Vatican II) 107 1 The Impact of Massignon’s Theology of Religions on Vatican II 110 1.1 Massignon the Person and Islam 111 1.2 Massignon the Scholar and Islam 112 1.3 Massignon and Vatican II 115

Contents 

2

6

Karl Rahner and Anonymous Christians 119 2.1 Rahner’s Context and Theory 120 2.2 Is There an Islamic Parallel to Rahner’s Theory? 125 2.2.1 The Receptive Interpretation 126 2.2.2 The Proactive Interpretation 126 2.2.3 The Conflictive Interpretation 127 2.2.4 Critical Evaluation 130

 odern Ašʿarite Theology of Salvation (Al-Azhar and the M Quran-Based Theology) 132 1 Muhammad ʿAbduh’s Theology of Salvation 132 1.1 ʿAbduh’s Theology of Intra-Muslim Salvation 138 1.2 ʿAbduh’s Theology of Inter-Religious Salvation 140 1.2.1 ʿAbduh and the Question of Intercession 144 1.2.2 Concluding Remarks 145 2 Sh. Maḥmūd Šaltūt and the Question of Salvation 147 2.1 Šaltūt’s Theology of Intra- and Inter-religious Salvation 149 3 Sh. ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd’s Theology of Salvation 152 3.1 Ḥalīm’s Theology of Muslim Denominations 152 3.2 Ḥalīm’s Theology of Religions 153 3.3 Comparison and Conclusion 155 Conclusions and Recommendations 158 The Way Forward 163 Glossary of Key Terms 165 Citation Method and Abbreviated Arabic Titles 170 Bibliography 174 Arabic Sources 174 English Sources 177 Online Sources 190 Index of Persons 191 Index of Subjects 192

ix

Transliteration and Dating For rendering Arabic words in English, apart from the words Allah, Quran, ­Muhammad, hadith, Sunnah and city names, I have followed the transliteration system used by Brill’s simple Arabic transliteration system (excepting in cases where I need to comply with sources of quotations). The Islamic calendar dates from the Prophet Muhammad’s migration (Hijra) from Mecca to Medina in 622 CE. Historical figures and classical authors are identified by their death dates using both Hijrī (AH) and Gregorian (CE) years. For example, Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (d. 505/1111) died in the year 505 AH, which corresponds to 1111 CE.

Acknowledgements This monograph is a revised version of a PhD thesis submitted at SOAS University of London. I owe a huge debt to my mentor, Prof. Muhammad Abdel Haleem, who has taken me under his wing from my first day at SOAS until now. Prof. Rowan Williams, my PhD external examiner, is a godly man whose favours upon me are too many to count. Dr. Erica C. D. Hunter, although officially my second supervisor, made me feel I was blessed with two first supervisors. My deep appreciation goes also to Dr. Mustafa Shah for his enlightening feedbacks. Prof. Hassan al-Šāfiʿī, my key teacher of Kalām and Ṣūfism in Egypt, who introduced me to Haleem. These five are an astonishing cohort of scholars and incredible humans, to say the least. There are numerous other people who contributed to the intellectual maturation of this work. To name a few, Prof. Gavin D’Costa, Prof. Mona Siddiqui, Prof. David Ford, Dr. Joshua Ralston, Dr. Martin Wittingham, Dr. Ida Glaser, Prof. Umar Ryad, Dr. Esra Dag, Dr. Dženita Karić, Dr. Ramon Harvey, and Dr. Paul Hedges. Margaret E. L. Whibley has carefully copy edited a version of this monograph. Brill’s Currents of Encounter Series has been an efficient host for this monograph, especially my cooperative and helpful editors, Prof. Marianne Moyaert and Ms. Ingrid Heijckers-Velt. I am indebted to my alma mater, Al-Azhar, which provided me with the tools to navigate through the rich Islamic tradition. Here I single out Prof. Aḥmad alṬayyeb, the Grand Imām of Al-Azhar, for funding my PhD in collaboration with the British Council in Cairo, and Dr. Assem Allam in the U.K., with the tireless efforts of Prof. ʿAbdel Dāyem Noṣṣair and HE John Casson. Over a span of ten years between Al-Azhar and the British Council, I was handed from great individuals to other great individuals, so that I might reach this moment. This project is an embodiment of their efforts. My thanks to Durham University’s Theology Department, where I had access to the bountiful Catholic tradition, and to the Gingko Library, headed by Dr. Barbara Schwepcke, who has created a platform for Christian-Muslim researchers to share interreligious thought. I am grateful to my close friends, Belal Alabbas, Muhammad Almarakeby, and Mohammad al-Ṣayyad for the rigorous discussions that we had over our years of friendship. To the Bath community with which I spent the last three years of my life, particularly my friends Yazan al-Osaili, Daniel Bonnici, Rasheed Abdul Hady, Zaid Nasereddin, Mr. Sulieman’s and Mr. Shahid’s families, and Mohammad Khalil. Finally, I express my gratitude to my ever-loving parents, my two uncles, and my grandmother with whom I lived for almost 20 years. She was an ­uneducated

Acknowledgements 

xiii

woman who taught me what I did not learn at school and who died in 2018 during my visit to Egypt. My gratitude also to my little daughter (Leen) and my son (Abraham), whose presence added craziness, joy and happiness to our family throughout the PhD journey. And lastly, to my beloved wife, who not only ­patiently accepted me spending more time at my laptop than with her, but who also challenged me with intellectual questions that contributed to this work.

Introduction 1

The Importance of the Subject

The emergence of an entire discipline in the late twentieth century, i.e., the theology of religions, demonstrates that questions about salvation are universal. Aside from giving rise to abstract cosmological, theological, and mystical systems of thought, the issue of salvation provides “a concrete blueprint for the interpretation of this-worldly realities” (Lange 2016: 245) and for the organization of societies on earth. Thus, the question of salvation is not only about life in the hereafter, but is also about life on this earth. Gavin D’Costa writes: It is difficult to think of a more important question facing Christianity in the twenty-first century. Christianity’s very existence in part depends on how it relates to the world religions. This is a matter of survival and more importantly a matter of plausibility: how do Christians relate to their tradition, which so many think have related so negatively to the world religions? The questions are not simply theological and pastoral (Can a non-Christian be saved?), but also very practical and political (How should Christians relate to the religiously pluralist public square? Should they join with Muslims, for example, to campaign for religious schools?). (D’Costa 2009: x) Moreover, the idea of salvation is not only common, but is also essential to many, if not all, religions. Even though life after death remains unknown in concrete terms, salvation remains a goal towards which we direct ourselves. In Christianity, salvation is perhaps the major theme and has been central in forging the Christian worldview. In truth, domination of the field of theology of religions by typologies formulated by Christians attests to this fact. Although the discipline (of the theology of religions) is new in its formal typologies, the questions it deals with are as old as Christianity itself. Nevertheless, since the emergence of a field called “the theology of religions,” the question of salvation in the Islamic tradition remains a matter of dispute. Stances on this question fall into two main categories. The first is those who deny the existence of such a theology in the Islamic tradition. One of the leading representatives of this group is the late Ismāʿīl al-Fārūqī (d. 1986). After comparing the theologies of salvation of Islam and Christianity, he closes his discussion with this statement:

© Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004461765_002

2

Introduction

In the Islamic view, human beings are no more “fallen” than they are “saved.” Because they are not “fallen,” they have no need for a savior. But because they are not “saved” either, they need to do good works—and do them ethically—which alone will earn them the desired “salvation.” Indeed, “salvation” is an improper term, since to need “salvation,” one must be in a predicament beyond the hope of ever escaping it. But men and women are not in that predicament. Humans are not ethically powerless. They are not helpless puppets capable of neither good nor evil. They are capable of both. To “save” themselves by deeds and works in their pride and glory. To miss the chance and pass all the opportunities by is pitiable neglect; to miss the calling deliberately and to do evil is to earn punishment, to deserve damnation. (Al-Faruqi 1979: 9) In Islam and the Fate of Others, contemporary Muslim scholar Mohammad H. Khalil takes the opposite stance, arguing the following: Salvation is arguably the major theme of the Qurʾan … the frequent claim that Islam has no concept of salvation because it has no doctrine of original sin is true only if we assume a narrow definition of salvation. When discussing eschatological reward and punishment, it is customary for Muslim theologians … to employ the Qurʾanic term najāh and is typically—and for good reason—translated as “salvation” or “deliverance.” (Khalil 2012: 1–3) The late Fazlur Rahman (d. 1988) agrees with al-Fārūqī, contending that for Islam, there is no particular salvation and that “the standard Qurʾānic terms for the ultimate sequel are not salvation and damnation so much as success “falāh” and loss “khusrān,” both for this life and the Hereafter” (Rahman 1994: 75). On the whole, Rahman argues that Islam rejects the notion of “saviorship.” Despite negative accounts of the human record in the Quran, Islam adopts an optimistic attitude toward the final destiny of humankind. Given there is a merciful and just God, Islam does not require a saviour to reach paradise. He then quotes Q. 4:31: “If you avoid the major evils that have been prohibited to you, We shall obliterate (the effects of) occasional and smaller lapses” (­Rahman 1994: 20–21). 2

The State of the Field

A threefold typology of exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism has emerged in discussions about theology and comparative religion in the Western context.

Introduction

3

Such discussions date back to the late nineteenth century, when Christian theologians questioned the status of non-Christian religions (Dag 2017: 8). This questioning began as an attempt to position Christianity on the map of world religions. In the second half of the twentieth century—especially after World War II—and primarily because of a changing political landscape, attempts intensified, both biblically and theologically, to evaluate other religions from a Christian perspective. The essential questions concern how Christianity relates to non-Christian religions, whether non-Christian religions lead to salvation, and whether Jesus Christ is the only saviour (Dag 2017: 88). Although a few other typologies have been produced, the tripartite exclusivism/inclusivism/pluralism schema remains the most common. Despite ascribing the schema to John Hick, Alan Race was the first to outline the typology in Christians and Religious Pluralism (Barnes 2002: 8). The three main approaches can be summarized as follows: 1. Exclusivism: “Only those who hear the Gospel proclaimed and explicitly confess Christ are saved.”1 2. Inclusivism: “Christ is the normative revelation of God, although salvation is possible outside of the explicit Christian church, this salvation is always from Christ.”2 1 Examples of exclusivism include Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics and Hendrik Kraemer’s Why Christianity of all Religions? “On the Catholic side, Exclusivism is identical to ecclesiocentrism and the axiom Outside the Church there is no Salvation and is usually linked with the names of St. Cyprian (210–258) and Fulgentius of Ruspe (468–533). This position eventually changed and in 1949 was declared no longer valid” (Grzelak 2018: 164–165). Exclusivism, says D’Costa, “comes in two basic flavors. (a) Restrictive-access exclusivists hold that God elected some for salvation and others for damnation. Because God is exclusively revealed in Jesus Christ, we can at least tell that non-Christians (and varying numbers of Christians who are unfaithful—and destined to be so) are destined for damnation. This restricts the number of saved and damned based on God’s election. (b) Universal access exclusivists hold that because God is exclusively revealed in Christ, only those who profess Christ can be saved, who hear the Gospel and confess it in their hearts. The major difference within this latter group is between those who insist that this opportunity to confess Christ must take place for all before death, and those who argue that this can take place at the time of death or after death” (D’Costa 2009: 7). 2 Inclusivism is also referred to as Christocentrism; an “in between” approach. It focuses on the historical mediation of God’s salvation that is available to people in particular times and places, yet “Christ must always be implicated in the salvific process and the explicit Christian faith is the completion of any religious system (Karl Rahner); that salvation history is one but God’s self-communication is Trinitarian (Jacques Dupuis); that with the Spirit as its starting point and centre, Christianity can be more open to others and more faithful to the Gospel (Gavin D’Costa); and that Jesus is the (universal) Saviour who is in the centre of the religious universe (Monika Hellwig)” (Grzelak 2018: 165–166). According to D’Costa, “there are two types of Inclusivism alleged in the literature. (a) Structural inclusivists hold that Christ is the ­normative ­revelation of God, although salvation is possible outside of the explicit ­Christian

4

Introduction

3.

Pluralism: “All religions are equal and valid paths to the one divine reality and Christ is one revelation among many equally important revelations” (D’Costa in Ford and Muers, eds. 2005: 627).3 Even though this typology is widely used, it has been criticized. Perry SchmidtLeukel sums the critiques up as follows: 1) The typology misconstrues the diversity of religions; 2) there are other options; 3) the categories are incoherent; 4) the typology cannot cope with the variety of existing positions; and 5) the terms are polemical (Hedges and Race 2008: 18–23). Gavin D’Costa, Joseph DiNoia and Roger Haight opt for more flexible categories, arguing that the classical distinctions between exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism are no longer useful. The typology is “wordy,” “dysfunctional,” and hardly advances the dialogue between religions. DiNoia expresses his criticism by saying the typology “obscures the more basic issue posed by current circumstances of religious interaction: how to affirm the universality of the Christian dispensation without sacrificing its particularity.” In addition, the typology fails “to recognize the religious other as other, not as a mere outsider to, reflection, extension, or unwitting member of, one’s own tradition (e.g. non-Christian).” All these criticisms indicate, says Grzelak, that “there is a real need for moving forward and constructing new categories which would be better suited in expressing the diversity of numerous approaches to the theology of religions” (Grzelak 2018: 163–164). Nevertheless, the threefold typology is still in significant use (Race and Hedges 2008: 8–30). In fact, not only is it used in Christian circles, but it extends to non-Christian, including Islamic circles also (Dag 2017: 88). Three Muslim scholars have attempted to study the Islamic theology of salvation through the prism of the threefold typology. In chronological order, they are: church. Salvation is, or may be, available through other religions per se, but this salvation is always from Christ. This type of Inclusivism contains the pluralist legitimation of other religions as salvific structures while also holding to the exclusivist claims of the causal saving grace of Christ alone. (b) Restrictivist inclusivists hold that Christ is the normative revelation of God, although salvation is possible outside of the explicit Christian church, but this does not give legitimation to other religions as possible or actual salvific structures” (D’Costa 2009: 7). 3 Pluralism is the opposite of exclusivism, which is also known as theocentrism. In Christianity and World Religions, D’Costa adds that pluralism comes in three versions: “(a) Unitary pluralists hold that all religions are, or can be, equal and valid paths to the one divine reality. ‘­Unitary’ indicates a single unitary divine being behind the different plural religious phenomena. (b) Pluriform pluralists hold that all religions are, or can be, different paths to different plural divine realities. (c) Ethical pluralists hold that all religions are related to the divine insomuch as they contain certain ethical codes and practices, and religions should not be judged according to the conceptual pictures of divine reality they profess” (2009: 6).

Introduction

1. 2. 3.

5

Rifat Atay (1999) “Religious Pluralism and Islam: A Critical Examination of John Hick’s Pluralistic Hypothesis” (PhD Diss.). Mohammad H. Khalil (2012) Islam and the Fate of Others: The Salvation Question. Esra A. Dag (2017) Christian and Islamic Theology of Religions: A Critical Appraisal.

2.1 Rifat Atay Although these three writers draw on the same typology, they reach different conclusions. Atay defines exclusivism as follows: Only one religion holds the absolute truth that leads to salvation, while others are considered to be in error in varying degrees and unfit as vehicles of salvation, despite the traces of truth they may contain. The Exclusivist line finds its roots among Muslims from the belief that Islam is the final and full religion for humanity as put forward in the Qurʾan as a way of life. (Atay 1999: 27) He then argues that exclusivism is largely exemplified in the works of the classical Muslim theologian, Abū Manṣūr al-Māturidī (d. 333/944), the founder of the theological school of Māturidīyyah. According to Atay, al-Māturidī’s position is significant, for it is held by approximately 95 percent of Muslims across the globe. Atay states that he labels al-Māturidī as an exclusivist because he came across Hanifi Özcan’s Religious Pluralism in al-Maturidi, which classifies al-Māturidī as a Muslim pluralist/inclusivist (Atay 1999: 28–29). Atay disagrees, and attempts to demonstrate that al-Māturidī was, on the contrary, an exclusivist. He puts it this way: Özcan’s title, Religious Pluralism in al-Maturidi, gives the impression that al-Māturidī was some form of a Pluralist, at least this was what I thought when I first saw the book. However, in the introduction it becomes apparent that Ozcan in fact puts al-Māturidī among Inclusivists, since Ozcan believes that Pluralism cannot be achieved between theistic and nontheistic religions … he is probably arguing for a Pluralism which recognizes the Judeo-Christian-Islamic traditions as effective salvific ways. But neither Race, nor Hick, nor many other Pluralists would accept this as a Pluralism, since it will end up either as (theistic Exclusivism), or (­theistic Inclusivism), depending on the treatment of non-theistic religions as totally or partially false. (Atay 1999: 29)

6

Introduction

Atay then defines Islamic inclusivism as the belief that “there is one surest way to salvation, which is Islam, others may also lead to salvation but not as good as one’s own, i.e. Islam” (1999: 36). He presents the contemporary Turkish theologian, Süleyman Ateş, as an example of a Muslim inclusivist. He does so for two reasons. First, he argues that Ateş has a limited understanding of the concept of ahl al-kitāb (Peoples of the Book), since it only includes those who acknowledge Muhammad as a prophet and the Quran as an authentically revealed book, but have not converted to Islam, remaining instead within their own traditions as Jews or Christians. Second, Ateş is a firm believer in monotheism, therefore he does not discuss certain forms of Hinduism and Buddhism. Consequently, there is a possibility of salvation outside Islam, although this possibility extends solely to those who are not only Jewish or Christian monotheists, but who also acknowledge the message of Muhammad (Atay 1999: 37). Atay defines pluralism as the belief that “religions are each equally efficient ways of perceiving the Real. As religious animals, we human beings, manifest different responses to divine revelation, according to the way we were brought up. Thus, different world religions are different ways of achieving (salvation/ liberation) as (human transformation from self-centeredness to Reality-­ centeredness)” (1999: 43). He then presents Mohammed Arkoun as an example of Islamic pluralism, for Arkoun holds that the tools of legitimization of the classical Islamic theology do not possess any “epistemological relevance for us today,” as their findings are badly damaged by the “biases imposed by the ruling class and its intellectual servants” (Atay 1999: 37). Arkoun distinguishes between three levels of divine revelation. First is the absolute level, which is unknowable by humankind, although the prophets revealed fragments of the word of God. Second are the prophetic manifestations of the word of God, such as those of the Israelite prophets, Jesus and Muhammad, from a period where revelation was orally transmitted and preserved through memorization. The third level is the textual objectification of God’s word in the Torah, the New Testament, and the Quran. He calls these three holy books the Closed Official Corpus (Atay 1999: 45–46). 2.2 Mohammad H. Khalil Khalil’s employment of the threefold typology goes beyond its original usage (Dag 2017: 99). That is, while Race originally uses it epistemologically, Khalil seems to use it soteriologically. He defines exclusivism as the “position that there is only one religious tradition or interpretation of that tradition that leads to salvation while followers of other beliefs will be punished in hell.” Inclusivism, for Khalil, is the belief that there is just one religion that is effectively salvific, yet “sincere outsiders who could not have recognized it as such

Introduction

7

will be saved.” Pluralism is the view that “regardless of the circumstances, there are several religious traditions or interpretations that are equally effective salvifically” (Khalil 2012: 7). Khalil argues that inclusivism has been the dominant position in Islamic theology and not exclusivism, as is commonly thought. To demonstrate this conclusion, he dissects the positions of four major Muslim theologians and labels them all as inclusivists, though they theorize the possibility of salvation for non-Muslims differently. He studies al-Ġazālī (d. 505/1111) as a Sunnī theologian, Ibn Taymiyyah (d. 728/1328) as a Salafī theologian, Ibn ʿArabī (d. 638/1240) as a Ṣūfī theologian and Rašīd Riḍā (d. 1363/1935) as a Salafī modernist (Dag 2017: 99). Khalil contends that each of these four theologians represents a different type of inclusivism (Khalil 2012: 17–25). What is common between them, Khalil says, is that none deny supersessionism, and all see Islam as the one and only authentic/valid vehicle of salvation (Dag 2017: 99). 2.3 Esra A. Dag Although Dag admits that the Quranic position on non-Muslims is ambiguous,4 she concludes that discussion in the Islamic theology of religions seems to be mainly between exclusivists and pluralists (Dag 2017: 86), which is different from Khalil’s view, presented earlier, of seeing inclusivism as mainstream in the Islamic tradition. Dag points out that Muslim theologians who have adopted and adapted Race’s threefold typology, “tend to find the category of inclusivism problematic and so include within it theologians who do not identify themselves as inclusivists, or who have significant overlap with the exclusivist and pluralist positions” (Dag 2017: 87). Dag contends that the exclusivist position has largely dominated Islamic theology. Although the Quran upholds the pre-Islamic scriptures, early scholars believed it supersedes them (Dag 2017: 94–95). She states: In spite of the Qurʾanic affirmation of non-Islamic traditions’ certain values, early scholars developed a supersessionist theory which assumed that other religions were superseded by Islam. The doctrine of abrogation in Islamic studies has been discussed in the literature of Islamic jurisprudence (uṣūl al-fiqh)…. The classic, medieval and contemporary forms of exclusivism have been shaped in the light of supersessionist theory. Thus, the positive affirmation of non-Islamic traditions in the Qurʾan has been regarded as abrogated. In other words, the Qurʾanic verses which value 4 There are Quranic verses that support exclusivism as well as pluralism (Dag 2017: 155–56).

8

Introduction

the Christian and Jewish traditions have been considered to be part of this abrogation process. (Dag 2017: 90–91) Along with Khalil and Atay, Dag applies the threefold typology to several Muslim scholars, although her focus is more on contemporary scholars (unlike Khalil who studied more classical scholars). Convinced there is no inclusivism in the Islamic tradition, Dag divides her study between Muslim exclusivists and Muslim pluralists. She takes Sayyed Quṭb, Tim Winter, Yasir Qadhi as contemporary representatives of the exclusivist camp, all of whom subscribe to the supersessionist theory.5 She then examines three thinkers from the pluralist camp. First, Hassan Askari, who proposes his theory of theocentric pluralism in two books, one co-edited with John Hick: The Experience of Religious Diversity (1985), and the other Spiritual Quest: An Inter-Religious Dimension (1991). Askari endorses Hick’s theocentric pluralism and “reads the religious differences in a metaphorical sense” (Dag 2017: 104). Second, she looks at Farid Esack who, in his Qurʾān, Liberation and Religious Pluralism, supports an ethical form of pluralism, influenced not only by the textual interpretational methods of Arkoun and Fazlur-Rahman, but also by Latin American liberation theologians who see suffering as the most significant issue facing theology (Dag 2017: 106–109). Esack introduces two arguments: firstly, religious plurality is the will of God— that is to say the Quran accepts religious others, their spirituality and their salvation (Esack 1997: 155–160). Secondly, he reads the Quran as a book that asks humanity to collaborate in supporting justice and righteousness (1997: 180). Third, in The Other in the Light of the One, Reza Shah-Kazemi attempts to go beyond the threefold typology with a theory of “universalism,” in which he follows Hick by positing that each religion manifests a different response to the same reality. He differs from Hick, however, in that he considers religious diversity God’s will, rather than a human construct (Dag 2017: 109–110). Dag suggests that Muslims should engage more with comparative theology than the theology of religions. In her words: There is a need for more solid claims which are firmly supported by study and engagement with particular religions. From this point of view, for 5 Although both Qadhi and Winter are exclusivists, according to Dag, neither restrict salvation to Muslims. Qadhi invokes divine justice for those who fail to comprehend the Islamic message correctly; while Winter employs the theory of Muḥammadan intercession to decide whether or not non-Muslims will attain salvation (2017: 98).

Introduction

9

Islamic theology of religions the tools of comparative theology would be useful as it requires a deep engagement with other tradition/s other than their own. For Muslims, rather than theorizing non-Islamic religions in the light of statements of their own religious text, the real engagement with non-Islamic religions through their texts and teachings would increase Muslims’ awareness of the real differences. (Dag 2017: 113) 3

Critical Evaluation and Objectives of the Monograph

Although the individual theologians studied above are seminal, the positions of the schools to which they belong has not received sufficient attention. That is, singling out individual theologians from their theological schools does not offer a full picture of how the Islamic tradition has evaluated the phenomenon of religions. Further, it seems that the three studies are principally concerned with providing confessional answers to the question of salvation, rather than with building a systematic theology of salvation. There has been no previous attempt to explore the historical context of these theological positions to discover if there has been any developments. Furthermore, the conflation between epistemology and soteriology is quite common in such studies. Hence, who is classified as an exclusivist by some, might be classified as an inclusivist by others. Given this, the aims of this monograph are manifold. First, the focus will shift from individual theologians to theological schools. Although these schools will be studied through their most influential theologians, it is the schools themselves that will have primacy here. Second, to avoid this confusion between epistemological and soteriological dimensions of salvation, the monograph takes this distinction as its basis, pointing out the difference between assuming a soteriological chance of salvation for the other in the hereafter and giving legitimacy to the other’s claim of truth (epistemology). Third, links will be made between past and the present by tracing the discussion from the formative phase of the most dominant Sunnite school (Ašʿarism), cutting across its middle phase, and ending with the modern phase. Fourth, considering Dag’s conclusions, this monograph compares Ašʿarism with Catholicism, charting the theological trajectories these two traditions have followed, attempting to see whether they lead to similar destinations. Fifth, this monograph promises to fill an epistemic gap in the global study of theology, for the systematic theology of religions today is almost exclusively Christian. Finally, this work is the first longitudinal (as opposed to transversal) analysis of the Muslim discussion of salvation.

10

Introduction

4 Methodology (from Theology of Religions to Comparative Theology) To situate my work in the wider context of comparative theology, a word on its three foundational figures is needed. Namely, Francis Clooney, Robert C. Neville, and Keith Ward. Clooney’s model of comparative theology “refers to a particular form of theology of religions that seeks to engage in thinking about the Christian faith by comparison with, or in relation to, one or more other religious traditions” (Hedges 2017: 10), exhibiting significant expertise in the traditions compared, exploring selected areas (see Clooney 1993, 1996, 2008). By contrast, Keith Ward endeavours to illustrate more general similarities between different religious traditions (see Ward 1994, 1999, 2000). In so doing he borders with the old-style comparative religion. That is, while a comparative theologian “seeks to stand within one religious tradition and so approaches this from an insider, or devotee, perspective, the scholar of comparative religion stands as an outsider to each tradition and simply observes historical, philosophical, phenomenological, or other categories of comparison” (Hedges 2017: 11). Or, as Klaus von Stosch states, the essential difference is that the latter “asks the question of truth and validity” (Stosch 2016: 165). ­Neville’s approach inclines towards that of Ward, as he engages scholars of various religious traditions to discuss common themes “before applying himself to the task of seeking to make common judgements across the traditions” (Hedges 2017: 11). Given the significant overlap between the three approaches, I believe my approach is a synthesis of the three. While I see general assessments of what Catholic and Ašʿarī traditions say in ways that are somewhat generic (in line with Ward’s approach), I am an insider to Islam who studied another tradition, i.e. Catholicism (like Clooney), taking the theology of religions as my basis. However, at the same time, my work is not entirely free of theological content, as some normative theological judgements will follow from my investigation. With the above in mind, I do not subscribe to the binary division between insider and outsider, nor do I see a clear-cut division between comparative theology and comparative religion.6 However, what places me further in line with Clooney is that I not only focus on a textual study of the traditions under review, but I also investigate the historical contexts, as well as the methods 6 While Clooney, Fredericks, and Stosch have strongly argued that there are distinctions between comparative theology and theology of religions, Kristin Kiblinger, Perry Schmidt-Leukel and Hedges have argued that they are not distinct. See Schmidt-Leukel 2009: 90–91; Hedges 2010: 52–54, Kiblinger 2010, Stosch 2012b.

Introduction

11

and traditions of interpretations that shaped the various engagements with foundational texts. Taking the theology of religions as my basis, I make use of some of its tools, e.g., the threefold typology (which, while accepting the criticisms made against it, I use for classification purposes). I use such tools to navigate through the two traditions with a view to pulling together miscellaneous threads, not only to identify agreements and similarities, but also to consolidate a theological theory. I am convinced that by consolidating general lines of progression, casual sequences, and illuminating correlations, the dispersed and uncharted theological pieces of the diverse religious traditions can be transformed into a theological theory that transcends the boundaries of individual religions. An example of this is my primary conclusion that, historically, majoritarianism has tended to feed theological exclusivism, while minoritarianism has seemed to generate theological inclusivism, as shall be expounded later. On the other hand, I have adopted a historical approach for the following reasons: 1) It helps in tracing the historical development of the two traditions in question. 2) It reveals the impact of historical context on the generation of certain theological outlooks. 3) It helps identify the factors that affect the emergence of certain theological positions. 4) It provides rounded, detailed illustrations of the theological milestones in both traditions. 5) It helps identify both the strengths and weaknesses of existing approaches to major questions of theology. 6) Further, the historical approach provides a powerful corrective to seemingly static views of theology, as it allows one to see that certain doctrines assume particular importance at various points; and “that certain ideas came into being under very definite circumstances which cannot be taken beyond such circumstances; and that, occasionally, mistakes are made; that theological development is not irreversible; the mistakes of the past may be corrected” (McGrath 2013: 12).7 7) Finally, it exposes the fact that Christianity and Islam can sometimes unconsciously embrace ideas and values from their cultural backdrop, i.e., certain ideas that have often been regarded as distinctively 7 For instance, “the British theologian Colin Gunton (1941–2003) developed an approach to Trinitarian theology was severely critical of the approach of Augustine of Hippo, especially concerning the relationship between the doctrines of creation and redemption. Gunton constructed an alternative approach that he believed avoided Augustine’s mistakes. Yet Gunton’s historical analysis of Augustine’s position is highly questionable, involving a forced reading of texts and an apparent misunderstanding of some of his ideas. All of these misapprehensions have been corrected by recent scholarship. Gunton’s inaccurate reading of Augustine is an important reminder that good systematic theology depends on a good understanding of historical theology” (McGrath 2013: 14–15).

12

Introduction

Christian or particularly Islamic sometimes turn out to be borrowed from a different epistemic paradigm.8 5

Methodical Concerns

There are four methodical risks, however. One would be the danger of making sweeping generalizations about two world faith traditions across almost two millennia, compressing them in three historical phases. Second, focusing on schools instead of theologians may well result in the blurring of distinctions between theologians, while ignoring many theologians and theological ideas in the middle-ground. Third, juxtaposing Ašʿarism with Catholicism, more worryingly, the Vatican with Al-Azhar, risks imposing certain categories from one tradition onto the other. Fourth, the assumption could arise that “salvation” is as important to Islam as it is to Christianity. Understanding the guiding principle behind this book may well dispel the first risk. That is, the guiding principle behind this book is “selective attention.” This work is not intended to be a detailed account of the two traditions, but rather a map for students of Christian-Muslim relations, offering a decent idea of the turning points and major theological landscapes of both traditions. While it does not exhaust the two traditions, it attempts to fill in sufficient detail to help doers of theology make sense of the various doctrinal developments, paving the way for a more detailed engagement through studies that offer more atomistic readings of those traditions. Hence, this monograph should serve two types of readers. First, it will open a door to the specialist who wants to dig deeper into the two traditions. Second, it will be a taster for the generalist who may not have the time to become thoroughly familiar with every aspect of Christian-Muslim theologies. Both sorts of readers will come out with a holistic understanding of the development of Christian and Muslim theologies; a holistic understanding that will increase the appetite of the former and satisfy that of the latter. Such holistic studies are largely absent today amid a proliferation of atomistic studies. However, the holistic nature of the monograph does not diminish the attention paid to specificities. In other words, the monograph is not superficial, and 8 The idea that “God cannot suffer was well established in Greek philosophical circles. Early Christian theologians, anxious to gain respect and credibility in such circles, did not challenge this idea. As a result, it became deeply embedded in the Christian theological tradition” (McGrath 2013: 12). In Islamic theology, the reason-revelation binary is increasingly believed to have been borrowed from the Greek, though the distinction has traditionally been thought of as Islamic (SM 2015).

Introduction

13

neither does it lack depth and profundity in terms of how it analyses the two traditions and contextualizes their theological shifts. Hence, in almost every chapter, there is an original addition to existing scholarship on the theologians in question and the theological milestones reached—be it major or slight. As for the second risk, while I recognize that the school-based approach might blur differences between individual theologians through the “false imposition of unity on diverse ideas” (Brown 1999: 4), I am convinced that such a risk is lower than risks involved in the theologian-or-ideas-based approach, since focusing on the school will reveal the real impact of original and influential theologians. That is, although schools may well project the ideas of their influential theologians, not all theologians project the ideas of their school. Nevertheless, I seek to do justice to the diverse thinking within the schools under review. Regarding the juxtaposition of Ašʿarism with Catholicism and the Vatican with Al-Azhar, while it is true that there is an undeniable difference between the two traditions and the two institutions, most notably the Catholic magisterium claims of a charisma of infallibility which is not held by Al-Azhar,9 the selection is based on the following four reasons. The first concerns the magisterium. Although there is no direct equivalent to the Catholic magisterium in the Ašʿarite tradition in terms of authoritativeness, I believe it is still possible to compare Catholicism and Ašʿarism with this variable in mind, as the two traditions have offices that speak in their name, i.e., the Vatican/AlAzhar. They both largely provide trusted, unified voices to guide Catholics and Sunnite Muslims through official pronouncements on contemporary issues that Scripture might not tackle directly. They also share the aim of preserving the faithful from error and heresies through authoritative interpretation of Scripture and tradition. Second, just as the Roman Catholic church takes tradition seriously in terms of its theological authority, so too does Ašʿarism. Third, Catholicism and Ašʿarism are arguably the world’s two largest religious denominations. Hence, a theologically-informed dialogue is a serious need in a world in which West meets East in every nook and cranny.10 Finally, despite the absence of a Catholic-style religious hierarchy in Ašʿarism, the concept of 9

10

This encompasses papal authority, “although there will be significant differences of interpretation regarding the scope and process by which papal authority is exercised. Thus, within a tradition-specific context, say Catholicism, we have some internal plurality. The limits of Catholic plurality are determined by the teaching office of the church, even when contested by theologians. The limits of plurality in another denomination might be more loosely or more tightly articulated” (D’Costa 2009: 4). Regarding the size and dominance of the Catholic church, see D’Costa 2009: 5-6; see also: the “Christian Monitor” website: www.christianmonitor.org (20/03/2019). For the Ašʿarite’s, see Saeed 2006: 30; Campo 2009: 66; Sherman Jackson 2009: 80.

14

Introduction

religious authority does exist in Ašʿarism. The hierarchy of the institutional church is only one manifestation of religious authority, but religious authority as a concept exists in Islam too and Al-Azhar can serve as a good example. As to whether Islam is as concerned with salvation as Christianity, I argue that, apart from the fact that many Muslim theologians, classical and modern, have made the argument that salvation is the major theme of Islam, as Mohammad H. Khalil points out in his Islam and the Fate of Others, it is only when looking at “salvation” from a Christian outlook that it appears a property of Christianity. In this monograph, it will become evident that salvation is a central question in the Islamic tradition also. Finally, while I recognize that comparisons are naturally slippery and I concede the legitimacy of the above concerns, I believe that my expertise in both traditions gives me some awareness of the particularities of each. I claim to have acquired a deep enough understanding of both traditions assuring me that locating common denominators will not lead to erasure or side-lining of particularities. An example of this awareness is my argument that while Christianity primarily rests on the figure of Jesus Christ, Islam hinges on the Quran. Although this distinction is increasingly becoming popular, it has not been properly incorporated or duly attended to in academic theology, especially when Jesus Christ is equated with Prophet Muhammad, rather than with the Quran. This monograph highlights this difference. 5.1 Important Qualifications and Limitations Given the diversity within Islam and Christianity, I confine my project to one school from each of the two religions. Marianne Moyaert’s note should be taken into account here. That is, “the question of whether Christianity has an inclusivist, exclusivist or whatever approach or attitude to Hinduism, Islam, or any other tradition is engaged in a deeply essentialist conversation. There is no such thing as ‘Christianity’ or ‘Hinduism’ or ‘Islam,’ only Christianities, Hinduism, Islams” (Hedges 2017: 16–17, and Moyaert 2016a). Furthermore, since salvation is a multi-faceted question, this monograph will mainly focus on two facets: the epistemological and the soteriological, which have largely been confused. To clarify, the subject of salvation has four major dimensions: the epistemological, soteriological, ontological and cosmological. While the cosmological dimension deals with questions of space and time of paradise and hell, the ontological asks in what sense paradise and hell are “real,” i.e., physically, or spiritually, or both. The epistemological dimension evaluates the claims of religions in terms of authenticity and validity, asking if the religions of others have elements of “truth.” Finally, the soteriological dimension is concerned with whether religions other than one’s own have a chance of salvation in the hereafter, regardless of their perceived validity (Lange 2016: 255).

15

Introduction

I use the terms (soteriology, epistemology, inclusivism, and exclusivism) in distinct senses. By “epistemology” I refer to the question of truth, e.g., Islam’s or Christianity’s view of which is the true religion. The term “soteriology” is used in reference to humanity’s final destiny in the hereafter whether or not people embraced the true religion. I use “inclusivism” in its broadest sense, i.e., the belief that there is just one religion that is superiorly true and hence leads the most authentic path to salvation, yet other religions may have elements of truth. Such elements are either salvific enough hence their religions lead valid enough paths to salvation on their own terms, or not salvific enough hence would find their fulfilment in the “true” religion. As for exclusivism, it would be used to mean the belief that there is only one religious tradition or a specific interpretation of that tradition that is true and hence exclusively leads to salvation. Three other qualifications need also be made. First, this monograph is analytical and descriptive rather than prescriptive; I seek to adopt an evenhanded stance in identifying and solidifying an Ašʿarite theology of religions in comparison with that of the Catholic. Second, although the monograph is not exhaustive, it is representative of the major doctrinal developments in both traditions. Hence, the views of each and every theologian who said something on salvation will not be covered as such; rather, particular figures are chosen according to the contribution they made to advancing their respective theological traditions. Third, I do not address questions about the salvation of infants nor questions of “truth” in its ultimate sense, as the former deserves its own treatment and the latter is only addressed here in its relation to salvation. 5.2 Periodization and Structure The material is divided into three main periods according to theological turning-points in both traditions. The periods are the formative, middle and modern, and can be delineated in the following manner: Period

Catholicism

Ašʿarism

Formative Middle Modern

c. 100–700 c. 700–1750 c. 1750–1965

c. 900–1111 c. 1111–1850 c. 1870–1978

Although I believe that this division of history fits the theological development of the two traditions, any such divisions are by definition arbitrary. Here they are meant solely to consolidate the discussion and keep the historical context at the forefront. Otherwise, the warning of G. M. Trevelyan (d. 1962)

16

Introduction

on this matter should be heeded: “Unlike dates, periods are not facts. They are retrospective conceptions that we form about past events, useful to focus discussion, but very often leading historical thought astray” (Hooper 1980: 2). Excluding the introduction and conclusion, the monograph has three parts, each made up of two chapters. The first part deals with the early church fathers’ theology of religions in comparison to those of early Ašʿarism. In the second part, although its first chapter focuses on Aquinas (d. 1274) and his ecclesiocentric approach to salvation, the generic views of Francisco de Vitoria (d. 1546), Melchoir Cano (d. 1560), Domingo Soto (d. 1560), Albert Pigge (d. 1542) and Juan De Lugo (d. 1660) are also introduced to somewhat bridge the period between Aquinas and modern Catholicism. Similarly, although the second chapter mainly focuses on al-Ġazālī’s (d. 505/1111) Sunnah-based approach, the views of al-Rāzī (606/1210), al-Ijī (d. 816/1413) and al-Suyūṭī (d. 911/1505) are explored more generally to show how al-Ġazālī’s views of religious truth and salvation were largely adopted by the school. Although some generalizations have to be made here, these are not done arbitrarily, but rather on the basis of a survey of the period between medieval and modern Ašʿarism. Part three concentrates, in its first chapter, on the teachings of Vatican II on Islam, in light of the work of Louis Massignon (d. 1962) and Karl Rahner (d. 1984), while its second chapter focuses on Muhammad ʿAbduh’s (d. 1905) school and its impact on Al-Azhar’s theology of religions in the twentieth century, with explicit reference to the theologies of ʿAbduh, Maḥmūd Šaltūt (d. 1963), and ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd (d. 1978). Given that ʿAbduh’s relation to Ašʿarism is controversial, a significant part of this chapter will be dedicated to demonstrating how ʿAbduh fits in the Ašʿarite tradition. 5.3 Overview of the Monograph While the first chapter reveals a theological contest between exclusivism and inclusivism in early Catholicism, the second argues that early Ašʿarism was largely monolithic in the same period, with its theologians framing their theology of religions according to a single hadith. This hadith is known as the hadith of the One-firqah (one denomination). It reads: “There will befall my nation what befell the children of Israel. The children of Israel divided into seventy-two religious groups and my community will divide into seventy-three religious groups, one more than they. All of them are in hellfire except one religious group.”11 The hadith gained currency across the first two centuries of 11

The authentication of the hadith will be discussed in the second chapter of this monograph. This form of the hadith is found in Ibn Mājah, Abū Daʾūd al-Sijistānī, al-Tirmiḏī, and al-Nasāʾī, four of the six “canonical” Sunni collections of hadith (Hirji 2010: 32).

Introduction

17

the School until its authenticity and theological implications were questioned by al-Ġazālī. It will also become evident that while early Catholic theologians were pondering the fate of non-Christian religions, early Ašʿarites were grappling with the fate of non-Ašʿarites/non-Sunnis. The second part of the monograph attempts to demonstrate how a heavy exclusivism, consolidated by Augustine towards the end of the first phase, trumped inclusivism and dominated mediaeval Catholic theology until Aquinas introduced what might be called a “light” exclusivism. The question asked in this period was as follows: How can original and personal sins be forgiven when men and women die as non-Christians without knowing Christ and his church? The standard answer was that they can know Christ and his church latently, through a hidden desire. Hence, faith in the Lord and good deeds become the minimal requirement for salvation; an answer primarily derived from Hebrews 11:6: “Now it is impossible to please God without faith, since anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and rewards those who try to find him.” The second chapter of part two discusses how inclusivism began to emerge in the Ašʿarite realm through the transformative work of al-Ġazālī. This chapter pursues three goals: first, to shed some light on al-Ġazālī’s theology of denominations, which has largely been overshadowed by his theology of religions, by illustrating how, instead of relying on one hadith to delineate the Ašʿarite worldview of religions, al-Ġazālī re-defined the above hadith and considered it much less central. Second, by dividing the discussion into epistemology and soteriology, the chapter aims to explain ways in which al-Ġazālī can be seen as an exclusivist and ways in which he can be categorized as an inclusivist. Third, the overarching structure of this chapter aims to show how al-Ġazālī envisaged Ašʿarism as a living, dynamic, discursive tradition; an outlook that opened the gate for ʿAbduh’s second paradigm shift in the school. This Ġazālian phase will be called the Sunnah-based phase, since by his time the Sunnah, arguably, had the capacity to particularize the generalities of the Quran and limit its fluidity. This chapter ends with a brief exposition of al-Rāzī, al-Ījī, and al-Suyūṭī’s views on salvation. The third part of the monograph is also made up of two chapters. The first begins with a short section on Catholic views on salvation from Aquinas’ time until the nineteenth century. The chapter then has two sections following: one on Massignon and the other on Rahner. The first section attempts to demonstrate that Massignon was not merely a Catholic scholar interested in Islam, but a thinker with a dual religious identity. The second investigates Rahner’s theory of the “anonymous Christian.” Here the aim is not to critique the theory as such, but rather to answer the question: Is there an Islamic parallel?

18

Introduction

The second chapter of part three moves to modern Ašʿarism, arguing that al-Ġazālī’s approach remained almost unchallenged until the time of ʿAbduh, who introduced a Quran-based approach to questions of truth and salvation. While many argue that ʿAbduh represents a rupture with the long-standing Ašʿarite tradition, this chapter argues that, although on certain theological questions ʿAbduh opted for non-Ašʿarite positions, his theological paradigm remained within the Ašʿarite tradition. This point becomes concrete through the investigation of the theologies of ʿAbduh, Maḥmūd Šaltūt, and ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd, with all three holding high positions in Al-Azhar in their respective time and gaining wide followings.

PART 1 Salvation in Early Catholicism and Early Ašʿarism

∵

CHAPTER 1

The Early Catholic Theology of Salvation The patristic period is one of the most exciting and innovative periods in the history of Christian theology. Every Christian denomination not only considers it a definitive landmark in the development of Christian doctrine, but also considers itself “continuing, extending, and, where necessary, criticizing” the views of the patristic fathers (McGrath 2013: 17). Catholicism is not an exception to this rule, and the Catholic theology of religions cannot be fully comprehended without recourse to the patristic period. Although the initial break between the Catholic West and the Orthodox East is usually, and slightly arbitrarily, dated to 1054 CE (McGrath 2013: 60), it is difficult to appreciate fully why the Catholic church’s position on world religions was expressed differently in the past than in modern times without going back to the patristic period. Although the authors of the New Testament books did not grapple much with questions of the religious other, this began to change during the second century when different Christian communities engaged with the Greco-Roman world. In this “new world,” Christians made up a demographic minority, and were often challenged by the philosophies and religions of the communities in which they lived. Christians were thus obliged to ask questions about their relationships with their neighbours. The question of the day was “what to think of the person of Jesus Christ and his saving activity on the one hand and, on the other, of the philosophies, the individual philosophers and the many religions and cults, in the midst of which the young Church was living” (Grzelak 2018: 166). In this early phase, I argue that two major theological schools emerged, both attempting to define how Christianity should relate to non-Christian religions. The first is represented by Justin Martyr (d. 165) and the other by Tertullian (d. 240), until Augustine (d. 431) took the lead. These have been called the inclusivist and exclusivist schools respectively. While Tertullian’s school was especially concerned with making a sharp distinction between the Christian religion and others, Justin Martyr’s school looked for unity, although without compromising Christian identity. Until the time of Augustine, Justin Martyr’s school gained a greater following than that of Tertullian. After Augustine endorsed an ecclesiocentric approach to salvation, the view of the Tertullian school was revived and remained the official position of the Catholic church until the cusp of modern times. In the twentieth century, an emphasis on Christ gained ascendancy over the church as the means of salvation. © Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004461765_003

22

chapter 1

This chapter will focus exclusively on the early phase of Catholic theology, with the aim of clarifying not only what the church fathers and theologians said, but also what they thought about the possibility of salvation for the adherents of other faith traditions, both within and without the Christian world, and why they thought that way. I deal with the question first from an epistemological and then a soteriological perspective. This chapter, and arguably all the Catholic sections of this monograph, follows to a large degree the chronology of Francis Sullivan, as his work Salvation Outside the Church is the most exhaustive treatment of the subject in English. I also mostly use the translations given in Sullivan’s work. Sullivan himself makes use of the 34th edition of Denzinger Schönmetzer that came out in 1967 (Martin 2012: 253). Given the vastness of the literature on the selected figures, I quote the most germane passages of their writings in ways that let them speak for themselves, while also providing the essential context of each. 1

The Salvation Epistemology of the Early Church Fathers

1.1 St. Paul (d. c. 64/67) The writings of the apostle Paul are a logical starting point, for “he is the author of the earliest known Christian documents that survived on their own, unincorporated into later texts” (Trumbower 2001: 34). He also had extensive contact with the Jews. However, one of the main features of the Pauline corpus is that it is open not only to different, but even to opposing interpretations. That is to say Paul’s letters “contain resources for many of the later Christians who will draw upon them: those who believe the wicked will be annihilated and those who believe in universal salvation” (Trumbower 2001: 41). Those taking the former approach turn to Galatians 2:15–21, where he states that it is faith in Christ, not good works, that leads one to salvation. For the latter approach, Romans 11:32 is a text where a more optimistic Paul can be found: “God has bound everyone over to disobedience so that he may have mercy on them all.” The second approach would later be appropriated by Origen (third century), and Gregory of Nyssa (fourth century), while Tertullian, Augustine, John Chrysostom, Gregory the Great, and many others would adopt the first, vehemently rejecting the second (Trumbower 2001: 41). It seems to me that the two orientations/interpretations above refer to a confusion of epistemology with soteriology. Namely, while Paul upheld the epistemic validity of Christianity alone, his posthumous soteriology was more open and of a universal nature but this openness emerges from his faith in Christ. This is particularly clear in 1 Corinth. 5:5, 1 Corinth. 15:29, and Romans

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

23

11:32. Be it as it may, the theological implications of Galatians 2:15–21 above should not be exaggerated, but neither should the theological implications of the verses from Romans be underrated.1 However, three explanations for the early church’s divide between exclusivism and inclusivism can be inferred from the above. First, the Pauline letters are open to both interpretations. Second, as much as the first-century apostles were aware of the uniqueness of Christ, they believed their religion was universal, addressed to all people, and that Christ died for all. Hence, they realized that there were many people who, through no fault of their own, did not have the chance to either accept or reject him. Third, they were also aware of the problem of legitimacy, i.e., many pagan opponents of Christianity challenged the Christians’ claim to be the legitimate heirs of the Jewish patriarchs and prophets. In other words, Christianity was viewed as a new heretical invention. Far from being considered a religion, it was at times “referred to as a movement of ‘sedition’” (Ferguson 1993: 498).2 Upholding exclusivism in such a context involved some prejudice and unfairness towards the Gentiles and the Jews, and thus inclusivism offered itself as a strong alternative to several fathers and theologians. 1.2 The Inclusivist School The adherents of this school claimed that the Word of God made flesh and embodied in Jesus was dispersed in the Greco-Roman world as well. They “believed that seeds of the divine Logos were spread throughout the whole of humanity long before it manifested itself in Jesus of Nazareth.” The leading theologians of this school were Justin Martyr (d. 165), Irenaeus (d. c. 180/90), Clement of Alexandria (d. 215) and Origen (d. 253). While Justin Martyr acknowledged the operation of God’s Word (Logos) among individual non-Christians, Irenaeus built on this theology and introduced the idea that “divine manifestations (cosmic and historical) took place through the Logos.” Irenaeus argued that “to know God the Father was to know God as a person at the existential level who graciously addressed God’s self as Logos to people.” He believed that this knowledge of God was “granted to all.” Clement and Origen extended the influence of the Logos beyond the boundaries of the Judeo-­Christian tradition into the Greek world, contending that the Greeks sought God through their philosophy, for philosophy comes from God and represented for the Greek

1 Pauline’s pessimistic view on the Gentiles has to be read, says Kärkkäinen, “in light of his equally stern verdict of the Jews who live apart from faith in Christ” (2003: 44). 2 For another treatment of the subject see Moss (2013).

24

chapter 1

world a divine path parallel with the Jewish path of the Law (Dupuis 1997: 60–66; Grzelak 2018: 167). I turn now to those individual theologians. 1.2.1 Justin Martyr (d. 165) Justin Martyr is arguably the most significant second century Greek apologist for Christianity (Carey and Lienhard 2000: 292). Before recognizing in Christianity the truth that he had been looking for, Justin Martyr had been a Platonist. Only three of his works remain in existence today: his two Apologies and his Dialogue with Trypho the Jew. While the former was addressed to Roman authorities who were persecuting the followers of the Christian faith, the latter were his answers to objections Jews were making against Christianity. Justin anticipates the twentieth-century Catholic theologian, Karl Rahner, with his theory of “anonymous Christians,” which allows a chance of salvation for nonChristians, although only through Jesus Christ (Sullivan 1992: 15). This is evident in the Dialogue with Trypho the Jew, where Justin says: “since they who did those things which are universally, naturally, and eternally good are pleasing to God, they shall be saved in the resurrection, together with their righteous forefathers, Noe, Henoch, Jacob, and others, together with those who believe in Christ, the Son of God” (Justin Martyr 2008: 6.215). Although Justin does not see non-Christian religions as equally valid, his openness to those traditions sets an example, not only of tolerance, but also acceptance, especially when he borrows from them. In his Second Apology, he puts it this way: “Whatever things there rightly said among all men, are the property of us Christians” (Veldt 2007: 127). Justin believed Scripture to be exceptionally in possession of divine truth “and appropriated it, along with the best of Greek philosophy and culture, as essentially Christian. Far from deprecating Judaism, he embraced the Hebrew scriptures for the sake of their inherent value, and for their potential usefulness in his defence of Christianity, since from them he could glean prophetic passages whose fulfilment he found in Jesus” (Veldt 2007: 128). Justin writes: We have been taught that Christ was First-begotten of God [the Father] and we have indicated above that He is the Word of whom all mankind partakes. Those who lived by reason are Christians, even though they have been considered atheists: such as, among the Greeks, Socrates, Heraclitus, and others like them; and among the foreigners, Abraham, Elias, Ananias, Azarias, Misael, and many others whose deeds or names we now forbear to enumerate, for we think it would be too long. (Justin 2008: 83–84)

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

25

The view of the parallel value of philosophy and Christianity has been dubbed the “double faith theory,” in contrast to the “single faith theory,” which denigrates philosophy in favour of faith, and is a view conventionally linked with Tertullian (Wolfson 1970: 122).3 This “double faith theory” was held by many of the early fathers, most notably Justin Martyr, Clement, and Origen, and it “evidently disposed them toward a favourable view of the possible salvation of classical thinkers.” Vitto continues: Justin was especially interested in the ties between philosophy and Christianity and impressed by the truths of the Platonists, whom he believed to have most nearly approached Christianity. In fact, he supposed Plato to have been influenced by Moses; according to Plato’s biographer, he had at one time visited Egypt and had either read a copy of the Pentateuch or had at least made contact with its learned commentators. In addition, Justin felt that salvation was possible for those who had died before the Incarnation: the rational truths attained by men sufficed for their Christianity, since all rational beings share in the universal Logos or Reason Who is Christ. Thus, both Abraham and Socrates were Christians, although those alive before Christ could see the truth only indistinctly. (Vitto 1989: 9–10) 1.2.2 Irenaeus (d. c. 180/90) Another Christ-based father from this formative period is St. Irenaeus, a Greek cleric noted for his role in leading Christian communities in present-day Lyon, though he “was almost certainly from Smyrna in the Roman province of Asia.” He is best-known for his Refutation and Overthrow of Knowledge Falsely S­ o-Called, usually referred to as Against the Heresies (Adversus Haereses), which must have been written in the early 180s. He exposed the ideas and attacked the views of “a motley group of sects holding views lumped together under the modern label Gnosticism” (McFarland 2011: 241), including the heresies of Valentinus.4

3 However, Cindy L. Vitto argues that “the label itself is problematic; although philosophy might point the way to Christianity, it was in no way a substitute for it. The term ‘double faith’ unfortunately implies an equality that the Fathers certainly did not intend” (Vitto 1989: 9). 4 Valentinus was a second-century Gnostic theologian. Although little is known about his life, he “is said to have had hopes of being elected a Bishop on account of his intellectual force and eloquence … but was passed over of a confessor seceded from the Church.” He died in c. 165 (Cross 1977: 1675).

26

chapter 1

The centrality of Christ in Irenaeus’ theology appears in the way the latter conceives salvation. That is, Irenaeus sees salvation as essentially coming about through the incarnation of God as a man. He characterizes the penalty for sin as death and corruption. God, however, is immortal and incorruptible, and by becoming united to human nature in Christ he conveys those qualities to human beings: they spread, as it were, like a benign infection. Irenaeus emphasizes that salvation occurs through Christ’s incarnation, which bestows incorruptibility on humanity, rather than emphasizing his redemptive death in the crucifixion, although the latter event is an integral part of the former (Roberts, Donaldson, and Coxe, eds. 2007: 1.494). In his magnum opus, Adversus Haereses, Irenaeus contends: For it was not merely for those who believed in Him in the time of Tiberius Cæsar that Christ came, nor did the Father exercise His providence for the men only who are now alive, but for all men altogether, who from the beginning, according to their capacity, in their generation have both feared and loved God, and practiced justice and piety towards their neighbours, and have earnestly desired to see Christ, and to hear His voice. Wherefore He shall, at His second coming, first rouse from their sleep all persons of this description, and shall raise them up, as well as the rest who shall be judged, and give them a place in His kingdom. (AH 4:22, 2, in Roberts and Donaldson and Coxe, eds. 2007: 494) What can be inferred from this passage is that salvation is centred on Christ. The statement, “have earnestly desired to see Christ and to hear his voice,” refers primarily to the people of Israel and secondarily to the Gentiles who had come to believe in God as their saviour, and thus “could be said to have longed implicitly for the coming of Christ” (Sullivan 1992: 16). Thus, for Irenaeus, as with Justin, although there is a chance of salvation for non-Christians, this is not due to the truth of such religions, but to an implicit and anonymous longing for Jesus Christ on the part of their adherents. As a final note, although at an inter-religious level, Irenaeus is seen as an example of inclusivism, at an intra-Christian level he seems an exclusivist. Against the Heresies was mainly directed at the Gnostic heretics, who, out of pride in their higher knowledge, isolated themselves from normative Christian communities. In response Irenaeus writes: In the church God has placed apostles, prophets, teachers, and every other working of the Spirit, of whom none of those are sharers who do not hasten to the church, but who defraud themselves of life, by an evil

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

27

mind and even worse way of acting. For where the church is, there is the Spirit of God, and where the spirit of God is, there is the church and all grace. (Sullivan 1992: 19) 1.2.3 Clement of Alexandria (d. c. 215) Clement was a Christian theologian who taught at the Catechetical School of Alexandria. He came to Christianity as a convert familiar with classical Greek philosophy and literature. As his three-volume magnum opus evinces,5 Clement occupied a special place in what is known as “the hellenization of Christianity” with particular interest in Plato and the Stoics (Outler 1940: 217). His cryptic works, which exist only in fragments, suggest that he was also familiar with preChristian Jewish esotericism and Gnosticism (Ferguson 1974: 13). Moreover, he argued that Greek philosophy had its origin among non-Greeks, claiming that both Plato and Pythagoras were taught by Egyptian scholars and prophets (Press 2003: 83). While acknowledging the imperfect nature of philosophy, Clement, like his predecessor Justin Martyr, sees it as a doorway to compatible truths of revelation.6 Furthermore, along the same lines as Justin, Clement “acknowledged the participation of each man in the Logos, although he did not go so far as to say that this constituted Christianity.” Not only does he agree with Justin in this, but he also concurs with him on the probable salvation of exemplary Greek philosophers, including Socrates, who is “a model of integrity for Christian martyrs in their resistance of political tyranny” (Vitto 1989: 10). Clement is against the idea of God as the saviour of certain people and not others, arguing that God has disseminated His blessings both to Greeks and barbarians. He writes: “God has care for all, since he is the Lord of all. 5 Referred to as the trilogy, they are: (a) Protreptikos, or “Exhortation to the Greeks, an apologetic work that encourages its non-Christian readers to reject paganism and embrace Christianity as the true philosophy; (b) The Paidagogos or Tutor is addressed to those who have already converted to Christianity. Its first book presents Christ as the true teacher; the following two discuss how Christians should live out their faith in their daily lives, treating such ordinary concerns as food, drink, household management, recreation, bathing, marriage, and family life; (c) The Stromateis or Miscellanies consider the relationship between Christian faith and Greek philosophy and refute the false religious and moral principles of Gnosticism. In addition to these major works, Clement composed the Excerpts from Theodotus, planned to refute statements from a Valentinian Gnostic, and wrote a homily entitled Who Is the Rich Man Being Saved? Other works survive in fragmentary form, and several lost works are attributed to Clement” (Carey and Lienhard eds. 2000: 128–129). 6 See also his appeal to his philosophical colleagues to complete their worldview by accepting Christ: “That which the chief of philosophy only guessed at, the disciples of Christ have both apprehended and proclaimed” (Vitto 1989: 10).

28

chapter 1

And he is the Saviour of all; it cannot be said that he is the Saviour of these and not of others. As each one was disposed to receive it, God distributed his blessings, both to Greeks and to Barbarians; and in their own time those were called who were predestined to be among the faithful elect” (Sullivan 1992: 16). For a Greek-speaker such as Clement, anyone who did not speak Greek was a “barbarian,” yet God offers salvation on their own merits even to those whom Clement considers barbarian. It is possible to gather from such statements that Clement believed that the divine Logos is known beyond the Judeo-Christian domain (Kärkkäinen 2003: 61). What is more remarkable is the emphasis that he places on philosophy, particularly, that of the Greeks, in the account of salvation. Clement writes: “by reflection and direct vision, those among the Greeks who have philosophized accurately, see God” (Kärkkäinen 2003: 61). Furthermore, “to the ones He (the Lord) gave the commandments, to others philosophy, that the unbeliever may have no excuse. For, by two different processes of advancement, both Greek and barbarian, he leads to perfection which is by faith” (Kärkkäinen 2003: 61). Even more distinctly, Clement calls philosophy a covenant made by God with and to people. He contends that before the advent of Christ, philosophy was indispensable to the Greeks for their goodness. Furthermore, “God is the cause of all good things; but of some primarily, as of the Old and the New Testament; and of others by consequence, as philosophy. Perchance, too, philosophy was given to the Greeks directly and primarily, till the Lord should call the Greeks” (Goodman 1995: 119). Indeed, this positive position on philosophy is not limited to Greek philosophy, but extends to non-Greek philosophies as well (Kärkkäinen 2003: 62). On the other hand, Clement is one of the first Christian theologians to use the terms “Old Testament” and “New Testament” in relation to the Jewish and Christian Scriptures respectively, calling them “our Scripture” (Veldt 2007: 183). Going beyond Justin Martyr, who saw the Hebrew Scriptures as potentially useful to his defence of Christianity, Clement was an apologist, not just for Christians, but for Jews also. He “explains and defends the Mosaic dietary laws, justifying them with the observation that Egyptian and Greek writings and religious practices included extensive symbolism and mystical truth” further arguing that such dietary laws are of divine origin (Veldt 2007: 179). Therefore, for Clement, the relationship between the Old and New Testaments was one of complementarity and reciprocity rather than hostility and incompatibility. However, Clement’s sole issue with the Jews was that, in spite of possessing the truth, they did not live in accordance with it. Therefore, the Jews are as “children” whereas the Christians are “mature adults” and Jews thus find their maturity and completion in Christ (Veldt 2007: 189).

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

29

1.2.4 Origen (d. c. 253) Origen is widely regarded as the “greatest genius the early church ever produced” (McGuckin 2004: 25). He was a scholar, church father, ascetic, and theologian who was born and spent the first half of his life in Alexandria. Although he wrote extensively, he was denounced as a heretic after his demise, and thus only a relatively limited part of his opus has survived. Nevertheless, “far more remains to us from him than any other author before the fourth century” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 395–396): treatises in multiple branches of Christian theology, covering textual criticism, biblical exegesis and biblical hermeneutics, homiletics, spirituality and ecclesiology. Origen’s Contra Celsum (Against Celsus), the most significant treatise of the early Christian apologists, is preserved in its entirety in Greek, and is Origen’s last work, written about 248. In it he defends orthodox Christianity against the attacks of the pagan philosopher, Celsus, who in the ancient world was considered the foremost opponent of the early Christians (Olson 1999: 101). Origen was thus was one of the most influential figures in early Christian theology and had an immense impact on generations of Christians to come (see Finn 2009: 100–130). In 178, Celsus attacked Christians in The True Word. Although the general response was a deep silence from the church side, Ambrose, Origen’s wealthy patron, urged Origen to refute Celsus’ mockery.7 Origen responded to the call, not only in addressing individual questions posed by Celsus, but by developing a Christian theology of the Other. One of the arguments Celsus raised has to do with the question of salvation. Origen writes: Celsus asks: “How is it that after so many centuries it is only now that God has thought to bring men to live righteously, and that previously he had had no concern about that?” I reply that there was never a time when God did not want men to be just; he was always concerned about that. Indeed, he always provided beings endowed with reason with occasions for practicing virtue and doing what is right. In every generation the Wisdom of God descended into those souls which he found holy and made them to be prophets and friends of God. (Sullivan 1992: 17) However, it should be noted that here Origen is talking about those who lived before Christ. He sees no opportunity for salvation for those who lived after 7 It is worth noting that Origen initially preferred “to let it all lapse into profound obscurity (the church ‘lost’ a great deal of hostile material by refusing to acknowledge or reproduce it over the centuries), and he explicitly argued that this was Jesus’ own method of refutation, as when he refused to answer the hostile high priest during his trial” (McGuckin, 2004: 32).

30

chapter 1

Him unless they believe. Although he believed that through the exercise of reason, human beings participate in the eternal reason of God and consequently attain truth,8 he also asserted the necessity for salvation through Christ. In other words, natural morality is not enough for attaining truth and salvation (Sullivan 1992: 19–20). Nevertheless, the reason Origen is treated as an inclusivist rather than an exclusivist is because of his view on Christ’s descent into hell, as shall be expounded later (Vitto 1989: 6). However, this applause for the junction of philosophy and Christianity in early Christianity cannot be overstretched, as the early fathers did not consider “philosophy equal to Christianity, nor did they hold all philosophers equal. While Platonism seemed most congenial to Christianity,” “Epicureans had been questioned as atheists even by pagan philosophers … and Aristotle was held as an excellent guide on the terrestrial level but unreliable otherwise. Even in the case of Platonism, the church fathers considered philosophy as the mere handmaiden of faith, a relationship symbolized by the figures of Hagar and Sarah” (Vitto 1989: 11). That is to say that the positive views of those such as Clement and Origen did not go unchallenged by other early church fathers, including Ignatius, Tertullian, Cyprian, and Augustine, who were the primary advocates of exclusivism. 1.3 The Exclusivist School The inclusivist tendency continued to gain ascendancy until the first quarter of the fourth century, when Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity thereby shifting the narrative. However, this shift was not without forerunners, the most prominent being Ignatius (d. c. 117), Tertullian (d. c. 220), and Cyprian (d. 258). Indeed, Cyprian’s name is conventionally linked with the exclusivist axiom extra ecclesiam nulla salus (outside the church there is no salvation). Accentuated by Augustine and modified by Aquinas, this axiom remained in the background until around the sixteenth century, as will be discussed later in Chapter 1, Chapter 3 and Chapter 5 of this work. This modified version remained on the scene until the middle of the twentieth century. Whilst the inclusivist interpretation was not dead through this period, it was not as prominent as it had been in the formative phase, until its revival at the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965). 8 This point can be clearly seen in Origen’s Contra Celsum. Replying to Celsus’ charge that Christians have nothing novel to contribute in comparison to classical philosophy, “Origen uses this argument in favour of Christianity. Since every man has an innate awareness of truth, the congruity of philosophy and Christianity confirms the truth of the Christians” (Vitto 1989: 10).

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

31

1.3.1 Ignatius (d. c. 117) Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, is known substantially for the seven epistles he wrote to Christian communities while a prisoner on the way to Rome. Beyond the vague biographical data provided in those epistles, virtually nothing is known about his life. He was clearly well educated, “a bishop in Antioch before his arrest by the Roman authorities, and a man deeply engaged in combatting problems he observed among Christian communities. And, finally, he understood his coming violent death as an act integral to his faith” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 264). It can be inferred from his letters that his exclusivism first emerged at an intra-Christian level, rather than an inter-religious level. On his way to martyrdom, he wrote: “Be not deceived, my brethren: if anyone follows a maker of schism, he does not inherit the Kingdom of God; if anyone walks in strange doctrine he has no part in the passion” (Kärkkäinen 2003: 63). These words, Kärkkäinen says: reflect a mindset that tends to limit salvation to the confines of the visible church. True, the context of this saying is not a missionary confrontation with followers of other religions but rather in an intra-Christian dispute between the mainstream orthodox and the deviating heretical groups. So, it is “the maker of schism” rather than a devotee of another religion who is condemned here. Yet this principle started to establish itself: only in the Catholic church, the yet undivided community of God, is salvation to be found. Thus, extra ecclesiam nulla salus: no salvation could be found outside the church. (Kärkkäinen 2003: 63) Although Ignatius’ emphasis on martyrdom may lead one to think that he believed that salvation could be achieved through deeds, he firmly believed that salvation was only through the grace of Christ. Closer examination of his epistles reveals that he was a firm believer that life after death “can be received only by the suffering of Christ, and not that of humanity.” He states in the epistle to the Magnesians (VIII, 2) that even “the Divine prophets lived a life in accordance with Christ Jesus,” and that they were “inspired by [His] grace” (Ivan 2013: 174). 1.3.2 Tertullian (d. c. 240) Tertullian from Roman Africa was a prolific early Christian writer of Berber origin. As the “first known Christian author to write in Latin, he exercised noteworthy influence not only in his own lifetime but also in subsequent centuries” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 495). His apologetic works include To the

32

chapter 1

Heathens, Against the Jews, and the Apology, which is his most important work, as it made him one of the most important apologists and polemicists against heretics and schismatics (see Barnes 1971). Unsurprisingly, Tertullian denies that the classical philosophers had attained Christian truth. Taking Socrates as an example, he emphasizes that “all the wisdom of Socrates, at that moment, proceeded from the affectation of an assumed composure, rather than the firm conviction of ascertained truth. For by whom has truth ever been discovered without God.” For Tertullian, faith unadulterated by reason is best, as evidenced in his two often-cited remarks: “What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?” and “I believe it because it is absurd” (Vitto 1989: 12). On the question of salvation, Tertullian represents the more conservative strand of early Christian theological thought, for he sees in other religions only the work of demons. In Religious Diversity in Modern Orthodox Thought, Paul Ladouceur summarizes Tertullian’s view in this way: Tertullian sets out to demonstrate to his pagan addressee that the pagan gods and demons are the same beings under different appellations, “that the nature (qualitas) of both terms is the same (Tertullian 1950, l.23.4).” Tertullian suggests that if a Christian were to interrogate a person possessed by an evil spirit and a person considered to be under the influence of a god (for instance, a priestess of Cybele), both would confess that they are inhabited by a devil (Tertullian 1950, ll. 23.4–6). To him this clearly proves the falsity of the demons’ pretension to divine status, since even if the spirits’ admission is a lie it shows that “your [i.e., pagan] divinity has become subject to the Christians” and, therefore, is not a true divinity (Tertullian 1950, l.23.8). If pagan ideas about the divine were true the demons would never usurp it, nor would the gods deny it when questioned by a Christian (Tertullian 1950, l.23.10). Tertullian concludes that, since he has proven that the beings whom pagans’ worship are not gods, his interlocutor must confess them to be devils (Tertullian 1950, l.23). (Ladouceur 2017: 2) 1.3.3 Cyprian (d. 258) Born into a well-off pagan family, Cyprian was an “expert rhetorician.” He converted to Christianity and gave away his wealth to the destitute. In 248 he was ordained a priest and in 249 he was elected bishop of Carthage “by popular acclamation.” Although he fled during the Decian persecution, which arose in 250, he proceeded to guide his church from exile and returned to Carthage in

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

33

251 after the persecution had ceased.9 As bishop, he encountered two major obstacles: the lapsed, and controversies over rebaptism. Hence, his two bestknown and important works are On the Lapsed and On the Unity of the Church. The former not only gives insight into life within the Christian community during the time of oppression, “but also addresses the very serious problem of dealing with those Christians who apostatized during persecution” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 140). Although it was not Cyprian who introduced the famous axiom that “there is no salvation outside the church,” his name is often associated therewith, for the phrase occurs quite frequently in his writings. However, it cannot be concluded categorically that Cyprian had non-Christians in mind, for he may have meant Christians who were either in danger of being excommunicated by the church, or were already separated by heresy or schism (­Sullivan 1992: 20). What follows are some quotations that identify the recipients of Cyprian messages. The first passage where the axiom occurs is in relation to Christians who are rebelliously disobedient to their bishops, and where Cyprian writes: Let them not think that the way of life or salvation exists for them, if they have refused to obey the bishops and priests, since the Lord says in the Book of Deuteronomy: “And any man who has the insolence to refuse to listen to the priest or judge, whoever he may be in those days, that man shall die” (Deut. 17:12 f.). And then indeed, they were killed with the sword … but now the proud and insolent are killed with the sword of the spirit, when they are cast out from the church. For they cannot live outside, since there is only one house of God, and there can be no salvation for anyone except in the church. (Sullivan 1992: 21) In The Unity of the Catholic Church, Cyprian writes that even if schismatics and heretics die confessing Christ, the stigma of previous heresy cannot 9 The Decian persecution goes back to Decius, who, as a result of military victories, became the Roman emperor in 249. He attempted to revive Rome’s “Golden Age.” Amongst his aims was reviving traditional Roman piety. Hence, in 250 he decreed sacrifices to the gods and the well-being of the Emperor be offered across the Empire. While there is no proof that this decree targeted Christians, it was the first time Christians had to choose between forsaking their religious beliefs and death. The decree commanded that the sacrifices be offered in the presence of a Roman magistrate, and a stamped and witnessed certificate be issued to that effect. Many Christians were put to death for refusing to offer the sacrifices, others performed the sacrifices and were seen as apostates, while still others fled from the decree (Frend 1984: 319; Smallwood, 2001).

34

chapter 1

be eliminated by their blood: “[T]he inexpiable and serious fault of discord is purged not even by martyrdom. He cannot be a martyr who is not in the Church. He will not be able to arrive in the kingdom who deserted her who is to rule” (Ignatius 1997: 355). He proceeds to say that Paul teaches and bears witness to this fact: “If I have faith so that I shift mountains, but not so that I have charity, I am nothing; and if I distribute all my goods for food, and if I hand over my body so that I am burned, but not so that I have charity, I accomplish nothing” (Cyprian 2007: 109). In highlighting charity, Cyprian here refers to Christ’s emphasis on peace and the command that his followers be in agreement and of one mind, maintaining the bonds of love and charity uncorrupted and inviolate. On another occasion, Cyprian depicts the church as bride, mother, and ark, in order to castigate schismatic Christians. He writes: The spouse of Christ cannot be defiled; she is uncorrupted and chaste.… Whoever is separated from the Church and is joined with an adulteress is separated from the promises of the Church, nor will he who has abandoned the Church arrive at the rewards of Christ. He is a stranger; he is profane; he is an enemy. He cannot have God as a father who does not have the Church as a mother. If whoever was outside the ark of Noe was able to escape, he too who is outside the Church escapes. The Lord warns, saying: “He who is not with me is against me, and who does not gather with me, scatters.” He who breaks the peace and concord of Christ acts against Christ; he who gathers somewhere outside the Church scatters the Church of Christ. (Cyprian 2007: 100–101) Surprisingly, Cyprian’s harsh tone softens in his address to Demetrianus,10 who persecuted Christians, when he approaches him gently at his death, saying: We repay your hatreds with kindness, and for the torments and punishments which are inflicted upon us we point out the ways of salvation. Believe and live, and do you who persecute us in time rejoice with us for eternity. When there has been a withdrawal hence, then there is no opportunity for repentance, no accomplishment of satisfaction. Here life is either lost or kept; here by the worship of God, and by the fruit of faith provision is made for eternal salvation. Let no one either by sins or by years be retarded from coming to the acquiring of salvation. To him who 10

Very little is known about Demetrianus’ life. References in Cyprian letters reveal he was a former pupil of Lactantius, a convert to Christianity, and it was to him that Lactantius addressed his book The Works of God (see Rankin 2006: 75–76).

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

35

still remains in this world no repentance is too late. The approach to God’s forgiveness is open, and for those who seek and understand the truth the access is easy. Although you entreat for your sins at the very end and sunset of temporal life and you implore God who is one and true by the confession and faith of the acknowledgment of Him, pardon is granted to him who confesses, and to him who believes saving forgiveness is conceded out of God’s goodness, and there is a crossing into immortality at the very moment of death. (Cyprian 2007: 190) Although it is uncertain if Cyprian applies the axiom to non-Christians, it is possible to assert that the language he uses for non-Christians is more benign. In the words of Sullivan, “It is quite possible that, if asked, they would have answered that there was no salvation outside the church for Jews or pagans either. But it is significant for the history of this axiom that we do not find them applying it to others than Christians at this time when Christians were still a persecuted minority” (1992: 23). However, in the wake of Emperor Constantine’s tolerance of and then conversion to Christianity in the opening decades of the fourth century, Christianity shifted from being non-established to being the voice of the Byzantine Empire. In the latter part of the fourth century, Emperor Theodosius I, who ruled from 379 till 395, declared Christianity the official religion in the Empire, and forbade the celebration of pagan rites (Sullivan 1992: 24). This shift helped endorse the exclusivist axiom. Such endorsement implied that the Christian message had been disseminated so widely that no one could be excused on the grounds of ignorance. St. Ambrose, bishop of Milan, explicitly said: “If someone does not believe in Christ he defrauds himself of this universal benefit, just as if someone were to shut out the rays of the sun by closing his window. For the mercy of the Lord has been spread by the church to all nations” (Sullivan 1992: 25). It is worth quoting Sullivan here at length: In this new situation of an officially Christian empire, it is not surprising that we find a new attitude on the part of Christian writers with regard to the minority who had not accepted the Christian faith. It is now that we find the fathers applying the doctrine that “there is no salvation outside the church” to the situation of pagans and Jews.… the warning addressed to Christian heretics and schismatics included a judgement about their guilt for being outside the church. What we find now is a similar judgement of guilt with regard to everyone who had not accepted the Christian faith. The reason behind the judgement was the assumption that the message of the Gospel had by now been proclaimed everywhere, and everyone

36

chapter 1

had had ample opportunity to accept it. The conclusion was that those who had not accepted it were guilty of refusing God’s offer of salvation and would be justly condemned. (1992: 24, emphasis mine) Another early church father who employed this axiom at a non-Christian level was John Chrysostom, Patriarch of Constantinople (died c. 407),11 who, in response to some objections to his harsh position on non-Christians, writes: One should not think that ignorance excuses the non-believer … when you are ignorant of what can easily be known, you have to suffer the penalty … when we do all that is in our power, in matters where we lack knowledge, God will give us his hand; but if we do not do what we can, we do not enjoy God’s help either … so do not say: “How is it that God has neglected that sincere and honest pagan?” You will find that he has not really been diligent in seeking the truth, since what concerns the truth is now clearer than the sun. How shall they obtain pardon who, when they see the doctrine of truth spread before them, make no effort to come to know it? For now, the name of God is proclaimed to all, what the prophets predicted has come true, and the religion of the pagans has been proven false.… It is impossible that anyone who is vigilant in seeking the truth should be condemned by God. (Sullivan 1992: 25–26) Chrysostom says elsewhere: When the pagans accuse us, saying: “What was Christ doing during all that former time, when he was not yet concerned for the human race? And why has he come at the last minute to provide for our salvation, after neglecting us for so long a time?” we will reply that even before his coming, he was already in the world; he was already taking thought of the work he was to accomplish, and he was known to all who proved themselves worth of such knowledge. You cannot say that at that time he was unknown, because he was not known by all, but only by the upright and the virtuous, any more than you can say that today he is not being adored by men, on the grounds that even now not all have come to adore him. (Sullivan 1992: 17) 11

Chrysostom is considered the most prominent preacher of the early church. He has “frequently been regarded as more a moralist than a theologian, but this view overlooks the considerable theological content in his work. Though not a source of original, speculative theology, Chrysostom does evaluate, and elaborate on, the major theological issues of his day, particularly the themes raised in the later Arian controversy” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 280).

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

37

Nevertheless, it cannot be said that the Tertullian school represented the dominant position in the early church phase. The positive voices of early Christianity appear to have been louder and reverberated further, as is attested by the fact that it is possible to name a good number of church fathers and theologians who held inclusivist positions. To those mentioned earlier may be added Evagrius Ponticus (d. c. 399),12 and the Cappadocian Fathers:13 Gregory of Nyssa (d. 395), Basil of Caesarea (d. c. 379), and Gregory of Nazianzus (d. c. 389), who, although centred on Christ, had a positive standpoint on the salvation of non-Christians. To recapitulate, the attitude of the early church fathers towards other religions can be briefly summarised in these points: – The fathers were often more sanguine about the possibility of salvation for Jews and Gentiles who had lived before Christ than later theologians. – The fathers nevertheless denied the possibility of salvation for those Christians who caused schism and dissent in the church. – It was only toward the end of the fourth century, when Christianity became the official state religion, that the axiom “no salvation outside the church” began to be applied to pagans and Jews (Sullivan 1992: 27). 1.4 Augustine and the Consolidation of Exclusivism The fourth century brought dramatic changes to the status of Christianity in the Roman Empire. The edicts of the Emperors Galerius and Constantine (311 and 313 CE respectively) ended the draconian persecution of Christians. Those edicts not only put an end to such persecution, but also elevated Christianity 12

13

After Antony of Egypt, Evagrius was the prime “theorist of intellectualist monasticism and Christian spirituality in the patristic period. Trained by two of the Cappadocians, he was attached early to the Nicene party and promoted its theology. However, he wrote no doctrinal treatises or formal scriptural commentaries; rather, almost all his works were directed toward those attempting to live the full ascetic life as solitaries or as members of monastic communities. Unlike Antony, he wrote in the form of apophthegmata, short sayings meant to stimulate thought in their hearer; he was the first to set down on paper the apophthegm, perhaps following the oral interview of the monks and their disciples, and his example was followed by the better-known Sayings (Apophthegmata) of the Desert Fathers” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 187). The fathers lived in the region of Cappadocia, in modern-day Turkey, which was an early site of Christian activity, with several missions by Paul to the region. The Cappadocians advanced early Christian theology, e.g., the doctrine of the Trinity. The three Cappadocian fathers are respected as saints in both Western and Eastern churches. They “began their reflections on the Trinity by considering the different ways in which the Father, Son, and Spirit are experienced. The western position, especially associated with Augustine of Hippo, began from the unity of God, and proceeded to explore the implications of the love of God for our understanding of the nature of the Godhead” (McGrath 2013: 32; for their individual biographies in Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000).

38

chapter 1

to the status of state religion, with all attendant privileges. Furthermore, Constantine’s recognition and adoption of Christianity as the religion of the Byzantine Empire led to the first Ecumenical Council, held in Nicaea in 325, which, among other things, aimed at establishing an acceptable and doctrinally correct declaration of the Christian faith, particularly as “heresies” were proliferating and competing successfully with Christianity (see Hartog 2015 and Grant 1993). The state’s embrace of Christianity encouraged whole masses of common people to accept the Christian faith and became church members (Kärkkäinen 2003: 64). Pagans, who once held the “orthodox” position of the Roman Empire, now found themselves subordinate. Ergo, the “welfare of the Church was now wedded to the welfare of the state, corollary being that the enemies of the state became the enemies of the Church” (Grzelak 2018: 168). With these changes, Christian attitudes towards those “outside” the church, that is, non-Romans and non-Christians, began to present itself differently. Despite the many positive and inclusive voices discussed above, the Bible itself can be used to present a convincing case for exclusivism. Nevertheless, the consolidation of an exclusivist position only emerged with Constantine’s conversion to Christianity. This historical context then provided the matrix for the promotion of exclusivist biblical verses, such as Acts 4:12, which holds Jesus Christ as the only saviour and therefore faith and baptism are necessary for salvation, as espoused in Mark 16:15–16 and John 3:5 (Kärkkäinen 2003: 65). Furthermore, issues such as the division of the Roman Empire into its eastern and western wings; the decline of Greek as the intellectual language of the Roman Empire; the variant syntactical structures of Greek and Latin; the former being fluid, the latter fixed, all led to different philosophical positions that would culminate in the filioque (See Bauer 2010; Rowman 2005; Durant 1950; Herrin 1987; Lenski, 2007). It was in this context too, that the most prominent advocate of exclusivism appeared: St. Augustine. The bishop of Hippo Regius in North Africa is one of the most prominent church fathers in early Christianity, particularly in the context of the western church. His many works were written in Latin, with the most important being The City of God, On Christian Doctrine and Confessions. Having been drawn to Manichaeism and then to Neo-Platonism in his early youth, Augustine came to Christianity in 386, developing his own approach to philosophy and theology, and accommodating a variety of methods and standpoints (TeSelle 2002: 347– 349). Believing that the grace of Christ was indispensable to human freedom, he helped formulate the doctrine of original sin (Patte 2010: 892). While his impact on Catholicism cannot be overestimated, his impact on other Christian denominations has also been considerable. That is, because of his teachings on salvation and grace, Protestants regard him as one of the fathers of the Reformation

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

39

(Gonzalez 1970–1975: vol. 2). Although his teachings are more disputed in eastern Christianity, many theologians and figures of the Eastern Orthodox church have significantly appropriated his writings, chiefly Georges Florovsky and Gregory Palamas (Siecienski 2010: 7–14). His contemporary Jerome wrote to Augustine in 418: “You are known throughout the world; Catholics honour and esteem you as the one who has established anew the ancient Faith” (TeSelle 2002: 343). Augustine’s exclusivism appears strongly in his letter to Deogratius, who questioned God’s fairness in damning people who have not heard the Gospel preached. Porphyry, a pagan writer, also asked: “Why did the Saviour hide himself for many centuries? What about those who died before encountering him?” Augustine’s reply is that “Christ is the Word of God, through whom all things were made … from the beginning of the human race, all those who believed in him and knew him and lived a good and devout life according to his commands, whenever and wherever they lived, undoubtedly were saved by him” (Kärkkäinen 2003: 65–66). Augustine’s response suggests Jesus Christ transcends time as he has always been coeternal with God (the Father). The righteous who lived before the advent of Christ were thus already part of the church. The question that remains concerns those who lived after Christ. Augustine’s answer here is: “There is no salvation available for Jews and pagans apart from Christ after his coming into the world … faith is necessary for salvation, and now that the Gospel has been preached and the church established, unbelievers are without excuse” (Kärkkäinen 2003: 66). Augustine’s position on salvation cannot be understood apart from his position on predestination, reflected here: “And what is written, that He wills all men to be saved, while yet all men are not saved, may be understood in many ways, some of which I have mentioned in other writings of mine; but here I will say one thing: He wills all men to be saved, is so said that all the predestined may be understood by it, because every kind of men is among them” (Augustine Ch. 44 in Schaff 1887). This quotation has spawned many interpretations. While some Protestants and secular interpreters believe it implies double predestination, i.e., the belief that God chooses some people for damnation as well as some for salvation, Catholic theologians tend to deny such a reading (James 1998: 102). Kärkkäinen clarifies the way in which this quote is associated with Augustine’s exclusivism, writing, In his earlier career, Augustine tended to blame the individual for the lack of the opportunity to hear the Gospel; but later on, in light of Pelagian arguments, he came to think that the universally contracted guilt of original sin was sufficient to justify God’s condemning not only infants

40

chapter 1

who died without baptism, but also adults who died without hearing the Gospel … In Augustine’s view, even infants without Christian baptism would end up consigned to hell, though they would receive the mildest punishment. (Kärkkäinen 2003: 67; also Levering 2011) According to Augustine’s theory of no-excuse, there are three categories of people: First, there are those to whom the Gospel was not preached, and based on divine foreknowledge of their rejection of him even if it had been preached to them, they will be damned. Second, there are those to whom the Gospel was preached yet who rejected it. Although God foreknew their rejection, he wanted them to serve as examples for damnation. Third, there are those to whom the Gospel was preached, and who embraced the message and believed in it, and these are the saved (Erickson 1996: 37). Regarding Christian heretics and schismatics, Augustine expresses his exclusivist position vehemently. In one of his sermons, he says: Outside the church he can have everything except salvation. He can have honour, he can have sacraments, he can sing alleluia, he can respond with Amen, he can have the Gospel, he can hold and preach the faith in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit: but nowhere else than in the Catholic Church can he find salvation. (Sullivan 1992: 32)14 Pagans and Jews, whether or not they have heard the Gospel, are to be damned. Augustine writes: Now this grace of Christ, without which neither infants nor adults can be saved, is not given in return for their merits, but is a free gift; for this reason, it is called “grace.” Wherefor, all those who are not set free by that grace, whether because they could not hear [the message of the Gospel], or because they refused to obey it, or, being unable to hear it because of their infancy, they did not receive the baptismal bath by which they could have been saved—all these, I say, are justly damned, because they are not without sin—either the original sin that they contracted, or the sins that they added by their own wicked deeds … The entire mass, therefore, incurs the penalty, and if the deserved punishment of condemnation 14

Augustine goes further, saying even if the schismatic dies as a martyr, he will not be saved. Quoting him again: “Nor will his baptism be of any benefit to the heretic if, while outside the church, he were put to death for confessing Christ. This is altogether true. The fact of dying outside the church proves that he did not have charity” (Sullivan 1992: 32).

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

41

were meted out to all, it would without doubt be justly meted out … Anyone who judged rightly could not possibly blame the justice of God in wholly condemning all mankind. (Sullivan 1992: 38)15 Augustine had a remarkable impact on the theologians to come, for the majority followed him to the letter.16 Not only did individual theologians subscribe to this view, but so did theological councils. That is, the type of exclusivism propagated by Augustine was canonized in the councils to follow, including the Council of Florence in 1442, which incorporated this statement from one of his most faithful followers, the North African bishop Fulgentius of Ruspe (d. 533): “Most firmly hold and by no means doubt, that not only all pagans, but also all Jews, and all heretics and schismatics who die outside the ­Catholic Church, will go to the eternal fire that was prepared for the devil and his angels” (Sullivan 1992: 43). Interestingly, and perhaps unexpectedly, Augustine asserts the value of philosophy, saying it contains truths Christians may accept. Yet what sets him apart from earlier supporters of philosophy is that he does not see it as capable of bringing a person to ultimate truth, and hence he gives it a position of inferiority to Christianity. He also accepts the possibility of salvation for those who were alive “before the Incarnation not, however, through the truths of philosophy, but through faith in the coming Saviour” (Vitto 1989: 12). Despite Augustine’s future impact on the Catholic church, three of his teachings were not taken as authoritative. First, his thesis that God will condemn unbaptized infants to eternal hell because of inherited original sin; second, that God will justly condemn grown people who, for no fault of their own,

15

16

In the De Correptione et Gratia, Augustine writes: “If, as truth itself tells us, no one is delivered from the condemnation that we incurred through Adam except through faith in Jesus Christ, and yet, those people will not be able to deliver themselves from that condemnation who will be able to say that they have not heard the Gospel of Christ, since faith comes through hearing … Therefore neither those who have never heard the Gospel nor those who by reason of their infancy were unable to believe … are separated from that mass which will certainly be damned” (7:11–12; PL 44:923; in Sullivan 1992: 38). It is worth mentioning that there were exceptions to this. One example is St. Prosper of Aquitaine in France, who, although a faithful follower of Augustine, departed from his mentor over the salvific will of God, arguing for God’s freedom to give his grace to whomsoever he elects, while maintaining the uniqueness of Christians. Prosper argued that God has reserved his “special” grace for the people he favours. As for “general” grace, it is universal and distributed according to God’s freedom. In all his arguments, Prosper maintains that God sincerely wills that all should be saved not damned (Sullivan 1992: 40–41).

42

chapter 1

have not heard the Gospel preached; and third, that there are some people God plainly does not wish to save (Sullivan 1992: 43). 2

Soteriology of the Early Church Fathers

2.1 The Apokatastasis Just as the discussion on the early church’s epistemology of salvation started with Paul, so too does the discussion of soteriology. That is, the idea of universal salvation (apokatastasis)17 can be traced back as far as St. Paul, where, in Romans 11:25–32, he writes: “I want you to understand this mystery: a hardening has come upon part of Israel, until the full number of Gentiles has come in, and then all Israel will be saved.” This Pauline quotation has caused perplexity and dispute. While some read it through the lens of election and predestination (Calvin 1959: 437) others see it merely as Paul’s erroneous wishful thinking; still others simply ignore the passage (Batey 1966: 218). Part of the controversy goes back to the fact that Paul does not speculate on how exactly this universal salvation happens. That is probably why he calls it a “mystery,” for “God’s judgements are unreachable, and his ways are ambiguous” (Romans 11:33). However, in Apocalypse 31–44, he talks about righteous prayers not securing the damned from hellfire, but only alleviating their punishment for a period of days (Trumbower 2001: 54). Paul writes (of Jesus): In all these things I gave you the opportunity for repentance, and you were not willing. Now however, for the sake of Michael, the archangel of my covenant, and the angels who are with him, and for the sake of Paul, my dearly beloved, whom I would not sadden, and for the sake of your brethren who are in the world and who present offerings, and for the sake of your children, because my commandments are in them, and even 17

In broad terms, the word apokatastasis refers, at least today, to universal salvation/restoration, indicating that all will be converted and admitted to everlasting happiness after death, no matter whether they believed in Jesus in this world or not (O’Collins and ­Farrugia 2000: 5–14). On the difference between universal salvation and apokatastasis, see González 2005: 12, where he says that theories of apokatastasis usually involve the expectation that in the end all, including the devil, will be saved. (See also Walker 2007: 330). Another important reference is Ludlow (2000), where the author clarifies that although the meaning of the term was very flexible until the mid-sixth century, “the word apokatastasis is now usually used to refer to a specifically Origenistic doctrine of universal salvation” (38).

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

43

more for my own goodness—on the very day on which I rose from the dead (i.e., Sunday), I grant to you all who are being punished a day and a night of ease forever. (Apoc. Paul 44, in Trumbower 2001: 54) Apparently, Luke (16:19–31) and 2 Clement were “aware of a desire on the part of some Christians to extend opportunities of salvation beyond the grave, and both expressed their opinion that such a feat was impossible” (Trumbower 2001: 55). Indeed, Luke’s Gospel feeds the narrative that Jesus closes the door on the possibility of universal salvation because of its inclusion of the wellknown parable of the affluent man and Lazarus.18 Moving to the second century, Justin Martyr is, however, well known for his advocacy of righteous individuals among the ancients. He includes Socrates, Heraclitus, and Abraham, arguing that they had a share of the Logos, which makes them “partial witnesses” to the truth fully manifested only in Christ. In Dialogue 45, Justin also affirms that “those ancient Jews who were pious and followed the law will indeed be saved by Christ at the final judgment along with those Jews and Gentiles who have known Christ now” (Trumbower 2001: 97). While the above authors applied this possibility of rescue to the righteous dead only, Clement of Alexandria applied it to the dead no matter whether righteous or wicked, Gentile or Jew, through God’s offer of universal salvation. In the words of Trumbower: Clement ingeniously combines the Shepherd and 1 Peter by positing that Christ descended first to Hades, preached perhaps only to dead Jews or 18

The parable reads: “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ He said, ‘Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house—for I have five ­brothers— that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ He said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead’” (Trumbower 2001: 42).

44

chapter 1

perhaps Gentiles as well, transferred some of the dead to a better place (Matt. 27:52), and then later the best among the apostles and teachers descended to convert and baptize dead Gentiles. In an extraordinary statement, Clement even indicates that the dead were able to be more receptive to the Gospel than the living: If [the Lord descended to Hades to preach to all], then all who believe shall be saved making their confession there, even though they may be Gentiles. The reason for this is that God’s punishments are saving and educative, leading to conversion, and preferring the repentance of, rather than the death of the sinner, especially since souls, although darkened by passions, when released from their bodies are able to perceive more clearly, no longer burdened by the flesh. (Trumbower 2001: 99) Origen and his admirers placed great emphasis on the apokatastasis. Indeed, the doctrine of apokatastasis is intertwined with Origen’s anthropology, eschatology, theology, philosophy of history, and exegesis. Anyone who reads Origen’s thought meticulously will find it almost impossible to detach his doctrine of the apokatastasis, in order to reject it while accepting the rest (see Ramelli 2009). Furthermore, followers of Origen continued to teach the doctrine, most notably Evagrius Ponticus, Eusebius of Caesarea, and Gregory of Nazianzus who “taught the ultimate salvation of all rational creatures, including the devil” (Trumbower 2001: 123). However, it was Philastrius (d. 379), Bishop of Brescia, who was the earliest theologian in the “West” to reject the apokatastasis. He composed a catalogue of heresies (Diversarum Hereseon Liber) in about 384, including 128 heresies that had arisen since the advent of Christianity. He considered it heresy to say that there is an opportunity for salvation beyond one’s work in this world: “There are other heretics who say that there announced to all that they could be saved after death…. Whoever thinks that the false poets and vain philosophers, rebels against God, can be saved, errs even worse than they, and he dissents from the truth, because it was none other than those vain poets and philosophers who sowed the seeds of pagan impiety, the names of the gods and goddesses” (Trumbower 2001: 104–105). For his part, Augustine barely discusses the apokatastasis in his early writings. What he writes about is the fate of those who achieved wisdom and righteousness before Christ and who died long ago, arguing that all those who achieved wisdom before the coming of Christ were enlightened by the same truth in accordance “with the opportunity of their own respective periods of life. In other words, the ancient worthies were Christians before the incarnation, and thus they needed no posthumous salvation since they had lived properly during their lifetimes” (Trumbower 2001: 128). Later in Augustine’s career,

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

45

more accurately in the years 414–415, he received two messages from companions that motivated him to rethink salvation after death and its social and ecclesiastical implications.19 However, Augustine saw a real danger in the concept of universal posthumous salvation, saying: “If mercy leads us to believe that the punishment of the wicked will come to an end, what are we to believe concerning the reward of the just, when in each case eternity is mentioned in the same passage?” (Trumbower 2001: 131)20 The mature Augustine is much more definite about posthumous salvation, especially in his later writings, contending that this is an option only for baptized Christians with light sins. As for the unbaptized, hell is their eternal abode and they are not included in this category.21 In fact, Augustine considered those who argue for universal and posthumous salvation making no distinction between Christians and pagans (Trumbower 2001: 137–140). 19

20 21

Quoting Trumbower, “Augustine received a letter from Bishop Evodius of Uzalis, asking him about the interpretation of two passages in 1 Peter. The question disturbed Augustine greatly. The first issue revolved around 1 Pet 3:19–20, which states, ‘[Christ] made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, who in former times did not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah, during the building of the ark, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were saved through water.’ Puzzled, why would Christ only make a proclamation to the unbelievers of Noah’s day? What about all the other dead? Augustine is willing to admit that some of the dead in hell were set free during that past event, but he says it would be rash to identify exactly who they are. Evodius presents Augustine with an even more difficult passage, 1 Pet. 4:6, which reads, ‘For this is the reason the Gospel was proclaimed to the dead.’ Augustine rejects the interpretation that Christ preached in hell, and the reasons he gives are very much concerned with the role of the church now, in this life. First of all, if Christ preached in hell to save those who lived before the incarnation, what about all those who have died and are dying still since Christ’s resurrection who have not heard the Gospel? Since the latter are not excused for lack of hearing the Gospel, neither were the former (Ep. 164.4.12). Second, some say that the remembrance of Christ’s preaching remains in hell, so that people who go there now might hear it and repent. To this Augustine objects: ‘Then the Gospel ought not to be preached here, since all will certainly die, and they ought to reach hell without the guilt of despising the Gospel, so that they may have the advantage of believing there!’ He says this is an absurd but logical conclusion, if one allows for posthumous salvation (Ep. 164.4.13)” (Trumbower 2001: 131–132). Trumbower then comments: “The mere mention of such a possibility (apokatastasis) is anathema to Augustine, since for him any beatitude that is not eternal is no beatitude at all” (2001: 131). Trumbower writes, “Also in 421 Augustine wrote On the Care to be Taken for the Dead (OCTD) in response to a query from Paulinus, bishop of Nola, about whether it was beneficial for the dead to be buried near Justin Martyr’s shrine. Flora, a wealthy widow of Nola, had her son Cynegius buried near the tomb of St. Felix the Confessor. Paulinus assured her that this would be of some benefit to her dead son, but then wrote to Augustine to get a clearer opinion on the matter. Augustine takes this opportunity to reiterate his principle that it is the actions of a person in life that matter to God; the disposal of the body and other factors that occur after death have no bearing (OCTD 1)” (Trumbower 2001: 138).

46

chapter 1

2.2 Christ’s Descent into Hell The idea that all the dead of the Old Testament are confined to hell/Sheol is confirmed not only by passages such as the Jacob narratives in the Old Testament, but by others in the New Testament also.22 Therefore, “with few exceptions, all those who had lived—from Adam up until the advent of Christ’s lifetime—were housed in Hell” (Vitto 1989: 5). Hence, Christ’s descent into hell became central to early Christianity. Consequently, two questions the early church attempted to answer: (1) Did Christ actually descend into hell? (2) What was the purpose of his descent? Generically speaking, the “Bible, the Apocrypha, and the first- and second-century Fathers agreed that Christ had indeed descended into Hell, but several possibilities were advanced as to His purpose there. Also, although it was generally understood that Christ had liberated souls from Hell, the Fathers disagreed about which souls He freed” (Vitto 1989: 6). The passage that is central to this discussion and is quoted the most is Hosea 13:14,23 where it is written: “I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death: O death, I will be thy plagues; O grave, I will be thy destruction.” With this text in mind, there are three main readings of Christ’s aim in hell: to preach to the souls there; to fight the devil and establish God’s sovereignty; or to baptize those residing there. Although there are disagreements on these aims, both the Bible and the Apocrypha uphold the notion of the salvation of “the Old Testament Fathers, though some question 22

23

“Chapter 11 of Hebrews, after listing several Old Testament characters who pleased God through their faith, concludes by saying that they did not receive ‘the promise’ but awaited something better (Christ)” (Vitto 1989: 5). However, D’Costa notes: “The descent into hell is only mentioned in the Apostles’ Creed and, because of this and on biblical grounds, the evangelical scholar Wayne Grudem argues that the ‘descent’ is a ‘late intruder into the Apostles’ Creed that really never belonged there in the first place. On historical and Scriptural grounds, it deserves to be removed’ (1991, 103). After surveying five key New Testament ‘descent’ passages (Acts 2:7, Romans 10:6–7, Ephesians 4:8–9; 1 Peter 3:18–20; and 1 Peter 4:6), Grudem concludes ‘this idea is not taught in Scripture at all.’ Thus, ‘there would be all gain and no loss if it were dropped from the Creed once for all’ (1991, 113). The Reformed theologian David Lauber rightly criticizes Grudem’s conclusion. Lauber argues that the descent ‘is the logical consequence of a synthetic reading of Scripture, and rigorous reflection on the implications of the pro nobis character of Jesus Christ’s life and passion’ (2004, 111). There are many important doctrines that evolve out of a synthetic reading of scripture, and certain doctrines are not to be found in scripture in the words and conceptualities used by the church” (D’Costa 2009: 164). The descent is more evident in the Apocryphal literature. The Apocryphon of Jeremiah, which endorses the view that Christ descended to preach, is quoted by Justin and ­Irenaeus: “The Lord God remembered His dead, the saints of Israel that have fallen asleep in the tomb, and He went down unto them, to proclaim the good news of the salvation He was bringing to them” (Vitto 1989: 6).

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

47

existed as to whether Christ descended to preach to them, deliver them by force, or baptize them. In addition, some question remained as to whether the patriarchs were immediately liberated from Hell or merely promised a future deliverance” (Vitto 1989: 8). From the fathers’ side, Clement was first to argue that Jesus Christ produced a conversion in hell. “If, then, he [Christ] preached the Gospel to those in the flesh in order that they might not be condemned unjustly, how is it conceivable that he did not for the same reason preach the Gospel to those who had departed this life before his coming?”. Clement then “introduces the possibility that Christ may have preached only to the Jewish souls and left the others for the apostles, a concept based on a passage in the Shepherd of Hermas” (Vitto 1989: 10). Nevertheless, Clement does not tackle the question of those nonChristians who have died since the activity of Christ, but an “inference from his logic could be that God needs to offer salvation to everyone, especially everyone who is righteous, whether they hear the Gospel on earth or have to hear it in Hades” (Trumbower 2001: 100). However, one cannot deduce this with certitude, for Clement’s statements here are ambiguous and at times cryptic. Origen continues the discussion of Jesus’ descent, with the aim of establishing the conversion of the wicked in Hades,24 and to argue that Jesus’ work extends from the living to the dead, stating: “when [Christ] became a soul unclothed by a body he conversed with souls unclothed by bodies, converting also those of them who were willing to accept him, or those who, for reasons which he himself knew, he saw to be ready to do so (C. Cels. 2.43)” (Trumbower 2001: 101). Hence, Origen became famous for promoting universalist ideas. In On First Principles, written in reaction to Candidus, who accused ­Christianity of dualism, Origen adopts universalism to say that there is no dualism in Christianity. By this he means that all will eventually be saved and converted (Cahill 24

It is worth mentioning that Origen draws a distinction between Gehenna, which is solely mentioned in the Gospels, and Hades, which is mentioned in the Torah as well as the Gospels. Trumbower notes: “Hades, according to Origen, was the place where all the dead went before Christ’s descent, including Abraham, Samuel, and John the Baptist. Until Christ’s descent, these just ones could not leave Hades due to the sin of Adam and Eve. Christ’s activity in Hades allows some of the dead to be transferred to Paradise, just as acceptance of Christ by the living allows them to enter Paradise upon their deaths.… Gehenna, distinct from Hades, is a place of fiery torment for the wicked; Christ did not travel there at his descent. One should not confuse the fires of Gehenna with the purifying fire of God himself in Origen’s thought. Origen often describes the fires of Gehenna as ‘eternal’ and ‘inextinguishable’ (Hom. Jer. 12.5; Hom. Josh. 9.7). Some texts of Origen indicate, however, that the pains of Gehenna might come to an end, at least for human beings (Comm. Matt. 17.24), and Origen is well known for sometimes defining (eternal) as ‘a very long time’ (Comm. Rom. 6.5)” (Trumbower 2001: 101).

48

chapter 1

1994: 53). Yet it should be noted that Origen was also careful to always maintain that universal salvation was nothing but a possibility and not a definitive doctrine (McGuckin 2004: 96).25 However, Origen’s viewpoint is not to be confused with pluralism, for he is clearly not saying that all people are on valid paths to salvation. He bases his universalism on Christ, saying, “Seeing, then, that such is the end, when all enemies will be subdued to Christ, when death—the last enemy—shall be destroyed, and when the kingdom shall be delivered up by Christ (to whom all things are subject) to God the Father” (Roberts, Donaldson, and Coxe, eds. 2007: IV.260). Gregory of Nyssa agrees with Origen, yet in a more spiritual sense, as explained by Trumbower: Gregory of Nyssa (ca. 335–394), strongly influenced by Origen’s writings, tends to spiritualize Christ’s descent more than Origen did. As Gregory reports learning from his sister Macrina, “Hades” was not so much a place as a condition of the soul after death (On the Soul and Resurrection, PGM 46.68, 83–84). Gregory also wrote a treatise on Christ’s three days in Hades, but the focus there is on the whereabouts of Christ, not on who was saved. Death, for both Origen and Gregory, was not a boundary beyond which all hope of salvation was lost. (Trumbower 2001: 101) Surprisingly, Tertullian, although considered the leading father of exclusivism, agrees with Clement and Origen’s teachings on the purpose of the descent. However, he limits those who were converted by Christ, stating: “Nor did he ascend into the heights of heaven before descending into the lower parts of the earth, that He might there make the patriarchs and prophets partakers of Himself” (Vitto 1989: 12). In contrast, Chrysostom rejects the idea of having a chance in another world to rectify one’s wrongdoing in this world, arguing that there is a real danger in believing that Christ gives the dead a real offer of redemption upon his descent. In his Homily 36 on Matthew, he puts it this way: “for the present life indeed is the season for right conversation, but after death is judgment and punishment” (Trumbower 2001: 102). Augustine’s position on the descent reveals some ambiguity. While in his sermons on the Creed, he states that Jesus descended to free Adam, the patriarchs and prophets, and all the just who were guilty merely of original sin, “in a letter to Bishop Evodius answering his questions about I Peter 3:18–20, 25

According to Kärkkäinen’s reading of Origen, perhaps even Satan would eventually be saved (2003: 60).

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

49

he contradicts himself and denies that the bosom of Abraham formed part of Hell” (Vitto 1989: 14). However, he is “forced by church tradition to believe that Christ freed Adam from Hell, and it seems certain that he must have saved others as well, but he cannot conjecture whom” (Vitto 1989: 14). Summarizing this, Vitto writes: In contrast to the early Fathers, though, Augustine was sure that Christ did not preach to those in Hell, and that those after the Resurrection lacking knowledge of the Gospel would not have the opportunity of salvation by hearing of Christ in Hell. This would lead to the bizarre conclusion that the Gospel should not be preached so that all could be saved after death. At the same time, he realized the attractiveness of believing that Christ freed all he found in Hell, especially those classical writers admired by himself and his contemporaries. But this cannot be, since their good acts were futilely directed toward human glory rather than devotion to God.26 The source of the confusion arises when, in the same letter, Augustine changes the traditional gloss of 1 Peter 3:18–20,27 which states that Christ preached to the “imprisoned spirits”—the men of Noah’s time, who were generally regarded to be suffering in hell. Augustine rejects a literal reading of this passage, arguing that, maybe the “spirits shut up in prison …are people living now” and the “dead” are “unbelievers,” as in Christ’s saying, “let the dead bury their own dead” (Matthew 8:22). These interpretations have the potential to solve Augustine’s problems, however he ends the letter by inviting others to propose another solution, but only as a supplement to his own, “for my opinion cannot be accused of any fallacy” (Trumbower 2001: 132). He proceeds to distinguish between three types of baptized dead: “those who were very good after baptism (they have no need of prayers and sacrifices from the living), those who 26

27

Vitto recommends Wang Tch’ang-Tche (1938) “for an analysis of Augustine’s teachings on the issue of pagan salvation. Wang points out that Augustine was forced to take a harsh stance in order to counter the Pelagians’ claim that human nature alone, without benefit of grace, could fulfil divine law and merit salvation (75–79, 104). For Augustine, true virtue was inevitably linked to Christian revelation. But in Tch’ang-Tche’s final chapter (141–182), he demonstrates that Augustine does not oblige us to refuse to pagans the possession of true virtue or the hope of salvation; the difficulty lies in how to explain the manner in which a pagan could receive Christian faith” (1989: 14). The passage reads: “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God. He was put to death in the body but made alive in the Spirit. After being made alive, he went and made proclamation to the imprisoned spirits—to those who were disobedient long ago when God waited patiently in the days of Noah while the ark was being built. In it only a few people, eight in all, were saved through water” (NIV).

50

chapter 1

were very bad (no amount of prayers and sacrifices can help them), and those in the middle, who may benefit from prayers and sacrifices: “their benefit consists either in bringing a full remission of sin or at least in making the condemnation more tolerable” (Trumbower 2001: 137). After all, Augustine’s position on salvation gained currency in post-Augustinian Catholicism, epistemically as well as soteriologically. Even though there were attempts by medieval theologians to soften some of Augustine’s heavier statements, the overarching outline of Augustine’s corpus could not escape heavy theological exclusivism. Describing Augustine’s impact on Catholic Christianity, Trumbower writes: Augustine’s influence was far-reaching, and in many cases his interpretations became the decisive ones for all later western Christianity. Peter Brown has identified the age of Ambrose and Augustine as a time when the imaginative horizon shifted, especially in the West. Many theologians began to stress the fact that the Christianization of the empire had only just begun, in spite of almost one hundred years of Christian emperors. Augustine’s sermons at Carthage, 397–404, reflect this shift: It is not enough for Christians to remain pure and avoid contamination with pagan rites; the whole society requires purification. The pagan past must be purged, most especially from Christians themselves. Any blurring of the boundaries between pagan and Christian, in this world or the next, must be avoided. It is against this backdrop that we should explore Augustine’s pronouncements about posthumous salvation. (Trumbower 2001: 126) To conclude, the above discussion illustrates that salvation in the hereafter was still a moot question in the third and fourth centuries of Christianity. The writings of Irenaeus, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, and especially his student Gregory of Nyssa, provide examples of openness to the possibility that God’s grace through, and not despite Christ will grant some people salvation via the apokatastasis or Christ’s descent into hell. Different theories emerged to tackle the apokatastasis. Some of these theories reflect a belief in the rescue of those who lived before Christ; others speculate about the salvation of all individuals; and yet others introduce the possibility of intercession by the righteous for specific damned individuals. In contrast, the works of Tertullian, Ignatius, and John Chrysostom in particular, are examples of exclusivism, but until the Augustinian moment,28 there was no normative theology on the possibility of salvation for those who have not heard the Gospel.

THE EARLY CATHOLIC THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

51

Concerning Jesus Christ’s descent, whilst all church fathers agree on the event itself, not all agree on its purpose. Clement and Origen were highly influential in teaching that Christ (or his apostles) descended into hell to preach to, or convert, those who had died before Christ; an interpretation that leaves the door wide open to the idea of universal salvation, to the extent that classical philosophers whom theologians admired could be admitted to heaven. By contrast, Chrysostom and Augustine reject such interpretations outright, seeing them as a danger to the uniqueness of Christianity. 28

Surprisingly, Ambrose, Augustine’s mentor, had a positive view of Jesus’ purpose in his descent. He suggests that Christ remitted sins in Hades, though he does not state categorically whose sins were remitted (Trumbower 2001: 103–104).

Chapter 2

Early Ašʿarite Theology of Salvation (Hadith-Based Theology) Abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī, the eponymous founder of Ašʿarism, was born in Basra in 260/874. In his early youth, he studied with the renowned Muʿtazilite theologian Abū ʿAlī al-Jubbāʾī (d. 303/915).1 Al-Ašʿarī mastered Muʿtazilite theology and remained a proponent of the school till the age of forty,2 whereupon he abandoned it, eventually becoming one of its most challenging opponents (Esposito 2004: 54). His Maqālāt al-islāmiyyīn (Views of the Islamic Denominations), serves as a major source book for early Islamic historiography. As time passed in theological arguments with the Muʿtazilites and others, al-Ašʿarī managed, along with Abū Manṣūr al-Māturīdī,3—although the two never met—to formulate what later came to be known as Sunnī theology, which is followed by some of the most renowned theologians of Islam, such as al-Ġazālī, al-Rāzī4 and al-Nasafī (d. 508/1115).5 Al-Ašʿarī is widely seen as the reviver (mujadid) of the third Hijrī century (TBY 1410 AH: 30), according to a tradition that says: “God will raise to this Ummah at the turn of every hundred 1 Al-Jubbāʾī is “a celebrated scholastic theologian who was one of the leading Muʿtazilites. ­Jubbaʾi’s numerous works were frequently cited, but are no longer extant. His son, Abu Hashim ʿAbd al-Salam, continued his father’s legacy and tried to reconcile his doctrines with orthodox teachings. Jubbaʾi was born in Jubba, near Basra, and he died in Baghdad” (Adamec 2017: 232). 2 For a survey on the motives for his conversion and his role in developing a Muslim orthodoxy, see Watt 1985: 64-65 and Makdisi 1962: 37–80. 3 Al-Māturīdī is the founder of the Māturīdiyyah school of theology. Kitāb al-tawḥīd is one of his most important books. Māturīdī was born and died in Samarkand where his school is still dominant (Adamec 2017: 282; Watt 1985: 67). 4 Al-Rāzī is “one of the last encyclopedic writers of Islam. He was an adherent of the Ashʿarite school and a violent opponent of Muʿtazilism. His most important works are The Résumé (Kitab al-muhassal), about philosophical and theological ideas, as well as the commentary on the Quran, titled The Key to God’s Secret (Mafatih al-Ghayb). Ibn Khallikan described Razi as ‘the pearl of the age, a man without a peer; he surpassed all his contemporaries in scholastic theology, metaphysics, and philosophy’ (II, 652). He was born in Rayy and died in Herat in present-day Afghanistan” (Adamec 2017: 366). 5 A Māturīdite jurist and theologian from Persia, born in Transoxiana, he wrote mostly in Arabic and authored around 100 books in Ḥanafī jurisprudence, theology, Quran exegesis, and history. One of his most widely-studied books is al-Aqīdah al-Nasafīyyah about Sunnite theology, upon which al-Taftāzānī wrote his well-known commentary (see Leaman 2015: 367).

© Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004461765_004

EARLY AŠʿARITE THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

53

years the one who will rejuvenate its religion for it.” Al-Ašʿarī died in 324/330– 935/941 (see Adamec 2017: 60). Although much has been written on Ašʿarism, the Ašʿarite theology of salvation is somewhat understudied, both in terms of epistemology and soteriology. While some studies have singled out various mediaeval Ašʿarite theologians, including al-Ġazālī, little attention has been paid to the views of the early Ašʿarite theologians, including the founder of the school, Abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī. Hence, this chapter attempts to investigate not only his theology of salvation, but also that of his followers until al-Ġazālī’s generation. The central argument is that the discussion about salvation in the formative phase of Ašʿarism has largely been firqah-based (denomination-based/hadith-based). The chapter is divided into two main sections: one on the early Ašʿarite discussions of intra-Muslim theologies of truth and salvation and another on the early Ašʿarite view of inter-religious salvation. The two sections each have two sub-sections: one on epistemology and the other on soteriology. This period can be called the hadith-based period, for its theologians formulated their theology of truth and salvation on the basis of the following hadith: “There will befall my nation what befell the children of Israel. The children of Israel divided into seventy-two religious groups and my community will divide into seventy-three religious groups, one more than they. All of them are in hellfire except one religious group.”6 This hadith dominated the Ašʿarite view of salvation till the time of al-Ġazālī, when there was a turning point from a hadith-based theology to what I call a Sunnah-based theology.7 1

Early Ašʿarite Epistemology of Intra-Muslim Salvation

An exploration of al-Ašʿarī’s oeuvre reveals that he does not mention the above hadith either in his magnum opus, Maqālāt al-islāmiyyīn, or in his other works. This is probably because after abandoning Muʿtazilism, al-Ašʿarī became more reserved about the practice of takfīr (excommunication/anathematization). In his Risālah ilā ahl al-ṯaġr (Epistle to the People of the Frontier), al-Ašʿarī states

6 To reiterate, this form of the hadith is found in Ibn Mājah, abū Daʾūd, al-Tirmiḏī, and al-Nasāʾī, four of the six “canonical” Sunnite collections of hadith (Hirji 2010: 32). 7 Sunnah (plural sunan) is literally defined as “a path, a way, a manner of life.” Technically, it refers to all the traditions and practices of the Prophet Muhammad that “have become models to be followed” by Muslims (Qazi 1979: 65).

54

chapter 2

that the righteous predecessors (Salaf)8 agreed unanimously that ­whoever believes in God and all the Prophet has called for, his faith (īmān) cannot be invalidated except through explicit infidelity (kufr) (RIA 2002: 274). Furthermore, in his al-Ibānah ʿan uṣūl al-diyānah (Elucidation Concerning the Principles of Religion), al-Ašʿarī states: “It is our opinion that we ought not to declare a single one of the People of the Qiblah [i.e. Muslims] an infidel for a sin of which he is guilty, such as fornication or theft or the drinking of wine as long as he does not commit such acts believing they are lawful acts” (IAU 1977: 26). When death approached him, al-Ašʿarī said to one of his disciples: “Be a witness that I accuse none of the People of this Qiblah of unbelief, for although they disagree on the phrases they use, they all still refer to the One God” (TKM 1347 AH: 149). However, this does not mean that al-Ašʿarī considered all Muslim denominations to be leading valid paths to salvation. What emerges from his writings is that he considers only two Muslim denominations epistemologically valid. George Makdisi points out that al-Ašʿarī accepted Atharism (practically: Ḥanbalism)9 as well as Ašʿarism, as conceptually sound paths. Makdisi puts it this way: This makes Ashʿarī the follower of two middle roads: (1) that of the Pious Ancestors who were anxious to avoid two extremes: taʾwīl and tashbīh; and (2) that of the “kalam-using orthodox” who wanted to uphold the divine attributes, against the Muʿtazilites, and uphold the use of taʾwīl in order to avoid falling into tashbīh. The former attitude is regarded by the Ashʿarites as being ṭarīq as-salāma, the road of salvation, and the latter is regarded by them as being ṭarīq al-ḥikma, the road of wisdom; both of which roads were travelled by Ashʿarī himself. By virtue of Ashʿari’s

8 “Salaf” is a contested term, but generally and quite literally means ancestor. The virtuous forefathers. “The Salaf included the Prophet’s Companions and the early generations of Islam, conventionally ending with Ahmad ibn Hanbal in the ninth century, although a number of later Islamic scholars are included.” However, this is not to be confused with the Salafiyyah Movement, which is a reformist movement that “tried to respond to stagnation and weakness in the Islamic world and advocated a return to the basics of Islam on the basis of the Koran, the Sunnah, and the practices of the Pious Fathers (Salaf)” (Adamec 2017: 383). 9 The Ḥanbalite school is “named after Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (d. 241/855). The school attempted to confine the sources of Islamic law solely to the Quran and the Sunnah, permitting the use of reasoning by analogy (qiyās) only when the Quran, consensus, and “even a weak hadith are not available … This school is dominant in Saudi Arabia” (Adamec 2017: 392).

EARLY AŠʿARITE THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

55

two middle roads, those who followed the one or the other were equally Ashʿarite, equally orthodox. (Makdisi 1962: 52)10 However, it seems that the first pre-Ġazālian Ašʿarite to consolidate this denomination-based salvation is Abū Bakr al-Bāqillānī (d. 403/1013),11 who does so by using, if not coining, the term: Ahl al-Sunnah wa-al-jamāʿah (The Folks of the Sunnah and the Community/Unity).12 Al-Bāqillānī frequently joins the term Ahl al-Sunnah wa-al-jamāʿah with the term Ahl al-ḥaqq (the folks of truth) (IFY 2000: 105), which probably underlines his view that nonAšʿarites are not among the folks of truth. This category, i.e. the Folks of Truth, encompasses the two trajectories travelled by al-Ašʿarī in advance. Al-Bāqillānī does not see any significant differences between the theology of the followers of al-Ašʿarī and that of Aḥmad Ibn Ḥanbal (eponymous founder of Atharism). In fact, on several occasions al-Bāqillānī identifies himself as a Ḥanbalīte, signing some of his epistles with the title: Muhammad ibn al-Ṭayyīb al-Ḥanbalī (DTB 1971: 1.270). Before moving to the next Ašʿarite theologian who follows this train of thought, it is worth saying a word about Ibn Ḥanbal’s (d. 241/855) position on the above hadith. Given his traditionalist background, it is not surprising that he took this hadith at face value and to a large degree used it to ground his theology. Al-Ḫaṭīb al-Baġdādī (d. 463/1071) mentions in Šaraf aṣḥāb al-ḥadiṯ (Merits of the Folks of Tradition) that Ibn Ḥanbal comments on the above hadith with the following statement: “If they [the saved sect] are not the people of hadith, then I do not know who they are!” (ŠAḤ 1996: 61). Notwithstanding, abū Manṣūr ʿAbd al-Qāhir al-Baġdādī (d. 429/1037)13 appears to have been the first Ašʿarite theologian to coin the term al-Firqah al-nājiyah (the to-be-saved denomination) in the Ašʿarite tradition. Al-Baġdādī 10 11

12 13

While in his Ibānah, al-Ašʿarī takes a clear Atharī position, in his al-Lumaʿ fī al-radd ʿala ahl al-zayġ wa-al-bidaʿ (the sparks: a refutation of heretics and innovators), he clearly comes across as an Ašʿarite theologian (Al-Ašʿarī, 1955: 5). An early Ašʿarite theologian and Mālikite jurist, he spent much of his life defending and consolidating orthodox Sunnite Islam. A man of letters and master orator, he was highly regarded for his expertise in debating anti-orthodox views and hence often given the title Sayf al-Sunnah (Sword of the Prophetic Way) (Adamec 2017: 76). He is also said to have been educated by two of the direct students of al-Ašʿarī. (Watt 1963: 76). It is worth mentioning that al-Ašʿarī uses the term Ahl al-Sunnah wa-al-istiqāmah across his Maqālāt, but in a more generic way. Al-Baġdādī was an Ašʿarite theologian and legist born and raised in Baghdad. He received his education in Nishapur. Many of the scholars of Khurasan were his pupils. He is buried in Isfarayn, present-day Iran. According to the historian Ibn Ḫallikān (d. 681/1282), “He possessed great riches, which he spent on the learned (in the law) and on the treatises on different sciences and surpassed his contemporaries in every branch of learning … he

56

chapter 2

wrote several catechistic Ašʿarite treaties, amongst which is his al-Farq bayna al-firaq wa-bayān al-firqah al-nājiyah minhum (Characteristics of Muslim Denominations and Identifying those to-Be-Saved), in which he not only deals with the hadith of the 73-scheme, but also formulates his book according to a scheme of 73 groups, studying and evaluating each denomination from an Ašʿarite standpoint, ending up condemning them all for deviating from the straight path of Ahl al-sunnah wa-al-jamāʿah. Following his predecessors, Aḥl al-sunnah wa-al-jamāʿah are made up of two categories: Farīq al-Rāʾī (The Folks of Reasoning, i.e., the Ašʿarite theologians) and Farīq al-Ḥadiṯ (The Folks of Tradition, i.e., the traditionalists who follow Ibn Ḥanbal) (FBF 1988: 22–27). It is worth quoting Al-Baġdādī at length in response to a questioner who asked him about the 73-tradition: You have asked me for an explanation of the well-known tradition attributed to the Prophet with regard to the division of the Moslim Community into seventy-three sects, of which one has saving grace and is destined for Paradise on High, whilst the rest are in the wrong, leading to the Deep Pit and the Ever-flaming fire. You requested me to draw the distinction between the sect that saves, the step of which does not stumble and from which grace does not depart, and the misguided sects which regard the darkness of idolatry as light and the belief in truth as leading to perdition which sects are condemned to everlasting fire and shall find no aid in Allah. Therefore, I feel it incumbent upon me to help you along the line of your request with regard to the orthodox faith and the path that is straight how to distinguish it from the perverted heresies and the distorted views, so that he who does perish shall know that he is perishing and he that is saved that he is so saved through clear evidence. (FBF, trans. Seelye 1920: 1.19) He proceeds to say: The true view, according to us, is that the Ummat al-Islām comprises those who profess the view that the world is created, the unity of its maker, his preexistence, his attributes, his equity, his wisdom, the denial of his anthropomorphic character, the prophetic character of Muḥammad, and his universal Apostolate, the acknowledgment of the constant validity of gave lessons there, which were assiduously attended by doctors of the greatest eminence” (Adamec 2017: 73–74; Keller 1997: 1021).

EARLY AŠʿARITE THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

57

his law, that all that he enjoined was truth, that the Koran is the source of all legal regulations, and that the Kaʿbah is the direction in which all prayers should be turned. Everyone who professes all this and does not follow a heresy that might lead him to unbelief, he is an orthodox Sunnite, believing in the unity of Allah. If, to the accepted beliefs which we have mentioned he adds a hateful heresy, his case must be considered. And if he incline to the heresy of the Bāṭinīyah, or the Bayānīyah, or the Mughīrah, or the Khaṭṭābīyah, who believe in the divine character of all the Imāms, or of some of them at least, or if he follows the schools which believe in the incarnation of God, or one of the schools of the people believing in the transmigration of souls, or the school of the Maimūnīyah of the Khawārij who allow marriage with one’s daughter’s daughter or one’s son’s daughter, or follow the school of the Yazīdīyah from among the Ibāḍīyah with their teaching that the law of Islam will be abrogated at the end of time, or if he permits as lawful what the text of the Koran forbids, or forbids that which the text of the Koran allows as lawful, and which does not admit of differing interpretation, such an one does not belong to the Ummat al-Islām, nor should he be esteemed. But if his heresy is like the heresy of the Muʿtazilites, or the Khawārij, or the Rāfiḍah of the Imāmīyah, or the Zaidīyah heresies, or of the heresy of the Najjārīyah, or the Jahmīyah, or the Ḍarārīyah, or the Mujassimah, then he would be of the Ummat al-Islām in some respects, namely: he would be entitled to be buried in the graveyard of the Moslems, and to have a share in the tribute and booty which is procured by the true believers in war with the idolators provided he fights with the true believers. Nor should he be prevented from praying in the mosques. But he is not of the Ummat in other respects, namely that no prayer should be allowed over his dead body, nor behind him (to the grave); moreover any animal slaughtered by him is not lawful food, nor may he marry an orthodox Moslem woman. It is also not lawful for an orthodox man to marry one of their women if she partake of their belief. (FBF, trans. Seelye 1920: 1.29–30) Leaving al-Baġdādī to Abū al-Muẓaffar al-Isfarāyīnī (d. 471/1079), an Ašʿarite theologian and jurist who lived in present-day Afghanistan, is another who employed the term al-Firqah al-nājiyah frequently. In al-Tabṣīr fī al-dīn wa-tamyyīz al-firqah al-nājiyah ʿan al-firaq al-hālikīn (Enlightenment in Religion and Distinguishing the Saved Group from the Damned), al-Isfarāyīnī

58

chapter 2

provides a detailed discussion of the 72 damned groups, followed by another thorough account of the beliefs of the saved group, i.e., Ašʿarism, with its traditionist parallel. That is, he asserts that Farīq al-Ḥadiṯ holds the same doctrines as Farīq al-Rāʾī. In fact, at times, al-Isfarāyīnī calls the Ašʿarites: Aṣḥāb al-Ḥadiṯ, highlighting the unity of ends between the two trajectories (TFD 2010: 157–160). Imām al-Ḥaramayn al-Juwaynī (d. 1085)14 is yet another pre-Ġazālian theologian who advocates denomination-based salvation. Although in his Lumaʿ aladillah fī qawāʿid ʿaqāʾid ahl al-sunnah wa-al-jamāʿah (Illuminating Catechistic Proofs of the Doctrines of the People of the Sunnah and the Unity) al-Juwaynī does not make use of the above hadith, the title and the content of the book do correspond. In the introduction, al-Juwaynī explicitly states that this book is dedicated to some brief illuminating proofs of the rules of Muslim orthodox theology. Similar to al-Bāqillānī, al-Juwaynī calls the Ašʿarites: Aḥl al-ḥaqq (LA 1987: 85, 96). From the above discussion, it is evident that from an epistemological perspective, in their formative period the Ašʿarites saw truth as denominationbased. Yet, despite this denomination-based epistemology, they always refrain from the practice of takfīr against non-Ašʿarites, asserting that it is only those who are ignorant of God’s existence, who say/do things that Muslims unanimously consider blasphemous, and who are infidels (BM 1992: 239). Furthermore, they maintain that although non-Ašʿarites are, as al-Ašʿarī puts it, ignorant about the correct attributes of God, they are not ignorant of God himself (la’nna al-jahla bil-ṣifāt laysa jahlan bil-mauṣūf ) (YWJ 2018: 1.396). 2

Early Ašʿarite Intra-Muslim Soteriology

Soteriology was primarily discussed under the rubric of al-Waʿd wa-al-waʿīd (The Promise and the Threat). To understand the theology of the Promise and the Threat, one needs to go back to the Muʿtazilites and the Murjiʾites. The Muʿtazilites did not differentiate between God’s threats and God’s promises, 14

Al-Juwaynī was a Persian Ašʿarite theologian, commonly known as Imām al-Ḥaramayn (leading master of the two holy cities), that is, Mecca and Medina. He taught and studied there in Hijaz for four years, hence his epithet. He gained a large following and was invited back to Nishapur by the founder of the Šāfīʿite Madrasa, Niẓām al-Mulk (d. 485/1092). Upon his return, al-Juwaynī was appointed to teach the doctrine of the Ašʿarites at the Niẓamiyyah until his death. Al-Ġazālī is his most renowned student (Hallaq 1984: 26–41). He “engaged in the study of theological principles, spent his life deciphering between what a Muslim ought and ought not to do. … A Persian, he held the view that the caliphate need not be held by a member of the Quraysh” (Adamec 2017: 234).

EARLY AŠʿARITE THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

59

i.e., God is obliged to punish whoever commits a sin without repenting, just as he is obliged to reward the doers of good, in order not to break his word. In other words, God’s promises as well as his threats must be irreversible, and God cannot act contrary, not only to his promises but also to his threats. Otherwise, this would mean that God tells lies when he threatens the deviators and wrongdoers. This is in contrast to the Murjiʾites, who generally believed that no sin is to be punished for as long as its doer is a believer in God and does not associate any partners with him. Such a person is promised paradise and shall have no fear (MN 1975: 1.45, 139–146). Taking a mediate position, the Ašʿarites differentiated between the Promise and the Threat, arguing that, to God, rewarding obedient believers is a “promise,” and it is given that he does not go back on his promises, according to the Quran.15 As for disobedient believers, their fate is left to God, as the Quran indicates that God is free to do whatever he wills.16 The Ašʿarites’ issue with the Muʿtazilites lies in the latter’s misclassification of “threat,” for with a threat, the question is not of God breaking his word if he does not fulfil it, but rather, in a manner of speaking, of a conflict of divine attributes, i.e. mercy versus justice; allowing either (justice or mercy) to trump the other is left only to God. Although al-Ašʿarī does not give a detailed account of his theology of al-Waʿd wa-al-waʿīd,17 Ibn Fūrak (d. 1015),18 who is the systemiser of al-Ašʿarī’s theological views, provides a full picture of al-Ašʿarī’s view on this question. He states that al-Ašʿarī used to say that reward (ṯawāb) is initially granted by God’s grace and is not earned by the believer’s deeds. Indeed, the believer’s faith itself comes through God’s grace; hence no one has the right to say that God is obliged to reward. Except for what God has promised believers in the Quran, God is ultimately free to reward or punish whomsoever he wills. If he wills to reward, it is from his grace and mercy, and if he wishes to punish, it is with his justice. Even if he wills to pardon all the unbelievers, there will be wisdom behind it even though we do not have access to such wisdom. We are only allowed to state that the unbelievers are eternally damned in hellfire because 15 16 17 18

Q. 3:9, “God never breaks His promises.” See for example: Q. 4:48, which reads: “God does not forgive the joining of partners with Him: anything less than that He forgives to whoever He will, but anyone who joins partners with God has concocted a tremendous sin.” See more detailed discussions in Zamaḫšarī 2017: 162–176. Ibn Fūrak was a significant figure in the early Ašʿarite tradition. He “started his education in Isfahan where he learned Shafiʿite fiqh, then he moved first to Basra, then to Baghdad where he studied kalam with Abu’l-Hasan al-Bakhili and Ibn Mujahid al-Tai, both were the students of Ashʿari. In Baghdad he also met with Baqillani and Isfaraini. At around 360/970, he returned to his hometown and became a leading proponent of the Ashʿarite theology” (Leaman 2015: 181).

60

chapter 2

this is what God permits us to say through the Scriptures. Furthermore, we are also allowed to state that the believers are eternally in paradise because this is what God tells us in the Scriptures; otherwise it is logically feasible that God is able to pardon some who committed a certain sin and punish others who committed the very same sin. Thus, God’s pardoning is gracious, and his punishment is not unjust (MMA 1987: 163). Three precepts can be inferred from the above. First, al-Ašʿarī believed that salvation is not earned but granted. Hence, deeds do not earn us salvation, but are instead manifestations of our gratitude to God. Second, it is intimated that those who die as unbelievers are to be damned eternally in hell, since this is what the Quran indicates. As for the fussāq min ahl al-qiblah (the ­Muslim wrong-doers), al-Ašʿarī holds back judgement, leaving their destiny to God (tawaqquff ), for although they violate God’s laws, they still believe that he exits. Third, al-Ašʿarī is a textually committed theologian who gives precedence to whatever the Scripture attests to. Namely, for him, since the Scripture is ambiguous about the category of sinning Muslims, he holds back from judgement. Asserting this Scripture-based approach that takes textual clarity into account, in his Risālah, al-Ašʿarī says that the Salaf have unanimously agreed that, except for the initiators of heresies and those to whom the Prophet has given glad tidings of Paradise, no Muslim, whether sinning or sinless, can be assured of salvation, as there is no access to any definitive knowledge about eschatology except through the definitive ḫabar (scriptural report) (RIA, 2002: 276–277). Pre-Ġazālian Ašʿarites shared the same view as their Grand Shayḫ, affirming that the Salaf unanimously agreed that God’s reward is only by grace and that his punishment is by his justice; there is nothing that we can pronounce except what the Scripture allows in relation to eschatology (IIQ 2009: 295). In his Kitāb uṣūl al-dīn, which is an Ašʿarite Catechistic work, al-Baġdādī discusses the fate of Ahl al-waʿīd, saying: Our folks say that people in the Hereafter are of three categories: 1. The foremost/elite (al-Sābiqūn); 2. The companions of the Right (the blessed; aṣḥāb al-yamīn); 3. The companions of the Left (the wicked; aṣḥāb al-shimāl). The Sābiqūn are those who will join Paradise without any reckoning in the Last Day…. The companions of the Left are all unbelievers, and the companions of the Right are all believers … as for the sinning Muslims, they were neither deniers nor sceptical about the Day of Judgement, hence such people … will be punished lightly (hisāban yasīrā), for the only sin that cannot be forgiven is shirk (associating partners with God). (KUD 2002: 266–267)

EARLY AŠʿARITE THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

61

Given the above quotation, while the believers’ abode is paradise and the unbelievers’ abode is hellfire, early Ašʿarites observed silence on those in the middle. Even though they thought only one Muslim denomination is following a valid path, the situation of those Muslims who are not following that path is unknown. Hence, their destiny is left to God, i.e., if he deals with them with his justice, they will be punished, and if with his mercy, they will not. 3

Early Ašʿarite Epistemology of Inter-Religious Salvation

Although it can reasonably be inferred that since truth was denominationbased in that period there was no need to question the falsity of the nonIslamic religions, Ibn Fūrak still has some important points to make here. In his Mujarrad, he wrote: “al-Ašʿarī used to say that, if the scripture is put aside, believing in God does not necessarily demand believing in Prophet Muhammad.” Namely, one can still be considered a believer if he believes in God without believing in Muhammad. Yet, since the Scripture is perceived to link the two, non-Muslims cannot be called believers. Therefore, stating that nonMuslims are unbelievers is textually-prescribed and not necessarily inferred by logic (MMA 1987: 153). Furthermore, early Ašʿarites believed that the Quran superseded the Bible. There is consensus on this nasḫ doctrine (supersessionism).19 Al-Juwaynī devotes an entire chapter of his Irshād to the theory of supersessionism, where he summarizes the Ašʿarite view on non-Islamic religions. In this section, he responds to the Jews, who reject the Muslim theory of supersessionism. Al-Juwaynī contends that one of the most intelligent arguments of the Jews is their claim that Muslims believe in the principle of supersessionism, yet they do not apply it to their own tradition. When the Jews ask Muslims, “What proof do you rely on to establish the continuity of your law?”, they respond that this is what Muhammad has told us. Then the Jews say: Our Prophet [Moses] did the same; he told us that his law is not to be superseded. Al-Juwaynī responds with two objections. First, if their claim were true, God would not have revealed himself with the miracles of Jesus and Muhammad who came after Moses, yet since there were miracles after Moses, the Jews’ tradition of supersessionism is invalidated. Second, if it is truly said in the Torah that there is no prophet to come after Moses, why did those Jews who were contemporaneous with Muhammad not show him this in their Scripture, even though they were keen 19

For critical discussions of nasḫ, see Freidman 2003; Burton 1990.

62

chapter 2

on falsifying his prophethood? The fact that they did not do so suggests the refutability of their report (IIQ 2009: 271–272). Al-Juwaynī is clearly not the first pre-Ġazālian Ašʿarite to rely on nasḫ to establish the exclusivist-truth claims of Islam. Al-Baġdādī, who died roughly fifty years before al-Juwaynī, argues on the same basis, offering in his Kitāb uṣūl al-dīn a lengthy discussion on Islam’s supersession of non-Islamic religions (KUD 2002: 184–185). Furthermore, al-Bāqillānī, who died approximately thirty years before al-Juwaynī, offers a similar but shorter discussion on nasḫ in his Inṣāf (IFY 2000: 59). Al-Ašʿarī himself, according to Ibn Fūrak, not only believed that the finality of Prophet Muhammad’s message is established through the theory of nasḫ, but also discusses other elements distinguishing Islam from other religions (MMA 1987: 174–180). 4

Early Ašʿarite Inter-Religious Soteriology

In his Mujarrad, Ibn Fūrak mentions that al-Ašʿarī categorized people in the Last Day into four categories: first, the undoubtedly rewarded (the believers, i.e., good Muslims); second, the undoubtedly punished (the unbelievers, i.e., the non-Muslims); third, those who are left for God to punish or forgive (the fussāq, i.e., grave Muslim sinners); fourth, those to whom the message of Islam was not delivered and whose fate is also left to God (MMA 1987: 144–145). Although Ibn Fūrak does not elaborate on the fourth category, in his Uṣūl al-dīn al-Baġdādī does. He asks whether accountability before God is established by reason or revelation and reports al-Ašʿarī’s statement that nothing is obligatory or prohibited except by revelation. Having established this, he says that the Ašʿarites believe if a person lives beyond the dam of Gog and Magog, or in a distant place the message of Islam has not reached, his case is to be further investigated. If he has a sound belief in God’s justice and oneness, yet is ignorant of the details of the revealed laws and God’s prophets, then he is saved and excused for his ignorance, for there is no plea (ḥujja) against him. But if he becomes an atheist or an unbeliever, then he is a kāfir in terms of creed. Nevertheless, his case is to be investigated further: if one of the messages of any of the previous prophets reached him and he rejected it, then he is a kāfir deserving eternal punishment. If no message ever reached him, his fate is left to God; if God wills to punish him, this is not unjust, simply as God may give pain to some children and animals in this world by his justice [even if we do not comprehend the wisdom behind it]. And if he wills to reward that person in the hereafter, it is only through his grace; just as he will admit Muslim children into paradise by his grace and not for any good they may have done (KUD 2002: 287–288).

EARLY AŠʿARITE THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

63

In his Summa on the Ašʿarite theology (al-Šāmil), al-Juwaynī discusses the situation where a person reaches death while still in pursuit of ultimate truth. Is such a person to be rewarded for seeking the truth or punished for not having reached it? Al-Juwaynī argues that the fate of such a one is like that of children who die before reaching the age of reason, i.e., saved. If that person had enough time to reflect upon the truth, yet did not do so, although there was no hindrance to his pursuit, his fate will be that of the infidels, i.e., damnation. If there was time enough to make even partial reflection, then the standard position is that he is to be damned as a kāfir, for not seeking the truth adequately. An exception here is al-Bāqillānī, who contends that there may be a possibility for salvation on the basis that such a person may not have been one of the people of reflection and reason (ŠFU 1969: 122). 5

Early Ašʿarites and the Question of Intercession

Another aspect of the soteriology of early Ašʿarism is what is commonly known as al-Šafāʿa (intercession), which is the act of a prophet or an intimate friend of God (viz. a Muslim saint) pleading for forgiveness for another. Šafāʿa comes from the word šafʿ which means “even” as compared to “odd.” Hence, Šafāʿa is a type of prayer asking God for the legitimate intercession of those who are close to him e.g., the prophets, martyrs, righteous scholars, etc., and hence to be saved from eternal punishment. Given the place of hadith in the early Ašʿarite tradition, early Ašʿarites firmly believed in intercession, even though the Quran is far from clear on the subject. That is, some verses of the Quran state that no intercession will be accepted in the day of judgement, e.g., Q. 2:48.20 Other verses endorse intercession, although declaring that only God has the right to intercede in the hereafter, e.g. Q., 39:44.21 Finally, a third set of verses state that some people are entitled to intercede by permission of God, e.g., Q. 34:23.22 Thus early Ašʿarites, due to the existence of some hadiths on the subject, not only affirmed the third type of verses, but also restricted intercession to Muslims. Intercession preoccupied the Ašʿarites to the point where they discussed it thoroughly, and dedicated separate chapters of their writings to the topic. As an example, Al-Juwaynī conducts a lengthy discussion on intercession, taking his proof from a prophetic tradition in which Prophet Muhammad is reported 20 21 22

“Guard yourselves against a Day when no soul will stand in place of another, no intercession will be accepted for it, nor any ransom; nor will they be helped.” “All intercession belongs to God alone; He holds control of the heavens and the earth; in the end you will all return to Him.” “Intercession will not work with Him, except by those to whom He gives permission.”

64

chapter 2

to have said: “My intercession will be for those of my Ummah who have committed major sins.” (IIQ 2009: 304–305. Also al-Baġdādī in his Uṣūl (KUD 2002: 268–269) both replying primarily on hadith traditions. While ʿAbduh, as I shall show later, did not consider intercession a primary creedal belief, as it seems to diminish God’s mercy, wisdom and justice (apart from the Quranic verses negating it), early Ašʿarites greatly emphasized it, believing that the negative Quranic verses about intercession only apply to the sort of worldly bargaining or status-motivated intercession that would be of benefit in the present life, but not in the hereafter. Hence, they saw intercession itself as a gift of God given to Prophet Muhammad and his Ummah. Passages that negate the efficacy of intercession can thus be harmonized with those that affirm it (IIQ 2009: 304–305; KUD 2002: 268–269). 6

Conclusion and Comparison

By comparing the early church fathers’ theology of salvation with that of the Ašʿarites, this investigation has found that the former held generally positive views on the Jews and the Gentiles. This positive attitude was not limited to soteriology, but extended to epistemology. More significantly, it seems that exclusivism, although it had some proponents before Augustine, only became the majority position after Augustine’s systematization of the doctrine of original sin as well as that of predestination. By contrast, early Ašʿarite theologians seem to have had a single hadith at the centre of their theology of salvation, i.e., the hadith of the 73 denominations. This hadith gained currency across the writings of the first three generations of the school. Furthermore, it seems that what concerned the school in this period was primarily a theology of internal denominations rather than one of other religions. Hence, theologians generally concluded that only one ­Muslim denomination offered a valid path to salvation. Consequently, the early Ašʿarite theology of salvation was largely monolithic in terms of how it handled the question of salvation. By contrast, early Catholicism evaluated and responded to the phenomena of religions in two diverse ways. Namely, there were two schools (exclusivist and inclusivist) attempting to define how Christianity should relate to the non-Christian religions with which it came into contact. One other important finding is that the Ašʿarite school introduced the possibility of disconnecting soteriology from epistemology. For although they believed that their school of theology offered the only valid path to salvation, the possibility of salvation for non-Ašʿarite denominations was still maintained.

EARLY AŠʿARITE THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

65

Such a disconnection was almost entirely absent in early Catholicism, for those who separated themselves from the orthodox church were seen as heretics, even if they still identified themselves as Christian. In fact, some early Christian theologians argued the possibility of salvation for non-Christians, while denying it for schismatic Christians. For while non-Christians refuse Christian doctrine because they do not understand it, heretics and schismatics challenge the true doctrine with rival doctrines that threaten the authenticity of the faith. One other finding is that while ignorance about the message of Islam, according to early Ašʿarism, stood as a valid reason to escape the punishment of hellfire, Catholicism, especially after Augustine, did not consider ignorance an excuse. After the coming of Christ, those who do not hear about Jesus Christ are, in this view, destined for damnation. Furthermore, while in early Ašʿarism a non-Muslim was considered a kāfir outright, the terminology was more intricate in early Catholicism. That is, the equivalent term, i.e., infidel appears only twice in the Bible and not strictly in a theological context. In 1 Timothy 5:8, it is written, “But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel” (KJV). The second occurrence is in 2 Corinthians, where in 6:14–15 it is written, “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? And what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel?” (KJV). It is probably risky to argue that what is meant by “infidel” here is every non-Christian, since the first occurrence is not specific and the second refers to Belial, which is another name for Satan. However, Part 2 of this work will show how Catholicism introduced the term “infidel” to refer to all those not baptized and who do not share Catholic religious beliefs. What is more is that since early Catholicism it is the figure of Christ, to a large degree, that is at stake in terms of how Christianity should relate to the other. However, in the Ašʿarite tradition it is the scriptural text and its plausible interpretations that are the breaking points that define how Islam should relate to non-orthodox and non-Islamic religions. In the next parts this distinction will be presented more clearly. Finally, what may equate the Catholic theology of Christ’s Descent into hell in the early Ašʿarite tradition is the question of intercession. It is interesting that the two doctrines exhibit a sense of vagueness, more clearly in Catholicism, that leave theologians wondering and disagreeing on not only who is to be saved by virtue of such theologies but also how one is to be saved and how can this be reconciled with the bigger theological paradigm.

PART 2 Salvation in Mediaeval Catholicism and Mediaeval Ašʿarism

∵

Chapter 3

St. Thomas Aquinas’ Theology of Salvation Thomas Aquinas was born in 1224/25 in southern Italy between Rome and Naples. His impact on Catholic theology cannot be overstated and much of modern Western philosophy has either been a reaction for or against his thought (Davies and Stump, eds. 2012: 15). Despite the controversies around the adoption of Greek philosophy within Christian circles in that time, Aquinas boldly appropriated several ideas put forward by Aristotle—whom he called “the Philosopher”—in a bid to synthesize Aristotelian philosophy with the principles of Christianity; a process that is often called “Christianizing Aristotle” (Gelpi 2007: 75). His most important achievement, the Summa Theologiae, was written on the premise that God exists and that the Christian religion is true. The same can be said of his second major work, the Summa Contra Gentiles, excepting that it addresses primarily the question of the Gentiles. Due to the fact that “his writings grew out of his activities as a teacher in the Dominican Order and as a member of the theology faculty of the University of Paris, most are concerned with what he and his contemporaries thought of as theology” (Davies and Stump 2012: 3). However, much of his thought forms a philosophy. Aquinas has “often been treated as if he were a theologian, as opposed to a philosopher, and as a philosopher, as opposed to a theologian. But he is best described as a philosophical theologian. He assumes the truth of many theological judgments, but he often discusses them as open to public philosophical scrutiny” (Carey and Lienhard 2000: 501). Similar to many medieval theologians, Aquinas proposed his theology “with an eye not just on Scripture and the authority of Christian tradition but also on what follows from what, what is per se reasonable to believe (without recourse to Christian revelation), and what it makes sense to say in general” (Carey and Lienhard 2000: 501). Indeed, this is a feature shared with his Muslim counterpart, al-Ġazālī, as will be presented in the next chapter. Narrowing down the scope of the discussion to salvation, the famous axiom “there is no salvation outside the church” remained the official statement of the Catholic Church from Augustine’s time till the Thomistic period.1 The 1 It is worth noting that the above axiom was not without opponents across the centuries between Augustine and Aquinas. Sullivan writes: “A ninth century Saxon monk named Gottschalk, who was an avid reader of the anti-Pelagian works of St. Augustine and those of Fulgentius of Ruspe, published a work whose thesis was that since God predestined some people to eternal damnation, it could not be said that God willed the salvation of all, or © Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004461765_005

70

chapter 3

axiom was one of the affirmations in the decree Firmiter of Pope Innocent III in 1215, about which Aquinas comments: There is one universal church to the faithful, outside of which no one at all is saved. Now the unity of the church primarily depends on its unity of faith, for the church is nothing other than the congregation of the faithful. Since it is impossible to please God without faith, there can be no place of salvation other than in the church. Furthermore, the salvation of the faithful is consummated through the sacraments of the church, in which the power of Christ’s passion is operative. (Sullivan 1992: 47) 1

Aquinas’ Epistemology of Salvation

Aquinas does not ground his theology only in Scripture and the authority of the Christian tradition, but also in what is reasonably believable, which gives his thought a synthetic quality. Although this synthesis may initially seem contradictory, Aquinas’ original contribution to the Catholic theology of salvation lies in how he reconciles these seemingly incompatible elements. Thus while Aquinas likens the Catholic church’s role in salvation to the ark of Noah, saying, “No one ought to despise the church or allow himself to be cast out and expelled from her, because there is only one church in which men are saved, just as no one could be saved who was outside the ark of Noah” (Sullivan

that Christ had suffered for the redemption of all. Hincmar, archbishop of Reims, in whose diocese Gottschalk’s monastery was located, summoned a local council at Quiercy-sur-Oise in the year 849, at which Gottschalk’s doctrine was condemned. However, to some of Hincmar’s contemporaries it seemed that to condemn Gottschalk was to question the authority of St. Augustine himself. To justify the sentence against Gottschalk, Hincmar wrote his Treatise on Predestination and Free Will, in defence of the universality of God’s salvific will, and summoned a second council to decide the matter. This council, held at Quiercy in 853, declared the following propositions to express the true Catholic doctrine: – Almighty God wills the salvation of all without exception, even though not all are saved. The fact that some are saved is the gift of the saviour; the fact that some perish is their own just deserts. – Just as there is, has been, and will be no man whose nature was not assumed by Christ Jesus our Lord, so also there is, has been, and will be no man for whom He did not suffer, even though not all are redeemed by the mystery of his passion. – The fact that not all are redeemed by the mystery of his passion does not have to do with the greatness or abundance of the price paid, but with the part of the unbelievers, and those who do not believe with that faith “which works through love” (Sullivan 1992: 44–45).

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS’ THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

71

1992: 48), he believes concurrently in the universal salvific will of God.2 In the following pages, I show how Aquinas’ theology of salvation moved Catholicism from a “heavy” exclusivism to a lighter version. To elaborate, Aquinas bases his epistemology of salvation on two key foundations. First, faith in Jesus Christ; and second, participation in the sacraments of the Catholic church, which are regarded as indispensable means of salvation.3 Taking these two bases at face value would place Aquinas in the exclusivist camp. In question 68 in the third part of the Summa, where Aquinas asks: “whether all are bound to receive baptism?”, he replies in the following manner: Objection 1. It seems that not all are bound to receive Baptism. For Christ did not narrow man’s road to salvation. But before Christ’s coming men could be saved without Baptism: therefore, also after Christ’s coming. Objection 2. Further, Baptism seems to have been instituted principally as a remedy for original sin. Now, since a man who is baptized is without original sin, it seems that he cannot transmit it to his children. Therefore, it seems that the children of those who have been baptized, should not themselves be baptized. Objection 3. Further, Baptism is given in order that a man may, through grace, be cleansed from sin. But those who are sanctified in the womb, obtain this without Baptism. Therefore, they are not bound to receive Baptism. I answer that, Men are bound to that without which they cannot obtain salvation. Now it is manifest that no one can obtain salvation but through Christ; wherefore the Apostle says (Rom. 5:18): “As by the offense of one unto all men unto condemnation; so also, by the justice of one, unto all men unto justification of life.” But for this end is Baptism conferred on a man, that being regenerated thereby, he may be incorporated in Christ, 2 “Since the ability to impede or not to impede the reception of divine grace is within the scope of free choice, not undeservedly is responsibility for the fault imputed to him who offers an impediment to the reception of grace. In fact, as far as He is concerned, God is ready to give grace to all, indeed ‘He wills all men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of the truth’ as is said in 1 Timothy. But those alone are deprived of grace who offer an obstacle within themselves to grace, just as, while the sun is shining on the world, the man who keeps his eyes closed is held responsible for his fault, if, as a result, some harm follows, even though he would not be able to see unless he were provided in advance with light from the sun” (CG 3:159; Sullivan 1992: 52, emphasis is mine). 3 The Catholic church recognizes seven sacraments: Baptism, Reconciliation (Penance or Confession), Eucharist (or Holy Communion), Confirmation, Marriage (Matrimony), Holy Orders, and Anointing of the Sick (Extreme Unction) (Melton and Baumann 2010: 2137).

72

chapter 3

by becoming His member: wherefore it is written (Gal. 3:27): “As many of you as have been baptized in Christ, have put on Christ.” Consequently, it is manifest that all are bound to be baptized: and that without Baptism there is no salvation for men. (ST III, Q. 68, A. 1) Although the above quotation has faith in Christ and baptism as conditions for salvation, he shortly offers a somewhat different answer, when he grapples with the question of: whether a man can be saved without baptism, stating: I answer that, the sacrament or Baptism may be wanting to someone in two ways. First, both in reality and in desire; as is the case with those who neither are baptized, nor wished to be baptized: which clearly indicates contempt of the sacrament, in regard to those who have the use of the free-will. Consequently, those to whom Baptism is wanting thus, cannot obtain salvation: since neither sacramentally nor mentally are they incorporated in Christ, through Whom alone can salvation be obtained. Secondly, the sacrament of Baptism may be wanting to anyone in reality but not in desire: for instance, when a man wishes to be baptized, but by some ill-chance he is forestalled by death before receiving Baptism. And such a man can obtain salvation without being actually baptized, on account of his desire for Baptism, which desire is the outcome of “faith that worketh by charity,” whereby God, Whose power is not tied to visible sacraments, sanctifies man inwardly. (ST III, Q. 68, A. 2) Reconciling the two answers above, Aquinas introduces his original distinction between implicit and explicit faith in Christ. To explain: although Aquinas saw faith in Jesus Christ as an indispensable means to salvation, he believed that this faith can be implicit as well as explicit. By implicit faith in Christ, Aquinas means faith in Christ, the mediator of God’s grace, can be implicitly present in a person’s faith in God, the Father. Aquinas thought this applies not only to faith in Christ, but so too all articles of faith. He draws on Hebrew 11:6, which says: “Whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he is the rewarder of those who seek him.” Hence, since Christ is the mediator of God’s plan of salvation, faith in God as one who rewards, by implication encompasses faith in Christ (Sullivan 1992: 49). However, such implicit faith is only acceptable in two cases. First, in the case of Gentiles who lived before the coming of Christ, for “If, however, some were saved without receiving any revelation, they were not saved without faith in a Mediator, for, though they did not believe in Him explicitly, they did,

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS’ THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

73

nevertheless, have implicit faith through believing in Divine providence, since they believed that God would deliver mankind in whatever way was pleasing to Him,” (ST II-II, Q. 2, A. 7, ad 3). Second, for those who live after the coming of Christ and do not have a chance to hear the Gospel preached, Aquinas gives the example of Cornelius,4 writing: “With regard, however, to Cornelius, it is to be observed that he was not an unbeliever, else his works would not have been acceptable to God, whom none can please without faith. Now he had implicit faith, as the truth of the Gospel was not yet made manifest: hence Peter was sent to him to give him fuller instruction in the faith.” (ST II-II, Q. 10, A. 4, ad 3). In De Veritate, Aquinas puts it this way: If anyone were brought up in the wilderness or among brute animals, provided that he followed his natural reason in seeking the good and avoiding evil, we must most certainly hold that God would either reveal to him, by an inner inspiration, what must be believed, or would send a preacher to him, as he sent Peter to Cornelius. (Sullivan 1992: 53) As a corollary, Aquinas needs to deal with a logical question about what makes baptism necessary if having implicit faith is sufficient? Aquinas replies: “A person receives the forgiveness of sins before Baptism in so far as he has Baptism of desire, explicitly or implicitly; and yet when he actually receives Baptism, he receives a fuller remission” (Sullivan 1992: 59). Nevertheless, it is worth mentioning that late in his career the mature Aquinas seems more Augustinian in his views. Namely, the excuses he provides non-hearers of the Gospel mentioned above are challenged, or even changed. It is worth quoting the question of the non-hearers and the answer at length: Objection 3. Further, the good of faith consists in obedience, according to Rm. 1:5: “For obedience to the faith in all nations.” Now the virtue of obedience does not require man to keep certain fixed precepts, but it is enough that his mind be ready to obey, according to Ps. 118:60: “I am ready and am not troubled; that I may keep Thy commandments.” Therefore, it seems enough for faith, too, that man should be ready to believe whatever God may propose, without his believing anything explicitly. On the contrary, it 4 Cornelius the Centurion was a Roman pagan who received the Holy Spirit while listening to the preaching of Peter the Apostle and then sent for Peter to baptize his entire family. He was the first known Gentile convert to Christianity, and the baptism of his household points to the first century use of infant baptism (see Dunn 2009: 441–446).

74

chapter 3

is written (Heb. 11:6): “He that cometh to God, must believe that He is, and is a rewarder to them that seek Him.” (ST II-II, Q. 2, A. 5) Aquinas then replies: If we understand those things alone to be in a man’s power, which we can do without the help of grace, then we are bound to do many things which we cannot do without the aid of healing grace, such as to love God and our neighbour, and likewise to believe the articles of faith. But with the help of grace we can do this, for this help “to whomsoever it is given from above it is mercifully given; and from whom it is withheld it is justly withheld, as a punishment of a previous, or at least of original, sin,”5 as Augustine states. (ST II-II, Q. 2, A. 5) The phrase “things alone to be in a man’s power” has led to controversies on whether Aquinas, when writing the Summa, may no longer have been assertive that God would send a preacher to provide such a man who was doing what is in his power. J. de Guibert suggested that Aquinas became Augustinian in the course of his life due to his realization that not only the rare (child brought up in the desert), but whole peoples still had never heard the Gospel preached. Hence, the solution offered was to say that their ignorance of the Gospel could be regarded as a punishment for sin, at least original sin. Nevertheless, other Thomistic scholars have opposed this interpretation, observing that in his Commentary on Romans, which was written in the same period of the Summa, Aquinas still offered the more sanguine solution, which illustrates that he continued to sustain his view of the universality of God’s salvific will (Sullivan 1992: 54–55). In line with the positivist interpretation of Aquinas, although the dominant thinking in mediaeval Catholicism was that the Gospel had reached every nook and cranny of the earth and that no one could any longer be excused on the basis of ignorance, it appears that Aquinas did not subscribe to this view. In his commentary on Psalm 48, he writes: “Faith in Christ flourishes principally among the people of the West, because in the northern regions there are 5 Sullivan comments on this statement, saying: “The idea that God could justly deny necessary grace as a punishment for personal sin is merely the reverse of the axiom that God does not deny grace to one who does what is in his power to do. But that God could justly deny necessary grace as a punishment for original sin alone is quite a different idea, which Thomas derived from one of St. Augustine’s anti-Pelagian works, with which he became more acquainted in the course of his career” (Sullivan 1992: 54).

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS’ THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

75

still many Gentiles, and in the eastern lands there are many schismatics and infidels” (Sullivan 1992: 55). Here, Aquinas makes an important distinction between the renown of Jesus, spread literally everywhere, and that of the Gospel, arguing that the Gospel has not yet reached every place on earth, and even if it has reached every nation, it has not necessarily reached every individual (Sullivan 1992: 55–56). While the above may seem to have positive implications for Jews and Muslims, Aquinas points out that they are guilty of sinful unbelief. He sees this as particularly true of Muslims, for they have heard enough to accept Christ. This is because, Aquinas argues, “Unbelief may be taken in two ways: first, by way of pure negation, so that a man be called an unbeliever, merely because he has not the faith. Secondly, unbelief may be taken by way of opposition to the faith; in which sense a man refuses to hear the faith or despises it” (ST II-II, Q. 10, A. 1). Hence, Muslims and the Jews are considered to take the second way. Nevertheless, Aquinas argues that ignorance does have a role in minimizing the gravity of the sin of unbelief. The article in the Summa reads: Unbelief includes both ignorance, as an accessory thereto, and resistance to matters of faith, and in the latter respect it is a most grave sin. In respect, however, of this ignorance, it has a certain reason for excuse, especially when a man sins not from malice, as was the case with the Apostle.… An unbeliever is more severely punished for his sin of unbelief than another sinner is for any sin whatever, if we consider the kind of sin. But in the case of another sin, e.g. adultery, committed by a believer, and by an unbeliever, the believer, other things being equal, sins more gravely than the unbeliever, both on account of his knowledge of the truth through faith, and on account of the sacraments of faith with which he has been satiated, and which he insults by committing sin. (ST II-II, Q. 10, A. 3) From the above quotation it can be intimated that, for Aquinas, the gravest sin of all is not that of the Muslims or Jews, as might be expected, but that of the schismatics and heretics, for they have already been exposed to the real message of Christ, yet still pursue schism. Be it as it may, in the Summa, Aquinas addresses heretics, Jews, and Muslims as unbelievers. Consistent with the severe Catholic treatment of heresies and schism, it is not surprising to find Aquinas taking that line. Considering if unbelievers should be compelled to faith, Aquinas writes: “Among unbelievers there are some who have never received the faith, such as the heathens and the

76

chapter 3

Jews: and these are by no means to be compelled to the faith, in order that they may believe, because to believe depends on the will” (ST II-II, Q. 10, A. 8). As for the heretics, apostates, and schematics, Aquinas writes that they are to be categorized as “unbelievers” also. Such people should even be subject to bodily compulsion that they may retain the faith and grace they once received: With regard to heretics two points must be observed: one, on their own side; the other, on the side of the Church. On their own side there is the sin, whereby they deserve not only to be separated from the Church by excommunication, but also to be severed from the world by death. For it is a much graver matter to corrupt the faith which quickens the soul, than to forge money, which supports temporal life. Wherefore if forgers of money and other evil-doers are forthwith condemned to death by the secular authority, much more reason is there for heretics, as soon as they are convicted of heresy, to be not only excommunicated but even put to death. On the part of the Church, however, there is mercy which looks to the conversion of the wanderer, wherefore she condemns not at once, but “after the first and second admonition,” as the Apostle directs: after that, if he is yet stubborn, the Church no longer hoping for his conversion, looks to the salvation of others, by excommunicating him and separating him from the Church, and furthermore delivers him to the secular tribunal to be exterminated thereby from the world by death. For Jerome commenting on Gal. 5:9, “A little leaven,” says: “Cut off the decayed flesh, expel the mangy sheep from the fold, lest the whole house, the whole paste, the whole body, the whole flock, burn, perish, rot, die.” Arius was but one spark in Alexandria, but as that spark was not at once put out, the whole earth was laid waste by its flame. (ST II-II, Q. 11, A. 3) 2

Aquinas’ Soteriology

In two of his early works, the Commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard and the sixth Disputed Questions on Truth, both dating to the period 1252 to 1257, the young Aquinas treats soteriology through his interpretation of 1 Timothy 2.4, i.e., “God wills that all humans should be saved.” Making use of John Damascene’s distinction between God’s precedent and consequent will, Aquinas points out that whereas “God wills antecedently in a unimodal way that all humans should be saved, He wills consequently in a bimodal way based on foreknown merits.” However, “foreknown merits are not a cause of

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS’ THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

77

predestination itself, they are a cause of glory, one of predestination’s temporal effects.” This is because Aquinas believes that to read 1 Timothy 2.4 as “God has done eternally—namely, predestine or save every individual human—would undermine the freedom of the human will that is necessary in order to attain to beatitude” (Harkins 2014: 208). The mature Aquinas’ soteriology appears in his answer to a question about Trajan (d. 117), a pagan but virtuous and just emperor.6 In his Commentary on the Sentences, Aquinas argues that the controversy over the fate of Trajan goes back to misclassifying him as destined to damnation in God’s foreknowledge, hence consigning him to hell. What Aquinas offers is a re-classification of Trajan’s case, contending that he was initially destined for salvation not eternal damnation; hence Gregory’s prayers can resuscitate him. Aquinas takes this further, arguing Trajan is not unique, but one case in an entire cohort of souls not destined for eternal damnation. However, he does not provide any explanation of the basis upon which this misclassification took place. What he provides are two versions of Trajan’s story. The first is resuscitating him in such a way he will become Christian. The second is direct translation to heaven without resuscitation. Opting for the resuscitation option, Aquinas also rejects the idea that the prayers of living Christians can mitigate the suffering of the punished. Such resuscitation can only happen if Trajan is not preordained for damnation, and because he is not so preordained, Gregory’s prayers can benefit him (see Caferro and Fisher eds. 1996: 67–80). In his interpretation of Jesus’ descent into hell, Aquinas appears to hold the traditional view, i.e., that doing one’s best opens the way to whatever is necessary for salvation. However, this indispensable minimum requirement is not to be equated with explicit faith in Christ, which ensures ultimate salvation (Vitto 1989: 26–27). Aquinas immerses himself in an interesting question: Did he [ Jesus] deliver the lost from hell? It is worth quoting the objections and his responses at length: Objection 1. It would seem that Christ did deliver some of the lost from hell, because it is written (Is. 24:22): “And they shall be gathered together as in the gathering of one bundle into the pit, and they shall be shut up there in prison: and after many days they shall be visited.” But there he is speaking of the lost, who had adored the host of heaven, according to Jerome’s commentary. Consequently, it seems that even the lost were visited at Christ’s descent into hell; and this seems to imply their deliverance. 6 For a survey of scholastic theologians’ treatment of Trajan’s case and the views on his salvation, see Caferro and Fisher eds. 1996: 25–92; Vitto 1989: ch. 3; Grady 2005.

78

chapter 3

Objection 2. Further, on Zach. 9:11: “Thou also by the blood of Thy testament hast sent forth Thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water,” the gloss observes: “Thou hast delivered them who were held bound in prisons, where no mercy refreshed them, which that rich man prayed for.” But only the lost are shut up in merciless prisons. Therefore, Christ did deliver some from the hell of the lost. Objection 3. Further, Christ’s power was not less in hell than in this world, because He worked in every place by the power of His Godhead. But in this world, He delivered some persons of every state. Therefore, in hell also, He delivered some from the state of the lost. On the contrary, it is written (Osee 13:14): O death, I will be thy death; O hell, I will be thy bite”: upon which the gloss says: “By leading forth the elect and leaving there the reprobate.” But only the reprobate are in the hell of the lost. Therefore, by Christ’s descent into hell none were delivered from the hell of the lost. I answer that, as stated above (Article 5), when Christ descended into hell He worked by the power of His Passion. Consequently, His descent into hell brought the fruits of deliverance to them only who were united to His Passion through faith quickened by charity, whereby sins are taken away. Now those detained in the hell of the lost either had no faith in Christ’s Passion, as infidels; or if they had faith, they had no conformity with the charity of the suffering Christ: hence they could not be cleansed from their sins. And on this account Christ’s descent into hell brought them no deliverance from the debt of punishment in hell. Reply to Objection 1. When Christ descended into hell, all who were in any part of hell were visited in some respect: some to their consolation and deliverance, others, namely, the lost, to their shame and confusion. Accordingly, the passage continues: “And the moon shall blush, and the sun be put to shame,” etc. This can also be referred to the visitation which will come upon them in the Day of Judgment, not for their deliverance, but for their yet greater confusion, according to Sophon i, 12: “I will visit upon the men that are settled on their lees.” Reply to Objection 2. When the gloss says, “where no mercy refreshed them,” this is to be understood of the refreshing of full deliverance, because the holy Fathers could not be delivered from this prison of hell before Christ’s coming. Reply to Objection 3. It was not due to any lack of power on Christ’s part that some were not delivered from every state in hell, as out of every state among men in this world; but it was owing to the very different condition of each state. For, so long as men live here below, they can be converted

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS’ THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

79

to faith and charity, because in this life men are not confirmed either in good or in evil, as they are after quitting this life. (ST III, Q. 52, A. 6) To conclude, it is probably because he saw human beings as essentially rational and able to distinguish right from wrong that Aquinas’ view became more appealing and authoritative in the church with the emergence of Reformation and humanist thinking. Aquinas believed human beings, although needing guidance from the church, could follow a course to salvation. On the whole, he was optimistic about humanity, whereas Augustine was the opposite, claiming that human beings were originally corrupt and fallible; a viewpoint that possibly harks back to his original Manichaean beliefs. Hence, in 1545, the Council of Trent7 went out of its way to reject Augustinianism because it was too close to “Protestant belief,” i.e., Augustine’s teachings on salvation and divine grace encouraged Protestants to regard him as one of the fathers of the Reformation (Gonzales 1970–1975: vol. 2). Conversely, in medieval Catholicism, “Aquinas was named as the authoritative exponent of orthodox theology, and his Summa theologica was placed on an altar only below the Bible and the Decretals” (Durant 1957: 929). 3

Thomistic Influence on Later Theologians

Before Columbus’ discovery of America in 1492, the horizons of medieval Catholicism were, to a large degree, confined by the practical limitations of their geographical worldview. Hence, they plausibly believed that anyone who was not a Christian knew enough about Christianity to be culpable in having refused it.8 The Thomistic position on the necessity of faith in Christ was thus confirmed by later theologians. With the discovery of America, the

7 The Council of Trent was held between 1545 and 1563 in northern Italy. It was the nineteenth ecumenical council of the Catholic church. Originally sparked by the Protestant Reformation and the emergence of humanist thinking, it has been regarded as the Counter-Reformation. The Council issued some condemnations and clarifications of what it defined as the heresies of the Reformation. It met for twenty-five sessions between 13 December 1545 and 4 December 1563. More than three hundred years passed before the next ecumenical council, the First Vatican Council, which was convened in 1869 (Kelly 2009: 126–148). 8 Two well-known documents of the mediaeval Catholic church reflect that trend. The first is the bull Unam sanctam of Pope Boniface VIII in 1302, and the second is the Decree for the Jacobites of the Council of Florence in 1442, only 50 years before Columbus’ discovery of America (Sullivan 1992: 63–69).

80

chapter 3

Catholic worldview was drastically challenged, revisited and at times altered.9 The discovery revealed that the world was not co-extensive with Christendom as traditionally believed. New questions arose to challenge the mediaeval assumptions. Sullivan puts it this way: Now Christian thinkers had to ask themselves: How can we continue to judge all pagans guilty of sinful unbelief, when we know that countless people have been living without the knowledge of the Gospel, through no fault of their own? And how can we reconcile our belief in the universality of God’s salvific will with the fact that he apparently has left all those people without any possibility of becoming members of the church, outside of which they could not be saved? (Sullivan 1992: 69) Although faithful to the Thomistic teachings on salvation, three renowned post-Thomistic theologians, Francisco de Vitoria (d. 1546),10 Melchoir Cano (d. 1560),11 and Domingo de Soto (d. 1560);12 are known to have wrestled with these questions, as indeed did most post-Thomistic theologians. What concerned de Vitoria, firstly, was not the correctness of the Thomistic position, but questions about why the natives of the newly discovered America should not be blamed for their infidelity. He argued that the egregious and flagrant behaviour of the Spanish colonizers was the real hindrance to the natives seeing the truth of Christ, for the colonizers not only waged war on them but also took them as slaves (­Sullivan 1992: 70–73). What concerned Cano and de Soto 9 10

11

12

The first European nation to grapple with these questions was Spain, as it was the first to establish colonies in America. An example is found in the works of the Dominican theologians of the University of Salamanca (Sullivan 1992: 69). Francisco de Vitoria (c. 1483–1546) was a Spanish Roman Catholic philosopher and theologian. He was the originator of the tradition in philosophy known as the School of Salamanca, and is especially remembered for his contribution to the theory of just war and international law, gaining him the title of Father of International Law (see Pagden and Lawrance 1991: xvi). Cano was a Spanish scholastic theologian. Having joined the Dominican Order in Salamanca, he succeeded de Vitoria to the theological chair of the university in 1546. He has been called “the father of theological method in the post-Reformation Catholic tradition. His most important work, De locis theologicis (published posthumously in Salamanca, 1563), was frequently republished throughout Europe during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and had a significant and long-lasting impact on post-Tridentine Catholic theology (particularly upon the theological manual tradition, which lasted well into the twentieth century)” (Carey and Lienhard 2000: 115). Domingo de Soto was another Scholastic theologian. He had a crucial role in the consolidation of the Thomistic School of Salamanca, alongside Cano and Vitoria (Herbermann 1913: s.v. Dominic Soto).

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS’ THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

81

was lack of evidence that the Gospel had reached the New World, and hence the conclusion was either no one in the New World had done “what he could to keep the natural law, or that the mediaeval theory that God would provide a preacher to such a person was not really valid” (Sullivan 1992: 73). Although Cano and de Soto resorted to the Thomistic theory of sufficiency (what suffices for justification is implicit faith), de Soto thought that drawing on the theory of implicit faith is unsatisfactory, as it involves the implausible hypothesis that “once a person had reached justification, God would have to provide the means by which that person could come to explicit faith in Christ before he died.” De Soto’s solution is thus to transfer the implicit-faith theory that Aquinas applied to the Gentiles who lived before Christ, to those who had not heard the Gospel preached in the New World. Overall, what the three theologians have in common is a belief in God’s universal salvific will; a will that would “leave no one who was doing what lay in his power without the means necessary for salvation” (Sullivan 1992: 76). However, not all contemporary theologians shared the above outlook. In response to the Protestant reformer, John Calvin (d. 1564), who argued that if some people are not given the chance to hear the Gospel it means God has predestined them to perpetual damnation (Calvin III, 24, 12, 1962: 2.251), the Dutch Roman Catholic theologian Albert Pigge (d. 1542)13 advanced an unprecedented thesis. Pigge maintains that as “divine providence fixes different times for the promulgation of the Gospel to different groups of people, it also provides the necessary means for their salvation according to the situation in which people find themselves” (Sullivan 1992: 78). Here Pigge draws on the story of the Gentile Cornelius, who was already doing that which was pleasing to God, although the Gospel had not yet reached the Gentiles. So, for Pigge, believing that God exists and that he is the rewarder of those who seek Him, is what is necessary and sufficient for salvation.14 While Aquinas draws on the same story, Pigge’s use is different, in that for Aquinas, what saves Cornelius is not basic belief in God, but rather his implicit faith in Christ, which is confirmed when he hears the Gospel message from Peter (Sullivan 1992: 78–79).

13 14

Pigge was a theologian and humanist who, by virtue of his writings, became an adviser to papal nuncios, and through his participation in religious dialogues, contributed much to Catholic theology in the sixteenth century. (Herbermann 1913, s.v. Pigge, Albert). In his De libero hominis arbitrio, Pigge writes: “The Apostle says, (Whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him). There are many who believe these things about God, even though they are totally ignorant of the Christian faith; thus, did Cornelius believe, and was pleasing to God for his faith, before he was taught about Christ” (Sullivan 1992: 79).

82

chapter 3

Pigge realized that his view would put him in conflict with the church, for it leads of necessity to the more critical question: Do Muslims classify under this category of basic belief in God? He discusses the question boldly, however, and it is worth quoting him at length: One cannot doubt that in so great a multitude of those who follow the doctrine of Mohammed, being imbued with this by their parents from infancy, there are some who know and revere God, as the cause of all things, and the rewarder of the good and the wicked, and who commend to him their salvation, which they hope from him, and they keep the law of nature written in their hearts, and they submit their wills to the divine will. What is to be thought about such people? Are they to be seen in the same situation that Cornelius was in before he was instructed in the Christian faith? If you say that by now the Gospel of Christ has been sufficiently promulgated in the whole world, so that ignorance can no longer excuse anyone—reality itself refutes you, because every day now numberless nations are being discovered among whom, or among their forefathers, no trace is found of the Gospel ever having been preached, so that to all those people up to our time Christ was simply unheard of…. Now if the ignorance of the Christian faith did not prevent Cornelius, even without baptism, from being pleasing to God in Christ, how much less will the much more invincible ignorance of these people prevent them from being able to please God in Christ. I grant that the Moslems have heard the name of Christians. But they have been so educated that they think that our faith is false and mistaken, while the faith in which they have been educated is the true faith, and they believe that God commands them to hold that faith. For it is thus that they have been instructed by their parents and elders, to whom natural reason prescribes that the young and simple be submissive, unless or until divine illumination teaches them otherwise. And so, they feel it would be wrong, indeed, that they would be damned if they doubted, for they believe as they were taught in order to please God and to avoid damnation. They do not know anything about divine revelation; they have not seen signs or miracles that would prove their religion false, nor have they heard of them in such a way that they would be truly obliged to believe those who told them of such things…. Therefore, erroneous faith does not condemn, provided the error has a reasonable excuse and that they are invincibly ignorant of the true faith. (Sullivan 1992: 80–81) Understandably, Pigge’s take on salvation was considered heretical, with his book blacklisted (Ibranyi 2004: 10–11). He was too radical for his time. Sullivan

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS’ THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

83

writes, “as far as I know, no Christian had drawn before him: that Moslems, too, could be inculpably ignorant of the truth of the Christian religion, and could find salvation through their sincere faith in God.” Sullivan continues, it is “a striking coincidence that this work of the Catholic theologian, Albert Pigge, was published exactly one hundred years after the Council of Florence declared that Catholics must believe that anyone who died outside the Catholic Church would inevitably be damned to the eternal fires of hell” (Sullivan 1992: 81). Another revolutionary theologian was Juan De Lugo (d. 1660),15 who offered a view that can be seen as a forerunner of the modern Catholic theology of religions. Of those who have not heard the Gospel, he gives the same judgment as the theologians mentioned above, i.e., “they would receive the grace with which they could observe the natural law; and if they kept this, they would be enlightened so that they could arrive at faith in God, and with this they could have the implicit desire for Christian faith, baptism and membership in the church that would suffice for their salvation” (Sullivan 1992: 94). Yet, this is not the revolutionary aspect of De Lugo’s thinking—that is found in his application of this solution to heretics, Jews and Muslims. In De Lugo’s words: if any Turks and Moslems were invincibly in error about Christ and his divinity, there is no reason why they could not have a true supernatural faith about God as the supernatural rewarder, since their belief about God is not based on arguments drawn from natural creation, but they have this belief from tradition, and this tradition derives from the church of the faithful, and has come down to them, even though it is mixed up with errors in their sect. Since they have relatively sufficient motives for belief with regard to the true doctrines, one does not see why they could not have a supernatural faith about them, provided that in other respects they are not guilty of sinning against the faith. Consequently, with the faith that they have, they can arrive at an act of perfect contrition. (­Sullivan 1992: 95) In fact, De Lugo is reluctant to using the category of “non-Christians,” arbitrarily, for the non-Christian is a Christian in a certain sense. He says: “such a person [non-Christian] should not be called a non-Christian, because, even 15

John De Lugo was an eminent Spanish Jesuit and cardinal. He was born in 1583 in Madrid and entered the Society of Jesus against the wishes of his father. After his ordination, he taught philosophy and theology in various Jesuit houses of study and was appointed to teach theology at Valladolid. His renown as a theologian spread quickly within the society, and in 1621 or 1622 the general brought him to Rome where he taught theology for the next 20 years (Herbermann 1913, s.v. Lugo, Juan De).

84

chapter 3

though he has not been visibly joined to the church, still, interiorly he has the virtue of habitual and actual faith in common with the church, and in the sight of God he will be reckoned with the Christians” (Sullivan 1992: 96). Not surprisingly, De Lugo’s position was never accepted and was regarded as a deviation from the Catholic tradition, which maintained that “all pagans, Jews, heretics, and schismatics who died outside the Catholic Church would inevitably be damned to hell. St. Thomas and the whole medieval tradition had taught that there was no salvation for anyone in the Christian era without explicit faith in Christ” (Sullivan 1992: 97–98). Furthermore, various theologians reiterated and accepted the Thomistic distinction between explicit and implicit faith in Christ with the limitations discussed earlier, most notably Francis Xavier (d. 1552),16 Francisco Suarez (d. 1619),17 and Robert Bellarmine (d. 1621).18 Whilst these theologians deepened the discussion on the question, they did not move beyond the Thomistic position. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries there were further developments that should not go unremarked. A degree of openness to new knowledge could be seen in the Catholic church, even though such openness required a re-examination of traditional ideas. This trend represents an attempt to respond to the humanist and reformist thinking that was on the rise (O’Malley 2000; Wright 2005; Luebke 1999). In this context, the idea of “minimal requirements” emerged.19 D’Costa writes that toward the end of the nineteenth century “Catholic theologians began to develop this minimal requirement in the 16

17

18

19

Francis Xavier was born in today’s Spain and was a Catholic missionary and co-founder of the Society of Jesus. He studied law and theology at the University of Salamanca. In the 1450s, he studied in Rome under Italian humanists, where he was introduced to humanism, and became, though deeply conservative, the founder of the humanist University of Alcahi (1508). “He was not a theologian himself. Ironically, he fostered a broader range of scholastic theology in Spain and encouraged humanism at the same time that he was strengthening the Inquisition” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 545). Suarez is perhaps the most acclaimed scholastic theologian of the late Renaissance. His manuals served as Descartes’ philosophy teacher; Leibniz claimed he read his Disputationes “as easily as one reads a novel. ... Early modern political thought also bears the marks of Suarez’s legal analysis” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 483–484). Bellarmine was an Italian Jesuit and a cardinal of the Catholic church. He was canonized in 1930 and named a Doctor of the Church, one of only 36. He was one of the most important figures in the Counter-Reformation. According to the Biographical Dictionary of Christian Theologians, “His theological lectures at Louvain had immersed him in the study of Protestant theologians. This study also undergirded his lectures at Rome. Later published and known as Bellarmine’s Controversies, … their three volumes (1586, 1588, and 1593) became the most important Catholic answer to Protestant theologians in the sixteenth century” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 64–65). For further elaboration of the idea of minimum requirements, see Lombardi (1956).

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS’ THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

85

light of non-theistic religions that had impressive moral codes and developed ascetical and spiritual practices to allow for the concept of “implicit theism” (Lombardi 1956, 54–65). The rise of secularism also required a reconsideration” (D’Costa 2009: 163). As I shall show in relation to the modern phase of Catholicism, Rahner, for example, took a step further, classically contended that “the inner telos of every genuinely good and charitable act is oriented toward and presupposes God, regardless of whether the person is a theist (1969). In this way, good works dependent on grace became the minimal requirement for salvation in the absence of evangelization” (D’Costa 2009: 163). Such notions met severe opposition from the more conservative circles in the church (­Sullivan 1992: 98–99). However, before I explore Catholicism’s modern phase, I first consider Aquinas’ counterpart in the Ašʿarite tradition: al-Ġazālī.

Chapter 4

Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī’s Theology of Salvation (Sunnah-Based Theology) Compared to earlier Ašʿarite views, it no longer assumes that a ­Muslim’s faith and belief consist in accepting the truthfulness of God (taṣdīq Allāh), rather al-Ghazālī teaches that Muslim faith means accepting the truthfulness of the Prophet Muḥammad (taṣdīq al-rasūl) in everything that is reliably reported of him. This blurs the line between the Qurʾan and the ḥadīth corpus— al-Ghazālī regards both as revelation—and it shifts the burden of proof from the realm of the divine to the truthfulness of a person. griffel 2009: 106

∵ Al-Ġazālī was born around 450/1056 in northeast Iran, studied in various cities in his pursuit of knowledge, and finally settled in Nishāpūr,1 where he was trained at the hands of the celebrated Imām al-Ḥaramayn al-Juwaynī. He then “quickly worked his way through the madrasa system and was given an endowed chair in 1091/484 at the legendary Niẓāmiyya college in Baghdad” (Khalil 2012: 26). Around 1095, al-Ġazālī underwent a spiritual crisis, which led him to depart his glamorous life and prestigious career in Baghdad, wander in Muslim lands, and seclude himself from a life that he believed had filled him with arrogance, pride and attachment to the world. Out of this crisis of faith, al-Ġazālī came to realize that “in his current state, he was destined for damnation” (Khalil 2012: 26) and so he reassessed his intentions and set out on his 1 It is worth stating the difference between hadith and Sunnah. While hadith is an oral communication that is purportedly derived from the Prophet or his teachings, the Sunnah is the mode of practice that signifies the prevailing customs of the Prophet. This, by definition, means that a practice contained within the hadith may well be regarded as Sunnah, but it is not necessary that a Sunnah will have a supporting hadith sanctioning it. In other words, hadith is “the story of a particular occurrence,” whereas Sunnah is “the rule of law deduced from it. It is the practice of the Prophet, his model behaviour” (Adamec 2017: 153).

© Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004461765_006

ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-ĠAZĀLĪ’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

87

life-changing journey. After ten years spent mostly in the cities of Damascus, Jerusalem, Mecca and Medina, al-Ġazālī decided “to return to academic life, and he eventually became a lecturer at the Niẓāmiyya college in Nishapur; following his retirement, he completed the circle of his life when he moved to Ṭābarān, the very town in which he was born” (Khalil 2012: 26). Al-Ġazālī wrote extensively on many theological as well as philosophical subjects. One of the topics that occupied his thinking was salvation. His contribution to this discussion is ground-breaking, for with him the focus shifted from a hadith-based theology to a Sunnah-based theology. That is, instead of the excessive reliance on one individual hadith to formulate the Ašʿarite worldview of salvation and eschatology, he redefined the oft-quoted hadith of the 73-scheme and read it as a brick in a framework, rather than being framework in itself. This shift carried with it new hermeneutical codes of interpretation that permitted a space for a multiplicity of orthodoxies within the domain of Sunnite theology. Prior to al-Ġazālī, there were robust debates about what and who defines orthodoxy. The question of orthodoxy relates to two major spheres: Islamic law and Islamic theology. While the theory of Islamic law, as proposed by al-Šāfiʿī (d. 204/820), allows for epistemic probability, which in turn permits a multiplicity of orthodoxies, Islamic theology had almost no such theory. This task remained unfulfilled until al-Ġazālī’s canon of interpretation was introduced and popularized. In other words, there was arguably no space for probability in the context of theology. Each group believed its theological principles reflected the one and only way that leads to salvation, generally taking their proof from the hadith of the One-firqah quoted earlier. Hence, what al-Ġazālī does is deconstruct the 73-scheme and take a generic approach to the Sunnah;2 an approach that opens the door to a multiplicity of truths in Islamic theology, which means, inter alia, doors are opened onto diverse internal salvific paths. However, there are conflicting interpretations of al-Ġazālī’s theology of salvation today. While scholars such as Mohammad H. Khalil think of al-Ġazālī as an inclusivist (Khalil 2012: 26–54), Tim Winter, Yasir Qadhi, among others, see 2 Al-Šāfiʿī is the founder of the Šafiʿite school of law. He was born in Gaza and buried in Cairo. He was arguably “the first to formulate the classical theory of the bases of Islamic law. … Al-Shafiʿi spent his childhood in Mecca, and at the age of seven he was able to recite the Koran by heart. He continued his education in Medina as a pupil of Malik ibn Anas, founder of the Malikite school and reached the rank of mufti at the age of 15. Finally, he settled in Cairo, where he gained a large following. Today, Shafiʿites are found predominantly in Syria, the southern part of the Arabian Peninsula, East Africa, and Southeast Asia” (Adamec 2017: 398).

88

chapter 4

him as an exclusivist (See Dag 2017; Qadhi, in Khalil, ed. 2013: 110–112; Winter, in Khalil, ed. 2013: 128–140). With this in mind, I pursue three goals in this chapter. First, since the research to date on al-Ġazālī has tended to focus on his interreligious view of salvation, largely overshadowing his theology of intra-Muslim salvation, the first aim is to scrutinise both. Second, by dividing the discussion into epistemology and soteriology, I aim to explain the way in which al-Ġazālī can be seen as an exclusivist and the way in which he can also be categorized as an inclusivist. Third, I seek to demonstrate how al-Ġazālī envisaged Ašʿarism as a living, dynamic and discursive tradition. 1

Al-Ġazālī’s Theology of Intra-Muslim Salvation

Al-Ġazālī lived during a critical time in which the exercise of takfīr (excommunication) was at its peak. The question about who should be regarded a Muslim and hence deemed to be following a valid path to salvation was one of the major issues of the day (MA 1964: 9–10). In such an environment, claims to truth were widespread, leading al-Ġazālī to introduce a theory of takfīr, through which he deconstructed the scheme of the 73 divisions. In his Fayṣal al-tafriqah bayna al-islām wa-al-zandaqah (The Decisive Criterion between Islam and Masked Infidelity), al-Ġazālī explains this scheme further, arguing that although this version of the hadith (which assigns 72 denominations to damnation and only one to salvation) is the most popular version of the hadith, it has been narrated in different ways, one of which is antithetical, in that it says only one of the seventy-three will be damned (FTBI2 1993: 81–85). To reconcile the contradiction, al-Ġazālī contends that each narration speaks of a different class of people. That is, the most popular version talks about the group of people who will neither be exposed to the fire nor need intercession, i.e., they will be saved by virtue of their own authentic faith and righteous deeds. The less popular narration refers to the group(s) that will join hell first and then move to paradise after being purified. The hadith considers such groups unsaved considering their initial state, for anyone who is admitted to hellfire, even for a short period of time, cannot be called saved, even if saved later. On this basis, the group to be damned in the less popular narration refers to the group that will be in hell permanently (FTBI2 1993: 81–85). Explaining this in one of his Persian letters, al-Ġazālī writes: The cause of this diversity is that the community consists of three groups: the best, the worst and the middling. The best of the community are the Sufis, who have devoted all of their own personal will and desire to the

ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-ĠAZĀLĪ’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

89

will of God. The worst are the morally vicious, and those people who exercise oppression, drink wine and commit fornication, and give free rein to the desire for whatever they want and are able to do. They deceive themselves in thinking that Almighty God is generous and merciful, and they depend upon this (mercy). In the middle are the people among the masses of mankind who possess moral soundness (ṣalāh). So, every one of these divisions has twenty-four parts, and together they make seventytwo parts (firaq). (FAM 1972: 147, translation in Hirji 2010: 34) One significant difference between al-Ġazālī and the early Ašʿarites can be inferred from the above. That is, while for the early Ašʿarites salvation seems to have meant one’s final destination, no matter whether purified at the beginning or not, salvation for al-Ġazālī is about being saved even from purification, i.e., those who go through purification can no longer be called “saved” (FTBI2 1993: 81–83). Hence, for the early Ašʿarites, hell is about retribution, while for al-Ġazālī, it seems that hell is about rehabilitation, which facilitates access to paradise later. Although the early Ašʿarites did develop a system of toleration to accommodate the heterodox Muslim denominations, it was only with al-Ġazālī’s canon of interpretation that this system became firmly established and epistemologically theorized. Griffel outlines this contribution: Al-Ghazālī understands that orthodoxy is in the eye of the beholder; from the viewpoint of an Ashʿarite, other Muslim groups such as the Muʿtazilites or moderate Shīʿites are certainly not orthodox. Such heterodox groups, however, were not considered clandestine apostates from Islam, and they continued to enjoy legal status as Muslims. The Ashʿarites regarded them as tolerated groups within Islam. Distinguishing the criteria for apostasy from simple heterodoxy is one of al-Ghazālī’s most important contributions to the legal discourse about unbelief and apostasy in Islam. He firmly establishes the legal status of tolerated heterodoxy, a category containing Muʿtazilites and most Shīʿites, for instance. According to this qualification, philosophers who avoid the three condemned teachings fall under this category of tolerated nonconformists or dissenters. Al-Ghazālī’s distinction between taxing someone with unbelief (takfīr) and taxing someone with error (takhtiʾa), deviation (taḍlīl), or innovation (tabdīʿ) creates two different categories of deviators. The three latter judgements are mere pronouncements that the adversaries hold positions that are not correct and that will, in the opinion of al-Ghazālī, lead them toward punishment in the afterlife. Taxing someone with error,

90

chapter 4

deviation, or innovation has no legal implication; in fact, it amounts to the declaration that the Muslim community tolerates such theological positions. (Griffel 2009: 105) In his Fayṣal, al-Ġazālī deals with the question of who should or should not be accused of unbelief and on what basis. Although this question had always been critical, the dimension it gains with al-Ġazālī is dangerous. Before al-Ġazālī, the term kufr (unbelief) primarily denoted a theological question to be accounted for in the hereafter. By introducing his law of interpretation, al-Ġazālī applies legal hermeneutics to the theological domain, meaning that if someone is found to be teaching deviant beliefs, he is legally deemed in danger. Hence, he advises against the easy practice of excommunication. Griffel comments: At the beginning of his short book of thirty pages, al-Ghazālī approaches his readers to use an “indicator” (ʿalāma), or a rule of thumb, any time they feel the urge to accuse someone of unbelief: based on this indicator you should refrain from accusing group of unbelief and from spreading rumours about the people of Islam—even if they differ in their ways— as long as they firmly confess that there is no god but God and that Muḥammad is his messenger, and as long as they hold this true and do not contradict it. [The indicator is:] Unbelief (kufr) is the accusation that something that comes from the Prophet—peace and prayers be upon him—is wrong. Belief (īmān) is to consider him true and truthful (ṣidq) is everything that comes from him. (Griffel 2009: 106) Ġazālī’s theology of denominations largely brought an end to the traditional denomination-based salvation and introduced a Muhammadan/Sunnahbased salvation. Summarizing this movement, Khalil writes: the prominent theologian ʿAbd al-Qāhir al-Baghdādī (d. 429/1037) claimed that any Muslim who departs from the Ashʿarite orthodoxy risks not being counted among the believers. In response, Ghazālī argues that true unbelief consists in rejecting one of the three fundamental principles, that is, belief in one God, the Prophet, and the hereafter; or refusing to accept secondary doctrines derived from prophetic reports that are diffuse and congruent (mutawātir)—in effect, a rejection of the Prophet’s veracity. According to this standard, rationalists (mutakallimūn) within and without Ashʿarism, traditionalists (Ḥanbalītes), and Twelver

ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-ĠAZĀLĪ’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

91

Shiʿites could all be considered true Muslims, even if some of their views are problematic. (Khalil 2012: 31) Unpacking this quotation, al-Ġazālī identifies three fundamental doctrinal principles of Islam: “acknowledging the existence of God, the prophethood of His Prophet, and the reality of the Last Day. Everything else is secondary” (Jackson 2002: 112). He proceeds to say that labelling a Muslim as unbeliever is not permitted in those secondary matters except in one single case, which is rejecting a report that came from the Prophet through multiple chains of narrators (tawātur), with its authenticity being beyond doubt (FTBI 1961: 62). Applying al-Ġazālī’s threefold criteria of what makes someone a believer/ Muslim, only specific philosophers violate all three in whole or in part. In his The Incoherence of the Philosophers (Tahāfut al-falāsifa), The Decisive Criterion (Fayṣal al-tafriqah), and The Deliverer from Error (al-Munqiḏ min al-ḍalāl), al-Ġazālī explicitly identifies the Aristotelian philosophers of Islam as unbelievers. In The Incoherence of the Philosophers, he writes: If someone asks: Now that you have discussed in detail the teachings of these [falāsifa], do you definitively say that they must be pronounced unbelievers and that the killing of anyone who upholds their teachings is an obligation? We answer: Pronouncing them as unbelievers must be done in three teachings. One of which is their teaching of the pre-eternity of the world and that the substances of the world are also pre-eternal. The second is their teaching that God’s knowledge does not include the particulars of the world but only the universals. The third teaching is that they deny the possibility of any bodily resurrection in which the bodies of human beings are assembled in the Judgement Day. These three teachings do not go in line with Islam in any sense. (TF 1972: 307–308) The first teaching opposes God’s oneness in the sense that it allows substances other than God to have been co-eternal with Him. The second teaching is antithetical to the standard understanding of the Quranic verses as well as the Sunnah, while the third teaching does not allow for plausible interpretations of the Quran that refer to physical realities rather intellectual or spiritual ones (Günther and Lawson, eds. 2017: vol. 1:445–468). By accepting these three teachings, the philosophers give the lie to Prophet Muhammad, and in consequence are no longer Muslims. However, al-Ġazālī accommodates their seventeen other teachings, as expounded in his Tahāfut.

92 2

chapter 4

Al-Ġazālī’s Theology of Inter-Religious Salvation

Although al-Ġazālī’s position on non-Ašʿarites is inclusivist in epistemology and soteriology, his position on non-Islamic religions is exclusivist in epistemology but inclusivist in soteriology. To explain, he sees no valid path to salvation in any religion other than Islam. This exclusivism is based on his subscription to the theory of nasḫ, for he believed that the law of Islam supersedes the laws of all previous revelations, except that whatever God affirms remains, and that God favours Muhammad over all other prophets. Belief in Muhammad cannot therefore be separated from belief in God (Griffel 2009: 106–108). Indeed, this Muhammadan-centric salvation, as well as his excommunication of the philosophers, met with acceptance by the school, although it took time for this acceptance to be canonized into the school’s textbooks (TMA 2002: 126). By contrast, al-Ġazālī’s soteriology of non-Muslim religions reflects an inclusivist stance. He takes God’s divine mercy as his starting point rather than any Quran-based argument (Khalil 2012: 52–53). Al-Ġazālī writes: But I say in addition that God’s mercy will encompass many bygone communities as well, even if most of them may be briefly exposed to the Hellfire for a second or an hour or some period of time, by virtue of which they earn the title, “party of the Hellfire.” In fact, I would say that, God willing, most of the Christians of Byzantium and the Turks of this age will be covered by God’s mercy. I am referring here to those who reside in the far regions of Byzantium and Anatolia who have not come in contact with the message of Islam. These people fall into three categories: 1) A party who never heard so much as the name “Muhammad.” These people are excused. 2) A party among those who lived in lands adjacent to the lands of Islam and had contact, therefore, with Muslims, who knew his name, his character, and the miracles he wrought. These are the blasphemous Unbelievers. 3) A third party whose case falls between these two poles. These people knew the name “Muhammad,” but nothing of his character and attributes. Instead, all they heard since childhood was that some arch-liar carrying the name “Muhammad” claimed to be a prophet, just as our children heard that an arch-liar and deceiver called al-Muqaffaʿ falsely claimed that God sent him (as a prophet) and then challenged people to disprove his claim. This group, in my opinion, is like the first group. Even though they heard his name, they heard the opposite of what his true attributes were. And this does not provide enough incentive to compel them to investigate (his true status). (Jackson 2002: 126)

ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-ĠAZĀLĪ’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

93

Al-Ġazālī here is saying that non-Muslims can be divided into three classes. One is made up of those whom the name of Prophet Muhammad has never reached: their unbelief is excused. The second class is comprised of those who have heard his name and description, have heard of his miracles, and have lived alongside Muslims and interacted with them: their unbelief is not excused. The third class falls between the two: Muhammad’s name has reached their ears, but they do not know his true personality and his real character. Instead, they have heard since they were young that a deceitful liar named Muhammad claimed to be a prophet. Like those in the first category, such people are excused, for while they have heard his name, they have been deceived about his true qualities. Hearing such things would not normally provide any incentive to discover the truth about who he really was. Al-Ġazālī then introduces a fourth class of people who can be called the truth-seekers. This class refers to those who, although they remain outsiders to Islam, are investigating the truth and pursuing it wherever they think they may find it. If such truth-seekers believe in God and the Last Day, yet death is closer than their recognition of the truthfulness of Islam and the veracity of Muhammad, then God’s divine grace and mercy will encompass them, for they have done their best in their pursuit of truth. Al-Ġazālī closes this discussion by emphasising that it is a very small minority that are to remain in hellfire eternally: it is those who vehemently oppose the truth after it has been made clear to them; it is “those who deem the Prophet to be a liar and affirm the possibility that he may lie in pursuit of some (putative) common good (maṣlaha)” (Jackson 2002: 127–128). It should be noted, however, that the Ġazālian soteriological inclusivity is not totally unprecedented, for indeed he had some forerunners in the Ašʿarite school. As mentioned earlier, in his Mujarrad Ibn Fūrak mentions that al-Ašʿarī remains silent on the status of those who do not receive the message of Muhammad, and says that the matter is left to God (MMA 1987: 145), a position that gives some space and context to the forthcoming Ġazālian position (MMA 1987: 145). However, it is al-Ġazālī who discusses the salvation question more deeply, and as Khalil puts it, “what seems to have allowed Ġazālī’s criterion to stand the test of time is its partial ambiguity and, by extension, its malleability: moving beyond generalities, at what point exactly does one cease to be unreached? Who exactly qualifies as a sincere truth-seeker?” (Khalil 2012: 53). Finally, the reason I term al-Ġazālī’s position Sunnah-based, is that it is primarily the Sunnah, not the Quran, that shapes his theology of salvation. This is different from modern Ašʿarites, who centralise the Quran, and pre-Ġazālian Ašʿarites, who centralise hadith. This is not to say that al-Ġazālī disregards the

94

chapter 4

Quran here, but rather that he reads it in light of the Sunnah, believing that the Sunnah has the capacity to solidify the Quran’s fluidities and particularize its generalities. In his renowned book of Islamic interpretational theory, al-Mustaṣfā (The Essential), he points out that the statements of Prophet Muhammad are proofs in themselves, for his veracity has been proven by miracles, and by God’s command in the Quran to follow him. Muhammad does not speak out of his own desire, but from the revelation that is given to him (MMI 1997: 246). 2.1 Al-Ġazālī and the Question of Intercession Another soteriological question in which al-Ġazālī follows formative Ašʿarism is the theology of šafāʿa (intercession). To explain: since al-Ġazālī centres his theology around Prophet Muhammad, it is no wonder that his soteriological inclusivity is connected to the Prophet. That is, he believes that God gave Prophet Muhammad precedence over other prophets “and declared incomplete any profession of faith unless it is followed by the witness to the Prophet. And he made belief in him, in all the things which he narrated concerning the affairs of this world and the hereafter, obligatory upon all creation” (QA 1999: 8). Among those things is one that says some people will be closely questioned about their deeds, and that others will be treated with leniency, while still others will be admitted into paradise without any questioning at all. Those who are questioned about their deeds will, by definition, be punished. Hence, to be saved from this punishment, intercession is needed. A Muslim should thus believe in the intercession, not only of the prophets, but also of “the learned, and of the martyrs—each according to his dignity and rank before Allah” (QA 1999: 10). Elsewhere al-Ġazālī clarifies that the group to be saved will have no need for intercession. Hence, those who will be saved by intercession cannot find salvation in the absolute sense of the word. He writes: “For anyone who is made to account for his deeds has (in effect) been punished and thus cannot really be said to have been ‘saved.’ Likewise, anyone who is subjected to having to rely on an act of intercession has been subjected to a level of humiliation by virtue of which he too cannot be said to have been ‘saved’ in any absolute sense” (Jackson 2002: 127). Returning to the centrality of the Sunnah in al-Ġazālī’s theological narrative, he is aware that the above eschatological beliefs are based on hadith traditions and not the Quran. Hence, he writes: “All this was handed down in traditions from the Prophet and from his Companions. Therefore he who subscribes to all this and believes in it without doubting will be of the people of truth and the Law, thus separating himself from the followers of error and heresy” (QA 1999: 11).

ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-ĠAZĀLĪ’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

95

2.2 Can Non-Muslims Be Called Muʾminūn “Believers”? The question that remains is whether non-Muslims are to be considered “infidels” due to their lack of belief in Prophet Muhammad. Al-Ġazālī seems ambivalent about applying the term kufr to Christians and Jews. He seems to differentiate between kufr in its ultimate sense (kufr ʿāmm) and kufr in its particular/partial sense (kufr ḫāṣṣ). That is, those who do not believe in the truthfulness of Prophet Muhammad and yet believe in God, such as Jews and Christians, have committed the latter kufr and not the former. Hence, they cannot be called unbelievers or infidels in the ultimate sense, as they still believe in God. In fact, in one of his epistles, al-Ġazālī considers Christianity and Judaism monotheistic religions (FAM 1972: 49). In his Ghazālī and the Poetics of Imagination, Ebrahim Moosa clarifies this point, writing: “When a Christian living in the post-Muḥammadan period rejects him as a prophet, such a person is, in Ghazālī’s view, an “unbeliever”—but, surprisingly, he is an unbeliever only to the extent that he rejects Muḥammad. The deficiency in his Christian doctrine does not invalidate the remaining monotheistic belief that he affirms” (Moosa 2005: 149). There are thus different degrees of monotheism, and a Christian’s belief in the Trinity does not mean that God is deemed numerically three in essence. In fact, Christians themselves admit that this is not what they mean. They mean that God is one in essence but has three attributes. In their own terminology, God is “One in substance (jawhar) and three by way of hypostasis (uqnūmiya).” Hence, by “hypostases” they refer to the Divine attributes (FAM 1972: 49). Differentiating between al-kufr al-ʿāmm and al-kufr al-ḫāṣṣ is probably the only way the views of al-Ġazālī can be reconciled. What I mean is that al-Ġazālī in his Iḥyāʾ (Revival) as well as in his al-Iqtiṣād (Moderation) states that Jews as well as Christians, and non-monotheistic believers, are all to be regarded as unbelievers, because of their denial of the prophethood of Prophet Muhammad (IFIʿ 2009: 515–516). Nevertheless, in his al-Munqiḏ min al-ḍalāl (The Deliverer From Error), where he discusses the naturalist philosophers and their way of seeking truth, al-Ġazālī contends that the central requirements for one to be regarded as a believer are: (1) acknowledgement of the existence of God; and (2) acknowledgement of the Last Day (MMD 1962: 145). Consequently, anyone who believes in God and the Last Day can be somewhat regarded a “believer.” The complexity in al-Ġazālī’s position on this question probably goes back to his recognition of three different doctrinal systems. He maintains that, for most people, there is only one school to follow, i.e., the one in which they were brought up and educated. Very rarely, there are people who cannot be contained by one school. For this category of people, there are three systems of

96

chapter 4

intellectual affiliation: first, the school to which the person gives his loyalty against his debaters; second, the one that person only reveals to his students; third, the one he keeps to himself, which he personally and truly believes. The first two “derive from the social and religious milieu in which he was raised and trained” (Frank 1994: 96). As for the third system, it is a private matter between the believer and their Lord; attained through advanced learning and God ­opening the gates of knowledge. Hence, al-Ġazālī will only reveal the knowledge of the third system to a person who has reached the same level of his scholarship or to someone who is at least capable of grasping it (Frank 1994: 96). However, it should be noted that the places where al-Ġazālī identifies those who deny Muhammad’s prophethood as unbelievers are the norm rather than the exception. What may give some priority to his other position is that al-Munqiḏ was written after the former works (Fūda 2009: 55). It can thus conceivably be hypothesized that, according to the later Ġazālian position, the term “believers” can be applied to non-Muslims who meet the two conditions above. This becomes clearer when he accuses Muslims who pronounce sweeping statements about Christian creeds without realizing that there are, however meeting points that should not be denied. He writes: This is like the case of a man who hears a Christian say: “There is no God but God; Jesus is the Apostle of God,” and then denies it, saying: “This is what the Christians say.” Such a man does not defer judgment while he ponders whether the Christian is an unbeliever because of that statement, or because of his denial of Muhammad’s prophethood—God’s blessing and peace be upon him! Hence, if he is an unbeliever only because of his denial of the latter, he should not be contradicted in matters other than what he disbelieves—I mean something which is true in itself, even though the Christian also holds it to be true. (McCarthy 1980: 12) 2.3 Good Deeds vs. Correct Faith As has been presented in the second chapter of this book, the standard view of the early Ašʿarite theology is summarized in the following statement by Ibn Fūrak. Ibn Fūrak asserts that reward (ṯawāb) is initially granted by God’s grace and is not earned by deeds. In fact, the believer’s faith itself comes only from God’s grace (MMA 1987: 163). Hence, salvation is not earned through deeds, but is graciously granted by God. Hence, deeds are merely indicators of our gratitude to God. Al-Juwaynī confirms that the Salaf holds that God’s reward is only by grace and that his punishment is by his justice (LA 1987: 122).

ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-ĠAZĀLĪ’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

97

This position surely has a bearing on whether the good deeds of non-Muslims are meritorious in the hereafter. In early Ašʿarism, the answer was simply that the performance of good deeds has a supplementary role in the attainment of salvation and that deliverance is primarily based on correct faith. Hence, the good deeds of non-Muslims have no religious value in the hereafter, as they do not meet the necessary condition of correct faith. Since faith is about internal assent (taṣdīq), if someone does not make that assent, his or her good deeds are of no value in the hereafter. Deeds indicate a condition of perfection rather than one of soundness (šarṭ kamāl lā šarṭ ṣiḥḥa), i.e., although one’s belief may be imperfect if not strengthened with good deeds, the faith itself is still sound (MMA 1987: 150). Although al-Ġazālī does not completely depart from the view that deeds do not pertain to the ḍarūriyyāt (necessities of Islamic theology),3 he abandons the view that looks at deeds as taḥsīniyyāt (supplementaries), moving deeds from the zone of the “supplementaries” to the zone of ḥājiyyāt (complementaries) i.e., having a complementary role to faith. He also asserts that the attainment of salvation in the hereafter and welfare in the here hinges upon the performance of good deeds. In his short treatise, Ayyuhā al-walad (O Beloved ­Disciple), al-Ġazālī writes: O disciple, be neither destitute of good deeds nor devoid of spiritual states, for you can be sure that mere knowledge will not help. It is as though a man in the desert had ten Indian swords and other weapons besides—the man being brave and a warrior—and a huge, terrifying loin attacked him. What is your opinion? Will the weapons repel this danger of his from him without their being used and being wielded? It is obvious they will not repel unless drawn and wielded! Likewise, if a man studied a hundred thousand intellectual issues and understood them, but did not act on the strength of them, they would not be of use to him except by taking action … even if you studied for a hundred years and collected a thousand books, you would not be eligible for the mercy of God—the Exalted—except through action … faith is a verbal declaration, consent by the heart and action in accordance with the [five] pillars; and the evidence of deeds is incalculable; even though 3 In a forthcoming book of mine entitled: From The Higher Objectives of Islamic Law to the Higher Objectives of Islamic Theology: Towards Building a Theory of Maqāṣid al-ʿAqāʾid, I attempt to introduce a theory of theological objectives along the lines of Islamic legal objectives (under publication with Oxford University Press).

98

chapter 4

the worshipper attains Paradise by the bounty and grace of God—the Exalted—nevertheless [this is] constituent to him being predisposed through obedience to him and worship of him, since “The Mercy of God is near to those who do good.” If moreover it is said, “He gets there by faith alone,” we reply: yes, but when will he get there? How many difficult obstacles must be overcome before arriving? And the first of these obstacles is that of faith [itself] and will he be safe from the denial of faith or not, and when he arrives, will he be unsuccessful and destitute? (AW 2005: 8–10) Stemming from this quotation, deeds are not necessary for salvation, but they nevertheless complement what is necessary for the temporal and eternal welfare of the believer. Knowledge of God and the practice of acts of goodness are the two wings on which the worshipper aspires to God’s blessing in the here and in the hereafter. 3

The Ašʿarite Theology of Salvation after al-Ġazālī

Although the question of salvation is discussed in post-Ġazālian Ašʿarism, the argument does not move significantly beyond his contribution. The mutakallimūn (Muslim theologians) dedicate chapters to the theology of salvation under the rubric of al-Maʿād (the Return), as does al-Rāzī in his Nihāyat al-ʿuqūl (The Pinnacle of the Intellects), and al-Ījī4 in his magnum opus Kitāb al-mawāqif (Book of Stations). So too in his Aḥwāl al-qiyāmah (The Situations of Resurrection), and in Šarḥ maʿālim uṣūl al-dīn (Commentary on the ­Milestones of the Fundamentals of Religion). However, three post-Ġazālian theologians are worthy of special mention. The first is al-Rāzī, the second al-Ījī, and the third Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī.5 Both 4 Al-Ījī “was born at Ij, near Shiraz, where he served as judge and instructor. His main work was on Islamic theology, and his efforts here are noted for their systematization of the genre. Al-Iji penned a Quran commentary, and, in Mataliʿ al-Anwar (The Rising of the Lights), a description of the scope of Kalam itself. Much more intricate than either of these works is his Kitab al-Mawaqif (Book of Stations) which divides theology into six topics (stations): epistemology, ontology, the theory of essence, the accidents that characterize that substance, the nature of the soul, and, finally, religious issues such as eschatology and the nature of prophecy” (Leaman 2015: 237). 5 Al-Suyūṭī was a “scholar of Persian origin who flourished in Cairo. A prolific writer with some 500 publications to his name (some only short pamphlets) including a history of Cairo, a history of the caliphs, and a commentary on the Koran. His major work is The Flowering (­al-Muzhir), in which he examines Arabic dialects and philology.” (Adamec 2017: 423).

ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-ĠAZĀLĪ’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

99

strands of the school are represented, with the first and second representing the school of Rāʾī (the folks of reasoning) and the third representing the school of hadith. Al-Rāzī is important to this discussion, for although he goes no further than al-Ġazālī over the salvation question, some discussion of his view is warranted. Al-Ījī’s centrality emerges from the centrality of his book al-Mawāqif; which is a good reference to know what remained mainstream in the School and went into its catechistic textbooks. Al-Suyūṭī is also important because, despite the fact that he was not a theologian in the full sense of the word, his Quran exegesis clearly reveals the Sunnah-based approach. Moreover, he penned an interesting epistle on the usage of the word “Islam.” Al-Rāzī engages with the hadith of the 73 firqas in his commentary on Q. 21:92, “Verily, this community of yours is one community and I am your Lord, so worship Me.” Here he quotes the hadith of the 73-scheme and considers it an authentic tradition, yet the interpretation he offers differs from that of his predecessors in that he does not think the report is talking about the hereafter, but the here-and-now. That is, Muslims will divide into 73 sects in certain situations in this world. The saved group is the one that sticks to the majority and does not deviate (TFR 1981.22: 219). Second, in his Iʿtiqādāt firaq al-muslimīn wa-al-mušrikīn (Creeds of Muslim Denominations and the Polytheists), al-Rāzī gives an apologetic account of the hadith, asking: “What if someone said: How is it that the number of the denominations exceeded the number prophesised by the Prophet?” He answers that the Prophet could have meant the major denominations rather than the minor ones. Another possibility, since the Prophet prophesised the number as 73, it cannot be less, but it could be more (the Arabs use the seventies to exaggerate) (IFM 1938: 74–75). On another note, the centrality of the Sunnah is evident in al-Rāzī’s Quran commentary also. Although al-Rāzī’s exegesis is known to be reason-orientated, this is not true of the way he deals with the question of salvation. In his commentary on Q. 11:17,6 al-Rāzī explicates the verse by quoting the following hadith: “By Him in Whose hand is the life of Muhammad, he who amongst the community of Jews or Christians hears about me, but does not affirm his belief in that with which I have been sent and dies in this state (of disbelief), he shall be but one of the denizens of Hell-Fire” (TFR 1981.17: 211). Another occurrence is his engagement with verse Q. 2:62,7 where he argues that the phrase ‘faith 6 “As for those who are given solid proof from their Lord, reported by a witness from Him, and before it, the book of Moses has set a precedent and a mercy, they will surely believe. As for those who disbelieve among the various groups, Hell is awaiting them. Do not harbour any doubt; this is the truth from your Lord, but most people disbelieve.” 7 “Surely, those who believe, those who are Jewish, the Christians, and the converts; anyone who (1) believes in GOD, and (2) believes in the Last Day, and (3) leads a righteous life, will receive their recompense from their Lord. They have nothing to fear, nor will they grieve.”

100

chapter 4

in God’ necessarily demands and requires belief in Prophet Muhammad” (TFR 3: 111–114). In other words, belief in God cannot be true if not accompanied by belief in Prophet Muhammad. Al-Ījī discusses the hadith of al-firqah al-nājiyah in his Kitāb al-mawāqif; arguably the most important Ašʿarite summa in classical Ašʿarism. Although he not only accepts the hadith as an authentic tradition, but also considers it one of the signs of the prophethood of Prophet Muhammad in that he could prophesize for the future, he shows that Ašʿarites neither practice takfīr on non-Ašʿarite denominations, nor do they pass judgement of hell on them (KM nd: 414). He writes: We do not practice takfīr against anyone of Ahl al-qiblah except for those who deny the existence of the Omniscient Omnipotent Designer/Maker, or [believes/commits] polytheism, or denial of prophethood, or what is known by necessity from Islam, or denial of agreed upon matters such as breaking the boundaries of what is unlawful. As for deviation on other matters, deviators maybe accused of heresy but not of unbelief. (KM nd: 430) For his part, al-Suyūṭī penned an interesting epistle arguing against Ibn al-Ṣalāḥ (d. 643/1245)8 who contended that anyone who submits to God can be called a Muslim (a forerunner to ʿAbduh). Al-Suyūṭī’s epistle entitled: Itmām al-niʿmah fī īḫtiṣāṣ al-islām bihaḏi al-ummah (Perfecting the Favour in Restricting [the title] Islam to this Ummah) uses 20 arguments from the Quran and Sunnah to advocate that no one can be called a Muslim except the followers of Muhammad. Furthermore, al-Suyūṭī is an embodiment of the mediaeval Ašʿarite method of interpreting the Quran in light of the Sunnah. He writes: It is wondrous he who takes his proof from the Quran without being wellversed in the Sunnah, while it is given that the Quran has [words] that are: ambiguous, intricate, and contingent. Each of these three [types] demands the Sunnah to clarify and specify. Indeed, ʿUmar ibn al-Ḫaṭṭāb said: There will come people who will argue with you on the basis of the indecisive [verses] of the Quran, so take them with the Sunan [plural of 8 Ibn al-Ṣalāḥ was a Kurdish Šāfiʿī scholar of hadith and the author of one of the most seminal works in hadith, i.e., Muqaddimah fī ʿUlūm al-Ḥadiṯ (Introduction to the Science of Hadith). He was originally from the Sharazora region of Sulaymaniyah province in Iraqi Kurdistan, raised in Mosul, and then lived in Damascus where he died (TŠ 1987: 113–115).

ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-ĠAZĀLĪ’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

101

Sunnah], for the people of Sunnah are more knowledgeable about the Book of God … also Yaḥya ibn abī Kathīr said: the Sunnah is a judge over the Quran (al-Sunnah qāḍīyyah ʿalā al-Qurʾān), i.e. clarifies and explains it. (INF 1989: 35) The above quotation makes it crystal clear that the overarching paradigm of that period was to understand the Quran through the prism of the Sunnah. In another book, Miftāḥ al-jannah fī al-iʿtiṣām bil-Sunnah (The Key to Paradise is in Adherence to the Sunnah), al-Suyūṭī quotes al-Awzāʿī’s (d. 88/774)9 clearer statement that “the Sunnah came to be a judge over the Book [the Quran]; it is not the other way round” (MJF 1987: 24). 4

Conclusion and Comparison

The rough shifts from heavy exclusivism to light exclusivism in mediaeval Catholicism, and from hadith-centrism to Sunnah-centrism in mediaeval Ašʿarism have been investigated, with the aim of identifying the effect of historical context in granting ascendency to certain theological narratives in both traditions. I have examined the views of arguably the two most significant theologians of the period, Aquinas and al-Ġāzalī, who both embody milestones in their respective traditions, together with some of their impact on the theologians to come. What is noteworthy is that in their mediaeval phases, both traditions placed much emphasis on “knowledge.” Mediaeval Catholic and Ašʿarite judgements on the other varied to accommodate knowledge of their faith on the part of the other. This emerges clearly from Aquinas’ writings and especially his discussion of implicit versus explicit faith. The same can be seen even more clearly in al-Ġazālī’s linkage of knowledge and accountability through his threefold 9 Al-Awzāʿī was the chief eponym of the Awzāʿī school of Islamic jurisprudence. Apparently from Damascus. “Very little of al-Awzaʿi’s writings survive, but his style of Islamic legal theory is preserved in Abu Yusuf’s (d. 798 CE) al-Radd ʿala Siyar al-Awzaʿi, in particular his reliance on the “living tradition,” the uninterrupted practice of Muslims handed down from preceding generations. For Awzai, this is the true Sunnah of Muhammad. Awzai’s school flourished in Syria, Maghreb, and Muslim Spain but was eventually overcome by the Maliki school of Islamic law in the ninth century. However, given his authority and reputation as a Sunni imam and pious ancestor, his views retain potential as a source of law and a basis for alternative legal approaches and solutions. Died in 774 and was buried near Beirut, Lebanon, where his tomb is still visited (Esposito 2003: 30).

102

chapter 4

typology, which is based on “knowledge.” That is, rejection of Islam can only be accounted for if the person received correct and sound knowledge of the Islamic faith and its Prophet. In contrast to al-Ġazālī and Aquinas, Augustine thought that whether or not non-Christians had heard the Gospel preached, their destination was damnation, writing: Now this grace of Christ, without which neither infants nor adults can be saved, is not given in return for their merits, but is a free gift; for this reason, it is called “grace.” Wherefor, all those who are not set free by that grace, whether because they could not hear [the message of the Gospel], or because they refused to obey it, or, being unable to hear it because of their infancy, they did not receive the baptismal bath by which they could have been saved—all these, I say, are justly damned, because they are not without sin—either the original sin that they contracted, or the sins that they added by their own wicked deeds … The entire mass, therefore, incurs the penalty, and if the deserved punishment of condemnation were meted out to all, it would without doubt be justly meted out … Anyone who judged rightly could not possibly blame the justice of God in wholly condemning all mankind. (Sullivan 1992: 38) On a different note, it has been evident that the Catholic church developed a body of literature on the question of infidelity, differentiating between the faithful (i.e., Christians) and the unfaithful (i.e., pagans, non-Christians, unbelievers and, therefore, all those outside the Christian faith). The term “pagan” was used more frequently, defining not only pagans, but also heretics and schismatics. However, with Aquinas’ distinction between implicit and explicit faith, medieval Christians began “distinguishing pagans whose infidelity is likely to stem from their ignorance of Jesus Christ’s teachings from infidels whose infidelity derives from their open and explicit rejection of the Christian faith. The term infidel was commonly used to refer to those Jews and Muslims who opposed and fought Christianity” (Kéri 2016: 4–5). In the Ašʿarite tradition, although al-Ġazālī seems to have drawn a distinction between al-kufr ʿāmm and al-kufr ḫāṣṣ in order to say that Christians and Jews may well still be called “faithful” and “believers” in the ultimate sense, medieval Ašʿarism maintained its pre-Ġazālian position on this question, suggesting that non-Muslims were ultimately infidels on the basis on their rejection of Prophet Muhammad’s prophethood (MMA 1987: 153–154). While the Thomistic school tempered the strong Catholic position towards non-Christian religions, the opposite happened at the intra-Christian and

ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-ĠAZĀLĪ’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

103

intra-Catholic level. That is, perceived heresy and schism increased in medieval Catholicism to the point where Pope Innocent III (1161–1216) “decided to develop a centralized system of enquiry aimed at identifying and punishing all heretics; he established a dedicate institution, which he called the Inquisition or Holy Office. Before this action, local bishops and priests would deal with heretics their own way, without having to comply with any rules or standards imposed by the Pope” (Kéri 2016: 5). Heresy was treated seriously, as it “was seen as a contagious disease that threatened the survival of the Christian religion, the Church had to resort to unconventional measures and tools to persecute those who betrayed God” (Kéri 2016: 5). In terms of Ašʿarism, since al-Ġazālī’s time the school consolidated a more inclusivist approach to the questions of truth and salvation at an internal level. This approach appears in his de-construction of the Ašʿarite’s theology of denominations and re-construction of a theology that allows room for internal plurality of paths to salvation. All these internal paths are part of the Islamic salvific plan. Finally, one other commonality between the two traditions is the question of intercession in Ašʿarism and its rough equivalent in Catholicism, i.e. Jesus’ descent into hell to save souls. However, while in the Catholic tradition it is unclear who was saved through Jesus’ descent, medieval Ašʿarites are more assertive that Prophet Muhammad’s intercession was exclusively given to believers, i.e., Muslims. This would remain the norm in the Ašʿarite tradition until the nineteenth century, when some Ašʿarites widened the scope of intercession but such voices remained at the periphery. A classical example is al-Murtaḍā al-Zabīdī (d. 1205/1791) who argued that it is conceivable that Prophet Muhammad’s intercession might include non-Muslims. This is on the basis of a hadith attributed to the Companion Ibn ʿAbbās indicating the possibility of general intercession for every human being, including unbelievers who have already entered hell. The hadith reads: “When the people of Hell have entered Hell, and the people of Heaven have entered Heaven … the former shall call out to their Lord and pray to Him, and this will be heard by the people of Heaven. So, they ask Adam, and then others, to intercede for them; however, each one offers apologies, until they come to Muhammad, who intercedes for them. This is the Praiseworthy Station (a status Prophet Muhammad had been promised by God to reach)” (ŠTḤ 2013.1: 274–275). Furthermore, Tim Winter may serve as a more modern Ašʿarite example who maintains this view. He describes a general act of intercession in which Prophet Muhammad will intercede for all of humanity. In fact, he considers this general intercession Islam’s “Copernican Revolution,” in terms of its centralization of Prophet Muhammad in God’s plan of salvation in the hereafter. He writes, “Islamic theology has

104

chapter 4

proposed a cyclical and universal history that constructs the Prophet as the sun, and other religions’ founders as other celestial bodies, which, like planets revolve around it. The light of Prophet Muhammad ‘al-nūr al-Muḥammadī,’ which is the basis of his own light, is not his own but is the reflection of the divine glory” (Khalil 2013: 140).

PART 3 Salvation in Modern Catholicism and Modern Ašʿarism (Vatican vs. Al-Azhar)

∵

Chapter 5

Salvation in Modern Catholicism (Massignon, Rahner and Vatican II) Prevalent in the Catholic theology of salvation of the pre-modern era was the exclusivist axiom, “outside the church there is no salvation” (Espín and Nickoloff 2007: 439). The theological basis for this doctrine was founded on the belief that (1) Jesus Christ personally established the one church; and (2) the church serves as the means by which the graces won by Christ are communicated to believers. It was an axiom frequently repeated in different forms by the ordinary Catholic magisterium over the centuries and upheld by many Protestant and Orthodox churches also, although each had a unique interpretation of what constitutes the church (Ware 1993: 247–248). However, the emergence of the modern world, including the expansion of the powerful secular state, meant, inter alia, the contraction of the power of the church. In the context of rising “heresies” and the harsh treatment of heretics, more and more states began prohibiting the church from using capital punishment. The last heretic to be executed by the Catholic church was Cayetano Ripoll, a schoolmaster accused of teaching deist thoughts, who was tried by the Spanish Inquisition in 1826. Until the transformational Vatican II Council, the Catholic church deemed all non-Catholics, be they Christians or otherwise, unbelievers. Nevertheless, as shall be presented, Vatican II introduced the notion that “all those who sought God with a sincere heart as individuals should not be blamed for their lack of familiarity with Jesus Christ’s teachings” (Kéri 2016: 6). Apart from the emergence of the modern secular state, use of the above axiom faced two other seismic challenges, which paved the way for the teachings of Vatican II. The decline of the Jesuit order that had championed the axiom throughout the Middle Ages left a major space for the Jansenists, who strongly proclaimed the salvific will of God (Sullivan 1992: 103). This development was coupled with the waxing of Enlightenment thinkers in the eighteenth century and their emphasis on reason over revelation (Olson 2013: 26–27). This rationalism was accompanied by an emphasis on God’s justice, with questions asked, such as: “How can a just God allow countless people to live and die without having an opportunity to hear the message of the Gospel, which is deemed indispensable for their salvation? And how can a rational and enlightened person believe in an unjust God?” (Sullivan 1992: 104). Jean-Jacques ­Rousseau © Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004461765_007

108

chapter 5

(d. 1778) asked such questions in The Creed of a Priest of Savoy (Rousseau: 1957). So too did Giovanni Perrone (d. 1876),1 who contended that the axiom only applied to those who died in a culpable state of heresy or unbelief (Sullivan 1992: 111). The addition of the word “culpable” was confirmed by Pope Pius IX (reigned 1846–1878),2 who stated that the adage may be interpreted as “no salvation for those who are culpably outside the Church” (Sullivan 1992: 114). The influence of the above two challenges can be clearly seen in decrees 6 and 7 of Vatican I (1869–1870),3 which state: 6. The church is a society that is altogether necessary for obtaining salvation. We therefore teach that the church is not a free society, as though it made no difference for one’s salvation whether one recognized it or ignored it, whether one entered it or left it. Rather, it is altogether necessary, and indeed with a necessity that is not merely for the Lord’s precept, by which the Saviour commanded all nations to enter it, but with a necessity of means, because in the divinely instituted order of the Holy Spirit, and the 1 Peronne was an Italian Jesuit theologian, born in 1794. “After studying theology and obtaining a doctorate at Turin, he entered the Society of Jesus on 14 December 1815. The Society had been re-established by Pius VII only a year before, and Perrone was very soon appointed to teach theology at Orvieto. A few years later he was made professor of dogmatic theology at the Roman College and held this post until the Roman Republic of 1848 forced him to seek refuge in England. After an exile of three years, Perrone again took the chair of dogma in the Roman College, and, excepting the years of his rectorship at Ferrara, taught theology till prevented by old age. He was consultor of various congregations, and was active in opposing the errors of George Hermes, as well as the discussions which ended in the dogmatic definition of the Immaculate Conception. Of Perrone’s many writings the most important is the ‘Prælectines Theologicæ,’ which has reached a thirty-fourth edition in nine volumes. The compendium which Perrone made of this work has reached forty-seven editions in two volumes. His complete theological lectures were published in French and have run through several editions; portions have been translated into Spanish, Polish, German, Dutch, and other languages” (Herbermann 1913: s.v. Giovanni Perrone). 2 Pope Pius IX (1792–1878) was the Italian head of the Roman Catholic church (1846–1878). His pontificate was the longest in history marked by a move from moderate political liberalism to conservatism (see Barwig 1978). 3 Vatican I was called by Pope Pius IX on 8 December 1869. It was the first Catholic council since the Council of Trent and the first also to have been attended by a significant number of non-European bishops. Its agenda was originally broad, “with extensive preparatory work producing fifty-one schemas (draft documents) for the council fathers to consider. However, the Franco-Prussian war of 1870 forced the proceedings to conclude—without officially closing—after only four sessions, the first of which was merely preparatory. In fact, only two schemas were considered, and, apart from the opening proclamation, only three documents produced” (McFarland et al. 2011: 528).

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

109

sharing of truth and life is not obtained except in the church and through the church, of which Christ is the Head. (Sullivan 1992: 120) 7. No one can be saved outside the church. Moreover, it is a dogma of faith, that no one can be saved outside the church. On the other hand, those who labour under invincible ignorance concerning Christ and his church are not to be damned to eternal punishment on account of such ignorance, since they incur no guilt for this in the eyes of the Lord, who wishes all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth, and who does not deny grace to a person who is doing what lies in his power, so that such a one can obtain justification and eternal life. But no one obtains this who dies in a culpable state of separation from the unity of the faith or the communion of the church. Anyone who is not in this ark of salvation will perish in the prevailing flood. (Sullivan 1992: 120–121) What can be gathered from the above quotation is that although the church sought to preserve this long-standing adage, it also tried to take into account the spirit of the age and the awareness that there were many people who had not encountered Christianity. In the following century there were debates over how people could be (in the church) without being recognized members. Many answers were offered (Sullivan, 1992: 103–123), with the most common answer, coming from by Johann B. Franzelin (d. 1886),4 who argued that people who die outside the Catholic church, whether Christian or not, and who are inculpably ignorant about its truth can still reach justification and salvation through the church. In his words, Although, as was said in the previous thesis, some people can be justified and saved even though they are not recognized in the external forum as belonging to the visible church, nevertheless: 1) such people are not saved except through the church, to which the word of faith belongs, and 4 Franzelin was an Austrian Jesuit theologian and cardinal. Between 1857–1886, he was member of a preparatory commission for Vatican I and in 1868–1869 he became the pope’s theologian. Franzelin’s “theological expertise and his reflections on tradition as a source of Christian revelation earned him an appointment as papal theologian at the First Council of the Vatican. Although preliminary drafts of matters to be debated at the council were considerably revised, his work helped develop an emerging new branch of Roman Catholic theology (viz., ecclesiology). This new treatise moved the consideration of the Christian Church from a polemic and apologetic treatise to a proper dogmatic treatise” (Carey and Lienhard 2000: 202).

110

chapter 5

in view of which saving graces are given; and they are not saved except in the church, insofar as they are united not only to her spirit but also to her visible elements by their will, which is accepted by God in lieu of the fact. Now these visible elements, by divine institution, are necessary for justification and salvation not only with necessity of precept but also with necessity of means; hence, in the time of the New Testament, justification is never brought about without a relationship to these elements and without at least a spiritual union of the person with them. Thus, in the eyes of God and the church triumphant, there is no justification without union with the church on earth. (Sullivan 1992: 118) Although other solutions were offered,5 the one offered by Franzelin was deemed the most satisfactory, since others relied primarily on the distinction between the soul of the church and its body; the visible and the invisible church; distinctions, which, to a certain extent, minimize the significance of the Catholic church (Sullivan 1992: 121–122). Franzelin’s thesis was able to escape this minimization by introducing the qualifying statement, i.e. through the church and not without any relationship. Other theologians who strove to move from church-based salvation to Christ-based salvation, were Louis Massignon6 and Karl Rahner, whose thinking influenced the position taken by Vatican II (1962–1965). 1

The Impact of Massignon’s Theology of Religions on Vatican II

Massignon (25 July 1883–31 October 1962) was a Catholic scholar of Islam and a pioneer of Catholic-Muslim dialogue. His influence on the position of Vatican II on Islam is remarkably clear, with his contribution being acceptance amongst Catholics of Islam as an Abrahamic Faith (Krokus 2012a: 329–345). His experiences in Baghdad meant Massignon sought to understand Islam from within, giving him great influence on the way Islam was seen in the West. Among other things, he paved the way for a greater openness inside the Catholic church towards Islam, as documented in the Vatican’s dogmatic constitution, Lumen gentium, and the declaration, Nostra aetate (Krokus 2012a: 331). In 5 See Sullivan’s chapter: “The Twentieth Century Prior to Vatican II” (1992: 123–141), in which he traces these solutions and presents the debates that took place between those who remained adamant in their literal understanding of the axiom, and those who tried to look for more reconciliatory interpretations. 6 Although Massignon is not considered a theologian in the strict sense of the word, his influence on the Vatican II documents trumps that of many other recognized theologians.

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

111

this section I seek to classify Massignon in terms of the threefold typology of exclusivism, inclusivism and pluralism, as well as explore further his influence on Vatican II. 1.1 Massignon the Person and Islam Massignon’s exposure to Islam began in 1907 when he was sent on an archaeological mission to Mesopotamia. In Baghdad he was the guest of a noble Muslim family who showed him Arab hospitality and immense compassion (O’Mahony, 2008: 283–284). This exposure led Massignon to reconsider his ethical values. At first he felt regret over his previous life and made a failed suicide attempt. He then fell into a state of agitation caused by the sun and fatigue which almost turned into mania, before finally experiencing the presence of God represented in what he called the “visitation of a Stranger.” This experience overwhelmed him, leaving him feeling passive and helpless, judged for having judged others harshly, and his very sense of identity threatened (­Griffith 1990: 155–160). In 1934, together with his young friend and associate in Cairo, Mary Kahil, Massignon “founded a religious movement dedicated to prayer and fasting on the part of Arabophone Christians, in behalf of the Muslims under whose political control they lived” (Griffith 1990: 156). The movement was called “alBadaliyyah,”7 a word that denotes mystical substitution and prayers for the salvation of someone else. The group had the aim of achieving “mutual trust and fidelity between Muslims and Christians” (Griffith 1990: 157). More interestingly, Massignon realized that the movement’s doctrine could be found in the thought of al-Ḥallāj (d. c. 309/922) (Griffith, 1990: 157).8 The Badaliyyah movement had an activity centre in Cairo run by Mary Kahil where prayers, meetings and conferences were held, and where the bulletin al-Badaliyyah was published (Griffith 1990: 157). 7 Al-Badaliyyah “was very prominent in the works of late nineteenth century French writers, especially J. K. Huysmans, who had a considerable influence on Massignon” (Griffith 1997: 157). 8 Al-Ḥallāj was a Persian mystic, poet and teacher of Ṣūfism. He is best known for his extremely controversial saying: “I am the Truth,” which many saw as a claim to divinity, and others interpreted as an annihilation of the ego that allows God to speak through the individual. He gained acclamation as a preacher before he became involved in power struggles of the Abbasid caliphate and was executed after a long period of restriction on religious and political charges. Although most of his Sufi contemporaries disapproved of his attitudes, Ḥallāj later became a major figure in the Ṣūfī tradition. Massignon’s research on Islam was primarily focused on him. He is arguably the most controversial Ṣūfī mystic (D’Costa 2014: 186; Irwin 2010: 4:47; Adamec 2017: 157).

112

chapter 5

1.2 Massignon the Scholar and Islam Massignon’s work was remarkably influential. Undoubtedly, he was among the twentieth century’s most significant Orientalists, particularly in the areas of Islamic mysticism and sociology. Indeed, “to this day many academics find it almost impossible to reconcile the two sides of the man, the indefatigable researcher, and the passionate believer, a confessor of the faith. But they were the same man. Massignon was that rarity in the modern world, a truly saintly scholar” (Griffith 1990: 158). His four-volume doctoral thesis on al-Ḥallāj, which appeared in 1922, was criticized by many as giving prominence to a relatively marginal figure. Particularly sharp criticism was made in Edward Said’s Orientalism (1979: 104).9 Similarly, many Catholics were sceptical of his openness towards Islam (Anawati 1996: 266).10 Yet he was also celebrated by many, including his student at the Sorbonne, Sh. ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd, who later became the Grand Imām of Al-Azhar (1973–1978). Massignon’s research, admiration for Islam and Muslims, and training of key students in Islamic studies largely “prepared the way for the positive vision of Islam articulated in Lumen gentium and Nostra aetate at the Second Vatican Council” (Krokus 2012b: 525). Massignon’s views on Islam have three major dimensions: the God of Islam (Allah); the Prophet of Islam (Muhammad); and the Book of Islam (the Quran). Unlike many of his contemporaries, Massignon had no doubt that God is “the same God of Abraham as the Muslims, as Mary in her Magnificat” (Ipgrave 2015: 298). 11 In fact, this is arguably the most important dimension of ­Massignon’s impact on the Vatican II Nostra Aetate decrees. 9

10 11

Here Said wrote: For “Louis Massignon, perhaps the most renowned and influential of modern French Orientalists, Islam was a systematic rejection of the Christian incarnation, and its greatest hero was not Mohammed or Averroes but al-Hallaj, a Muslim saint who was crucified by the orthodox Muslims for having dared to personalize Islam. What Becker and Massignon explicitly left out of their studies was the eccentricity of the Orient, which they backhandedly acknowledged by trying so hard to regularize it in Western terms. Mohammed was thrown out, but al-Hallaj was made prominent because he took himself to be a Christ-figure.” Anawati points out that Massignon’s views were “seen critically by many Catholics who considered him a syncretistic, a ‘Catholic Muslim,’ although this was also used as a compliment by Pope Pius XI.” In a footnote, Ipgrave writes: “David Marshall, for example, refers to the doctoral viva of the leading French Dominican scholar of Islam, Jacques Jomier, at the Sorbonne in the 1950s, at which Massignon was one of the examiners: ‘In his thesis Jomier had used the word “Dieu” when referring to the God of the Bible and “Allah” when referring to the God of the Quran. This prompted Massignon to ask pointedly whether the God of the Quran is the God of Abraham: yes or no? Jomier, however, was silent in response (at least in part, it must be said, because one of the other examiners whispered to him not to answer!).’ ­Marshall remarks that ‘this fascinating episode could be taken as dramatizing the dif-

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

113

Massignon saw Muhammad as a legitimate descendant of Abraham; thus presenting Islam as a champion of Christianity, replacing the long-standing historical view that conceives it as a challenge.12 Massignon puts it this way: “In fact, his race, the Arab race, is descended from Abraham by way of Ishmael, the son of Hagar, the maidservant exiled into the desert.” This affirmation, says Sidney Griffith, “would remain a basic premise for Massignon’s thinking about Islam; it not only provides the Arabs with a quasi-biblical genealogy, but it gives Muhammad himself a connection with the patriarch Abraham, and potentially a natural, if not a scriptural legitimacy in the eyes of Christians” (Griffith 1997: 196). Massignon’s viewpoint on Muhammad cannot be conceived apart from his work on the mystical figure al-Ḥallāj, who Massignon believed, had substituted himself for Muhammad in an almost redemptive way, because of Muhammad’s insistence “that the essence of the one God is utterly inaccessible to human beings, Jesus Christ included” (Griffith 1997: 199). Massignon rejects the long-standing thesis that projects Muhammad as a false prophet, and introduces instead the concept of the “negative prophet,” writing: To be a false prophet, one must prophesy positively falsely. A positive prophecy is generally shocking to the understanding, being a foretold reversal of human values. But Muhammad, who believed in a frightening way in this total reversal, could only be a negative prophet; he is one properly, authentically. He never pretended to be an intercessor, nor a saint, but he affirmed that he was a witness, the voice proclaiming in the desert the final separation of the good and the bad. For, in as much as he was an Arab, a son of Ishmael, he is the son of the tears of Hagar. (Griffith 1997: 200) Massignon explains further what he means by a negative prophet, arguing that, since Muhammad came after Moses and Jesus, it was his negative vocation to reproach Israel “for believing itself privileged to the point of awaiting a Messiah who is to be born of its race,” and to reproach Christians “for not recognizing the full significance of the Holy Table, and for not having yet achieved

12

ferent impulses at work in modern Catholic responses to the Quran since Vatican II’” (Ipgrave 2015: 498). This is clear where Massignon says: “Islam exists and continues to subsist because it is of Abrahamic faith, to force the Christians to rediscover a more bare, more primitive, more simple form of sanctification, which Muslims admittedly only attain very rarely, but through our fault because we have not yet shown it to them in us, and this is what they expect from us, from Christ” (Ipgrave 2015: 499–500).

114

chapter 5

that rule of monastic perfection, rahbāniyya, which alone creates the second birth of Jesus within them” (Griffith 1997: 200). Massignon moves on to present his theology of the Quran, which he sees as a unique book that blends fragments of the biblical tradition “under a singularly elliptical form.” He continues: “This book, which a superior restraint seems to seal, imprisons under several literal and earthly equivocations, the sources of grace springing up in our sacred texts, as if the Quran was to the Bible what Ishmael, the one expelled, was to Isaac” (Griffith 1997: 197). ­Massignon considers the Quran an Arabic edition of the Bible with conditional authority. It is conditional “because in the end it excludes the full revelation of Jesus the Christ in the Gospel and in the Church” (Griffith 1990: 172). Having provided Massignon’s theological context, it is now appropriate to ask where Massignon can be located on the map of the threefold typology. Although Massignon would normally be classified an inclusivist (see Krokus 2017), it can be said that he goes beyond inclusivism, but without falling into pluralism. That is, when he speaks about Christ, he sends the impression that he is a devout Catholic. However, when he speaks about Islam, he conveys the impression of a man who has experienced Islam’s mind and heart. The uniqueness and complexity of Massignon’s narrative emerges from the fact that he relates to two major traditions that both hold to an exclusivist understanding of truth. It is thus suggested that Massignon was neither an exclusivist nor an inclusivist as such, but was instead a rare embodiment and prefigurement of the idea of dual religious identity,13 both methodologically and Christologically. The methodological aspect is manifest in his thought as well as his practice. His belief in the Abrahamic genealogy of Islam leads him to read Christianity in light of the Islamic tradition.14 His praxis revolves around his engagement with the Badaliyyah practice, which he finds in al-Ḥallāj’s corpus. The Christological aspect of Massignon’s dual religious identity draws on the way al-Ḥallāj substitutes himself for Muhammad in an almost redemptive manner. To clarify, not only was al-Ḥallāj’s crucifixion perceived by Massignon as a substitute penance for the redemption of Muslims, but also one in which he felt called to partake through his own life experience. Massignon was thus convinced there are Christian figures with redemptive roles within Islam who essentially participate in bringing Muslims to profess the divine sonship of Jesus Christ. By 13 14

Dual or multiple religious identity is the idea that one can belong to more than one faith tradition (Cornille 2010: 1–6). For the origins of the notion of “Abrahamic faiths,” see Massignon 1949: 20–23. Although the idea can be traced back to Paul, who referred to Abraham as the “father of us all” (Romans 4), the term Millat Ibrāhīm is central to the Quran.

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

115

Christian figures, Massignon means people like al-Ḥallāj, who in Massingon’s view was a Christian-Muslim, a modern man of inter-religious belonging. 1.3 Massignon and Vatican II After long discussions and rectifications of the original text, the Second Vatican Council (October 1962–December 1965), produced a declaration on how the Catholic church should relate to non-Christian religions.15 The conclusions of Vatican II contain some original theses that represent the mission and position of the Catholic church in modern times. Some three fundamental theological principles of Vatican II are thought to underlie the church’s approach to other religions in its modern phase. First, the universality of God’s salvific will; second, the sacramental nature of the church; and third, “between these two and connecting them, namely the necessary mediation of Jesus Christ” (O’Mahony 2007: 385). Although not in the initial plans for the Vatican II documents, part of the declaration focuses on Islam; a milestone in the Catholic church’s history with Islam, since the Magisterium took the official position that Islam is a major religion.16 This takes the form of a single sentence in the Dogmatic constitution of the church, Lumen gentium, and a full paragraph in the Declaration on the Relation of the church with non-Christian Religions, Nostra aetate.17 Massignon’s influence on Vatican II’s position on Islam is generally deemed beyond dispute.18 Christian Krokus writes: 15 16

17 18

For a thorough discussion of Vatican II’s take on Islam, see D’Costa (2014: 160–212). O’Mahony writes: “It is well recording here, that the Council’s concern with Islam arose incidentally, out of a desire for a declaration concerning the Jewish people. There was no intention of providing a full discussion of Islamic beliefs and practices, nor for that matter, of those of any other religion. Thus, it is often been commented that the Second Vatican Council spoke about Muslims but not about Islam. This is true insofar as the Council did not intend to give a full description of Islam, entering into a comprehensive theological assessment of the tradition, for that the Council Fathers left open for a future consideration of the Church” (O’Mahony 2007: 387). In a footnote, O’Mahony writes, “Karl Rahner also attests that it was an ‘Arab lobby’ that insisted that the document not treat of Judaism solely” (O’Mahony 2007: 387; also, Oesterreicher, in Vorgrimler and Rahner, eds. 1969: 3.1–137). It is worth noting, Krokus also points out, that there are “competing narratives regarding Massignon’s influence at Vatican II. For example, a recently published textbook on the history of the Catholic Church’s engagement with the non-Christian religions makes no mention whatsoever of Louis Massignon, either in the articles dedicated specifically to the Church’s understanding of Islam or in the more general articles about the role of the Council in the Church’s approach to non-Christians” (Krokus 2012a: 340–341). However, apart from the works cited here, many other works have been written examining ­Massignon’s impact on Vatican II. To name a few, Robinson 1991: 182–205; O’Mahony, in ­Bartholomew and Hughes, eds. 2004: 26–48; Unsworth 2008: 299–316.

116

chapter 5

The accumulation of exegetical discoveries (i.e., the similarity between the conciliar texts and his own position), testimonies, and respected opinions points to the probability that it is Louis Massignon’s vision that dominates the Roman Catholic Church’s statements regarding Islam in Lumen gentium and Nostra aetate. Although many commentators agree with that assessment, the concrete historical connections between ­Massignon and the conciliar pronouncements are not yet explained in sufficient detail. (Krokus 2012a: 329) Given the above, many writers, including Christian Krokus, Robert Caspar, Maurice Borrmans, Michael Fitzgerald, Christian Troll, Anthony O’Mahony, Andrew Unsworth, and Gavin D’Costa have accentuated Massignon’s impact on the conclusions of the Vatican II documents about Islam. However, it is worth stating, as Krokus points out, that “whatever influence Massignon exerted was indirect. The Council opened on 11 October 1962, and Massignon died on 31 October 1962. He was neither invited to the Council as an expert, nor was he consulted during the preparatory phase, although the latter is unsurprising, since at the time of Massignon’s death not even the word ‘Islam’ had been pronounced [at the Council].”19 Krokus argues that there are two routes that have been followed to demonstrate Massignon’s influence on Vatican II. Firstly, the phraseology of Lumen gentium and Nostra aetate’s reference to Islam echoes, advertently or not, ­Massignon’s own outlook, and, because his “position was unique in the history of Catholic approaches toward Islam, scholars conclude that the Council implicitly adopted certain of Massignon’s ideas. In other words, the similarity is too strong to be merely coincidental” (Krokus 2012a: 330). Secondly, the 19

Krokus continues: “Georges Anawati described the pre-conciliar Catholic approach to Islam as minimalist, which means that Catholic scholars and theologians showed very little sympathy toward Islam and were ‘incapable of justly recognizing the truths and riches contained in Islam and its civilizatio’ (Anawati 1987, 92). The exception for Anawati was Louis Massignon (with Asín Palacios), whose position he describes as a ‘via media,’ because subsequent to Vatican II a ‘maximalist’ position emerged wherein Muhammad and the Quran are uncritically accepted as part and parcel of the divine economy of salvation. Anawati lists four bases for the maximalist position. They include: a) an interpretation of the blessing and the promise to Ishmael (Gen. 17:1–11) in a material and realist sense.… The Arabs descended from Ishmael, and Muhammad is a prophet sent by God in order to affirm, in a special way, monotheism and to restore to the Hagarenes the unfulfilled promise, the refused privilege; b) the positive providential role of Islam, considered as the ‘cause’ of millions of people believing in God; c) the distinction of chronological time from the time of the Holy Spirit, so that the prophet of Islam would be, typologically, a prophet of the Old Testament; d) the Christian reading of the Quran (Anawati 1987, 92)” (Krokus 2012a: 332).

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

117

individuals at the Council who were mainly in charge of introducing and then drafting the statements on Islam were in general either friends or disciples of Massignon.20 Scholars “therefore trace a genealogy from the documents themselves through the friends and students of Massignon to Massignon himself, assuming that his friends and disciples would be convinced of and would communicate his vision of Islam” (Krokus 2012a: 330–331). While Krokus recognizes that these two ways of proving Massignon’s influence are neither definitive nor direct, he is convinced that there is enough evidence to show that such a probability is not only reasonable, but also compelling (Krokus 2012a: 331). To grasp this influence, it is worth quoting the actual words of Lumen gentium and Nostra aetate: 1. Lumen gentium 2:16 (1964): But the plan of salvation also includes those who acknowledge the Creator, in the first place amongst whom are the Moslems: these profess to hold the faith of Abraham, and together with us adore the one, merciful God, mankind’s judge on the last day. 2. Nostra aetate 3 (1965): The Church has also a high regard for the ­Muslim. They worship God, who is one, living and subsistent, merciful and almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, who has also spoken to men. They strive to submit themselves without reserve to the hidden decrees of God, just as Abraham submitted himself to God’s plan, to his faith Muslims eagerly link their own. Although not acknowledging him as God, they worship Jesus as a prophet, his virgin Mother they also honor, and even at times devoutly invoke. Further, they await the day of judgement and the reward of God following the resurrection of the dead. For this reason they highly esteem an upright life and worship God, especially by way of prayer, alms-deeds and fasting. Over the centuries many quarrels and dissensions have arisen between Christians and Muslims. The sacred Council now pleads with all to forget the past, and urges that a sincere effort be made to achieve mutual

20

Krokus contends that there “seem to be three concentric circles of Massignon-connected persons at the Council, with the innermost representing those who had a strong connection to Massignon and who had the most say regarding the final version of the conciliar statements. These would include Pope Paul VI, Robert Caspar, Georges Anawati, and the Archbishop of Smyrna, Joseph Descuffi. One circle removed would be Melkite Patriarch Maximos IV and Youakim Moubarac, and in the circle most removed would be theologians (and Cardinals) Charles Journet and Yves Congar, both of whom were obviously prominent figures at the Council, and both of whom had some connection to Massignon (Journet more than Congar), but both of whom probably contributed little to the actual wording of the Church’s statements on Islam” (Krokus 2012a: 334).

118

chapter 5

understanding; for the benefit of all men, let them together preserve and promote peace, liberty, social justice and moral values.21 Although not everything in Massignon’s thought is to be found in the Vatican II documents, his influence can also be inferred from the fact that whatever is absent from his thought about Islam seems also absent in the Vatican documents. For instance, Massignon barely engages with the content of the Quran, Ḥajj, and Prophet Muhammad. Similarly, there is almost no mention of/engagement with these in the Vatican II documents. However, Massignon’s experience of Islam and Muslim morality is quite prominent in his thought. Hence, there is a corresponding recognition of Muslim morality and devotion highlighted in the Vatican II conclusions. This is clear in the wording of the documents, which apparently focus more on Muslims than on Islam per se; a focus that led to an ongoing discussion over whether the Vatican II addresses Islam as a faith or only Muslims as individual believers (Krokus, 2012a: 343). Nevertheless, despite the purported relation with Massignon, not all his theses were accepted and incorporated in Vatican II. In his significant monograph, Vatican II: Catholic Doctrines on Jews and Muslims, D’Costa points out that the council went against Massignon’s teachings in three major areas. It is worth quoting D’Costa at length here: First, the Council rejected the thesis that Islam came about through Abraham’s historical lineage and in this sense, there was a covenantal link between the Abrahamic covenant and the three religions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. A form of spiritual, not historical-covenantal, lineage is advanced instead. Second, Massignon favoured the Shiite tradition in terms of mysticism and piety, whereas the Council does not make distinctions between Sunni and Shiite, nor does it touch upon Shiite mystical elements so beloved of Massignon and frowned on by many Sunnis. Third, mysticism is not mentioned at all, only prayer, whereas Massignon’s greatest work was focused on the Sunni mystic al-Hallaj. However, central to Massignon’s approach, and also true of the most progressive Catholic scholarship on Islam at the time, was the insight that Muslim prayer and piety genuinely lead to the true God and this journey found its fulfilment in Christ and the Catholic Church. (D’Costa 2014: 186) 21

Vatican II translations are taken from Flannery (1996). Also, Pope Paul VI, in no. 107 of his first encyclical, Ecclesiam Suam (6 August 1964), seems to have foreseen Lumen gentium’s sanguine teaching about Muslims. He states we do well to admire Muslims “on account of those things that are true and commendable in their worship (Paul VI 1964: 654; see also O’Collins 2013: 73).

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

2

119

Karl Rahner and Anonymous Christians

Karl Rahner (5 March 1904–30 March 1984) was a German Jesuit priest, and one of the most influential Catholic theologians of the twentieth century. Rahner’s use of multiple theological and philosophical channels provides a creative “conceptual framework for retrieving Catholic doctrine and the neo scholastic theology of the previous generation” (Carey and Lienhard, eds. 2000: 427). His insightful essays correspond to the wide array of debates that Catholics engaged in from the 1940s to the 1980s; the earlier of which helped prepare for Vatican II, while the later ones “provided rich resources for both academic and pastoral theology” (Carey and Lienhard 2000: 427). Rahner’s influence went beyond the German-speaking countries due to his engagement with international publications, conversations, and his role as a peritus at Vatican II. Before the Second Vatican Council, he worked alongside Congar, de Lubac, and MarieDominique Chenu: theologians associated with an emerging school of thought called the Nouvelle Théologie, elements of which are berated in the encyclical Humani generis of Pope Pius XII.22 Rahner’s theory of the “anonymous Christian” is branded the classic example of the inclusivist position. In fact, “nothing in Rahner’s oeuvre has received so much attention as this theory. In large part, this is because questions of religious pluralism and interreligious relations command the interest of a broad audience—broader than that of systematic or dogmatic theology” (Kilby 2004: 115). In addition, his anonymous Christian theory “provides a sound starting point to pursue a number of further theological, philosophical and phenomenological questions which confront Christian Inclusivists” (D’Costa 1986: 117). Although Rahner did not study other religions systematically, he did engage in dialogue with numerous Buddhist, Jewish, and Muslim thinkers around the world. In the 1960s, he began to pay closer attention to non-Christian religions in an essay entitled “Christianity and the Non-Christian Religions,” published later in 1966 in his Theological Investigations. Although some new insights into Rahner’s theory and context are offered in this section, the primary aim is not to engage critically with the concept, but rather to ask a question more relevant to this monograph, i.e., is there a parallel to Rahner’s theory in the Islamic tradition?

22

Humani generis is a papal encyclical that Pope Pius XII promulgated on 12 August 1950 in relation to opinions seen to be undermining the foundations of Catholic doctrine, i.e. the Nouvelle Théologie (see Pius 1950).

120

chapter 5

2.1 Rahner’s Context and Theory In “Christianity and the Non-Christian Religions,” Rahner presents his theory of the “anonymous Christian.” He starts off lamenting an existential reality with which Christians need to deal. This reality is religious pluralism. Rahner points out that what is meant here is not the internal pluralism within the Christian tradition, but rather the more problematic external pluralism at the inter-faith level. He writes, “we do not refer by this to the pluralism of Christian denominations. This pluralism too is a fact, and a challenge and task for Christians. But we are not concerned with it here. Our subject is the, at least in its ultimate and basic form, more serious problem of the different religions which still exist even in Christian times, and this after a history and mission of Christianity which has already lasted two thousand years.” Religious pluralism presents the gravest threat of all to Christianity, “for no other religion—not even Islam—maintains so absolutely that it is the religion, the one and only valid revelation of the one living God” (1961: 5.115). Exacerbating this threat is globalization, through which the entire world is melted and its people intermingle in every nook and cranny (Rahner 1966: 5.116). Engaging with controversies over the term and what it means, in “Observations on the Problem of the Anonymous Christian,” Rahner defines his theory in clear language. The “anonymous Christian” describes someone who does not profess Christianity, probably even denies the existence of God, and yet is justified by the grace of Christ. In his words, it “is the pagan after the beginning of the Christian mission, who lives in the state of Christ’s grace through faith, hope and love, yet who has no explicit knowledge of the fact that his life is orientated in grace-given salvation to Jesus Christ” (1976: 14.283). However, the grace of Christ does not imply the salvific efficacy of the non-Christian religions. Rahner states the following: God desires the salvation of everyone. And this salvation willed by God is the salvation won by Christ, the salvation of supernatural grace which divinizes man, the salvation of the beatific vision. It is a salvation really intended for all those millions upon millions of men who lived perhaps a million years before Christ—and also for those who have lived after Christ—in nations, cultures, and epochs of a very wide range which were still completely shut off from the viewpoint of those living in the light of the New Testament. (Rahner 1966: 5.122) The above quotation holds two seemingly paradoxical theses, i.e., it maintains the particularity of Christianity while offering the possibility of salvation to

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

121

non-Christians. For consistency, Rahner coins his term “anonymous Christian,” which is anchored on four premises: First, he argues that “Christianity understands itself as the absolute religion, intended for all men, which cannot recognize any other religion besides itself as of equal right. This proposition is self-evident and basic for Christianity’s understanding of itself” (Rahner 1966: 5.116). Although Rahner believes in the absoluteness of Christ and Christianity, he is fully aware that Christianity has not been in existence for all time. There are those who lived before Christ and who never encountered him; and there are also those who lived after him, who in most cases through no fault of their own, did not encounter him. He writes “nevertheless, the Christian religion as such has a beginning in history; it did not always exist but began at some point in time. It has not always and everywhere been the way of salvation for men—at least not in its historically tangible ecclesio-sociological constitution” (Rahner 1966: 5.117). Rahner’s second premise is that God is good, therefore, he does not intend to damn the millions who have not encountered Jesus. This salvific will of God is contained in the grace revealed in Christ and is historically exemplified in the religion of Israel. Rahner writes: Until the moment when the gospel really enters into the historical situation of an individual, a non-Christian religion (even outside the Mosaic religion) does not merely contain elements of a natural knowledge of God, elements, moreover, mixed up with human depravity which is the result of original sin and later aberrations. It contains also supernatural elements arising out of the grace which is given to men as a gratuitous gift on account of Christ.” (Rahner 1966: 5.119) Yet, if God were to offer grace to all people across all ages, would this grace be mediated despite or through the non-Christian religions? In Rahner’s view, if grace is given to all people, it must be through and not despite Christ. Therefore, non-Christian religions may be called “lawful religions” in a sense, since they mediate God’s grace. As he puts it: We must therefore rid ourselves of the prejudice that we can face a nonChristian religion with the dilemma that it must either come from God in everything it contains and thus correspond to God’s will and positive providence, or be simply a purely human construction. If man is under God’s grace even in these religions—and to deny this is certainly absolutely wrong—then the possession of this supernatural grace cannot but

122

chapter 5

show itself, and cannot but become a formative factor of life in the concrete, even where (though not only where) this life turns the relationship to the absolute into an explicit theme, viz. in religion. (Rahner 1966: 5.122) Moving on to the third premise, Rahner argues that in dialogue, a Christian should not consider non-Christians as people untouched by God’s grace. For a non-Christian may have unknowingly accepted God’s grace in the depths of his heart. Consequently, he may be called an “anonymous Christian,” which is a more satisfactory term than “anonymous theist” as God’s grace cannot be divorced or separated from Christ. Hence, Rahner insists on mission, since mission has a significant role in the life of the “anonymous Christian.” He states: The proclamation of the Gospel does not simply turn someone absolutely abandoned by God and Christ into a Christian but turns an anonymous Christian into someone who also knows about his Christian belief in the depth of his grace-endowed being by objective reflection and in the profession of faith which is a given social form in the Church. It is not thereby denied, but on the contrary implied, that this explicit selfrealization of his previously anonymous Christianity is itself part of the development of this Christianity itself—a higher stage of development of this Christianity demanded by his being—and that is therefore intended by God in the same way as everything else about salvation. Hence, it will not be possible in any way to draw the conclusion from this conception that, since man is already an anonymous Christian even without it, this explicit preaching of Christianity is superfluous. (Rahner 1966: 5.125) Mission is of great significance to the anonymous Christian as it raises that person to a higher rank on the way to salvation. As a result, the individual who is already a Christian does have a greater opportunity for salvation than the one who is just an anonymous Christian (1966: 5.125). The rationale behind this, for Rahner, is that the one who is already a Christian, rather than just an anonymous Christian, will have more responsibilities to shoulder and further duties to fulfil (D’Costa 1986: 88). If the three premises above are admitted, the fourth is that the church cannot then be regarded as an elitist community that exclusively embraces those who have gained salvation against the millions of non-Christians who are not saved as a result of their distance from the church. On the contrary, the church, as Rahner puts it, is “the historically tangible vanguard and the historically and socially constituted explicit expression of what the Christian hopes is present as a hidden reality even outside the visible Church” (1966: 5.125).

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

123

These four theses can be summarized in two points. Firstly, God, who desires all to be saved from Hell, cannot possibly condemn all nonChristians. Secondly, Jesus is God’s only means of salvation. This would mean that the non-Christians who end up in heaven must unknowingly have accepted the grace of Christ (as anonymous Christians). Although Vatican II did not officiate the term “anonymous Christian,” for it was too controversial among Christians and too uncomfortable for other believers (Grzelak 2018: 176), these two theses are nevertheless perceptible in the Vatican II documents, particularly where it is written: “Those also can attain to everlasting salvation who, through no fault of their own, do not know the Gospel of Christ or his Church, yet sincerely seek God and, moved by grace, strive by their deeds to do his will as it is known to them through the dictates of conscience” (LG 16). Rahner’s concept of the “anonymous Christian” has been given a variety of interpretations. For some it is simultaneously a challenge and an inspiration, and for others a real threat to the church’s mission.23 The danger lies in that if other believers or non-believers are already “Christians,” the church need no longer be considered the only means of salvation and truth, and missionaries no longer need to preach the Good News. However, for Rahner the church is there not just to rescue people from perdition, but to help them walk firmly on the road to unity with God. Hence, “Christian proclamation was supposed to be carried out for more noble motives than conversion to Christianity” (Grzelak 2018: 174). This, however, was too far-reaching for the church. With this in mind, the following insights are offered: First, it is suggested that what gave resonance to Rahner’s theory was its context rather than its text. That is, the context played a more important role in the acceptance of Rahner’s idea than its originality, which can be traced back as far as Justin Martyr, and more clearly, to Juan De Lugo, both discussed earlier. It was primarily because of the context that Rahner was heeded while De Lugo was censored. Put differently, De Lugo lived during a time where the West was only barely and vaguely introduced to the East, and the confrontational history was looming between Christianity and Islam. His theory did not meet

23

Karen Kilby writes: “One might be tempted to divide critics into those on the left and those on the right, or those into the pluralist camp and those from the exclusivist camp. But left and right have long been problematic terms in theology, and the exclusivist/inclusivist/pluralist typology is increasingly questioned. Rather less contentious, perhaps, is to distinguish between criticisms to the effect that Rahner’s theory does not do justice to Christianity, and those which suggest that he does not do justice to other religions and systems of belief” (2004: 116).

124

chapter 5

a listening ear. By contrast, Rahner’s thesis emerged in a context that had not only room for tolerance but an urgent need for accommodation. Second, and despite the above, Rahner’s theory seems closer to exclusivism than to inclusivism.24 Namely, Rahner’s thesis is only provisional and is conditioned by the individual not encountering Christianity. Once Christianity is encountered, there is no other means of salvation. Rahner states: “wherever in practice Christianity reaches man in the real urgency and rigour of his actual existence, Christianity—once understood—presents itself as the only still valid religion for this man, a necessary means for salvation and not merely an obligation with the necessity of a precept” (Rahner 1966: 5.120). Commenting on this, D’Costa writes: “Rahner was always clear to emphasize the provisional status of other religions as salvific structures, fully recognizing that to do otherwise would posit another revelation alongside Christ’s trinity” (D’Costa 2009: 22). Third, Rahner does not seem dissatisfied with the content of the Catholic message of salvation, but rather the form in which it was presented to the modern person. His theory thus seems pastoral rather than theological. A Christian who lives in such a time, Rahner argues, “finds himself in a diaspora situation which is becoming increasingly acute, the believer who finds his faith and his hope sorely tried at the sight of his unbelieving brothers, can derive from [my thesis of the anonymous Christian] comfort and the strength of objectivity… this knowledge will keep him from panic” (Martin 2012: 112). Martin further clarifies: It is clear that Rahner is actually motivated by pastoral concerns and is trying to preserve “hope’ in those who are discouraged by the prospect of evangelizing in the cultural context Rahner was most sensitive to— the post Christian European intellectual culture of his time. In a way not unlike that of the sixteenth century Dominican and Jesuit theologians, who attempted to come to grips theologically with the shock of the discovery of vast peoples in the “new world” who had never heard the ­Gospel, Rahner is attempting to come to grips theologically with the shock of the collapse of Christendom and the ascendency of an aggressive anti-Christian international secular culture in the Christian heartland, as well as 24

D’Costa reaches the same conclusion, writing: “Rahner holds to the exclusive truth of Christ and nevertheless allows for the provisional validity of non-Christian religions until they are historically and existentially confronted by the true religion. If they are not confronted in this life, Rahner in other writings not related to religious Pluralism still holds that they will be confronted in the next, in some manner; otherwise they will not be able to share the beatific vision. In this sense, his provisional Inclusivism is eschatologically a strong Exclusivism” (D’Costa 2009: 35).

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

125

the continued existence of vast numbers of people of “other religions” who show no signs of conversion to Christianity in significant numbers. (Martin 2012: 110) Finally, Rahner also seems to be aware that his thesis is not unique in the history of the Catholic church, as he professes that his view is “more or less traditional right down to the Second Vatican Council” (Rahner 1978: 14.284). Yet, does Rahner’s theory have any resonance in the Islamic tradition? This is what I investigate in the remaining section of this chapter. 2.2 Is There an Islamic Parallel to Rahner’s Theory? This section takes the following Quranic verse and prophetic hadith as its central focus. First, verse 30:30, is rendered: “So [Prophet] as a man of pure faith, stand firm and true in your devotion to the religion. This is the natural disposition God instilled in mankind—there is no altering God’s creation—and this is the right religion, though most people do not realize it.”25 Second, the hadith translates as follows: “No child is born except on al-fiṭrah and then his parents make him Jewish, Christian or Magian; as an animal produces a perfect young animal: do you see any part of its body amputated?” The narrator then cites the above verse in support of the hadith (ŠṢM 1930.16: 207). The term fiṭrah, which occurs in the verse and hadith above, has no exact equivalent in the English language, although is often translated as “primordial human nature/natural disposition” or “original unadulterated nature of things” (Badawi and Haleem 2008: 717). Although one of the most highlighted terms in the Islamic tradition, it can hardly be defined within the tradition itself. Yasin Mohamed pushes this further, saying, “there is no single, precise meaning for it and any attempt to elucidate it will necessarily involve some subjective interpretation even though such an analysis stems from classical Islamic scholarship and is based on the Qurʾān and ḥadīth” (Yasien 1995: 129). The variant interpretations on the concept of fiṭrah can be categorized into three major categories:26 A. The receptive interpretation, which suggests that human nature is devoid of any leanings towards either good or evil. B. The proactive interpretation, which indicates that human nature is naturally inclined towards what is good. C. The conflictive interpretation, which claims that fiṭrah has tendencies towards both, which keeps it in an ongoing conflict. The following pages elaborate further. 25 26

Unless otherwise stated, the translation of Quranic verses in this section are from Haleem (2004). Although these derivations are mine, I draw on Yasien’s article above.

126

chapter 5

2.2.1 The Receptive Interpretation Historically, the receptive interpretation of fiṭrah can be traced back to the Jabarites (predestinarians), who emerged by the middle of the eighth century.27 This theological school argues that “each individual by Divine decree is either good or evil by nature, whether such a decree occurs arbitrarily or in accordance with a Divine Plan. Thus, irrespective of the external agents of guidance and misguidance, the individual is absolutely bound by God’s will to live a prescribed life, the blueprint of which had already been designed in preexistence” (Yasien 1995: 130–131). The Qadarites (libertarians), who were the antithesis of the Jabarites, emerged shortly before the ninth century.28 They advocated the total freedom of humankind towards good and evil alike (Yasien 1995: 131). In their view, “fiṭrah is neither in a state of intrinsic īmān, [goodness], nor a state of intrinsic kufr [evilness]. The child is born in a wholesome state, a blank state, as it were, with no cognition of īmān or kufr; belief or unbelief become manifest only when the child attains maturity (taklīf )” (Yasien 1995: 134). While the two views may appear mutually exclusive, they share a common denominator. That is, fiṭrah is as a blank page in both cases, yet it is God who fills it in the case of the Jabarites and it is the human in the case of the Qadarites. Attesting to this is the fact that both take Q. 16:78 to support their views. The verse translates, “It is God who brought you out of your mothers’ wombs—knowing nothing, and gave you hearing and sight and minds, so that you might be thankful.” 2.2.2 The Proactive Interpretation Many Muslim scholars, classical as well as modern, have held the proactive view, contending that every child is born in a state of goodness, therefore evil and misguidance are external agents. However, proponents of this view differ

27

28

This is a theological school that emerged in “the Umayyad period that denied man’s free will and asserted that man in all of his actions is subject to the compulsion ( jabr) of God’s sovereignty. Most important of the Jabrites is Jahm ibn Safwan (d. 746), who held that salvation was predetermined. Orthodox Islam accepts a measure of free will with the Ashʿarite concept of ‘acquisition’ (kasb)” (Adamec 2017: 223). The Qadarite school “is an early Islamic school of theology that upheld the Divine Decree (al-Qadar), God’s omnipotence, but nevertheless accepted the idea of free will against the proponents of predestination. Qadar (power) seemed to denote the power of God to determine human actions and the power of man to determine his own actions” (Adamec 2017: 351).

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

127

on what defines “goodness.” For instance, Ibn Taymiyyah (d. 728/1263)29 sees a natural correspondence between goodness and Islam. “Ontologically, man is adapted to it; he responds spontaneously to its teachings and follows its injunctions as if they were self-taught. Dīn al-Islām is of the human fiṭrah” (Yasien 1995: 136). Given the heavy influence of Ibn Taymiyyah’s works on modern Salafī movements (see DeLong Bas 2008), it is not surprising that the existing literature on fiṭrah tends to assume that Muslim scholars equated this notion with Islam. In fact, many Muslim converts today dismiss the term “converts,” using “reverts” instead, convinced that so-called “converts” were originally born Muslim. With the wide dissemination of Ibn Taymiyyah’s interpretation, the Quranic verse together with the above hadith led to widespread notions “within the Muslim community that, unless there is a cause for deviation, their fiṭra will lead humans to become Muslims” (Griffel 2011: 3). Under this camp is also al-Nawawī (d. 676/1277)30 who offers another interpretation of fiṭrah. While Ibn Taymiyyah confirms the Islamic nature of the fiṭrah, al-Nawawī offers the view that the fiṭrah is the unconfirmed state of īmān (faith); a stage that precedes one’s acknowledgement of a certain belief (Yasien 1995: 137). 2.2.3 The Conflictive Interpretation This interpretation is primarily a twentieth-century phenomenon and is held in particular by some modern Muslim thinkers who have been engaged in revolutionary trends in modern Islamic movements. The view of life of this movement as a whole seems a consequence of socio-political realities in ­Muslim nation-states, where life is seen as a struggle against injustice and despotism (Yasien 1995: 131–141). The two main representatives of this paradigm are 29

30

Ibn Taymiyyah was “born in Harran in northern Syria and educated in Damascus, he became a jurist of the Hanbalite school of law, teaching at Damascus and Cairo. His father and grandfather were famous authorities of the Hanbali school. A strict traditionist and opponent of Sufism, Shiʿism, saint cults, shrines, and philosophy. … He condemned many practices of popular Islam as sinful innovations (bidʿah), was repeatedly imprisoned, and died in jail. One of his major works is the Book of the Refutation of the Logicians (Kitab alradd ‘ala al-mantiqiyyin). His teachings have inspired revivalist movements, including 19th-century Wahhabism and present-day Islamists” (Adamec 2017: 194). Al-Nawawī is “a Shafiʿite jurist and hadith scholar who flourished in Damascus.… His Forty Hadith and Gardens of the Pious (Riyadh al-Salihin) are among his most important works. He emphasizes the devotional aspects of the Koran. Nawawi was born in Nawa, south of Damascus, and died there” (Adamec 2017: 324).

128

chapter 5

Sayyed Quṭb (d. 1966),31 and ʿAlī Šarīʿatī (d. 1977).32 Quṭb argues that human nature is of two parts: one is of the clay of the earth; a part which leans towards pre-Islamic Jāhīlī matters,33 and the other is of the spirit of God; which leans towards things that are Islamic. Therefore, human beings are torn between these two forces of their nature, and hence constantly ought to strive against the Jāhīlī models of life and pursue the ideal Islamic way (Quṭb 1980: 43). Šarīʿatī takes this further, and using the Quranic analogy of the clay of the earth and spirit of God, writes: 31

32

33

Sayyed Quṭb was a leading member of the Muslim Brotherhood (Iḫwan) and one of the “founding fathers” of the modern Islamist discourse. He graduated in 1933 with a BA in education and briefly taught at the Dār al-Ulūm in Cairo. Winning a fellowship, he came to the United States where he earned an MA in education (1948–1950). His “experience in the West caused an intellectual transformation—he was shocked by racism, seeming sexual permissiveness, and the pro-Zionist attitude of the American people. Upon returning to Egypt, Qutb joined the Muslim Brotherhood and became editor of its paper, al-Ikhwan. Originally, he supported the Free Officers who toppled the monarchy in Egypt in 1952, but then he opposed the Nasser regime when it became clear that the government was not going to Islamize the state. Arrested several times, Qutb was executed on 29 August 1966. In his writings, Qutb stated that ‘true Islam existed only in the time of the Prophet and his Companions,’ and he called for the reestablishment of the state according to the early example. He advocated the use of violence to overthrow the existing ­Muslim rulers as they had strayed from the Islamic way. He rejected capitalism, communism, nationalism, liberalism, and secularism as ideologies that have failed and demanded the establishment of an Islamic state. He called for the public ownership of ‘fire, grass, and water,’ and he demanded the redistribution of wealth not properly acquired. His teachings inspired the formation of such radical Islamic movements as Jamaʿat al-Takfir wa al-Hijrah (Excommunication and Exile)” (Adamec 2017: 359–360). Šarīʿatī was an Iranian social and religious critic “who provided the radical interpretation of Islam for the revolution. Born in Mazin, a village near Mashhad, and educated in Islamic studies in Mashhad, he worked as a teacher and in the 1950s became a political activist, supporting the Mosaddeq government. Arrested for a short time, he then travelled to Paris and earned a doctorate in sociology from the Sorbonne in 1964. He was one of the founders of the National Front and edited its paper Iran Azad (Free Iran). Upon his return to Iran, he was arrested. Jailed several times, he left Iran for London, where he died under mysterious circumstances. He was a modernist Shiʿite reformer who criticized the ʿulamaʾ for ‘believing without thinking.’ He was attacked by the conservative ʿulamaʾ as an agent of Wahhabism, communism, and Christianity. He emphasized independent reasoning and the principle of permanent revolution. He became famous as a fighter for progress and against the rule of the Iranian monarch and is credited by Iranians as the ‘Father of the Iranian Revolution’ of 1979. He is buried in Damascus” (Adamec 2017: 401). Jahīlīyya: “Muslims call the pre-Islamic period the (Age of Ignorance). It was the age of tribalism and is reckoned to cover the period of about a century before the advent of Islam. It is also the heroic age of the great Bedouin poets, who extolled the virtues of Bedouin life: courage, loyalty, and generosity. The Seven Odes (Muʿallaqat) and similar collections of this period are considered superior to any poetry composed thereafter” (Adamec 2017: 198).

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

129

Clay, the lowest symbol of baseness is combined, in man, with the spirit of God, the most exalted entity. Man is thus a bi-dimensional creature with a dual nature, a compound of two, not only different, but opposing forces, one inclined to descend to material, sedimentary mud, and the other inclined to ascend to the exalted spirit of God. A further important component in this model is the free-will granted to man and the trust offered to man by God. Free-will enables him to choose towards which pole he would incline, and the trust burdens him with the responsibility of fulfilling the role of a worthy vicegerent of God on earth. (ʿAlī Šarīʿatī 1979: 95–96; emphasis mine) Before returning to the “anonymous Muslim hypothesis,” it is important to identify how the Ašʿarites understood the concept of fiṭrah. Pre-Ġazālian Ašʿarites did not accept the proposition that there is an original unadulterated nature shared by all humans. In the words of Frank Griffel, “assuming that things have (natures) that determine their past or future progression would restrict God’s omnipotence and would make it impossible for Him to create a plum tree, for example, out of an apple seed” (2009: 8). While early Ašʿarites do not engage with the above Quranic verse and prophetic tradition, al-Ġazālī does, although offering two different interpretations. First, he quotes the hadith of the fiṭrah in the context of “his own destruction of things he had learned from his parents and teachers who were Muslims, lamenting the fact that to them also applies what applies to Christians, Jews, and Zoroastrians, namely that their teachings obstruct the natural human disposition according to which God has created him. Disposition towards what, one must ask? A simple answer is: disposition towards truth” (Griffel 2009: 5). In other words, fiṭrah is an instrument that enables every single human to reach the truth. So, the fiṭrah here is not to be equated with Islam. The second interpretation: fiṭrah is a clean slate and a tabula rasa that is receptive to both good and evil (Griffel 2009: 5–6). The difference between the two interpretations is that in the former, fiṭrah has a positive role in terms of having a potential ability to know the truth, while in the latter, this ability does not seem to exist. However, in both cases, fiṭrah is not to be equated with Islam as such. Two post-Ġazālian Ašʿarites, al-Rāzī and ʿAbduh, offer a fresh interpretation of the concept of fiṭrah. In his Quran commentary, al-Rāzī argues that fiṭrah is tawhīd (monotheism) (TFR 1981: 25.120–121). Al-Rāzī reads Q. 30:30 in light of Q. 7:172–174.34 Thus, fiṭrah is linked to the covenant made between 34

“[Prophet], when your Lord took out the offspring from the loins of the Children of Adam and made them bear witness about themselves, He said, ‘Am I not your Lord?’ and they

130

chapter 5

the Sons of Adam and their Lord before the existence of the world of things to worship none but Him. ʿAbduh concurs with al-Rāzī’s interpretation. In his exposition of Q. 2:135, which is rendered: “say [Prophet], ‘No, [ours is] the religion of ­Abraham, the upright (ḥanīf ), who did not worship any god besides God’” ʿAbduh contends that the fiṭrah, according to which God has created ­Abraham, is not Islam in the technical sense (with capital I), but rather islām in the l­inguistic sense which means submitting to God alone, and associating no partners with him (TM 1947: 1.480–481). 2.2.4 Critical Evaluation Al-Rāzī and ʿAbduh’s interpretation of the concept of fiṭrah may be more accurate, for they take the mediate and immediate context of the Quran into account. That is, tracing the context of the term fiṭrah in the Quran shows that it is often linked to discussions of monotheism. Hence, ignoring the context of Q. 30:30 is a prime reason for the controversies over the meaning of fiṭrah. To establish this, a tripartite typology can be offered.35 This typology is comprised of three notions: sibāq (prior-text), liḥāq (post-text), and siyāq (context). Sibāq is what comes immediately before the examined text; liḥāq is what comes immediately after it and siyāq is the context of the three: the prior-text, text and post-text. Any interpretation of a Quranic verse that does not consider the prior-text as well as the post-text, risks misunderstanding the Quranic text (UF 1958: 184–197). Applying this tripartite typology to the Quranic verse at hand, the preceding verses: 30:28–29,36 rebuke people who associate partners with God. The succeeding verses: 30:31–32,37 then forbid humankind from associating partners with God. Narrowing down the scope on the verse in question, it can safely be suggested that the central verse should be interpreted in light of the preceding and succeeding ones. That is to suggest that fiṭrah in the Quranic view does not seem to mean Islam, but rather “monotheism,” as opposed to “polytheism.”

35 36 37

replied, ‘Yes, we bear witness.’ So you cannot say on the Day of Resurrection, ‘We were not aware of this.’” Although this tripartite typology is not explicitly developed by classical Muslim scholars, implications can be drawn from the early writings of tafsīr such as Tafsīr al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) (see DSQ 2012: vol. 1). “He gives you this example, drawn from your own lives: do you make your slaves full partners with an equal share in what We have given you? Do you fear them as you fear each other?” “Turn to Him alone, all of you. Be mindful of Him; keep up the prayer; Do not join those who ascribe partners to God.”

CATHOLICISM ON THE EVE OF MODERNITY

131

Based on the above review, interpreting the term fiṭrah definitively to mean “Islam” is a modern phenomenon that owes much to the wide dissemination of Ibn Taymiyyah’s hermeneutics. There is thus a parallel with Rahner’s theory in the Islamic tradition, although exclusively surrounding the understanding Ibn Taymiyyah and his followers have of the concept of fiṭrah. The common feature lies in the fact that they operate on a similar basis, i.e., the nature of each individual at birth is originally Christian in the case of Rahner, and originally Muslim in the case of Ibn Taymiyyah. However, there is an important nuance that might set Ibn Taymiyyah’s interpretation apart from the “anonymous Muslim hypothesis.” That is, this fiṭrīIslam, according to Ibn Taymiyyah, is not salvific, for he distinguishes between two types of monotheism (tawhīd): tawḥīd al-rubūbiyyah (Oneness of God’s Lordship), and tawḥīd al-ʿulūhiyyah (Oneness of God’s Worship). While the former is about the ascription of all acts of creation in the universe, such as creation, to God alone, the latter refers to the dedication of all acts of worship to none but Him alone, such as duʿā (supplication/prayer), and all other forms of ʿibādah (worship). Only the latter is salvific, and is obtained exclusively in Muhammadan Islam, according to Ibn Taymiyyah (FT 2005: 1.22).

Chapter 6

Modern Ašʿarite Theology of Salvation (Al-Azhar and the Quran-Based Theology) 1

Muhammad ʿAbduh’s Theology of Salvation Unbroken tradition is obligatorily part of the faith. This covers the contents of the Qurʾān and a few only of the traditions, or Sunnah, dealing with practical things. ʿabduh 1966: 156

Muhammad ʿAbduh (1849–1905) was an Egyptian jurist, religious scholar, and theologian. He was schooled in Al-Azhar, where he received the traditional education and earned the title of ḥāfiẓ when he had memorized the Quran at the age of 12. Having mastered traditional studies, he graduated from AlAzhar in 1294/1878 as a qualified Azhariate teacher (KJF 1320 AH: 167). Going beyond the boundaries of Al-Azhar, not only did ʿAbduh promote a religiously intellectual society in Egypt that worked to eliminate public religious illiteracy, but also initiated proposals for reforming the structure and content of education in Egypt, including Al-Azhar. ʿAbduh experienced turmoil and exile in his life, yet he used his exile as a means of expanding his influence and spreading his ideas of reform. He thus met with many European thinkers and influential leaders of the Muslim world. In 1899, he was appointed Egypt’s Grand Muftī, holding this position until he died in Alexandria on 11 July 1905 (Adamec 2017: 23–24).1 ʿAbduh is considered a key player in the shaping of modern Muslim theology. However, he left behind considerable confusion over which school of Islamic theology he belongs to. Charles Adams finds that ʿAbduh’s theology did not depart from orthodox theology in essential content (Adams 1968: 115), while Eben Horton goes further, saying that on many questions ʿAbduh followed an extreme orthodox theology. In D. B. Macdonald’s view, ʿAbduh presented himself a Māturīdī “with no mention of al-Māturīdī.” However, Muṣtafā ʿAbd al-Rāziq deem him an Ašʿarite in the matter of the Divine attributes, but a 1 For comprehensive accounts of ʿAbduh’s life and contribution to modern Islam, see Rashīd Riḍā in his Tārīḫ al-imām Muḥammad ʿAbduh; Muḥammad ʿImārah in his al-A`māl al-kāmilah li’l-imām Muḥammad ʿAbduh. Also: Adams (1968); Dudoignon, Hisao and Yasushi (2006). © Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004461765_008

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

133

neo-Muʿtazilī in his strong emphasis on the right to criticism. ʿUthmān Amīn, Louis Gardet, George Anawati, Robert Caspar, and Malcol H. Kerr agree that “some of ʿAbduh’s ideas amount to the revival of Muʿtazilism.” Basing his study not on ʿAbduh’s Risālat al-tawḥīd (Theology of Unity), but rather on ʿAbduh’s neglected Ḥāšiyah (commentary) on Šarḥ al-dawwānī lil-ʿaqāʾid al-ʿaḍudiyah, Suliemān Dunyā, regards him “as more radical than the Muʿtazilah in giving greater prominence to reason than to revelation” (Nasution 1968: 3–4). In The Place of Reason in ʿAbduh’s Theology, Harun Nasution reads ʿAbduh as a reviver of the Muʿtazilī theology. He nevertheless takes previous scholars to task for overemphasizing ʿAbduh’s theological views over his theological paradigm (Nasution 1968: 4–20). In other words, although ʿAbduh was eclectic about many theological matters, Nasution says, he emerged from a rationalist theological paradigm. Nasution bases his argument on what he calls a focusword. By the focus-word he means the word that ʿAbduh uses the most, and that is “reason.” Reading Risālat al-tawḥīd, Nasution points out that on almost every page ʿAbduh “speaks of the power of reason. Reason for him is an important focus-word and his theological views, beliefs, and doctrines as expounded in the book and in his other works, have been much influenced by this focusword” (Nasution 1968: 8). Revelation for ʿAbduh, as for the Muʿtazilites, “has the same function, to confirm what reason has already known by itself and to inform man of facts about God and the intelligible world which are beyond the scope of reason to know. Revelation for both [ʿAbduh and Muʿtazilah] has more the function of confirmation than information” (Nasution 1968: 255–256, emphasis mine). Nevertheless, I find Nasution’s understanding of ʿAbduh’s usage of the term “reason” problematic. For Risālat al-tawḥīd is not merely a work of theology, but also a work of sociology, so to speak. That is, when ʿAbduh employs the term “reason,” he does not always employ it in opposition to revelation. Put differently, he does not consistently utilize it in its theological sense but, more often than not, uses it to critique the stagnant status quo of the contemporary Muslim mind which shunned reasoning and clung to taqlīd (uncritical imitation). However, in theological contexts, ʿAbduh maintains the mainstream Ašʿarite position on the revelation-reason binary, i.e., he gives precedence to revelation over reason. He stands for the opposite of Nasution’s conclusion, stating that the function of reason is that of confirmation rather than information. In his Risālat al-tawḥīd, ʿAbduh states: “reason (ʿaql) is one of its [Islam] major supporters, and revelation (naql) is one of its strongest pillars (wa-al-naql min aqwā arkānih)” (RT 1994: 32). That is, the pillar of Islam is revelation, whilst the function of reason is to support that pillar; hence the function of reason is one of confirmation while information comes primarily from revelation. Moreover,

134

chapter 6

the amount of criticism that ʿAbduh directs to pure reason indicates the centrality of revelation to his theology. In the Risālat al-tawḥīd, ʿAbduh states that reason has access only to things as they appear to us and not to things in themselves. It is worth quoting the relevant passage at length here: Any right estimate of human reason will agree that the utmost extent of its competence is to bring us to the knowledge of the accidents of the existents that fall within the range of human conception, either by senses, or feeling or intellection, and then from that to the knowledge of their causation and to a classification of their varieties so as to understand some of the principles appertaining to them. But reason quite lacks the competence to penetrate to the essence of things. For the attempt to discern the nature of things, which necessarily belongs with their essential complexity, would have to lead to the pure essence and to this, necessarily, there is no rational access. So, the utmost that our rationality can attain is a knowledge of accidents and effects. (ʿAbduh 1966: 53–54) Having said that, a word on Hourani’s view of ʿAbduh is also needed. Hourani argues that ʿAbduh was an eclectic theologian who tried to find meeting points between opposing theological views, maintaining that in ʿAbduh’s works “the influence not only of al-Ghazali but of al-Maturidi can be clearly seen; indeed on the points at issue between the various orthodox schools of theologians, he seems to accept the position of al-Maturidi rather than al-Ghazali.” Hourani continues, saying that “the influence of other studies also can be seen: his thought always bore the mark of the study of Ibn Sina in which al-Afghani had initiated him; and it is possible to see also the influence of Muʿtazilism” (1962: 142). The problem with Hourani’s analysis is that it presents a monolithic understanding of the Ašʿarite tradition that makes it appear completely detached from other theological schools. However, the reality is that Ašʿarism has a history of mutual lending and profiting from other schools. Thus, ʿAbduh’s eclecticism actually reflects the discursive, dynamic, and open nature of the school that contributed to its standing the test of time. Acknowledging his somewhat inaccurate reading, Hourani later regrets reading ʿAbduh, as ruptured from the Ašʿarite tradition. In the new edition of his Arabic Thought, he writes: “To some extent I may have distorted the thought of the writers I studied, at least those of the first and second generations: the (modern) element in their thought may have been smaller than I implied, and it would have been possible to write about them in a way which emphasized continuity rather than a break with the past” (Hourani 1962: viii-ix). Furthermore, Ḥassan al-Šāfiʿī’s Maqāl fī al-manhaj

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

135

(Essay on Method: 2016) and Ahmed F. Ibrahim’s Pragmatism in Islamic Law (2017) both convincingly argue that eclecticism has been deeply seated in the Islamic tradition since its formative period, and yet it never implied abandoning one’s theological or legal school. Apparently, ʿAbduh did not think he was breaking with the tradition by selecting suitable exegetical methods or by conversing with Western modernity. In fact, it is hard to establish that this dichotomy between “modern” and “traditional” existed in the minds of either ʿAbduh or his interlocutors. In Formations of the Secular: Christianity, Islam, Modernity, Talal Asad writes: “the complexity in ʿAbduh’s views brings out the inadequacy of the kind of binary thinking (familiar to Western students of Islam since Goldziher) that opposes as mutually exclusive ‘orthodox Islam’ to ‘sufi Islam,’ ‘doctors of law’ to ‘saints,’ ‘rule-following’ to ‘mystical experience,’ ‘rationality’ to ‘tradition,’ and so forth.”2 He continues: “When major social changes occur people are often unclear about precisely what kind of event it is they are witnessing and uncertain about the practice that would be appropriate or possible in response to it.… Would-be reformers, as well as those who oppose them, imagine and inhabit multiple temporalities. The concept of ‘tradition’ requires more careful theoretical attention than the modernist perspective gives it.” Furthermore, Asad points out that addressing the Islamic tradition “as though it was the passing on of an unchanging substance in homogeneous time oversimplifies the problem of time’s definition of practice, experience, and event” (Asad 2003: 222). Furthermore, Asad proceeds contending that it is a mistake thus to read ʿAbduh as breaking from the tradition. ʿAbduh and his followers did no more than use the tools of the tradition in a modern milieu. This new milieu should not invalidate his appeal to traditional categories of thought like “ijtihād.” He goes on to say that “there is no such thing as ‘real’ ijtihād … there is only ijtihād practiced by particular persons who situate themselves in various ways within the tradition of fiqh” (Asad 2003: 220). Although it has been commonly thought that ʿAbduh’s discord and disagreement with other scholars is a sign of his departure from the tradition, Asad takes this disagreement as a sign of his very belonging to the tradition. By this Asad means that traditional scholars have for centuries resorted to ijtihād (independent reasoning) when ijmāʿ (consensus) failed them. This is simply what ʿAbduh practiced. It is worth quoting Asad at length here: 2 Asad goes on to say: “This is not to say that Muslims never themselves employ such binaries—especially for polemical purposes—but this situated deployment should not be mistaken by the non participatory scholar as objective evidence of a continuous split in the Islamic tradition.”

136

chapter 6

When Abduh and Rida draw explicitly on the precedence of the medieval theologian and jurist Ibn Taymiyya, who employed ijtihād to criticize the status quo of his time, they are invoking a tradition of several centuries, albeit in very changed circumstances and not simply “refashioning” [namely, departing from the legitimate uses of] traditional mechanisms. That tradition does not consist in employing the principle of universal reason. It provides specific material for reasoning—a theological vocabulary and a set of problems derived from the Qurʾan (the divine revelation), the Sunna (the Prophet’s tradition), and the major jurists (that is, those cited authoritative) who have commented on both—about how a contemporary state of affairs should be configured. (Asad 2003: 220) The most recent study that portrays ʿAbduh somewhat more accurately is Ahmad El Shamsy’s Rediscovering the Islamic Classics (2020). El Shamsy points out that although European political and cultural hegemony was an unbroken backdrop to the life and activities of ʿAbduh, his story and that of his peers “cannot be reduced to a reaction to colonialism, nor was Orientalism something they simply experienced passively. Instead, they excavated their own intellectual heritage for their own reasons, sometimes in dialogue with, informed by, or even in opposition to Western scholarship” (El Shamsy 2020: 237). That is, “the reformists criticisms to their tradition address genuine features of postclassical Islamic thought—in particular, its scholasticism, which focused intellectual energies on a limited corpus of books and valorized formalistic (especially rhetorical and logical) modes of analysis, and its acceptance and even prioritization of esoteric knowledge.” Furthermore, he rightly says: “We can reasonably see the reformist attacks on claims to ‘inspired’ historical or textual expertise as modern, but it is not justifiable to attribute them simply to Western influence, as if the reformers had no intellectual or aesthetic sensibilities of their own; on the contrary, they were clearly harking back to precedents within their own tradition” (2020: 239). However, classifying ʿAbduh as a traditional Ašʿarite can be vigorously challenged also. Hence, it is suggested here that ʿAbduh saw himself rather as a critical Ašʿarite. His response to his teacher, Shayḫ ʿUlaish (d. 1882) who openly accused him of being a Muʿtazilite, attests to this. He replied: “If I give up blind acceptance of Ašʿarism, why would I take up blind acceptance of Muʿtazilism? Therefore, I am giving up blind acceptance of both, and judge according to the proof presented” (KJF 1902: 167). On other hand, while the question of revelation versus reason shows his affiliation to the Ašʿarite theological paradigm, his soteriological position on unrepentant Muslim sinners can stand as a good example of his theological criticalness. That is, the standard Ašʿarite view is

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

137

that unrepentant Muslim sinners are left to God, while the Muʿtazilite’s position consigns them to hellfire (MN 1975: 45). ʿAbduh contends that this disagreement is only semantic, arguing that what matters to God, according to the Quran, is whether or not the sinners sinned knowingly and persistently. In his interpretation of Q. 4:14,3 ʿAbduh argues that this verse is torn between the Ašʿarites and Muʿtazilites. Each takes a certain verse as a base to support its view and then reads the entire Quran in that light. Yet, if a more holistic approach to the Quran is adopted, its coherence will be maintained. Thus, if the above verse is read in the light of verses Q. 3:133–35,4 such unwarranted controversies will be avoided (TM 1947: 4.432). Given the above, I would go so far as to say that deriving ʿAbduh out of the Ašʿarite tradition implies an acceptance of a dichotomy between tradition and modernity; an assumption that in and of itself is rooted in the European Enlightenment project. The Islamic tradition, however, is a tradition that is built on change and reformation. Indeed, “The early Kharijite movement, the ‘Abbāsid’ ‘revolution,’ and the reformism of Ibn Taymiyya are early examples of the dynamism of tradition. The ‘Islamic’ revolution in Iran, the strength of Sunni revivalism in the Arab world, and the emergence of Islamic feminism are some widely divergent examples of more recent movements that look to tradition to justify change” (Brown 1999: 2). Hence, what is suggested here is reading ʿAbduh through the lens of Asad’s theory of the “discursive tradition.” Asad defines a discursive tradition as a discourse that seeks to instruct practitioners about the correct form and purpose of a given practice, based on the context in which it lives on an ongoing basis. It aims to connect conceptually a past and a future through a present to prevent any rupture from taking place (Asad 1986: 14–15). Ašʿarism then is a work-inprogress that responds to the spirit of the age. In short, the Ašʿarite tradition, for ʿAbduh, became ossified and rigid. Such an ossified tradition was not a tradition but rather “traditionalism.” Namely, he appreciated the Ašʿarite tradition, even though he was against its turning into rigid traditionalism. Differentiating between “tradition” and “traditionalism,” Jaroslav Pelikan writes:

3 “But those who disobey God and His Messenger and overstep His limits will be consigned by God to the Fire, and there they will stay—a humiliating torment awaits them!” 4 “Hurry towards your Lord’s forgiveness and a Garden as wide as the heavens and earth prepared for the righteous, (134) who give, both in prosperity and adversity, who restrain their anger and pardon people–God loves those who do good–(135) those who remember God and implore forgiveness for their sins if they do something shameful or wrong themselves–who forgives sins but God?–and who never knowingly persist in doing wrong.”

138

chapter 6

Tradition is the living faith of the dead; traditionalism is the dead faith of the living. Tradition lives in conversation with the past, while remembering where we are and when we are and that it is we who have to decide. Traditionalism supposes that nothing should ever be done for the first time, so all that is needed to solve any problem is to arrive at the supposedly unanimous testimony of this homogenized tradition. (Hotchkiss and Henry 2005: 16) Due to such rigidity of Ašʿarism at that moment, there emerged responses in protest. The protests against Ašʿarism were largely represented in the Wahhabi movement in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. However, the Ašʿarites had yet come to terms with the critiques that the Wahhabis made and so ʿAbduh found it necessary for the Ašʿarites to take ownership of and responsibility for the reasons behind these protests.5 1.1 ʿAbduh’s Theology of Intra-Muslim Salvation To reiterate, the Ašʿarite theology of salvation had arguably two phases prior to ʿAbduh. The first was the hadith-based theology with which the school began, in the hands of theologians such as al-Ašʿarī, al-Bāqillānī and al-Baġdādī. This was followed by a Sunnah/Muhammadan-based theology introduced with al-Ġazālī. The third phase, which ʿAbduh introduced, turned from the Sunnah to the Quran. Corollary, from Muhammad to God. Before delving into this third phase, it is appropriate to investigate his views on the two preceding phases. In his largely neglected work, Ḥāšiyah,6 ʿAbduh offers some significant insights into the tradition of the 73 divisions. He contends that the question, “which group is offering a valid path to salvation?” is complicated, for every group lays claim to this validity. Identifying which group is correct is problematic for a number of reasons. Of these is that the minute details of what the Prophet and his companions believed remain undivulged; what is categorically known is only the basic tenets of their faith. There is thus insufficient definitive knowledge to allow any apodictic judgements to be made (ḤAŠ, 2002: 160–61). Furthermore, this hadith challenges the Ašʿarite theology of 5 The author’s contribution to the forthcoming Oxford Handbook of Islam and Reform (2021) traces the key stations in ʿAbduh’s life and his major contributions to the reconciliation between modernity and the Islamic tradition. 6 There is a robust debate over whether this work is actually ʿAbduh’s or instead the work of his mentor, al-Afġānī. While most scholars ascribe the book to ʿAbduh, ʿImārah, unconvincingly in my view, defends the other view. Hence, this monograph subscribes to the former view. See: ʿImārah (2002). See also: al-Šāfiʿī (2016).

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

139

naẓar (independent speculation). That is, Ašʿarites are in unanimous agreement that the belief of blind followers is both in doubt and undesirable, for it is not based on independent reasoning. If this were pushed to its extreme, educating generations according to the principles of Ašʿarism, as being the saved group, would undermine the principle of naẓar (ḤAŠ, 2002: 160–162). The appropriate way for the seeker to establish a firm faith, ʿAbduh says, is to begin by verifying the proofs for the existence of God, followed by proofs that God sends prophets, and then by accepting all the prophets say about the unseen world and the Last Day. In doing this, reason meets with revelation, and guides the seeker to the soundest proofs of faith. This is the way to salvation. To obtain salvation in its most perfect form, one’s speculative inquiry must be accompanied by some form of Ṣūfism, through which one purifies the heart and seeks the perfection of the soul. Anyone who takes these two ways: the way of naẓar (speculation) as well as the way of sulūk (Ṣūfism) is indeed walking on the path of the Prophet and his companions. The more one increases his share of these two ways, the closer to the way of the Prophet. The less one abides by these two ways, the closer one is to the ways of the damned. He confirms: “this is the way of our grand shayḫs such as Abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī7 and Abū Manṣūr al-Māturīdī, and their likes” (ḤAŠ 2002: 164–165). Given his rejection of denomination-based salvation, the question that remains is whether ʿAbduh subscribed to the Muhammadan-based salvation proposed by al-Ġazālī. ʿAbduh’s answer is not to be found in his Ḥāšiyah, but in his Risālat al-tawḥīd. In the latter, he writes: “faith (īmān) is the certainty of belief in God, His Messengers and the Last Day, with no other stipulation saving a reverence for the words of the Messengers” (RT 1994: 178). Two conclusions can be drawn from this quotation. First, ʿAbduh’s theology of salvation is based on three prerequisites: 1) Believing in God; 2) believing in his Messengers in general; 3) believing in the Last Day. Hence, he goes beyond the Ġazālian position that bases salvation in a response to the message of Prophet Muhammad in particular. Second, while al-Ġazālī restricts the usage of the term īmān by applying it to whoever believes in God, the Last Day and Prophet Muhammad in particular (according to his standard view), ʿAbduh stretches the meaning of the term by applying it to whoever believes in God and the Last Day without necessarily being Muhammadan.

7 ʿAbduh holding al-Ašʿarī in such high regard is, I think, a clear indication of his theological affiliation.

140

chapter 6

1.2 ʿAbduh’s Theology of Inter-Religious Salvation It is difficult to talk about ʿAbduh’s position on the validity/invalidity of nonIslamic religions without reference to his view of the theory of supersessionism (nasḫ). While the vast majority of classical scholars accentuated nasḫ, presenting it largely as a matter of “doctrine,” modern Muslim scholars question it, seeing it primarily as an “exegetical device” rather than a matter of doctrine.8 Discussing verse Q. 2:106,9 which is taken as the Quran’s central verse on nasḫ, ʿAbduh argues that most Quran exegetes interpret this verse out of context. This mis/de-contextualization is further ambiguated by the fact that the word ‫ آية‬in this verse is taken to mean a literal Quranic verse (a piece of Quranic revelation). However, in Arabic lexical dictionaries, the word ٍ ‫ آيَة‬is a homonym that has various connotations (Cowan 1976: 36).10 That being said, interpreting the word ٍ ‫ آيَة‬here as necessarily indicating a Quranic verse is arbitrary. Furthermore, such an interpretation is not validated by either the priortext, or the post-text, and therefore is not expected to get the message of the text adequately. Two types of prior-texts can be introduced here. First, “textual prior-text”; second: “historical prior-text.” The “textual prior-text” here is the verse that precedes the verse in question, which is Q. 2:105;11 and has nothing to do with the theory of abrogation in its technical sense. As for the historical context, Q. 2:106 corresponds with an occasion in the time of Muhammad; an occasion that verse Q. 4:153, relates: “The People of the Book demand that you [Prophet] make a book physically come down to them from heaven, but they demanded even more than that of Moses when they said, (Show us God face to face),” and similarly Q. 2:55. Linking the two verses together, the Quran here comforts Muslims who were being doubted by the Jews’ claim that Muhammad does not have a physical miracle. Q. 2:106 lays down the foundations of God’s Law of miracles, stating that: any physical miracle We cause to be superseded or 8 9

For a comprehensive study on Abrogation, see Burton (1990). “Any (revelation) We cause to be superseded or forgotten, We replace with something better or similar. Do you (Prophet) not know that God has power over everything.” In Arabic:

ّ َ َ‫ت بِ �خَيْرٍ مِّنْهَا أَ ْو مِثْلِه َا أَ ل َ ْم تَعْل َ ْم أ‬ ِ ْ‫۞ م َا نَنسَخْ م ِنْ آيَة ٍ أَ ْو نُنسِه َا ن َأ‬ ٌ ‫ل شَيْء ٍ قَدِير‬ ِ ّ ُ ‫الل ّه َ عَلَى ك‬ َ ‫ن‬ ٰ 10

11

(106). Although the primary meaning of the word āyah is divine sign/sign of God, the word holds nine other possible meanings: 1. Proof/evidence; 2. Miracle/portent; 3. Exemplar/ symbol; 4. Revelation/message; 5. Teachings/Instructions; 6. Quranic verse; 7. Lesson; 8. Glory/wonder; 9. Spell (Badawi and Haleem 2008: 68–69). “Neither those People of the Book who disbelieve nor the idolaters would like anything good to be sent down to you from your Lord, but God chooses for His grace whoever He will: His bounty has no limits.”

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

141

forgotten, We replace with a better or similar, i.e. non-physical miracle (the Quran). Thus, interpreting ‫ آيَة‬āyah in this context as a Quranic verse is highly speculative, for when the context is considered, the word is more likely denoting a physical miracle (TM 1947: 1.416–419). More distantly, the post-text here is verse Q. 2:108, in which the Quran talks about the Jews constantly asking Moses for physical miracles.12 Why should an exegete then ignore the textual and historical context for a literal reading? ʿAbduh argues that ignoring such contexts swayed the majority of Quran exegetes from the logical interpretation of the verse (TM 1947: 1.416–417). Hence he rejects supersessionism, stating that the reliance on nasḫ caused many controversies among Quran exegetes. Kamāli points this out, stating: The conventional doctrine of naskh has not been free of distortion and forced logic, yet the scholastic works of the madhāhib took for granted the conceptual validity and occurrence of abrogation in the Qurʾan and Sunnah. The inherent tension that is visited here has perhaps been manifested in the ulema disagreement over the actual incidents of naskh in the Qur’an, and the distinction that is drawn between naskh, and specification of the general (takhṣīṣ al-ʿāmm). Some of the instances of naskh were accordingly seen to be amounting to no more than takhṣīṣ. The scope of disagreement over the occurrence of naskh was initially very wide and claims of several hundred instances of naskh in the Qur’an were gradually scrutinized and reduced by Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyuti, for example, to about 30 cases, and then to only five by Shah Wali Allāh Dihlawi. One of the early fourth century commentators of the Qurʾan, Abū Muslim al-Isfāhni, even claimed that abrogation had no place in the Qur’an whatsoever, stating that all the alleged cases of naskh were in effect instances of takhṣīṣ … The basic tension between the classical theory of naskh and the timeless validity of the Qurʾan prompted Imam al-Shāfiʿi into advancing the view that naskh was a form of explanation (bayān), rather than annulment, of one ruling by another. (Kamali 1996: 13–14) The question that remains to be asked, however is how ʿAbduh’s rejection of nasḫ is related to his theology of salvation? We have mentioned earlier that basing salvation on belief in Prophet Muhammad and believing that Islam supersedes non-Islamic religions were primary reasons for branding such religions as religions of kufr. Having questioned these premises, ʿAbduh became cautious about naming non-Muslims kāfirs (disbelievers). In his 12

The second chapter of the Quran, Sūrat al-Baqarah reflects this.

142

chapter 6

journal, al-Manār (The Lighthouse), and arguably reflecting ʿAbduh’s ideas, Riḍā argues that the word kāfir today applies exclusively to atheists and that Muslims cannot automatically name non-Muslim believers as kāfirs.13 Anyone who calls a non-Muslim a kāfir is committing a blameworthy action that goes against the theological ethos of Islam (MM 1327 AH: 1:17–9). This is indeed a paradigm shift in the usage of the term “believer” (muʾmin). For in the previous two phases, a believer could only mean a Muslim, but with ʿAbduh’s shift, anyone who believes in God, His prophets and the Last Day is a believer, no matter whether a Muslim or not. However, this raises the fundamental question, “Did ʿAbduh believe that the non-Islamic religions offer valid paths to salvation?” ʿAbduh is convinced that the cornerstone for salvation in all religions consists of three fundamental articles. Two of these articles have to do with faith and one has to do with deeds. The first two are belief in God (which includes believing in His prophets) and belief in the Last Day. The third article concerns doing good deeds. Therefore, faith alone is not enough for salvation (TM 1947: 1.336–337), which is another step ʿAbduh takes beyond the traditional Ašʿarite view. That is, Ašʿarism has a long history of placing faith over deeds on the scale of salvation. Although al-Ġazālī attempts to revisit the nature of the relation between faith and deeds, he still does not see them on an equal footing. ʿAbduh here makes use of one of the most-oft quoted traditions, which says that faith is what is firmly established in the heart and is verified by deeds (al-īmān mā waqara fī al-qalb wa-ṣaddaqahu al-ʿamal) (TM 1947: 1.337–337; 1:112). Neglecting deeds, ʿAbduh further argues, is what prompted Muslims to see non-Islamic religions as inferior to Islam, hence ending up privatizing and racializing Islam (1.336–337). Not only does ʿAbduh place good deeds on an equal footing with faith, but he also uncouples good deeds from correct faith; arguing that a good deed can be rewarded in the hereafter whether the doer is a believer or not. ʿAbduh takes at face value verses Q. 99:7–8, which read: “Whoever does an atom’s weight of good, will see it. And whoever does an atom’s weight of evil will see it.” He emphasizes that the alleged consensus of the commentators in particularizing the generality of these verses should not be followed. He continues by asking how these verses can be qualified, when God says in Q. 21:47, “We will establish 13

Riḍā was an Islamic reformist thinker. Born near Tripoli, Syria, he left for Egypt in 1897 and collaborated with ʿAbduh “in publishing the monthly journal called The Lighthouse (Al-Manar) in Cairo. The journal demanded reform and the revitalization of Islam and Islamic society.… His teachings inspired both moderates and conservatives” (Adamec 2017: 371–372).

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

143

the scales of justice on the Day of Resurrection. No soul will suffer the least injustice. Even the equivalent of a mustard seed will be accounted for. We are the most efficient reckoners” (AKL 1993: 5.463). Unlike his Ašʿarite predecessors who see salvation primarily through the lens of the Sunnah, ʿAbduh bases his position on salvation on verse Q. 2:62, which translates as: “The (Muslim) believers, the Jews, the Christians, and the Sabians—all those who believe in God and the Last Day and do good—will have their rewards with their Lord. No fear for them, nor will they grieve.” ʿAbduh reads this verse in light of Q. 4:123–25, which are as follows: It will not be according to your hopes or those of the People of the Book: anyone who does wrong will be requited for it and will find no one to protect or help him against God; (123) anyone, male or female, who does good deeds and is a believer, will enter Paradise and will not be wronged by as much as the dip in a date stone (124) Who could be better in religion than those who direct themselves wholly to God, do good, and follow the religion of Abraham, who was true in faith? God took Abraham as a friend (125). Explicating these verses, ʿAbduh quotes a hadith that describes the revelatory occasion of Q. 4:123–25. It is an account of the quarrel of Jews, Christians, and Muslims, each asserting claims to ultimate superiority, and he provides the perfect context for divine clarification. ʿAbduh, or Riḍā according to Jane D. McAullife, “proceeds to sketch some of the implications of an excessive concern with allegiance. He feels that God’s reproach is addressed to an imbalance, namely the imbalance that develops when an individual’s interest in being identified with a religion outweighs the fervor with which he practices” (McAuliffe 1991: 118; TM 1328 AH: 5.432–433). In his interpretation of Q. 3:85, which reads: “if anyone seeks a religion other than islām, it will not be accepted from him: he will be one of the losers in the Hereafter,” ʿAbduh argues that confusing islām here with Islam is not only inaccurate but is also an act of theological racism (TM 1367 AH: 3.360–361). Salvation is based on the former rather than the latter. That is, living in a state of submission to God, and not merely belonging to the religion that is formally called Islam, is what puts one on the path of salvation. This is what is meant when the Quran depicts Abraham (and other prophets as well) as being muslim, or ones who submit to God. Therefore, the Quranic view of a “true” muslim is one whose faith in God is pure and who does not associate him with any partners (TM 1367 AH: 3.360–361).

144

chapter 6

1.2.1 ʿAbduh and the Question of Intercession Unlike his Ašʿarite predecessors who highlighted intercession, ʿAbduh thought the Quran’s position on intercession is far from clear, and that a definitive article of theology cannot be maintained on its basis. To clarify, some verses of the Quran negate intercession, stating that none will be accepted in the day of Judgement, e.g. Q. 2:48.14 Some other verses endorse it, declaring that only God has the right to intercede in the hereafter, e.g., Q. 39:44.15 Finally, a third type of verse states that some people are entitled to intercede by permission of God, e.g., Q. 34:23.16 Not only does ʿAbduh move the question of intercession to a realm of ambiguity, but also argues that such was the belief of early Muslims, and that intercession only crept into Islamic theology later via the Rabbinic traditions. That is, Rabbinic Jews believed that due to their genealogy, a special type of intercession would be given to them in the hereafter. Such views, says ʿAbduh, prosper when the real spirit of religion is weakened in the hearts and minds of its people and faith leaders begin to popularize such views for their own worldly benefits (TM 1947: 1.305–307). ʿAbduh contends that, tradition aside, intercession as it stands involves a form of injustice. To make his point, ʿAbduh compares God to a just ruler. Namely, a just ruler will not allow intercession unless his knowledge of the one interceded for changes. For example, the ruler realizes that such a person has been judged wrongly and his judgement changes accordingly. By contrast, an unjust ruler allows intercession even if he knows that the person in question deserves the punishment. Having said that, God is far above both situations, for he is all-knowing and does not err in his judgement (TM 1947: 1.307). Concerning the hadiths that speak of intercession, ʿAbduh argues that such hadiths refer to verbal prayers that God allows from honoured individuals (e.g. the Prophets) that he will answer as a way of revealing their honour to the masses.17 However, such answers will not change the destiny of the person 14 15 16 17

“Guard yourselves against a Day when no soul will stand in place of another, no intercession will be accepted for it, nor any ransom; nor will they be helped.” “All intercession belongs to God alone; He holds control of the heavens and the earth; in the end you will all return to Him.” “Intercession will not work with Him, except by those to whom He gives permission.” An example of such a tradition is the following hadith in al-Buḫari, which says: “The Messenger of Allah said: Allah would gather people on the Day of Resurrection and they would be concerned about it, and Ibn Ubaid said: They would get a Divine inspiration about it, and would say: If we could seek intercession with our Lord, we may be relieved from this predicament of ours. He (the Holy Prophet) said: They would come to Adam and say, Thou art Adam, the father of mankind. Allah created thee with His own hand

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

145

interceded for and whose fate is instead linked to faith and deeds. He then quotes Q. 74:48, which states: “So there will not benefit them the intercession of [any] intercessors” (TM 1947: 1.308). 1.2.2 Concluding Remarks The question remains whether ʿAbduh should be classified an exclusivist, a pluralist or an inclusivist. It is difficult to place ʿAbduh in either category, for he repeatedly condemns theological superiority and calls it religious racism

and breathed unto thee of His Spirit and commanded the angels and they prostrated before thee. So intercede for us with thy Lords, that He may relieve us from this position of ours. He would say: I am not in a position to do this, and would recall his error, and would fight shy of his Lord on account of that; go to Noah the first messenger (after me) sent by Allah. He (the Holy Prophet) said: So they would come to Noah (peace be upon him). He would say: I am not in a position to do that for you, and recall his fault which he had committed, and would fight shy of his Lord on account of that, (and would say): You better go to Ibrahim (peace be upon him) whom Allah took for a friend. They would come to Ibrahim (peace be upon him) and he would say: I am not in a position to do that for you, and would recall his fault that he had committed and would, therefore, fight shy of his Lord on that account (and would say): You better go to Moses (peace be upon him) with whom Allah conversed and conferred Torah upon him. He (the Holy Prophet) said: So they would come to Moses (peace be upon him) He would say: I am not in a position to do that for you, and would recall his fault that he had committed and would fight shy of his Lord on account of that (and would say): You better go to Jesus, the Spirit of Allah and His word He would say: I am not in a position to do that for you; you better go to Muhammad, a servant whose former and later sins have been forgiven. He (the narrator) said: The Messenger or Allah observed: So they would come to me and I would ask the permission of my Lord and it would be granted to me, and when I would see Him, I would fall down in prostration, and He (Allah) would leave me thus as long as He would wish, and then it would be said: O Muhammad, raise your head, say and you would be heard; ask and it would be granted; intercede and intercession would be accepted. Then I would raise my head and extol my Lord with the praise which my Lord would teach me. I shall then inter-cede, but a limit would be set for me I would bring them out from the Fire and make them enter Paradise (according to the limit). I shall return then and fall down in prostration and Allah would leave me (in that position) as long as He would wish to leave me it would be said: Rise, O Muhammad, say and you would be heard; ask and it would be conferred; intercede and intercession would be granted. I would raise my head and extol my Lord with praise that He would teach me. I would theft intercede and a limit would be set for me. I would bring them out of the Fire (of Hell) and make them enter Paradise. He (the narrator) said: I do not remember whether he (the Holy Prophet) said at the third time or at the fourth time: O my Lord, none has been left in the Fire, but these restrained by the Holy Qurʾan, i.e. those who were eternally doomed. Ibn Ubaid said in a narration: Qatada observed: whose everlasting stay was imperative, https://sunnah.com/ muslim:193a (accessed 30/07/2020).

146

chapter 6

(al-jinsiyyah al-dīniyyah).18 However, he does not shy away from critiquing certain aspects of the Christian understanding of God. He sees Islam as the natural inseparable continuation and evolution of Christianity and Judaism. In his epistle to Isaac Taylor,19 he writes: I was in venerable Jerusalem to visit the holy places which the people of the Three Religions unitedly exalt. The visitor notices in these [places] that it is as if there is one family tree (dawḥa), that is, the true religion (al-dīn al-ḥaqq), from which numerous twigs branch out. [I]ts unity in type and character and the singularity of its origin are not impaired by the visitor’s observations of the variety of [the tree’s] leaves or the splitting of its branches. The visitor decides, furthermore, on the similarity of the [tree’s] fruit, identical in colour and flavour. [I]t has been concentrated in the Islamic religion, which draws from all [of the tree’s] roots and its stems. [T]hus, [the Islamic religion] is its epitome (fadhlaka), and the destination (ghāya) where its course ended. (Kateman 2019: 133) Before I conclude, a note on ʿAbduh’s discussion of the concept of ahl al-fatrah is warranted. While the intended meaning concerns people living in an intervening period between two prophets, unenlightened with divine guidance (TMA 2002: 67–68), it was extended to include anyone whom the message of Islam has not reached in an uncorrupted manner: the people who live in ignorance of the teachings of Islam, either due to geographical isolation, or who lived in times predating their upcoming prophet. The point is that ahl al-fatrah are to be exempted from punishment in the Last Day. Al-Ġazālī excuses the Byzantine Christians for their disbelief in Muhammad, as they received only a distorted image of him, and he consequently classifies them as part of ahl al-fatrah. ʿAbduh does not see them as such. He believes that they are instead to be saved on their own terms if their belief in God is accompanied by good deeds. He clearly states that Jews and Christians do not go under the category of ahl al-fatrah, for although certain parts of their Scripture have been corrupted, the essence of their divine messages is still intact and guidance can still be pursued there (TM 1947: 1.337). The reception of ʿAbduh’s ideas was diverse inside and outside Al-Azhar. However, two primary intellectual schools were influenced by ʿAbduh’s 18 19

An idea that ʿAbduh defines as the process of racializing a religion accompanied by giving it a sense of superiority (TM 1367 H/1947: 1.336, 3.361). Isaac Taylor was Canon of York in late Victorian England, and corresponded with ʿAbduh. They both helped found the Society of Harmony and Reconciliation between the three Abrahamic religions during ʿAbduh’s exile in Beirut (Kateman 2019: 90).

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

147

paradigm to varying degrees. As I shall explain in the next two sections, the first school is represented by Maḥmūd Šaltūt and the second by ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd, both of whom held the highest positions in Al-Azhar in their times. Although both belong to the paradigm of Quran-based theology, they came up with different theological stances on the salvation of the Other. It is worth noting that Šaltūt is regarded in Al-Azhar as ʿAbduh’s faithful disciple, for he saw his mission in the twentieth century as expanding the territory of the Islamic tradition through the expansion of knowledge of the modern world. For his part, Ḥalīm thought his mission was primarily about preservation, as compared to expansion, of the Islamic tradition from the pandemics of modernity. His brilliance lies in the fact that he grounded his philosophy in the Quran also, and can thus be related to ʿAbduh’s theological paradigm. Hence the two voices evidently reflect the move from the Sunnah to the Quran. I shall now move to examine Šaltūt’s contribution. 2

Sh. Maḥmūd Šaltūt and the Question of Salvation

Islamic scholarship often highlights the fact that prominent thinkers of modern Islam have largely come from non-traditional backgrounds, including Muhammad Iqbāl (d. 1938),20 and Sayyid Quṭb (d. 1964), both of whom came from outside the circles of traditionally trained scholars to write some of the most influential treatises on modern Islam. However, this is not true of Šaltūt,21 who “draws our attention to the fact that members of the ʿulamāʾ are still actively pursuing an Islam which can build upon traditional strengths while providing guidance within the contemporary context” (Rippin 1995: 135). Šaltūt challenges the general perception that the Islamic reform movement ceased to be of much interest with ʿAbduh’s death. Thus, not only does he come from within ʿAbduh’s tradition, but he also is considered to have attained a position in twentieth century Islam similar to that achieved by ʿAbduh in nineteenth century Islam (Choueiri 1994: 300). He was persistent in his pursuit of reforming Al-Azhar. Kate Zebiri puts it this way: 20

21

Iqbāl was a poet in Persian and Urdu, a philosopher, and a founding father of Pakistan. He had a doctorate from Munich, Germany, and he taught Arabic, history, and economics at the Oriental College at Lahore. “He held that Islam properly understood and rationally interpreted is not only capable of moving along with the progressive and evolutionary forces of life, but also of directing them into new and healthy channels in every epoch…. He favoured the partition of India to protect the culture of Muslims in what would have been a predominantly Hindu state” (Adamec 2017: 207). For a comprehensive study on Šaltūt, see Zebiri (1993).

148

chapter 6

Shaltūt then acknowledged the valuable reform efforts of Muḥammad ʿAbduh and al-Marāghī, stressing the continuity of his own ideas with theirs. He praised the former for “awakening the Azhar from its slumber,” and commended the latter for his famous memorandum, mentioning the great hopes it had aroused. He mentioned with approval certain points raised therein, including the modernization of textbooks, the elimination of the sectarian spirit, and the simplification of the study of the various religious sciences. He then expressed disappointment that despite the passage of time since the issuing of that memorandum, these things had remained unchanged, and much energy was still being wasted on hypothetical and unnecessary matters. Shaltūt regretted that the reforms which had taken place were not implemented in the spirit in which they were originally intended. He concluded that until bold steps for reform were taken, “al-Azhar will remain isolated from the community, neither fulfilling its [i.e. the community’s] needs nor being properly respected by it, even if a thousand [reform] laws were to be passed.” (Zebiri 1993: 23) Šaltūt (23 April 1893–13 December 1963) was born in a delta village in Buḥayrah Province in 1893. He memorized the Quran, attended the Al-Azhar-affiliated Religious Institute in Alexandria, and graduated as an ʿĀlim from Cairo’s ­Al-Azhar. He became an immediate disciple of Muṣtafā al-Marāġī (d. 1945) who drew his inspiration from ʿAbduh’s intellectual reservoir and briefly became the Grand Imām of Al-Azhar in 1928–29, until his reformist plans brought about his swift downfall. Šaltūt briefly taught Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh) at Al-Azhar before losing his post in 1931 in a purge of al-Marāġī’s reformist group. When al-Marāġī returned as the Grand Imām of Al-Azhar in 1935, Šaltūt came with him as vice-dean of the Sharia College. To his disappointment, exile had extinguished Marāġī’s reformist enthusiasm. Šaltūt nevertheless continued to support overarching reform of Al-Azhar, and in 1958 Naṣer appointed him as the Grand Imām “before forcing its reorganization three years later” (Reid 1995: 99).22 22

Reid continues: “On a few issues, Shaltut’s interpretation was less liberal than ʿAbduh’s, and sometimes his exposition took on an apologetic tone vis-a-vis the West. He saw nothing inherently wrong with polygamy and rejected modernist arguments that the Qur’ān intended to forbid or discourage it. He warned Muslims against marrying Christian and Jewish women if the man was dazzled with Western civilization or might abandon the children to his wife’s religion. Not seeing population increase as a threat to Egypt’s wellbeing, he believed that planning would be necessary only in certain individual and family cases. Such occasional conservative rulings, Shaltūt’s deep love of the Qurʾan, his concern for the welfare of ordinary Muslims, and his boldness in speaking his mind help account

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

149

His Tafsīr is the most pertinent to this discussion. Although he only comments on the first third of the Quran, this work is substantially reflective of his thought. It is for the following reasons that Šaltūt embarked on his exegesis project: “development of sectarianism, use of inauthentic material, intellectual over-sophistication and specialization, over-emphasis on grammar and rhetoric, and plain intellectual stagnation.” Šaltūt’s original contribution here lies in deepening the concept of “thematic interpretation” (tafsīr mawḍūʿī) and the notion of the organic unity of the Quran. What Šaltūt believed was that the classical verse-by-verse tafsīr generates conflicting interpretations and leaves room for personal bias and subjectivity. By thematic exegesis he means that “all the verses on a given subject need to be gathered together so that the meaning of all of them may become clear” and conciliatory. Hence, his approach to tafsīr has had substantial impact on recent developments in the field. However, it is ʿAbduh who initiated that type of exegesis, highlighting the idea that “the Qurʾān should serve primarily as a source of guidance and not as a focus of scholarly activity” (Rippin 1995: 136). 2.1 Šaltūt’s Theology of Intra- and Inter-religious Salvation Although Šaltūt did not engage with the 73-divisons tradition, his practice attests to his views thereon. That is, he played a major role in Islamic ecumenism in the twentieth century. His efforts to dismantle the long-standing historical division between the Sunnites and the Shiites were remarkable and were instrumental in making Egypt “the home of the only noticeable ecumenical society in modern Islam: Jamāʿat al-taqrīb bayna al-madhahib al-islamiyya (Association for the rapprochement of the Islamic schools of law)” (Bengio and Litvak 2011: 223).23 Rainer Brunner writes: The most spectacular result of this—as it soon turned out—brief honeymoon of Islamic ecumenism was a fatwa in 1959 by the JT’s most prominent member, Mahmud Shaltut, who then served as rector of al-Azhar. In

23

attendance at his funeral, which reportedly was rivalled only by the funerals of Nasser Umm Kulthum” (1995: 100). JT was founded in Cairo in January 1947 “by the young Iranian cleric Muhammad Taqi al-Qummi, [and] can be rightly regarded as the first organized and systematic attempt to bridge the gap between Sunnis and Shiʿis. Although its protagonists—several of whom were high-ranking scholars of al-Azhar University—tried hard to avoid open discussion of sectarian conflicts within Islam, the activities of the association were from the very beginning accompanied by polemical criticism from mainly Sunni Salafi circles. At the end of the 1950s, it nevertheless managed to reach a wider public, as the Egyptian president Nasser discovered the usefulness of pan-Islamism for his foreign policy” (Bengio and Litvak 2011: 223).

150

chapter 6

this fatwa, which was distilled from a newspaper interview, Shaltut made it clear that Shiʿism was to be regarded as a legitimate fifth madhhab, alongside the four Sunni ones, and that it was legitimate to convert from Sunnism to Shiʿism and vice versa. (Bengio and Litvak 2011: 223–34; also Brunner 2004) His vigorous engagement with the above Association embodies Šaltūt’s theology of Muslim denominations and their need to reconcile and reconfigure their meeting points. In fact, the three main objectives of the Association, were: “(1) to bring together the Islamic sects and madhāhib; (2) to publish the principles of Islam in various languages and convince people of the need to adhere to them; and (3) to attempt to settle disputes between Muslim peoples or sects by acting as mediator between them” (Zebiri 1993: 24). Šaltūt’s theology of religions is manifest in his emphasis that the People of the Book should not be called unbelievers or polytheists even though Christians believe in the Trinity, deny Muhammad’s prophethood, and call Jesus the Son of God (Zebiri 1993: 69). Furthermore, not only did he teach that nonMuslim and Muslim lives are equal in murder cases, he also went far beyond classical jurists in considering the testimony of non-Muslims and Muslims as equal under Sharia law, teachings that had significant legal ramifications (Zebiri 1993: 103). As a faithful disciple of ʿAbduh’s tradition, it is not surprising to find Šaltūt rejecting the theory of supersessionism, which means that he did not think that Islam supersedes the earlier monotheistic religions. In his magnum opus, Tafsīr al-qurān al-karīm, he clearly says: “to say that the Quran supersedes the other perennial pieces of wisdom is unacceptable” (TQK 2004: 391). Šaltūt’s rejection of supersessionism means that he has to offer different readings for certain Quranic verses, amongst which are those verses that talk about the fate of non-Islamic religions. In Ilā al-qurān al-karīm (Towards the Noble Quran), Šaltūt deals elaborately with the same verse that ʿAbduh centralized, i.e., Q. 2:62.24 It has become evident that the vast majority of Quran exegetes explicate this verse in one of two ways: either by subscribing to supersessionism by stating that this verse is superseded by Q. 3:85;25 or by specifying its generality, stating that Christians, Jews and Sabaeans acknowledged here are only those who adhered to their religions before the advent of 24 25

“The (Muslim) believers, the Jews, the Christians, and the Sabians—all those who believe in God and the Last Day and do good—will have their rewards with their Lord. No fear for them, nor will they grieve.” “Whoever seeks a way other than Islam, it will never be accepted from them, and in the Hereafter, they will be among the losers.”

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

151

Muhammed, but who, once Muhammad came, abandoned their tradition and followed his message.26 Šaltūt clearly rejects the two ways and maintains the generality of the verse (IQK 1983: 17). What then does Šaltūt make of Q. 3:85? While most Quran exegetes take the word “Islam” here to be technical Islam, Šaltūt follows ʿAbduh’s interpretation, albeit uniquely. Šaltūt contends that Islam is one of the terms that have been distorted by usage. He quotes al-Ġazālī, who he argued that Muslims have altered the connotations of certain Quranic terms and taken them beyond their intended meanings. Among these terms, al-Ġazālī contends, are fiqh (changed to mean knowledge of the different rulings of Islamic Sharia), tawḥīd (altered to refer to the discipline of Islamic theology), and ʿilm (changed to mean acquiring knowledge regardless of whether one practices the knowledge acquired). Al-Ġazālī then says that the original meaning of these terms had a bearing on their internalization and actualization (IʿUD 2005: 41–46). Šaltūt argues that what al-Ġazālī said of the above terms applies to the term Islam also. That is, early followers of Muhammad lived in a state of Islam, i.e. submission, yet the subsequent generations largely transformed that lived state into a nominal title. The state of Islam in which early Muslims lived was manifest in their relationship with their Lord and his creation. Hence, when the Quran praises Islam, it praises that state of Islam, not the nominal “Islam” that many Muslims would boast about today (MTI 2004: 42–46). The above discussion has some important implications for Šaltūt’s worldview. That is, in traditional exegesis, “non-Muslims are divided into two categories: kāfirūn (unbelievers), which includes polytheists (mushrikūn), and ahl al-kitāb, those who have their own revealed scriptures, and who therefore have a status superior to that of the kāfirūn” (Zebiri 1993: 67). Yet what Šaltūt maintains here is that the term kāfir needs to be significantly restricted and only applied to someone who has received the truth plainly and clearly, yet has rejected it through arrogance and pride. Any eschatological punishment mentioned in the Quran would only apply to such a person. As for Q. 4:16,27 Šaltūt concurs that this verse should be read in the light of verses like Q. 27:14, “They denied them [the truth], in their wickedness and their pride,” and Q. 4:115: “If anyone opposes the Messenger, after guidance has been made clear to him, and follows a path other than that of the believers, We shall leave him on his chosen path—We shall burn him in Hell, an evil destination.” In other words, the kufr that is punishable by God is associated with pride and opposition (IAW 2001: 19–20). 26 27

See full discussion on the exegeses of this verse in McAuliffe 1991: 93–128. “God does not forgive the worship of others beside Him—though He does forgive whoever He will for lesser sins—for whoever does this has gone far, far astray.”

152

chapter 6

Finally, Šaltūt thought that not everyone who carries the title “Muslim” is a muslim in God’s eyes. Nominal Islam is only acceptable in this world and is primarily for practical matters, such as marriage, inheritance, prohibition of alcohol, burial in Muslim cemeteries, etc. Furthermore, if someone does not identify as a Muslim, there is a right to call him a non-Muslim, but no right to call him a kāfir, for kufr is known to God alone. Hence, for Šaltūt, it is not part of the Muslim’s creed to identify who is a kāfir, nor is it a must to believe that such will not be saved. (TQK 2004: 182). 3

Sh. ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd’s Theology of Salvation

ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd (d. 1978) was the 40th Grand Imām of Al-Azhar. Just as al-Ġazālī wrote his autobiography in The Deliverer from Error, Ḥalīm did also in al-Ḥamdu li-llāh!: haḏihi ḥayātī (All Praise is Due to God: This Has Been my Life). In this work he relates that he was born into a renowned wealthy family that had many philanthropists and memorizers of the Quran. Doing Islamic studies at his birthplace (Sharqiyah governorate, 45 kilometres north east of Cairo), he joined Al-Azhar’s neighbourhood institute in 1923. He was the youngest to be awarded ʿĀlimiyyah (a master’s degree) in the history of AlAzhar. Ḥalīm then headed to Paris, France, to study at the Sorbonne at his own expense (ḤHḤ 1985: 113–14). During his time in France, World War II raged, yet Ḥalīm continued with his PhD under the supervision of Massignon (ḤHḤ 1985: 125–126), whose influence can best be seen in how Ḥalīm then read al-Ḥallāj’s controversy and how he justified such views (ABM 1969: 140). Upon returning to Egypt, he took a post at Al-Azhar University. In 1973, he was appointed Shayḫ Al-Azhar, the highest religious position in Egypt and arguably in the Muslim world (Aishima and Salvatore 2009: 44).28 3.1 Ḥalīm’s Theology of Muslim Denominations In al-Tafkīr al-falsafī fī al-islām (Philosophical Thinking in Islam), Ḥalīm dedicates an entire chapter to engaging critically with the hadith of the 73-divisions. 28

In this article, Aishima and Salvatore highlight Ḥalīm’s spiritually informed approach, which is comprised of three elements: knowledge, action and devotion. Knowledge implies an urgency about education and intellectual capability. Action, as positive and constructive civil engagement, informs the meaning of the ‘jihād’ of the soul. And devotion grounds ethics in religious commitment and spiritual vision and praxis. With this approach, Ḥalīm was able to re-energize Al-Azhar as an important cultural, educational, intellectual and institutional leader.

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

153

He begins the discussion in a mocking tone, critiquing traditional theologians who build their worldview on a controversial hadith: “It feels that those theologians believed that it is a duty upon themselves to exhaust the Islamic denominations in order to make them reach seventy-three, no matter whether this corresponds to reality or not.” He takes al-Šarastānī’s classification of the Muslim denominations to task for its composition of a book on the basis of this tradition, stating, “not only the historiographers counted the denominations arbitrarily, but also theologians of each denomination were biased, picking anything that seems to give support to their views no matter how much truth it held” (TFI 1989: 72–73). Ḥalīm pauses to question the epistemic value of the hadith itself, lamenting that the hadith that has preoccupied many theologians and restricted their views is narrated neither in Buḫārī nor in Muslim’s collections. The hadith is not only problematic in the isnād (chain of narration), but also in the matn (body of the text), for while in some collections of hadith, the matn filters the to-besaved group, in others it filters the group to-be-damned. Ḥalīm then provides an example of how the matn of the hadith is misused. He mentions that some Shiites, after long debates, agreed that the criterion for filtering the denomination to-be-saved is that it is the one that opposes others the most. If this criterion were taken to its conclusion, Ḥalīm says, it would denounce the Shiites themselves, for the group that opposes them the most is the Ašʿarites, whose fundamental principles contradict most non-Ašʿarite Muslims. Pushing this criterion to its extreme, one can mockingly say that it is Muslim heretics who oppose all Muslims the most; hence, they are the group to-be-saved (TFI 1989: 72–75). 3.2 Ḥalīm’s Theology of Religions Although Ḥalīm holds ʿAbduh’s school in high regard and studied under Šaltūt and Massignon, his theology of religions sets him apart. He sees no other valid path to salvation except Muhammadan Islam. How he sees the salvation of non-Muslims may be outlined as follows: 1. While Šaltūt thinks that Islam is primarily a state of the heart rather than a title and that there has been an alteration in the meaning of the term “muslim” since the first generation of Muslims, Ḥalīm argues that ­Muslims were given this title before they ever existed. He argues further that it was Abraham who named the followers of this religion “Muslims,” for it says in Q. 22:78: “Your forefather Abraham who has called you Muslims” (F 1979: 2.489). 2. When Ḥalīm was asked if a Muslim is allowed to donate to the building of a church, he replied that it is prohibited for a Muslim to do so, for this

154

3.

chapter 6

will spread a religion that is not the religion of God, and God said: “the religion with God is Islam,” and also “whoever seeks a religion other than Islam, it will never be accepted from him.” Hence, a Muslim who donates to such a cause will not only receive no reward but may well be blamed in the hereafter (FḤ 1979: 2.25–26). Ḥalīm does recognize that the term Islam has a linguistic as well as a technical meaning, but he contends that the two are identical. That is, one cannot submit to God correctly without being a Muslim in the technical sense of the term. To reiterate, there are several verses in the Quran where the word “Islam” is mentioned in different contexts and where Abraham is also introduced as a Muslim. This raises a question about what type of Muslim the Quran refers to. Is it anyone who acts in loving obedience to God, exemplified by Abraham’s gesture in agreeing to God’s request to sacrifice his son and surrender to God’s Will, or does it refer to Islam as defined by the theologians and jurists in their interpretations of the Quran and the teachings of Prophet Muhammad? For Ḥalīm, the latter is the proper answer and linguistic Islam is inextricably linked with technical Islam, with the latter nothing but an explanation of the former (FḤ 1979: 1.79). In fact, in line with Ibn Taymīyyah, Ḥalīm sees Islam as the religion of fiṭrah and believes that people are born Muslims (FḤ 1979: 1.99). Ḥalīm himself defines Islam in the following quotation: In order to arrive at some understanding of the religion of Islām, we should, in the first place, turn to the word itself as a guide, both in its dictionary definition and religious connotations. What is meant by “a Muslim”? In defining the lexical meaning, Ibn al-Anbārī (d. 328/939) said, “a Muslim is a person who has dedicated his worship exclusively to God, for just as we say in Arabic that something is ‘salima’ to a person, meaning that it becomes solely his own, so in the same way, Islam means making one’s religion and faith God’s alone.” Ibn al-Anbārī’s lexical definition agrees with that given of Islam by the Prophet (may God bless him and grant him peace). He was once asked, “What is Islām?” and he replied, “It consists in giving your heart solely to God and in making Muslims safe from your tongue and hand.” With regard to the common definition of Islam amongst Muslim thinkers, it has three constituents: Firstly, confessing with the tongue that there is no god but God, and that Muḥammad is the messenger of God; secondly, believing from the heart in everything that this Prophet

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

155

proclaimed in matters of faith, law, ethics and the social system; and thirdly, living in practice according to all that Islām requires, by doing what it enjoins and refraining from what it forbids. (Abdel Haleem 1978: 13) 4.

Ḥalīm believes that whoever rejects the message of Islam after it has been clearly conveyed will be among the losers in the hereafter. In his explication of Q. 3:81–85,29 he argues, as the vast majority of traditional Muslim scholars do, that the pledge that God has made with the previous messengers is that they believe in Muhammad as the final Prophet and the seal of their line of prophethood. Therefore, after his advent, whoever encounters his message yet rejects it, will be among the losers in the hereafter. (FḤ 1979: 1.187–88).

3.3 Comparison and Conclusion The exploration of developments in Roman Catholicism and Azharite Ašʿarism that accompanied the advent of modernity reveal one major change in each of the traditions. In the Catholic tradition, the inclusivist school reemerged with the teachings of Vatican II, after the long-standing dominance of the exclusivist position. The Ašʿarite tradition reveals a movement from a ­Sunnah-based theology to one that is Quran-based, primarily due to the works of ʿAbduh, whose discourse heavily influenced the Ašʿarites who came after him, particularly Šaltūt and Ḥalīm. The latter two men both held the highest position in the Azharite hierarchal systems and by virtue of their position as well as their originality of thought, their ideas have been widely disseminated and largely well-received. In this part I also pointed out that both traditions were largely responsive to the historical context in which they emerged. Despite the provocative claim 29

“God took a pledge from the prophets, saying, ‘If, after I have bestowed Scripture and wisdom upon you, a messenger comes confirming what you have been given, you must believe in him and support him. Do you affirm this and accept My pledge as binding on you?’ They said, ‘We do.’ He said, ‘Then bear witness and I too will bear witness.’ 82 Those who turn away after this are the ones who break pledges. 83 Do they seek anything other than submission to God? Everyone in the heavens and earth submits to Him, willingly or unwillingly; they will all be returned to Him. 84 Say [Muhammad], ‘We [Muslims] believe in God and in what has been sent down to us and to Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, Jacob, and the Tribes. We believe in what has been given to Moses, Jesus, and the prophets from their Lord. We do not make a distinction between any of the [prophets]. It is to Him that we devote ourselves.’ 85 If anyone seeks a religion other than [islam] complete devotion to God, it will not be accepted from him: he will be one of the losers in the Hereafter.”

156

chapter 6

that they are monolithic and static traditions, Catholicism and Ašʿarism have corresponded to the challenges that emerged with modernity. Such correspondence attests to the discursive nature of the two traditions and demonstrates the potential they have to enrich secular modernity. In the formative and mediaeval phases of Ašʿarism, good deeds lacked eschatological value if they were not accompanied by sound beliefs. This position changed in the modern phase; ʿAbduh’s school argues that every well-intended good deed is capable of reward in the hereafter, regardless of the belief of the doer in the here-and-now. The consequence is that expansive modern Ašʿarism separated soteriology from epistemology, which is not the case with Catholic theology. Catholic theologians, although attempting to find solutions to the question of the virtuous pagan, never separated soteriology from epistemology, i.e., grace and reward come only through Jesus Christ. Hence, theories such as Rahner’s “anonymous Christian” were welcomed and popularized. What also emerges, by implication, is that the views of these two traditions fluctuate only between inclusivism and exclusivism. Neither accepts or accommodates the pluralist position as standard. Put differently, epistemic exclusivity and inclusivity have accompanied Catholicism and Ašʿarism throughout the three historical phases: formative, mediaeval and modern. Furthermore, one may notice that discussions about intercession and Jesus’ descent into hell to save souls have, to a certain degree, eroded in the modern period. This can clearly be seen in Rahner, Massignon and ʿAbduh’s views. However, it should not be thought that such beliefs have disappeared completely. We see, for instance, Gavin D’Costa’s revival of the notion of the descent as a way of resolving the problem of knowledge of Christ being deemed the indispensable condition for salvation (D’Costa 2009: 159–201). Ending with a note on the definition of a “believer,” in this modern phase both traditions restricted, to a great extent, the usage of the terms kāfir and infidel. In fact, in the Western world the term “infidel” began to have multiple different meanings, including “spunky rebel” rather than “contemptible unbeliever,” according to Sheilah Graham (1958) writing in Beloved Infidel. However, by contrast, and arguably due to the widespread dissemination of Wahhabism in the Islamic world, the term gained further currency, for the Wahhabi’s imprudent use of such terms. Consequently, ʿAbduh’s school was side-lined since the 1970s, and since then, I argue, the theological map of the Muslim world has been largely shaped by Wahhabi preachers. Although the Wahhabi question lies outside the scope of our present discussion and that the last five decades demand special treatment, an illustrative example should suffice here. “Do Muslims deem Jews and Christians kuffār (infidels)?” is not just an academic question, but a recent heated debate in

MODERN AŠʿARISM’S THEOLOGY OF SALVATION

157

Egypt with some Muslim preachers practising takfīr (excommunication) against Christians. As the official voice of Sunnite Islam in the country, AlAzhar commissioned some high-profile Azharite professors to speak on TV shows in a bid to alleviate the heated debate. The public noted how the discussants used the Quran in support of their two opposing views and to endorse their different theological positions. This led to some arbitrary and contradictory definitions of how the Quran uses the term kufr. Consequently, Al-Azhar issued a manifesto, declaring that Muslims are not in the position to declare non-Muslims as kuffār or otherwise i.e. this is left to God,30 calling for a law criminalizing hate speech.31 Such is the state of affairs, which demand studying not only how the Quran and its interpreters use the term kufr, but also AlAzhar’s practice of Islam and its efforts to articulate the theological grounds of practical living. 30 31

See: “Al-Azhar acts after Jews and Christians are branded ‘infidels,’” in the LACROIX International, available at: https://international.la-croix.com/news/al-azhar-acts-after-jewsand-christians-are-branded-infidels/5475#. See: “Al-Azhar lā yamlik takfīr al-nās” (Al-Azhar does not have the Authority to Excommunicate People), available at: https://www.almasryalyoum.com/news/details/1132163.

Conclusions and Recommendations In this monograph I compared the historical development of the Catholic theology of salvation with its Islamic counterpart, Ašʿarism, to determine the extent to which the two traditions were responsive to the historical context in which they developed. To achieve this, the two traditions were divided into three phases: formative, mediaeval and modern. The most significant theologians were chosen, and their works analysed; men who shaped the worldview of each tradition for generations to come. While the Ašʿarite theology of religions witnessed a theological development that was hadith-based, followed by one that was Sunnah-based, and ending in being Quran-based, the Catholic journey differed. In the Catholic tradition it appears there were two schools in early Christianity that attempted to define how Christians should relate to the non-Christian religions with which it came into contact: the exclusivists and the inclusivists. Inclusivism gained overall dominance in the first three centuries prior to Christianity’s monumental transition from being a subordinate religious expression persecuted by various Roman emperors to the religious badge of the Byzantine Empire following Constantine’s conversion. It was in the mid sixth-century, in its role as the imperially supported religion of the Byzantine Empire, that Christianity first encountered Islam. In similar manner, Islam developed powerfully in its earliest period and became hegemonically majoritarian in its first two centuries. After Muhammad’s death, Muslim conquests led to the creation of the caliphates, covering a vast geographical area. Conversion to Islam was reinforced by missionary activity, especially that of Imāms and scholars who mingled with indigenous conquered populations to spread Islamic teachings. In addition, Muslim trading and later expansion played an important role in the dissemination of Islam in several parts of the world, resulting in Islam reaching outwards from Mecca towards the Indian, Pacific and Atlantic Oceans (Berkey 2003). In the early twentieth century, in the wake of modernity, the socio-political milieu of both traditions was radically challenged, as a new religion, so to speak, emerged, i.e., secularism. Secularism has, to a large degree, conditioned and limited the dominance of both traditions in multifarious ways. Although the confrontation of Catholicism and Ašʿarism with secularism has resulted in different conclusions, both traditions, after being transformational, were challenged into a state of survival and adaptation. On the basis of the above, this monograph suggests some primary conclusions, extending to seven dimensions: substantial, methodical, contextual, © Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004461765_009

Conclusions and Recommendations

159

hermeneutical, terminological, progressional, and anticipatory. In the substantial dimension, it can conceivably be hypothesised that when these two traditions were “minoritarian,” more inclusivist positions were embraced. By contrast, when the two traditions became “hegemonically majoritarian,” they tended to be more exclusivist also. In the Christian case, exclusivism was a later phenomenon that accompanied the great expansion of Christianity, particularly after the dramatic volte in its status that resulted from Constantine’s conversion. For its part, Islam developed powerfully in its earliest centuries and became a hegemonically majoritarian religion in its early phase. I imagine this majoritarianism, to a certain degree, contributed to the adoption of exclusivism as the only valid Islamic position on salvation. In the modern phase, modernity has challenged Catholicism and Ašʿarism to the point where they have both evolved to consider more inclusivist positions, especially in situations where the nation-state has marginalized religion (D’Costa 2009: x). It is worth quoting D’Costa at length here: The nation state slowly took on all the features of public religions, and its struggle for total power and the construction of the public square was related to the preservation of its own privileges. The emergence of the nation state better explains the “wars of religion,” not inter-denominational rivalry per se … the nation state has caused the construal of religion to focus on “doctrines,” “worship,” and “cultic practices,” which are deemed by modernity to be the domain of religion. This means that the debate about religious pluralism has not even begun, as the “religions” that constitute this Pluralism must first conform to modernity’s “religions” before they can participate in the public square. (D’Costa 2009: xii) This is to say that “minoritarianism” provides a more conducive atmosphere for theological inclusivism and that “hegemonic majoritarianism” provides a more conducive atmosphere for theological exclusivism. Notwithstanding, in drawing this correlation I am in NO way attempting to explain away theology sociologically, nor am I meaning to reduce religious realities to such explanations. All I am suggesting, through looking at these two traditions, is that social pressures can cause a tradition to revisit certain theological interpretations in a way that speaks to the spirit of the age and takes the progression of knowledge into account. Hence, I do not claim that such correlations are definitive or corollary, but that certain contexts are more conducive to certain theological stances. Resultantly, this assumption allows for surds and irregularities to break its base. Indeed, studying other traditions in the same manner may verify further the genuineness of this observation.

160

Conclusions and Recommendations

In the methodical dimension, it is suggested that a kerygmatic1 approach to Islamic theology does not seem to uncover the essential message of Islam, while the opposite is true of Christianity. To clarify, while Catholicism, and by extrapolation other Christian denominations, uphold a cardinal belief in the figure of Jesus Christ, the central tenet of Ašʿarism, and by extension Islam, is belief in a text (the Quran and Sunnah). This is not to say that the Bible or Muhammad have no significant weight in their traditions, but rather that in the two religions the Bible and Muhammad are understood in the light of Jesus and the Quran respectively. In Christianity, Jesus is the word of God become flesh and in Islam the Quran is the word of God become Book, in a manner of speaking. Nevertheless, the two approaches (person and text) are closely intermeshed. For, “historically, virtually nothing is known about the life of Jesus Christ except what is revealed in the New Testament. In addition, in trying to wrestle with the identity and significance of Jesus Christ, Christian theology is thus obliged to wrestle with the text that transmits knowledge of him” (McGrath 2013: 5). The same can arguably be said about the relation between Prophet Muhammad and the Quran. That is, the Prophet Muhammad saw the Quran as his guide. In fact, Q. 6:106 says: “[Muhammad] Follow what has been revealed to you from your Lord.” Rémi Brague summarizes this, stating: “Christianity is a history recounted in a book; Islam is a book that leads to a history” (Silverstein and Stroumsa 2015: 99). The contextual dimension of the monograph confirms that theology is not static and unresponsive to its historical surroundings; theology is inextricably linked to history and context. Hence, approaching theology historically promises to reveal many connections and correlations that barely show up if another approach is taken. This historical approach, as Alister McGrath says, “demonstrates that it was no accident that the concept of salvation, found in Latin American liberation theology, is closely linked with the socioeconomic situation of the region. It illustrates how secular cultural trends–such as liberalism or conservatism–find their corresponding expression in theology” (McGrath 2013: 9). In the Ašʿarite tradition, ʿAbduh’s adoption of the historical approach in his Theology of Unity allowed him room to be critical and put him ahead of his subject. In its hermeneutical dimension, the monograph propounds that scriptures do not necessarily speak for themselves but reflect the psychology and the 1 In biblical studies, the term kerygma has come to mean the core of the early church’s tradition about the figure of Jesus Christ and its ethico-theological implications (Lewis 2011). The term is obviously not used in Islamic theology, but I use it along the lines of the Christian approach, i.e., as the study of the place of the Prophet Muhammad in Islam.

Conclusions and Recommendations

161

mentality of their interpreters. While the Bible as well as the Quran can be used to support narratives of inclusivism as well as exclusivism, a key issue is that the interpreter approaches the text with a set of inherited narratives from the context out of which he emerges. ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭalib’s (d. 40/661) statement about the Quran stands true here: “The Quran per se is silent but it is men who make it speak [in accordance with their own understanding]” (IŠW 1996: 16). This is not to tar all interpreters with the same brush but rather to flag the need to study the contextual dimensions in which biblical and Quranic commentators are situated, in order to better understand how they relate. The terminological dimension has to do with the two terms: kufr and nasḫ. While early and medieval Ašʿarism stretched the usage of the term kufr by applying it to whoever denies Prophet Muhammad’s prophethood, ʿAbduh’s school restricted it, applying it only to those who deny the existence of God. As a result, according to ʿAbduh’s school, Jews and Christians can safely be called “believers.” In the Catholic journey, the term “infidel” began to be restricted after Vatican II. With regard to the term nasḫ, while in pre-ʿAbduh’s Ašʿarism the term was taken to mean Islam’s supersessioning of non-Islamic religions, ʿAbduh’s school questioned the theory and employed it to identify a change in God’s laws of miracles from corporeal to non-corporeal ones. As for supersessionism in Catholicism, it deserves a special treatment in its own against Islamic supersessionism. The progressional dimension lies with the early and medieval Ašʿarite belief that Christians are invited not only to acknowledge the veracity of Prophet Muhammad, but also to convert to Islam in order to attain salvation. Appealing to Q. 5:66,2 ʿAbduh believed that Islam primarily came to reform, not to revoke, Christianity. Hence, while Christians are invited to acknowledge the truth of Prophet Muhammad, they are not required to convert to Islam in order to attain salvation. Reformation here lies with inviting them to go back to the original message of their religion. This is, as ʿAbduh argues, in conformity with Q. 3:64, which states: “Say, ‘People of the Book, let us arrive at a statement that is common to us all: we worship God alone, we ascribe no partner to Him, and none of us takes others beside God as lords.’ If they turn away, say, ‘Witness our devotion to Him.” Similarly, it is in conformity with Q. 2:243, which reads: “We have made you [Muslims] a just community that you will be witnesses over the people and the Messenger will be a witness over you.” (TM 1350 AH.2:5–6). By 2 “And if only they upheld [the law of] the Torah, the Gospel, and what has been revealed to them from their Lord, they would have consumed [provision] from above them and from beneath their feet. Among them are a moderate community, but many of them–evil is that which they do.”

162

Conclusions and Recommendations

implication, Muslims’ primary message to Christians lies more with the concept of “witness” (shahādah) than the concept of daʿwah (missionary). More distantly, this progression can also be seen in changed perceptions of the way deeds relate to faith. While in early Ašʿarism faith was the primary requirement for salvation, al-Ġazālī revived the value of deeds, culminating with ʿAbduh’s equalization of faith and deeds on the path to salvation. Nevertheless, there was a regression with the doctrine of intercession, which was highlighted in early and medieval Ašʿarism, but was minimized in ʿAbduh’s school. Indeed, the maximization of the theological value of individuals’ deeds may explain the reason behind the minimization of intercession. However, a parallel progression in the context of salvation does not seem to appear in the Catholic narrative. Indeed, the assumed theological rivalry between exclusivism and inclusivism since early Catholicism may well explain this variation. That is, rivalry narratives naturally go out of line with progressive narratives, such as those of Ašʿarism, which, for instance, moved from reading the Quran in the light of the hadith to the other way round, i.e. reading hadith in the light of the Quran. Finally, the anticipatory dimension: in cutting across similar historical trajectories, this monograph anticipates that Catholicism and Ašʿarism will have various common areas in which to work, especially under the nation-state system and secular modernity. That is to say, the two traditions have resources to contribute to modern pluralistic societies and can work for the common good while preserving their religious identities. If these common areas were to develop, much could be achieved through inter-religious scholarship. D’Costa already touches upon this when he writes: The Roman Catholic church, after its own teething problems with modernity, provides an alternative between theocracy, rightly feared by secular moderns, and the social privatization of religion underpinning secular modernity. Catholics, like other Christians, have the resources to offer religiously pluralist Europe an alternative to the predicted “clash of civilizations.” Only in this mode is intercultural and interreligious engagement possible … what has been claimed of Roman Catholicism is also true of some aspects of Islam. Indeed, Islam has something to teach Catholics and Catholics have something to teach Muslims. It is possible to avoid the clash of civilizations predicted by Huntington. There is a deep theological imperative to so do and instead encourage the flourishing of intercultural and interreligious conversations committed to the common good in pluralist societies. (D’Costa 2009: 107)

Conclusions and Recommendations

163

The Way Forward This monograph opens the door to a novel theological discipline which may be called: Theological Theory. For the sake of clarification, even though I acknowledge that the linkage I assume between “minoritarianism” and theological inclusivism on the one hand, and between “majoritarianism” and theological exclusivism on the other, can be contested, I am greatly convinced that with tracing such general lines of progression, casual sequences, and illuminating correlations, the dispersed and uncharted theological pieces of theology can be transformed into what I call a “theological theory,” which transcends the boundaries of individual religions in a bid to understand how certain contexts and conditions contribute to the development of certain theological stances. In terms of the theology of religions, this monograph underscored a popular, but less scholarly considered fact. That is, it is Jesus Christ who is at the centre of Christianity and not the Bible, and it is the Quran that is at the centre of Islam and not Prophet Muhammad. I argue that neglecting this fact contributed to the ambiguation of an already ambiguous relation between Christian and Islamic theologies. I contend that due to Islam’s text-centrism, Muslim theologians tended to read Christianity from the same prism, i.e. reducing it to a text (the Bible). Corollary, Muslim theologians’ occupation with the authenticity of the Bible significantly outweighs their occupation with the place of Jesus in Christianity. Similarly, the centrality of Jesus in Christianity may have contributed to their reading Islam as a figure-based religion, i.e. resting on Muhammad. In fact, naming Islam classically as “Mohammedanism” may well attest to this observation. Consequently, the number of Christian writings about Prophet Muhammad significantly outnumbers their writings about the content of the Quran. If this conclusion is taken seriously, it should have serious implications on the future of the field of theology of religions and comparative theology alike. Finally, as this monograph ends with Vatican II in the 1960s and Ḥalīm’s theology of religions in the 1970s, a natural extension would be an analysis, not only of the Muslim reception of Vatican II teachings, but also how those teachings have been received by modern Catholic theologians. More importantly, a valuable area for further exploration might be to examine how such teachings challenge the continuity of the Catholic tradition. In addition, studying the state of research from the 1970s onwards, and investigating the dynamics and developments in both traditions could open up valuable avenues for dialogue, especially given the seismic changes that have taken place both in Europe and in the Middle East, not least of which being the impact of the “Arab Spring.”

Glossary of Key Terms Terms defined here reflect a particular understanding of the Christian and Islamic theological traditions. To be understood properly, the monograph should be read with these definitions in mind, for some terms are given a specificity of meaning that they may not possess in other works (which may give them their own nuances). This basic glossary will reveal some of these nuances. Abrogation/supersessionism (also known as replacement theology) refers to the question of the extent—if at all—to which the Christian church “may be said to have replaced or superseded the Jewish people as the object of God’s covenant with Abraham, and thus as the elect people of God” (McFarland 2011: 489). The concept is known in Islamic theology as nasḫ, which is used either to indicate Islam’s relation to non-Islamic religions, or when one Islamic scriptural text abrogates another (Hallaq 2009: 171). Ahl al-kitāb (Peoples of the Book) adherents of monotheistic religions with a revealed Scripture, most notably Christians and Jews. As the Islamic empire grew, Zoroastrians in Iran, Buddhists in Transoxania, and Hindus in India were included in this category, though not unanimously accepted by Muslim scholars. They were: protected subjects—“peoples of the covenant” (ahl al-dhimma)—and under the jurisdiction of their own laws. They had to pay a special poll tax (jizyah) but were usually exempt from military service. In the Ottoman Empire (1281– 1924), they were organized according to sects or nationalities (millets) under their respective bishops, patriarchs, and rabbis, who had civil and criminal jurisdiction over their communities. They often held high financial, clerical, and professional positions in the empire. The treatment of dhimmis varied with time and place: generally well treated, discriminating restrictions were, however, at times imposed on them, especially under the caliphs ʿUmar II (717–720), Harun al-Rashid (786–809), Mutawakkil (847–861), and the Fatimid caliph al-Hakim (996–1021). Since the 19th century and with the emergence of nation-states in the Middle East, most countries have given equal citizenship to non-Muslims, and the poll tax obligation has been abolished. (Adamec 2017: 342) Al-Azhar an Islamic university in Egypt (361/972) established by the Fāṭimids as a centre of Islamic learning, based mainly in Cairo. It originated as a madrasah

166

Glossary of Key Terms that then incorporated into its twentieth century curriculum many fields of the physical sciences. It is today the most significant Islamic university in the Muslim world. According to the Historical Dictionary of Islam: It was founded by the Fatimid general Jawahar al-Siqilli in 972 in Cairo as a Shiʿite college for the propagation of the Ismaʿili sect. After the Ayyubids conquered Egypt, the country reverted to Sunni Islam, and Al-Azhar eventually became the dominant orthodox institution and a model also for European universities. The famous historian/sociologist Ibn Khaldun lectured at Al-Azhar in the 14th century, and by the 18th century it dominated the educational scene in the Islamic world. (Adamec 2017: 67–68)1

Apokatastasis in broad terms, the word refers to universal salvation/restoration, denoting that all will be converted and admitted to everlasting happiness after death, no matter whether they believed in Jesus during their lives or not (McFarland 2011: 526–527). Ašʿarism (Ašʿarites) the name of an Islamic philosophico-religious school of theological thought that developed during the fourth and fifth/tenth and eleventh centuries, which attempted to lay down the foundation of an orthodox Islamic theology, as opposed to the rationalist theology (Kalām) of the Muʿtazilites, and in opposition to the radical orthodox class. It made use of dialectical methods for the authority of divine revelation applied to theological subjects. Founded by the theologian Abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī, it is the most dominant theological school of Sunnī Islam and established an orthodox dogmatic guideline. Disciples of the school are known as the Ašʿarites (Adamec 2017: 61–62, also Saeed 2006; Halverson 2010). Atharism an Islamic scholarly movement, originating in the late eighth century CE, that largely rejects rationalistic theology in favour of strict textualism in interpreting the Quran and hadith. The name derives from “tradition” in its technical sense as a translation of the Arabic word hadith (Adamec 2017: 64). Together with Ašʿarism and Māturīdism, this movement constituted what came later to be known as Sunnī Islam. In the modern era it has had “a disproportionate impact on Islamic theology,” having been appropriated by Wahhābī and other

1 In terms of its religious identity, Al-Azhar has a membership that represents the theologi��cal schools of the Ashʿarite as well as the Māturīdite schools of theology, the four schools of Sunnī Islamic jurisprudence (Ḥanafī, Mālikī, Šāfiʿī, and Ḥanbalī), and the seven main Ṣūfī orders. Even though Al-Azhar is far from monolithic, its identity has been strongly associated with Ṣūfism, Ashʿarism and antagonism to Wahhābī theology (see Brown 2011; Roy 2004: 92–93).

Glossary of Key Terms

167

traditionalist Salafī currents and spread well beyond the confines of the Ḥanbalī school of law (Schmidtke, ed. 2016: 625). Epistemology the study of the nature of justification and the rationality of belief that decides the validity of a truth claim in a given epistemic system. Firqah while this word is a homonym, it mostly indicates a Muslim theological denomination or sect. Hadith verbal reports of what the Prophet said and did. Six major collections of hadith were eventually compiled and traditionally accepted by almost all Sunnī Muslims. They include those of al-Buḫārī (d. 256/870), Muslim (d. 261/875), Ibn Mājah (d. 273/886), Abū Dāwūd al-Sijistānī (d. 275/888), al-Tirmiḏī (d. 279/892), and al-Nasāʾī (d. 303/915). The collections of al-Buḫārī and Muslim are considered the most reliable. Shiʿite authoritative collections were compiled by al-Kulaynī (d. 329/939), Ibn Bābawayh (d. 381/991), and al-Ṭūsī (d. 460/1067) (Adamec 2017: 153–154). Īmān essentially a Muslim’s faith in God, his angels, books and messengers and the Last Day (see Q. 2:285) (Adamec 2017: 202–203). Kufr infidelity, atheism, unbelief, godlessness, blasphemy, profanity, denial and ingratitude (Adamec 2017: 256). Magisterium derived from the Latin word for “teacher,” “magisterium” is a term in “Catholic Theology for the teaching office of the Church, rooted in Christ and transmitted through Apostolic Succession to all bishops in communion with the Papacy” (McFarland 2011: 295). Māturīdism is considered one of the orthodox Sunnite schools alongside the Ašʿarite and Atharite school. It enjoyed a preeminent status in the Ottoman Empire and Mughal India. Māturidite theological views can be found in its founder’s masterpiece, the Kitāb al-tawḥīd (Book of Unity), who “opens his work by explaining that blindly following others’ teaching is unacceptable. A true faith must be based on intellectual arguments. For al-Maturidi, there are three sources of knowledge: reports (khabar), sense experience, and reason; al-Maturidi tries to support the principles of religion through these sources” (Leaman 2015: 310). Maḏhab (school) a non-formal association of theologians and jurists who share loyalty to a particular set of theological or jurisprudential precepts, a particular methodology of interpretation and of deriving theology and law. It literally means “direction” (Adamec 2017: 267). Murjiʾah an early Islamic school of theology, whose followers are known in ­English language mostly as Murjiʾites, yet the school is now considered extinct. The founders of the schools were grappling with definitions of a true Muslim. As opposed to the Ḫārijites, Murjiʾites endorsed the idea of the delegated judgment of peoples’ belief and leaving it to God. The word Murjiʾah itself literally means “postponers” in Arabic. It is reported that this school promoted tolerance

168

Glossary of Key Terms

of Umayyads and converts to Islam who appeared half-hearted in their religion (Adamec 2017: 308). Muʿtazilism a rationalist school of Islamic theology that flourished in the cities of Basra and Baghdad during the eighth to tenth centuries. They are best known for denying the status of the Quran as uncreated and co-eternal with God, accentuating that if the Quran is the word of God, he logically must have preceded his own speech. The philosophical underpinning of the Muʿtazilites centred on the notions of divine justice and divine unity (Adamec 2017: 315; Fakhry 1983: 46–48). Najāh an Islamic term for salvation, rescue from danger. The Quran also uses the following terms for salvation: fawz and falāḥ. Soteriology coming from the Greek soteria (salvation) and the Latin soter (saviour), the term refers to issues to do with Christian salvation. It addresses the saving work of Christ for the world, encompassing not only the doctrines of atonement and of grace, but also those of human nature as affected by the Fall and by sin, which is the presupposition of Christ’s work, and the doctrine of humanity’s final destiny as the result of that work (Cross 1997: 1520). Sunnah the second, but most substantial, source of Islamic theology and law; the exemplary biography of the Prophet. The difference between hadith and Sunnah is that whereas the hadith is an oral communication that is purportedly derived from the Prophet, the Sunnah, quite literally, is the mode of practice which signifies the prevailing customs of his community. This means that a practice which is contained within a hadith may well be regarded as Sunnah, but it is not necessary that a Sunnah would have a supporting hadith sanctioning it.2 Takfīr (excommunication) a controversial term meaning one Muslim declaring another Muslim a non-believer (kāfir). Contemporary uses of the term have their roots in the twentieth-century Islamist Sayyid Quṭb’s advocacy of takfīrism (theology of excommunication) against the state/society deemed jāhilī (state of ignorance and disbelief). This practice is widely held and applied by Jihadist organizations to varying degrees. The religious establishment holds that excommunication against those who profess their Islamic faith is not sanctioned by Islam and that an ill-founded takfīr accusation is a major sin (Adamec 2017: 125). Vatican the governing body of the Catholic church and a sovereign entity recognized by international law, consisting of the Pope and the Roman Curia. Vatican City is an independent city-state enclaved within Rome in Italy. Established with the Lateran Treaty (1929), it is distinct from, yet under the ownership, dominion, 2 Joseph Schacht describes hadith as providing “the documentation” of the Sunnah (Schacht 1959: 3). For further studies on this question, see Brown 2014; Lucas 2004; Siddiqi 1993).

Glossary of Key Terms

169

authority and jurisdiction of the Holy See. It is ruled by the pope who is the bishop of Rome and head of the Roman Catholic church. However, the Holy See itself dates back to early Christianity (Cross 1997: 1680–1681. See also: Ricci and Begni 2003).

Citation Method and Abbreviated Arabic Titles AA  Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-ʿIdlibī (2009). ʿAqāʾid al-ʿšāʿirah. Cairo: Dār al-Salām. ABM  ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd (1969). al-ʿĀrif bi-llāh al-Mursī abū al-ʿAbbās. Cairo: Dār al-Kātib al-ʿArabī. AKL  Muhammad ʿImārah (1993). al-ʿAmāl al-kāmilah lil-imām Muhammad ʿAbduh. Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq. AW  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (2005). Ayyuhā al-walad, trans. Tobias Mayor. Cambridge: The Islamic Texts Society. BM  Badr al-Dīn al-Zarkašī (1992). al-Baḥr al-muḥīṭ, 2nd edn, ed. ʿAbd al-Sattār abū Ġuddah and ʿAbd al-Qādir al-ʿĀnī. Kuwait: Wazārat al-Awqāf wa-al-Šuʾūn al-Islāmiyyah. DSQ  ʿAbd al Ḥakīm al-Qāsim (2012). Dilālāt al-siyāq al-qurʾanī wa-aṯaruhā fī al-tafsīr, 1st edn. Riyadh: Dār al-Tadmuriyyah. DTB  Aḥmad ibn ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm ibn Taymiyyah (1971). Darʾ al-taʿāruḍ bayna al-ʿaql wa-al-naql, ed. Muhammad R. Sālim. Cairo: al-Hayʾiah al-Maṣriyyah al-ʿĀmmah lil-Kitāb. FAM  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1972). Faḍāʾil al-anām min rasāʾil ḥujjat al-islām, trans. Nūr al-Dīn ʿAlī. Tunisia: Dār Tūnisiah. FB  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1964). Fadāʾiḥ al-bāṭiniyyah. Cairo: al-Dār al-Qawmiyyah. FBF  ʿAbd al-Qāhir al-Baġdādī (1409/1988). al-Farq byna al-firaq, 1st edn, ed. Muhammad ʿO. al-Ḫušt. Cairo: Maktabat Ibn Sīnā. FḤ  ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd (1979). Fatāwā, 5th edn. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. FT  Aḥmad ibn ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm ibn Taymiyyah (1425/2005). al-Fatāwā, 3rd edn. Riyadh: King Fahd Publication. FTBI  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1961). Fayṣal al-tafriqah bayna al-islām wa-al-zandaqah, ed. Sulaymān Dunyā. Cairo: ʿĪsā al-Bābī al-Ḥalabī. FTBI2  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1993). Fayṣal al-tafriqah bayna al-islām wa-al-zandaqah, 1st edn, ed. Maḥmūd Bījū. Cairo: no publishing house given. ḤAŠ  Muhammad ʿAbduh (2002). Ḥāšiyah ʿalā šarḥ al-dawwānī lil-ʿaqāʾid alʿaḍudiyah. Cairo: Maktabat al-Šurūq al-Dawliyyah. ḤHḤ  ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd (1985). al-Ḥamdu li-llāh! haḏihi ḥayātī, 3rd edn. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. IAU  Abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī (1977). al-Ibānah ʿan uṣūl al-diyānah, 1st edn, ed. Fawqiyyah Ḥ. Ḥammūdah. Cairo: Dār al-Anṣār. IAW  Maḥmūd Šaltūt (2001). al-Islām ʿaqīdah wa-šarīʿah, 18th edn. Dār al-Šurūq. IFIʿ  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (2009). al-Iqtiṣād fī al-iʿtiqād, ed. Muṣṭafā ʿOmrān. Cairo: Dār al-Baṣāʾir.

Citation Method and Abbreviated Arabic Titles

171

IFM  Faḥr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (1938). Iʿtiqādāt firaq al-muslimīn wa-al-mušrikīn, ed. Muṣtafa ʿAbd al-Rāziq. Cairo: al-Nahḍah al-Maṣriyyah. IFY  Abū Bakr al-Bāqillānī (2000). al-Inṣāf fīmā yajibu iʿtiqāduhu wa-lā yajūzu aljahl bihi fī ʿilm al-kalām, 2nd edn, ed. Muhammad Z. al-Kawṯarī. Cairo: Maktabat Al-Azhar. IIQ  ʿAbd al-Malik al-Juwaynī (2009). al-Iršād ilā qawāṭʿ al-adillah, ed. Aḥmad al-Sāyiḥ and Tawfīq Wahbah. Cairo: Maktabat al-Ṯaqāfah al-Dīniyyah. INF  Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī (1989). Itmām al-niʿmah fī īḫtiṣāṣ al-islām bihaḏi alummah, ed. Ḫaled A. Gomaʿah and ʿAbd al-Qādir A. ʿAbd al-Qadir, 1st edn. Kuwait: Dār al-ʿUrūbah. IQK  Maḥmūd Šaltūt (1403/1983). Ilā al-qurʾān al-karīm. Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq. IŠW  Naṣr Ḥ. Abū Zayd (1996). Imām al-Šāfiʿī wa-taʾsīs al-īdiyūlūjiyah al-wasaṭīyah, 2nd edn. Cairo: Maktabat Madbūlī. IʿUD  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (2005). Iḥyāʾ ʿulūm al-dīn, 1st edn. Beirut: Dār Ibn Ḥazm. IWN  Muhammad ʿAbduh (1988). al-Islām wa-al-naṣrāynīyyah, 2nd edn. Beirut: Dār al-Hadāṯah. KJF  Suliemān al-Ḥanafī (1320/1902). Kanz al-jawhar fī tāriḫ al-azhar. Cairo: al-Maṭbaʿah al-Hindiyyah. KM  ʿAḍud al-Dīn al-Ījī (nd). Kitāb al-mawāqif. Beirut: Ālam al-Kutub. KUD  ʿAbd al-Qāhir al-Baġdādī (2002). Kitāb uṣūl al-dīn, 1st edn. Beirut: Dār alKutub al-ʿIlmiyyah. L Abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī (1955). al-Lumaʿ, ed. Ḥammūdah Ġurābah. Cairo: Maṭbaʿat Maṣr. LA  ʿAbd al-Malik al-Juwaynī (1987). Lumaʿ al-adillah, 2nd edn, ed. Fawqiyyah Ḥ. Ḥammūdah. Beirut: ʿĀlam al-Kutub. M Muhammad Z. al-Kawṯarī (1997). Muqaddimāt, 2nd edn. Damascus and Beirut: Dār al-Ṯurayya. MA  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1964). Mizān al-ʿamal, 1st edn, ed. Suliemān Dunyā. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. MIW  Abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī (2009). Maqālāt al-islāmīyyīn wa-iḫtilāf al-muṣallīn, ed. Naʿīm Zarzūr. Beirut: al-Matkabah al-ʿAṣriyyah. MJF  Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī (1987). Miftāḥ al-jannah fī al-iʿtiṣām bil-Sunnah. Cairo: Dār al-Kutub. MM  Rašīd Riḍā (1327/1910). Majallat al-manār, 2nd edn. Cairo: al-Manār. MMA  al-Ḥassan Ibn Fūrak (1987). Mujarrad maqālāt al-šayḫ abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī, ed. Danial Gemareah. Beirut: Dār al-Mašriq. MMḌ  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1962). al-Munqiḏ min al-ḍalāl, 3rd edn, ed. ʿAbd al Ḥalīm Maḥmūd. Cairo: Al-Anglo Bookshop. MMI  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1997). al-Mustaṣfā min ʿilm al-uṣūl, 1st edn. Beirut: al-Risālah.

172

Citation Method and Abbreviated Arabic Titles

MMU  Saʿīd Fūdah (2009). Majmūʿat muʾallafāt al-ustāḏ al-mutakallim Saʿīd Fūdah fī ʿilm al-kalām. Amman: Dār al-Fatḥ. MN  Abū al-Fatḥ al-Šahrastānī (1975). al-Milal wa-al-niḥal, 2nd edn, Muhammad S. Kilānī. Beirut: Dār al-Maʿrifah. MRĠ  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1994). Majmūʿat rasāʾil al-Ġazālī. Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyyah. MTI  Maḥmūd Šaltūt (2004). Min Tawjīhat al-Islām, 8th edn. Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq. QA  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1999). Qawāʿd al-ʿaqāʾd, trans. Nabih A. Faris, 2nd edn. Lahore: Ashraf Printing Press. QFT  Ḥassan al-Šāfiʿī (2016). Qawl fī al-tajdīd. Cairo: Dār al-Quds al-ʿArabī. RIA  Abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī (2002). Risālah ilā ahl al-ṯaġr, 2nd edn, ed. ʿAbd Allah S. al-Junaidī. Medina: Maktabat al-ʿUlūm wa-al-Ḥikam. RT  Muhammad ʿAbduh (1994). Risalāt al-tawḥīd, 1st edn, ed. Muhammad ʿImārah. Beirut and Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq. ŠAḤ  Al-Ḫaṭīb al-Baġdādī (1996). Šaraf aṣḥāb al-ḥadiṯ, 1st edn, ed. ʿAmr A. Salīm. Cairo: Maktabat Ibn Taymīyyah. ŠFU  ʿAbd al-Malik al-Juwaynī (1969). al-Šāmil fī uṣūl al-dīn, ed. Faiṣal B. ʿAwn; Suhair Muḫtār; ʿAlī S. al-Naššār. Alexandria: Minšaʾat al-Maʿārif. SM  Ṭāhā ʿAbd al-Raḥmān (2015). Suʾāl al-manhaj. Beirut: al-Muʾassasah al-ʿArabiyyah. ŠṢM  Abū Zakariā Yaḥyā al-Nawawī (1930). Šarḥ Ṣahīh Muslim, 2nd edn. Cairo: al-Maṭbaʿah al-Maṣriyyah. ŠTḤ  Al-Qāḍī ʿIyāḍ (2013). al-Šifā bi-taʿrīf ḥuqūq al-muṣtafā. Dubai: Jāʾizat Dubai alDawliyyah lil-Qurʾān. TBY  Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī (1410 AH). al-Tanbiʾah b-man yabʿaṯuhu Allahu ʿalā raʾs kulli maʾah, 1st edn, ed. ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd Šanūḥah. Mecca: Dār al-Ṯiqah. TF  Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (1972). Tahāfut al-falāsifa, 6th edn, ed. Suliemān Dunyā. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. TFD  Abū al-Muẓaffar al-Isfarāyīnī (2010). al-Tabṣīr fī al-dīn, ed. Muhammad Z. al-Kawṯarī. Cairo: al-Maktabah al-Azhariyyah. TFI  ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd (1989). al-Tafkīr al-falsafī fī al-islām, 2nd edn. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. TFR  Faḥr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (1981). Tafsīr al-faḥr al-Rāzī, 1st edn. Beirut: Dār al-Fikr. TKM  ʿAlī ibn al-Ḥasan ibn ʿAsākir (1347 AH). Tabyīn kaḏib al-muftarī fimā nusiba ilā al-imām abī al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī. Damascus: Maṭbaʿat al-Tawfīq. TM  Muhammad ʿAbduh and Rašīd Riḍā (1367/1947). Tafsīr al-manār, 2nd edn. Cairo: Dār al-Manār. TMA  Ibrāhīm al-Bājūrī (2002). Tuḥfat al-murīd ʿalā jawharat al-tawḥīd, ed. ʿAlī Jomʿah. Cairo: Dār al-Salām.

Citation Method and Abbreviated Arabic Titles

173

TQK  Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī (2004). Tafsīr al-qurʾān al-karīm, 12th edn. Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq. TŠ  Aḥmad M. U. Ibn Šahbah (1987). Ṭabaqāt al-Šāfiʿiyyah, ed. ʿAbd al-ʿAlīm Ḫān. Beirut: ʿĀlam al-Kutub. TUI  Rašīd Riḍā (2006). Tāriḫ al-ustāḏ al-imām Muhammad ʿAbduh, 2nd edn. Cairo: Dār al-Faḍīlah. UF  Muhammad abū Zahrah (1958). Uṣūl al-fiqh. Cairo: Dār al-Fikr al-ʿArabī. YWJ  ʿAbd al-Wahhāb al-Šaʿrānī (2018). al-Yawāqīt wa-al-jawāhir fī bayān ʿaqāʾid al-akābir, ed. ʿAbd al-Wāriṯ M. ʿAlī, Vol. 1. Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyyah.

Bibliography Arabic Sources ʿAbduh, Muhammad and Riḍā, Rašīd (1367/1947). Tafsīr al-manār, 2nd edn. Cairo: Dār al-Manār. ʿAbduh, Muhammad (1988). al-Islām wa-al-naṣrāynīyyah, 2nd edn. Beirut: Dār al-Hadāṯah. ʿAbduh, Muhammad (1994). Risalāt al-tawḥīd, 1st edn, ed. Muhammad ʿImārah. Beirut and Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq. ʿAbduh, Muhammad (2002). Ḥāšiyah ʿalā šarḥ al-dawwānī lil-ʿaqāʾid al-ʿaḍudiyah. Cairo: Maktabat al-Šurūq al-Dawliyyah. ʿAbd al-Raḥmān, Ṭāhā (2015). Suʾāl al-manhaj. Beirut: al-Muʾassasah al-ʿArabiyyah. Abū Zahrah, Muhammad (1958). Uṣūl al-fiqh. Cairo: Dār al-Fikr al-ʿArabī. Abū Zayd, Naṣr Ḥ. (1996). Imām al-Šāfiʿī wa-taʾsīs al-īdiyūlūjīyah al-wasaṭīyah, 2nd edn. Cairo: Maktabat Madbūlī. al-Ašʿarī, abū al-Ḥassan (1955). al-Lumaʿ, ed. Ḥammūdah Ġurābah. Cairo: Maṭbaʿat Maṣr. al-Ašʿarī, abū al-Ḥassan (1977). al-Ibānah, 1st edn, ed. Fawqiyyah Ḥ. Ḥammūdah. Cairo: Dār al-Anṣār. al-Ašʿarī, abū al-Ḥassan (2009). Maqālāt al-islāmīyyīn wa-iḫtilāf al-muṣallīn, ed. Naʿīm Zarzūr. Beirut: al-Matkabah al-ʿAṣriyyah. al-Ašʿarī, abū al-Ḥassan (2002). Risālah ilā ahl al-ṯaġr, 2nd edn, ed. ʿAbd Allah S. al-Junaidī. Medina: Maktabat al-ʿUlūm wa-al-Ḥikam. al-Baġdādī, ʿAbd al-Qāhir (2002). Kitāb Uṣūl al-dīn, 1st edn. Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyyah. al-Baġdādī, ʿAbd al-Qāhir (1409/1988). al-Farq byna al-firaq, 1st edn, ed. Muhammad ʿO. al-Ḫušt. Cairo: Maktabat Ibn Sīnā. al-Baġdādī, al-Ḫaṭīb (1996). Šaraf aṣḥāb al-ḥadiṯ, 1st edn, ed. ʿAmr A. Salīm. Cairo: Maktabat Ibn Taymīyyah. al-Bājūrī, Ibrāhīm (2002). Tuḥfat al-murīd ʿalā jawharat al-tawḥīd, ed. ʿAlī Jomʿah. Cairo: Dār al-Salām. al-Bāqillānī, abū Bakr (2000). al-Inṣāf fīmā yajibu iʿtiqāduhu walā yajūzu al-jahl bihi fī ʿilm al-kalām, 2nd edn, ed. Muhammad Z. al-Kawṯarī. Cairo: Maktabat Al-Azhar. Fūdah, Saʿīd (2009). Majmūʿat muʾallafāt al-ustāḏ al-mutakallim Saʿīd Fūdah fī ʿilm al-kalām. Amman: Dār al-Fatḥ. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1961). Fayṣal al-tafriqah bayna al-islām wa-al-zandaqah, ed. Sulaymān Dunyā. Cairo: ʿĪsā al-Bābī al-Ḥalabī.

Bibliography

175

al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1962). al-Munqiḏ min al-ḍalāl, 3rd edn, ed. ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm Maḥmūd. Cairo: Al-Anglo Bookshop. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1964). Fadāʾiḥ al-bāṭiniyyah. Cairo: al-Dār al-Qawmiyyah. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1964). Mizān al-ʿamal, 1st edn, ed. Suliemān Dunyā. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1972). Faḍāʾil al-anām min rasāʾil ḥujjat al-islām, trans. Nūruddīn ʿAlī. Tunisia: Dār Tūnisiah. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1972). Tahāfut al-falāsifa, 6th edn, ed. Suliemān Dunyā. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1993). Fayṣal al-tafriqah bayna al-islām wa-al-zandaqah, 1st edn, ed. Maḥmūd Bījū. Cairo: no publishing house given. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1994). Majmūʿat rasāʾil al-Ġazālī. Beirut: Dār al-Kutub alʿIlmiyyah. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1997). al-Mustasfā min ʿilm al-uṣūl, 1st edn. Beirut: al-Risālah. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (1999). Qawāʿd al-ʿaqāʾd, trans. Nabih A. Faris, 2nd edn. Lahore: Ashraf Printing Press. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (2005). Ayyuhā al-walad, trans. Tobias Mayor. Cambridge: The Islamic Texts Society. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (2005). Iḥyāʾ ʿulūm al-dīn, 1st edn. Beirut: Dār Ibn Ḥazm. al-Ġazālī, abū Ḥāmid (2009). al-Iqtiṣād fī iʿtiqād, ed. Muṣṭafā ʿOmrān. Cairo: Dār al-Baṣāʾir. al-Ḥanafī, Suliemān (1320/1902). Kanz al-jawhar fī tāriḫ al-azhar. Cairo: al-Maṭbaʿah al-Hindiyyah. Ibn ʿAsākir, ʿA. ibn al-Ḥasan (1347 AH). Tabyīn kaḏib al-muftarī fimā nusiba ilā al-imām abī al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī. Damascus: Maṭbaʿat al-Tawfīq. Ibn Fūrak, al-Ḥassan (1987). Mujarrad maqālāt al-šayḫ abū al-Ḥassan al-Ašʿarī, ed. Danial Gemareah. Beirut: Dār al-Mašriq. Ibn Rušd, abū al-Walīd (1998). Tahāfut al-tahāfut, 1st edn, ed. Muhammad ʿĀ. al-Jābirī. Beirut: Markaz Dirasāt al-Waḥdah al-ʿArabiyyah. Ibn Šahbah, Aḥmad M. U. (1987). Ṭabaqāt al-Šāfiʿiyyah, ed. ʿAbd al-ʿAlīm Ḫān. Beirut: ʿĀlam al-Kutub. Ibn Taymiyyah, A. ibn ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm (1971). Darʾ al-taʿāruḍ bayna al-ʿaql wa-al naql, ed. Muhammad R. Sālim. Cairo: al-Hayʾiah al-Maṣriyyah al-ʿĀmmah lil-Kitāb. Ibn Taymiyyah, A. ibn ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm (1425/2004). al-Fatāwā. Riyadh: King Fahd Publication. al-ʿIdlibī, Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn (2009). ʿAqāʾid al-ʿšāʿirah. Cairo: Dār al-Salām. al-Ījī, ʿAḍud al-Dīn (nd). Kitāb al-mawāqif. Beirut: Ālam al-Kutub, no date given. ʿImārah, Muhammad (1993). al-ʿAmāl al-kāmilah lil-imām Muhammad ʿAbduh. Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq.

176

Bibliography

al-Isfarāyīnī, abū al-Muẓaffar (2010). al-Tabṣīr fī al-dīn, ed. Muhammad Z. al-Kawṯarī. Cairo: al-Maktabah al-Azhariyyah. ʿIyāḍ, al-Qāḍī (2013). al-Šifā bitaʿrīf ḥuqūq al-muṣtafā (Dubai: Jāʾizat Dubai ­al-Dawliyyah lil-Quran. al-Juwaynī, ʿAbd al-Malik (1969). al-Šāmil fī uṣūl al-dīn, ed. Faiṣal ʿAwn; Suhair Muḫtār; ʿAlī S. al-Naššār. Alexandria: Minšaa’at al-Maʿārif,. al-Juwaynī, ʿAbd al-Malik (1987). Lumaʿ al-adillah, 2nd edn, ed. Fawqiyyah Ḥ. Ḥammūdah. Beirut: ʿĀlam al-Kutub. al-Juwaynī, ʿAbd al-Malik (2009). al-Iršād, ed. Aḥmad al-Sāyiḥ and Tawfīq Wahbah. Cairo: Maktabat al-Ṯaqāfah al-Dīniyyah. al-Kawṯarī, Muhammad Z. (1997). Muqaddimāt, 2nd edn. Damascus and Beirut: Dār al-Ṯurayya. Maḥmūd, ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm (1969). al-ʿĀrif bi-llāh al-Mursī abū al-ʿAbbās. Cairo: Dār al-Kātib al-ʿArabī. Maḥmūd, ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm (1979). Fatāwā, 5th edn. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. Maḥmūd, ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm (1985). al-Ḥamdu li-llāh! haḏihi ḥayātī, 3rd edn. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. Maḥmūd, ʿAbd al-Ḥalīm (1989). al-Tafkīr al-falsafī fī al-islām, 2nd edn. Cairo: Dār al-Maʿārif. al-Nawawī, abū Zakariā Yaḥyā (1930). Šarḥ Ṣahīh Muslim, 2nd edn. Cairo: al-Maṭbaʿah al-Maṣriyyah. al-Qāsim, ʿAbd al-Ḥakīm (2012). Dilālāt al-siyāq al-qurʾanī wa-aṯaruhā fī al-tafsīr, 1st edn. Riyadh: Dār al-Tadmuriyyah. al-Rāzī, Faḥr al-Dīn (1938). Iʿtiqādāt firaq al-muslimīn wa-al-mušrikīn, ed. Muṣtafa ʿAbdel Rāziq. Cairo: al-Nahḍah al-Maṣriyyah. al-Rāzī, Faḥr al-Dīn 1981. Tafsīr al-faḥr al-Rāzī, 1st edn. Cairo: Dār al-Fikr. Riḍā, Rašīd (1327/1910). Majallat al-manār, 2nd edn. Cairo: al-Manār. Riḍā, Rašīd (2006). Tāriḫ al-ustāḏ al-imām Muhammad ʿAbduh, 2nd edn. Cairo: Dār al-Faḍīlah. al-Šaʿrānī, ʿAbd al-Wahhāb (2018). al-Yawāqīt wa-al-jawāhir fī bayān ʿaqāʾid al-akābir, ed. ʿAbd al-Wāriṯ M. ʿAlī, Vol. 1, Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyyah. al-Šahrastānī, abū al-Fatḥ (1975). al-Milal wa-al-niḥal, 2nd edn, Muhammad S. Kilānī. Beirut: Dār al-Maʿrifah. al-Šāfiʿī, Ḥassan (2016). Qawl fī al-tajdīd. Cairo: Dār al-Quds al-ʿArabī. Šaltūt, Maḥmūd (2001). al-Islām ʿaqīdah wa-šarīʿah, 18th edn. Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq. Šaltūt, Maḥmūd (2004). Tafsīr al-qurān al-karīm, 12th edn. Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq. Šaltūt, Maḥmūd (1403/1983). Ilā-al-qurān al-karīm. Cairo: Dār al-Šurūq. al-Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn (1410 AH). al-Tanbiʾah biman yabʿathuhu allāhu ʿalā raʾs kulli maʾah, 1st edn, ed. ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd Šanūḥah. Mecca: Dār al-Ṯiqah.

Bibliography

177

al-Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn (1988). Itmām al-niʿmah fī iḫtiṣāṣ al-islām bihaḏi al-ummah, 1st edn, ed. Ḫaled A. Gomaʿah and ʿAbd al-Qādir A. ʿAbd al-Qādir. Kuwait: Dār al-ʿUrūbah. al-Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn (1987). Miftāḥ al-jannah fī al-iʿtiṣām bil-Sunnah. Cairo: Dār al-Kutub. al-Ṭabarī, Muhammad ibn Jarīr (2003). Tafsīr al-Ṭabarī, 1st edn, ed. ʿAbd Allah M. al-Turkī. Cairo: Dār Hajar. al-Zarkašī, Badr al-Dīn (1992). al-Baḥr al-muḥīṭ, 2nd edn, ed. ʿAbd al-Sattār abū Ġuddah and ʿAbd al-Qādir al-ʿĀnī. Kuwait: Wazārat al-Awqāf wa-al-Šuʾūn al-Islāmiyyah.

English Sources Abdel Haleem, M. A. S. (2004). The Qurʾan: A New Translation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Abdel Haleem, M. A. S. (2018). “The Role of Context in Interpreting and Translating the Quranic.” Journal of Quranic Studies, Vol. 20, No. 1:47–66. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. ʿAbduh, Muhammad (1966). The Theology of Unity, trans. Isḥāq Musaʿad and Kenneth Crag. London: George Allen and Unwin. Adamec, Ludwig W. (2017). Historical Dictionary of Islam, 3rd edn. London and New York: Rowman. Adams, Charles (1968). Islam and Modernism in Egypt: A Study of the Modern Reform Movement Inaugurated by Muhammad ʿAbduh, 2nd edn. New York: Russell and Russell. Aishima, Hatsuki and Salvatore, Armando (2009). Doubt, Faith, and Knowledge: the Reconfiguration of the Intellectual Field in post-Nasserist Cairo. London: Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute. Al-Faruqi, Ismaʿil (1979). Islam. Illinois: Argus Communication. Al-Faruqi, Ismaʿil (1982). “Islam as Culture and Civilization.” In Salam Azzam (ed.), Islam and Contemporary Society, 43–46. London and New York: Longman and Islamic Council of Europe. Al-Jubouri, I. M. N. (2004). History of Islamic Philosophy with View of Greek Philosophy and Early History of Islam. Hertford: Authors OnLine Ltd. Al-Rahim, Ahmed H. (2006). “Islam and Liberty.” Journal of Democracy 17, 166–169. Washington: Johns Hopkins University Press. Anawati, Georges (1969). “Excursus on Islam.” Commentary on the Documents of Vatican II. Vol. 3, ed. Herbert Vorgrimler, 151–155. New York: Herder and Herder Anawati, Georges (1996). “Louis Massignon et le dialogue islamo-chrétien: souvenirs personnels.” Louis Massignon et le dialogue des cultures, ed. Daniel Massignon, 265– 280. Paris: Cerf.

178

Bibliography

Aquinas, Thomas (1993). Selected Philosophical Writings. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Aquinas, Thomas (1920–1922). Summa Theologiae, trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. London: Burns Oates and Washbourne. Arkoun, Mohammed (1994). Rethinking Islam: Common Questions and Uncommon Answers, trans. Robert D. Lee, Robert. Oxford: Westview Press. Asad, Talal (1986). The Idea of an Anthropology of Islam. Washington: Centre for Contemporary Arab Studies. Asad, Talal (2003). Formations of the Secular: Christianity, Islam, Modernity. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Aslan, Adnan (1998). Religious Pluralism: Christian and Islamic Philosophy: The Thought of John Hick and Seyyed Hossein Nasr. Curzon: Curzon Press. Atay, Rifat (1999). “Religious Pluralism and Islam: A Critical Examination of John Hick’s Pluralistic Hypothesis.” St. Andrews: PhD thesis. Attridge, Harold and Hata Gaohei (1992). Eusebius, Christianity, and Judaism. Detroit: Wayne State University Press. Badawi, Elsaid M., Abdel Haleem, Muhammad (2008). Arabic-English Dictionary of Quranic Usage. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Badawi, Zaki, M. A. (1979). The Reformers of Egypt. London: Croom Helm. Bandstra, Andrew (1970). “Paul and an Ancient Interpreter: A Comparison of the Teaching of Redemption in Paul and Irenaeus.” Calvin Theological Journal. Vol. 5, No. 1: 43–63. Barnes, Michael (2002). Theology and the Dialogue of Religions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Barnes, Timothy (1971). Tertullian: A Literary and Historical Study. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Barwig, Regis N. (1978). More Than a Prophet: Day By Day With Pius IX. Altadena: ­Benziger Sisters. Batey, Richard (1966). “So All Israel Will Be Saved.” Interpretation: A Journal of Bible and Theology. Vol. 20, No. 2:218–228. Bauer, Susan W. (2010). The History of the Medieval World: From the Conversion of Constantine to the First Crusade. London: W. W. Norton. Baumann, Martin and Melton, J. Gordon (2010). Religions of the World: A Comprehensive Encyclopedia of Beliefs and Practices, 2nd edn. Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO. Bengio, Ofra and Litvak, Meir (eds.) (2011). The Sunnah and Shiʿa in History: Division and Ecumenism in the Muslim Middle East. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Berkey, Jonathan P. (2003). The Formation of Islam. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Boz, Tuba (2011). “Religious Conversion: Models and Paradigms.” Epiphany: Journal of Transdisciplinary Studies. Vol. 4, No. 1:128–145.

Bibliography

179

Brown, Daniel W. (1999). Rethinking Tradition in Modern Islamic Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Brown, Jonathan A. C. (2014). Misquoting Muhammad: The Challenge and Choices of Interpreting the Prophet’s Legacy. London: Oneworld Publications. Brown, Nathan J. (2011). Post-Revolutionary al-Azhar. Washington DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Brunner, Rainer (2004). Islamic Ecumenism in the 20th Century: The Azhar and Shiism between Rapprochement and Restraint. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Burkle-Young, Franic A. (2000). Papal Elections in the Age of Transition: 1878–1922. ­Maryland: Lexington Books. Burton, John (1990). The Sources of Islamic Law: Islamic Theories of Abrogation. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Caferro, William and Duncan Fisher, G. (eds.) (1996). The Unbounded Community: Papers in Christian Ecumenism in Honor of Jaroslav Pelikan. New York and London: Garland. Cahill, Lisa S. (1994). Love Your Enemies: Discipleship, Pacifism, and Just War Theory. Minnesota: Fortress Press. Calvin, John (1959). Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Romans, trans. John Owens. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company. Calvin, John (1989). Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Henry Beveridge. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Cameron, Alan (2013). The Last Pagans of Rome. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Campo, Juan E. (2009). Encyclopedia of Islam. New York: Infobase Publishing. Carey, Patrick W. and Lienhard, Joseph T. (eds.) (2000). Biographical Dictionary of Christian Theologians. Connecticut and London: Greenwood. Choueiri, Youssef M. (1994). “Review of ‘Mahmud Shaltut and Islamic Modernism.’” The British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 21/2:300–301 Oxford: Taylor and Francis Ltd. Clooney, Francis X. (1993) Theology After Vedanta: An Experiment in Comparative Theology. Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications. Clooney, Francis X. (1996). Seeing Through Texts: Doing Theology among the Śrīvaiṣṇavas of South India. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Clooney, Francis X. (2008a). Beyond Compare: St Frances de Sales and Sri Vedanta Desika on Loving Surrender to God. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press. Clooney, Francis X. (2010a). Comparative Theology: Deep Learning across Religious Borders. Massachusetts: Wiley-Blackwell. Cohen, Mark (1994). Under Crescent and Cross: Jews in the Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Commins, David (1994). “Review of ‘Mahmud Shaltut and Islamic Modernism.’” Middle East Journal 48/4: 732–733.

180

Bibliography

Cornille, Catherine (2010). Many Mansions? Multiple Religious Belonging and Christian Identity. Maryknoll and New York: Orbis Books. Corrado, Ricci and Begni, Ernesto (2003). The Vatican: Its History, Its Treasures. Whitefish: Kessinger Publishing. Cowan, Milton (1976). Arabic-English Dictionary, 3rd edn. New York: Spoken Language Services. Cross, Frank and Livingstone, Elizabeth (1997). The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, 3rd edn. New York: Oxford University Press. Cyprian (2007). The Fathers of the Church: St. Cyprian Treatises, trans. Roy J. Deferrari, Vol. 36. Washington D. C., The Catholic University of America Press. Dag, Esra A. (2017). Christian and Islamic Theology of Religions: A Critical Appraisal. Oxford: Routledge. Davies, Brian and Stump, Eleanore (ed.) (2012). The Oxford Handbook of Aquinas. Oxford: Oxford University Press. D’Costa, Gavin (1986). Theology and Religious Pluralism, 2nd edn. Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd. D’Costa, Gavin (2009). Christianity and World Religions: Disputed Questions in the Theology of Religions, 1st edn. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. D’Costa, Gavin (2014). Vatican II: Catholic Doctrines on Jews and Muslims. Oxford: Oxford University Press. DeLong-Bas, Natana J. (2008). Wahhabi Islam: From Revival and Reform to Global Jihad. New York: Oxford University Press. Donaldson, James; Roberts, Alexander, and Coxe, Cleveland A. (eds.) (1885). AnteNicene Fathers: The Writings of the Fathers down to A.D. 325: The Apostolic Fathers, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus. New York: Christian Literature Publishing Co. Dudoignon, Stephane A., Hisao, Komatsu, Yasushi, Kosugi (2006). Intellectuals in the Modern Islamic World: Transmission, Transformation, Communication. London and New York: Routledge. Duffy, Eamon (1997). Saints and Sinners: A History of the Popes. Connecticut: Yale ­University Press. Dunn, James D. G. (2009). Beginning from Jerusalem: Christianity in the Making. Michigan: Eerdmans. Dupuis, Jacques (1999). Toward a Christian Theology of Religious Pluralism. New York: Orbis Books. Durant, Will (1950). The Age of Faith: A History of Medieval Civilization-Christian, Islamic, and Judaic-From Constantine to Dante: A.D. 325–1300. New York: Simon and Schuster. Durant, Will (1957). The Reformation. New York: Simon and Schuster. Durant, Will (1992). Caesar and Christ: A History of Roman Civilization and of Christianity from Their Beginnings to A.D. 325. New York: MJF Books.

Bibliography

181

El-Rouayheb, Khaled (2015). Islamic Intellectual History in the Seventeenth Century: Scholarly Currents in the Ottoman Empire and the Maghreb. Massachusetts: Cambridge University Press. Erickson, Millard J. (1996). How Shall They Be Saved? The Destiny of Those Who Do Not Hear of Jesus. Michigan: Baker Pub Group. Esack, Farid (1997). Qurʾan, Liberation and Religious Pluralism. Oxford: One World Publications. Espín, Orlando O. and Nickoloff, James B. (2008). An Introductory Dictionary of Theology and Religious Studies. Liturgical Press. Esposito, John L. (1999). The Oxford History of Islam. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Esposito, John L. (2003). The Oxford Dictionary of Islam. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Esposito, John L. (2009). The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Islamic World. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Fakhry, Majid (1984). A History of Islamic Philosophy, 3rd edn. New York: Columbia ­University Press. Farrugia, Edward and O’Collins, Gerald (2000). A Concise Dictionary of Theology: Revised and Expanded Edition. New York and Mahwah: Paulist Press. Ferguson, Everett (1993). Backgrounds of Early Christianity, 2nd edn. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Ferguson, John (1974). Clement of Alexandria. New York: Twayne Publishers. Finn, Richard (2009). Asceticism in the Graeco-Roman World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Flannery, Austin (1996). Vatican Council II: The Conciliar and Postconciliar Documents. Collegeville: The Liturgical Press. Frank, Richard (1994). Al-Ghazālī and the Ashʿarite School. London and Durham: Duke University Press. Freidman, Yohanan (2003). Tolerance and Coercion in Islam: Interfaith Relations in the Muslim Tradition. New York: Cambridge University Press. Frend, William H. C. (1984). The Rise of Christianity. Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Gelpi, Donald L. (2008). The Gracing of Human Experience: Rethinking the Relationship between Nature and Grace. Oregon: Wipf and Stock. Gilson, Etienne (1994). The Christian Philosophy of Saint Thomas Aquinas. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. Goddard, Hugh (2000). A History of Christian-Muslim Relations. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. González, Justo L. (1987). A History of Christian Thought: From Augustine to the Eve of the Reformation. Tennessee: Abingdon Press. González, Justo L. (2005). Essential Theological Terms. Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press.

182

Bibliography

Goodman, Ellen (1995). The Origins of the Western Legal Tradition: From Thales to the Tudors. Sydney: The Federation Press. Gracia, Jorge J. E., Reichberg, Gregory M., Schumacher, Bernard N., James, Ross, F. (eds.) (2003). The Classics of Western Philosophy: A Reader’s Guide. Oxford: Blackwell ­Publishing. Grady, Frank (2005). Representing Righteous Heathens in Late Mediaeval England. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Graham, Sheilah (1989). Beloved Infidel. Canada: Quality Paperback Book Club. Grant, Robert M. (1993). Heresy and Criticism: The Search for Authenticity in Early Christian Literature. Louisville, KY: Westminster. Griffel, Frank (2009). Al-Ghazali’s Philosophical Theology. New York: Oxford University Press. Griffel, Frank (2012). Al-Ghazālī’s Use of “Original Human Disposition” (Fiṭra) and Its Background in the Teachings of al-Fārābī and Avicenna.” The Muslim World, 102: 1–32. Hartford: Hartford Seminary. Griffith, Sidney H. (1990) “Thomas Merton, Louis Massignon, and the Challenge of Islam.” in Robert E. Daggy et al. (eds.), The Merton Annual 3, 151–172. Griffith, Sidney H. (1997). “Sharing the Faith of Abraham: the ‘Credo’ of Louis Massignon.” Islam and Muslim-Christian Relations, Vol. 8, No. 2, 193–210. London: Routledge. Grzelak, Krzysztof (2018). “A Historical Perspective on Inclusivism as the Prevailing Paradigm in the Christian Theology of Religions.” The Sympozjum, Rok XXII, 161– 192. Poland: Wydawca. Günther, Sebastian, Lawson, Tod (eds.) (2017). Roads to Paradise: Eschatology and Concepts of the Hereafter in Islam, Foundations and Formation of a Tradition: Reflections on the Hereafter in the Quranic and Islamic Religious Thought. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Hägg, Henny F. (2006). Clement of Alexandria and the Beginnings of Christian Apophaticism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Haidar, Yahya (2016). “The Debates between Ašʿarism and Māturīdism in Ottoman Religious Scholarship: A Historical and Bibliographical Study.” Australian National University: PhD Diss. Haj, Samira (2009). Reconfiguring Islamic Tradition: Reform, Rationality and Modernity. California: Stanford University Press. Hallaq, Wael B. (1984). “Caliphs, Jurists and the Saljuqs in the Political Thought of Juwaynī.” The Muslim World 74, No. 1, 26–41. Hartford: Hartford Seminary. Hallaq, Wael B. (2009). An Introduction to Islamic Law. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Halverson, Jeffry (2010). Theology and Creed in Sunni Islam: The Muslim Brotherhood, Ašʿarism, and Political Sunnism, 1st edn. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Bibliography

183

Harkins, Franklin T. (2014). “The Early Aquinas on the Question of Universal Salvation, or How a Knight May Choose Not to Ride His Horse.” New Blackfrairs, Vol. 95, Iss. 1056, March, 208–217. Hartog, Paul A. (ed.) (2015). Orthodoxy and Heresy in Early Christian Contexts Reconsidering the Bauer Thesis. Cambridge: James and Clarke. Hassan, Ahmad (1965). “The Theory of Naskh.” Islamic Studies, Vol. 4, No. 2, 181–200. Islamabad: IRI Digital Library. Hawtung, G. R. (1999). The Idea of Idolatry and the Emergence of Islam. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Healy, Nicholas M. (2003). Thomas Aquinas: Theologian of the Christian Life. Farnham: Ashgate. Hedges, Paul (2017). Comparative Theology: Critical and Methodological Perspective. Leiden: Brill. Hedges, Paul and Race, Alan (2009). Christian Approaches to Other Faiths. London: SCM. Herbermann, Charles G. H. G. (1908). The Catholic Encyclopedia. New York: Robert Appleton Company. Herbermann, Charles (ed.). (1913). Catholic Encyclopedia. New York: Robert Appleton. Herrin, Judith (1987). The Formation of Christendom. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Hirji, Zulfikar (2010). Diversity and Pluralism in Islam: Historical and Contemporary Discourses amongst Muslims. London and New York: L.B. Tauris Publishers in Association with the Institute of Ismaili Studies. Hitchcock, James (2012). History of the Catholic Church: from the Apostolic Age to the Third Millennium. San Francisco: Ignatius Press. Hooper, Walter (1979). Selected Literary Essays, 3rd edn. Cambridge: Cambridge University. Hotchkiss, Valerie R. and Henry, Patrick (2005). Orthodoxy and Western Culture: A Collection of Essays Honouring Jaroslav Pelikan. New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press. Hourani, Albert (1962). Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age 1798–1939. London: Oxford University Press. Hourani, Albert (2002). A History of the Arab Peoples. London: Faber and Faber. Ibranyi, R. J. M. (2004). Bad Books on Salvation. New Mexico: Mary’s Little Remnant. Ignacio, José C., Davaney, Sheila, G. (eds.) (2004). Identity and the Politics of Scholarship in the Study of Religion. New York: Routledge. Ignatius (1997). The Companion to the Catechism of the Catholic Church: A Compendium of Texts Referred to in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd edn. San Francisco: Ignatius Press. Ipgrave, Michael (2015). Provocation and Resonance: Sacramental Spirituality in the Context of Islam, in The Character of Christian-Muslim Encounter: Essay on Honour of David Thomas. Leiden, Boston: Brill.

184

Bibliography

Irwin, Robert (2010). The New Cambridge History of Islam. Cambridge: Cambridge ­University Press. Ivan, Ruben I. (2013). “The Connection Between Salvation, Martyrdom and Suffering According to St. Ignatius of Antioch.” KAIROS Evangelical Journal of Theology, Vol. VII. No. 2,: 167–182. Zagreb: Bible Institute. Izzati, Abu al-Fzal (2002). Islam and Natural Law. London: Islamic College for Advanced Studies. Jackson, Sherman (2002). On the Boundaries of Theological Tolerance in Islam. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. Jackson, Sherman (2009). Islam and the Problem of Black Suffering. Oxford: Oxford ­University Press. James, Frank A. (1998). Peter Martyr Vermigli and Predestination: The Augustinian Inheritance of an Italian Reformer. Oxford: Clarendon. Jeffrey, David L. (2007). People of the Book: Christian Identity and Literary Culture. Michigan: William Eerdmans. Jones, Brian (1992). The Emperor Domitian. London: Routledge. Kaatz, Kevin W. (2013). Voices of Early Christianity: Documents from the Origins of Christianity. California and Oxford: Greenwood. Kamali, Hashim (1996). “Methodological Issues in Islamic Jurisprudence.” Arab Law Quarterly. Vols. 11, No. 1, 3–33. Leiden: Brill. Karkkainen, Veli-Matti (2003). An Introduction to the Theology of Religions: Biblical, Historical and Contemporary Perspectives. Illinois: InterVarsity Press. Kateman, Ammeke (2019). Muḥammad ʿAbduh and His Interlocutors: Conceptualizing Religion in a Globalizing World. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Keller, Nuh (1997). Reliance of the Traveller: A Classic Manual of Islamic Sacred Law. Maryland: Amana Publications. Kelly, Henry A. (2006). Satan: A Biography. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kelly, J. N. D., Walsh, Michael J. (2010) In Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 2nd edn. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kelly, Joseph F. (2009). The Ecumenical Councils of the Catholic Church: A History. Liturgical Press. Kéri, Szabolcs (2016). How Jews, Christians, and Muslims Perceive People who do not Share their Religious Beliefs. Leibniz: Gesis. Khalil, Mohammad H. (2012). Islam and the Fate of Others: The Salvation Question. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Khalil, Mohammad H. (2013). Between Heaven and Hell: Islam, Salvation, and the Fate of Others. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kiblinger, K. B. (2010). “Relating Theology of Religions and Comparative Theology,” in F. X. Clooney (ed.). The New Comparative Theology: Interreligious Insights from the Next Generation, 21–42. London and New York, NY: T&T Clark.

Bibliography

185

Kilby, Karen (2004). Karl Rahner Theology and Philosophy. London and New York: Routledge. Köchler, Hans (ed.) (1982). Concept of Monotheism in Islam and Christianity. Vienna: International Progress Organization. Krokus, Christian S. (July 2012). “Louis Massignon’s Influence on the Teaching of Vatican II on Muslims and Islam.” Islam and Christian–Muslim Relations 23/3: 329–345. London: Routledge Taylor and Francis Group. Krokus, Christian S. (Fall 2012). “Christianity, Islam and Hinduism in Louis Massignon’s Appropriation of Gandhi as a Modern Saint.” Ecumenical Studies 47:525–540. ­Pennsylvania: University of Pennsylvania Press. Krokus, Christian S. (2017). The Theology of Louis Massignon: Islam, Christ, and the Church. Washington, D.C., The Catholic University of America Press. Lacey, T. A. (1922). Selected Epistles of St. Cyprian Treating of the Episcopate, trans. Nathaniel Marshall. London: Society for promoting Christian Knowledge. Ladouceur, Paul (2017). “Religious Diversity in Modern Orthodox Thought.” Inward Being and Outward Identity: The Orthodox Churches in the 21st Century, ed. John A. Jillions. Basel: MDPI AG: 44–57. Lange, Christian (2016). Paradise and Hell in the Islamic Traditions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Leaman, Oliver (1985). An Introduction to Classical Islamic Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Leaman, Oliver (2015). The Biographical Encyclopedia of Islamic Philosophy. London: Bloomsbury. Lenski, Noel (2007). The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Constantine. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lepper, F. A. (1948). Trajan’s Parthian War. London: Oxford University Press. Levering, Matthew (2011). Predestination: Biblical and Theological Paths. New York: Oxford University Press. Lewis, B. Scott (2012). Kerygmatic Theology. Oxford: Blackwell. Lindbeck, George (1984). The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and Theology in a Post Liberal Age. London: SPCK. Litwa, David. M. (2014). “The Wondrous Exchange: Irenaeus and Eastern Valentinians on the Soteriology of Interchange.” The Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 22, No. 3:311–341. Maryland: Johns Hopkins University Press. Lombardi, Riccardo (1956). The Salvation of the Unbeliever, 1st edn. London: Burns and Oates. Louise, Gude M. (1996). Louis Massignon: The Crucible of Compassion. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. Lucas, Scott C. (2004). Constructive Critics, Hadith Literature, and the Articulation of Sunnī Islam. Leiden: Brill Publishers.

186

Bibliography

Ludlow, Morwenna (2000). Universal Salvation: Eschatology in the Thought of Gregory of Nyssa and Karl Rahner. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Luebke, David M. (1999). The Counter-Reformation: The Essential Readings. New York: John Wiley & Sons. Luxenberg, Christoph (2007). The Syro-Aramaic Reading of the Koran: A Contribution to the Decoding of the Language of the Koran. Berlin: Verlag Hans Schiler. MacCulloch, Diarmaid (2010). A History of Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years. London: Penguin Books Limited. Mahmūd, ʿAbdel Halīm (1978). The Creed of Islam, trans. Mahmud Abdel Haleem. London: World of Islam Festival Trust. Makdisi, George (1962). Ashʿarī and the Ashʿarites in Islamic Religious History I. Studia Islamica, No. 17, 37–80. Makdisi, George (1990). The Rise of Humanism in Classical Islam and the Christian West: With Special Reference to Scholasticism. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Martin, Ralph (2012). Will Many Be Saved? What Vatican II Actually Teaches and Its Implications for the New Evangelization. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company. Martin, Richard, C. and Woodward, Mark and Atmaja, Dwi S. (1997). Defenders of Reason in Islam: Muʿtazililism From Medieval School to Modern Symbol. Oxford: Oneworld Publications. Martyr, Justin (2008). The Fathers of the Church: Writings of Saint Justin Martyr: A New Translation, trans. Thomas B. Falls, Vol. 6. Washington, D. C.: The Catholic University of America Press. Massignon, Louis (1915). “The Roman Catholic Church and Islam.” The Muslim World, Vol. 5, Iss. 2:129–142. McAuliffe, Jane (1991). Quranic Christians: An Analysis of Classical and Modern Exegesis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McCarthy, Richard J. S. (1980). Freedom and Fulfillment: An Annotated Translation of al-Ghazali’s al-Munqidh min al-dalāl. Boston: Twayne Publishers. McFarland, Ian, A. Fergusson, David, A. S., Kilby, Karen, Torrance, Iain, R. (eds.) (2011). The Cambridge Dictionary of Christian Theology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McGrath, Alister (2010). Christian Theology: An Introduction, 5th edn. Oxford: Black-Wiley. McGrath, Alister (2013). Historical Theology: An Introduction to the History of Christian Thought, 2nd edn. Oxford: Wiley Blackwell. McGuckin, John A. (2004). The Westminster Handbook to Origen. Louisville and Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press. Moosa, Ebrahim (2005). Ghazālī and the Poetics of Imaginations. London and Chapel Hill: ­University of North Carolina Press.

Bibliography

187

Moss, Candida (2013). The Myth of Persecution: How Early Christians Invented A Story of Martyrdom. New York: Harper Collins. Moyaert, Marianne (2016a). “Christianity as the Measure of Religion? Materializing the Theology of Religions,” in E. Harris, P. Hedges, and S. Hettiarachchi (eds.), TwentyFirst Century Theologies of Religions: Retrospection and Future Prospects, 239–266. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Müller, Max (1882). Introduction to the Science of Religion. London: Longmans, Green and Co. Nasution, Harun (1968). “The Place of Reason in ʿAbduh’s Theology: Its Impact on His Theological System and Views.” University of Montreal: PhD Diss. Nicholas, Aidan (2003). Discovering Aquinas: An Introduction to His Life, Work, and Influence. Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans. O’Collins, Gerald (2013). Rethinking Fundamental Theology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Olson, Roger E. (1999). The Story of Christian Theology: Twenty Centuries of Tradition and Reform. Illinois: InterVarsity Press. Olson, Roger E. (2013). The Journey of Modern Theology from Reconstruction to Deconstruction. Illinois: IVP Academic. O’Mahony, Anthony (2007). “Catholic Theological Perspectives on Islam at the Second Vatican Council.” New Blackfriars, Vol. 88, No. 1016: 385–398. New Jersey: Wiley. O’Mahony, Anthony (2008). “Louis Massignon, the Melkite Church and Islam.” ARAM Periodical, 20: 269-297. O’Malley, John W. (2000). Trent and All That: Renaming Catholicism in the Early Modern Era. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Outler, Albert (1940). “The Platonism of Clement of Alexandria.” The Journal of Religion, Vol. 20, No. 3:217–240. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Pagden, Anthony and Lawrance, Jeremy (1991). Francisco De Vitoria: Political Writings. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Patte, Daniel (2010). The Cambridge Dictionary of Christianity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Phan, Peter C. (2003). “Multiple Religious Belonging: Opportunities and Challenges for Theology and Church.” Theological Studies, 64 (3). Vol. 09:495–519. USA: Society of Jesus. Pius XII (1950). Humani Generis: Some False Opinions Which Threaten to Undermine Catholic Doctrine. Slough: St. Paul Books and Media. Press, Gerald A. (2003). The Development of the Idea of History in Antiquity. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s Press. Qazi, M. A. (1979). A Concise Dictionary of Islamic Terms. Lahore: Kazi Publications. Quṭb, Sayyed (1980). Maʿālim fī al-Tarīq. Beirut: Dār al-Šurūq.

188

Bibliography

Rahman, Fazlur (1994). Major Themes of the Qurʾān, 1st edn. Vienna: Bibliotheca Islamica. Rahner, Karl (1966). “Christianity and the Non-Christian Religions.” Theological Investigations, Vol. 5. London: Darton Longman & Todd, 115–134. Rahner, Karl (1976). “Observations on the Problem of the Anonymous Christian.” Theological Investigations, Vol. 14. London: Darton Longman & Todd, 280–294. Ramelli, Ilaria L. E. (Apr. 2009). “Origen, Bardaiṣan, and the Origin of Universal Salvation.” The Harvard Theological Review, Vol. 102, No. 2: 135–168. Rankin, David I. (2006). From Clement to Origen: The Social and Historical Context of the Church Fathers. Aldershot: Ashgate. Reid, Donald M. (1995). “Review of ‘Mahmud Shaltut and Islamic Modernism by Kate Zebiri.’” International Journal of Middle East Studies. Vols. 27, No. 1:98–100. Reinhart, Kevin A. (1995). “Review of ‘Mahmud Shaltut and Islamic Modernism by Kate Zebiri.”’ The Journal of Religion, Vol. 75, No. 3:200 pp. Richardson, Alan, Bowden, John (1989). A New Dictionary of Christian Theology. London: Hymns Ancient and Modern Ltd. Rippin, Andrew (1995). “Review of ‘Mahmud Shaltut and Islamic Modernism by Kate Zebiri.”’ Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies. Vol. 58, No. 1:135–136. Robert, Alexander, Donaldson, James, Coxe, Arthur C. (2007). Ante-Nicene Fathers: The Apostolic Fathers with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus. New York: Cosimo Classics. Rousseau, Jean-Jaques (1957). The Creed of a Priest of Savoy, trans. Arthur H. Beattie. New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing Co. Rowman, Alan K. (2005). The Cambridge Ancient History: The Crisis of Empire, A.D. 193–337. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Roy, Olivier (2004). Globalized Islam: The Search for a New Ummah. London: C. Hurst & Co Publishers Ltd. Saeed, Abdullah (2006). Islamic Thought, An Introduction, 1st edn. London and New York: Routledge. Said, Edward (1979). Orientalism. New York: Vintage. Šarīʿatī, ʿAlī (1979). On the Sociology of Islam, trans. H. Algar. Berkeley: Mizan Press. Schacht, Joseph (1959). The Origins of Muhammadan Jurisprudence. Oxford: Clarendon. Schaff, Philip (ed.) (1887). Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, Vol. 5, trans. Peter Holmes and Robert Ernest Wallis. New York: Christian Literature Publishing Co. Schmidt, Arthur (2000). Biographical Dictionary of Modern Egypt. Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Schmidtke, Sabine (ed.) (2016). Oxford Handbook of Islamic Theology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schmidt-Leukel, P. (2009). Transformation by Integration: How Inter-Faith Encounter Changes Christianity. London: SCM Press.

Bibliography

189

Shamsy, Ahmed el (2020). Rediscovering the Islamic Classics: How Editors and Print Culture Transformed an Intellectual Tradition. Princeton; Oxford: Princeton University Press. Sherrard, Philip (1998). Christianity: Lineaments of a Sacred Tradition Paperback. Brookline: Holy Cross Orthodox Pres. Siddiqi, Muhammad Z. (1993). Hadith Literature, ed. Abdal Hakim Murad. Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society. Siecienski, Anthony E. (2010). The Filioque: History of a Doctrinal Controversy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Silverstein, Adam and Stroumsa, Guy G. (2015). The Oxford Handbook of the Abrahamic Religions. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Smallwood, Mary, E. (2001). The Jews Under Roman Rule: From Pompey to Diocletian: A Study in Political Relations. Leiden: Brill. Stosch, K. von (2012a). “Comparative Theology as Liberal and Confessional Theology,” Religions 3.4:983–992. Stosch, K. von (2012b). “Comparative Theology as a Challenge for the Theology of the 21st Century,” Religious Inquiries 1.2:25–26. Stosch, K. von (2016a). “Comparative Theology and Comparative Religion,” in P. Schmidt Leukel and A. Nehring (eds.), Interreligious Comparisons in Religious Studies and Theology, 163–177. London and New York: Bloomsbury. Stosch, K. von (2016b) “Developing Christian Theodicy in Conversation with Navid Kermani,” in M. Voss Roberts (ed.). Comparing Faithfully: Insights for Systematic Theological Reflection, 89–106. New York, NY: Fordham University Press. Sullivan, Francis A. (1992). Salvation Outside the Church? Tracing the History of the Catholic Response. Oregon: Wipf and Stock Publishers. TeSelle, Eugene (2002). Augustine the Theologian. London: Wipf and Stock. Trumbower, Jeffrey (2001). Rescue for the Dead: The Posthumous Salvation of Non-­Christians in Early Christianity. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Ullah, Kifayat (2017). Al-Kashshāf: Al-Zamakhsharī’s Muʿtazilite Exegesis of the Quran. Berlin: De Gruyter. Vatikiotis, P. J. (1975). “Muhammad ʿAbduh and the Quest for a Muslim Humanism.” Islamic Culture, 31, 363–385. Leiden: Brill. Veldt, S. Mark (2007). “Christian Attitudes Toward the Jews in the Earliest Centuries A.D.” PhD Diss. Michigan: Western Michigan University Press. Vitto, Cindy L. (1989). “The Virtuous Pagan. In Middle English Literature.” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, Vol. 79, No. 5:1–100. Vorgrimler, Herbert (1986). Understanding Karl Rahner: An Introduction to His Life and Thought. New York: Crossroad. Walker, James (2007). The Concise Guide to Today’s Religions and Spirituality. Oregon: Harvest House Publishers.

190

Bibliography

Ward, Keith (1994). Religion and Revelation: A Theology of Revelation in the World’s Religions. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Ward, Keith (1999). Religion and Human Nature. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Ward, Keith (2000). Religion and Community. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Ware, Timothy (1993). The Orthodox Church: An Introduction to Eastern Christianity. London: Penguin. Watt, Montgomery (1963). Muslim Intellectual: A Study of al-Ghazālī. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Watt, Montgomery (1974). Muhammad: Prophet and Statesman. New York: Oxford University Press. Watt, Montgomery (1985). Islamic Philosophy and Theology: An Extended Survey, 2nd edn. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Wehr, Hans (1976). Arabic-English Dictionary, ed. J. M. Cowan, 3rd edn. New York: Spoken Languages Services. Wensinck, A. J. (1932). The Muslim Creed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Winter, Tim (1999). “The Last Trump Card: Islam and the Supersession of Other Faiths.” Studies in Interreligious Dialogue. Belgium: Peters Publishers, pp. 133–155. Wolfson, H. A. (1970). Philosophy of the Church Fathers. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Wright, Anthony D. (2005). The Counter-Reformation: Catholic Europe and the NonChristian World, 2nd edn (Catholic Christendom, 1300–1700). London: Routledge. Yasien, Mohamed (1995). “The Interpretations of Fiṭrah.” Islamic Studies, Vol. 34, No. 2:129–151. Islamabad: International Islamic University. Zebiri, Kate (1993). Mahmud Shaltut and Islamic Modernism. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Online Sources Al-Maṣrī al-Yawm Newspaper. :‫مجمع البحوث الإسلامية عن تصر يحات سالم عبد الجليل‬

‫الأزهر لا يملك تكفير الناس‬: https://www.almasryalyoum.com/news/details/1132163 (accessed: 01/09/2019). Hoffner, Anne-Bénédicte. “Al-Azhar acts after Jews and Christians are Branded ‘Infidels.’” LACROIX International. https://international.la-croix.com/news/al-azharacts-after-jews-and-christians-are-branded-infidels/5475# (accessed: 01/09/2019). Rabbani, Farz. “Convert or revert.” IslamQA Online. https://islamqa.org/hanafi/qiblahanafi/36116 (accessed: 17/07/2017).

Index of Persons Catholic Figures Aquinas 16, 17, 30, 69, 69n.1, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 79, 81, 85, 101, 102 Augustine 11n.7, 17, 21, 22, 30, 37, 37n.13, 38, 39, 40, 40n.14, 41, 41n.15&16, 44, 45, 45n.19–21, 48, 49, 49n.26, 50, 51, 51n.28, 64, 65, 69, 69n.1, 74, 74n.5, 79, 102 Basil of Caesarea 37 Calvin 81 Cano 16, 80, 80n.11&12, 81 Clement of Alexandria 23, 25, 27, 27n.5, 28, 30, 43, 44, 47, 48, 50, 51 Cyprian 3n.1, 30, 32, 33, 34, 34n.10, 35 De Lugo 16, 83, 83n.15, 84, 123 Franzelin 109, 109n.4, 110 Gregory of Nazianzus 37, 44 Gregory of Nyssa 22, 37, 48, 50 Ignatius 30, 31, 34, 50 Irenaeus 23, 25, 26, 46n.23, 50 Justin Martyr 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 43, 45n.21, 26n.23, 123 Massignon 16, 17, 107, 110, 110n.6, 111, 111n.7&8, 112, 112n.9&10&11, 113, 113n.12, 114, 114n.14, 115, 115n.18, 116, 116n.19, 117, 117n.20, 118, 152, 153, 156 Origen 22, 23, 25, 29, 29n.7, 30, 30n.8, 44, 47, 47n.24, 48, 50, 51 Perrone 108, 108n.1 Pigge 16, 81, 81n.13&14, 82, 83 Pius IX 108, 108n.2 Pius XI 112n.10, 119, 119n.22 Rahner 3n.2, 16, 17, 24, 85, 107, 110, 115, 115n.17, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 123n.23, 124, 124n.24, 125, 131, 156 Rousseau 107, 108 Soto 16, 80, 80. 12, 81 Tertullian 21, 22, 25, 30, 31, 32, 37, 48, 50 Vitoria 16, 80, 80n.10–12 Muslim Figures ʿAbduh 16, 17, 18, 64, 100, 129, 130, 132, 132n.1, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 138n.5&6, 139,

139n.7, 140, 141, 142, 142n.13, 143, 144, 145, 146, 146n.18&19, 147, 148, 148n.22, 149, 150, 151, 153, 155, 156, 160, 161, 162, 172, 173 Al-Ašʿarī 10, 52, 53, 54, 55, 55n.10&12, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 93, 139n.7, 170 Al-Baġdādī 55, 55n.13, 56, 57, 60, 62, 64, 138, 170 Al-Bāqillānī 55, 55n.11, 58, 59, 59n.18, 62, 63, 138, 171 Al-Ġazālī 7, 16, 17, 18, 52, 53, 58n.14, 69, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97 98, 99, 101, 102, 103, 129, 138, 139, 142, 146, 151, 152, 162, 171 Ḥalīm 16, 18, 112, 147, 152, 152n.28, 153, 154, 155, 163, 170 Ibn Fūrak 59, 59n.18, 61, 62, 93, 96, 172 Ibn Rušd 171 Ibn Taymiyyah 7, 127, 127n.29, 131, 154, 171 Al-Ījī 16, 17, 98, 98n.4, 99, 100, 170 Al-Isfarāyīnī 57, 58, 171 Al-Juwaynī 58, 58n.14, 61, 62, 63, 86, 96, 170 Al-Nawawī 127, 127n.30, 171 Al-Rāzī 16, 17, 52, 52n.4, 98, 99, 129, 130, 172 Riḍā 7, 132n.1, 136, 142, 142n.13, 143, 172, 173 Šaltūt 16, 18, 147, 147n.21, 148, 148n.22, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 155, 172 Al-Suyūṭī 16, 17, 98, 98n.5, 99, 100, 101, 141, 172 Al-Ṭabarī 130n.35, 172 Contemporary Scholars Atay 5, 6, 8 Dag 3, 5, 6, 7, 7n.4, 8, 8n.5, 9, 88 D’Costa 1, 3n.1&2, 4, 4n.3, 13n.9&10, 46n.22, 84, 85, 111n.8, 115n.15, 116, 118, 119, 122, 124, 124n.24, 156, 159, 162 Clooney 10, 10n.6 Khalil 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 14, 86, 87, 88, 90, 91, 92, 93, 104 Neville 10 Qadhi 8, 8n.5, 87, 88 Ward 10 Winter 8, 8n.5, 87, 88, 103

Index of Subjects Christian Terms Apokatastasis 42, 42n.17, 44, 45n.20, 50, 166 Christ-based 25, 110 Church-based 110 Christ’s descent 30, 46, 47n.24, 48, 50, 51, 65, 77, 78 Jansenists 107 Lumen gentium 110, 112, 115, 116, 117, 118n.121 Nostra aetate 110, 112, 115, 116, 117 Soteriology 9, 15, 16, 22, 42, 53, 58, 62, 63, 64, 76, 77, 88, 92, 156, 168 Thomistic 69, 74, 79, 80, 80n.12, 81, 84, 102 Vatican 12, 13, 110, 168-169 Vatican I/First Vatican 79n.7, 108, 108n.3 Vatican II/Second Vatican 16, 30, 107, 110, 110n.5&6, 111, 112, 113n.11, 115, 115n.15&16&18, 116, 116n.19, 118, 118n.21, 119, 123, 125, 155, 161, 163 Islamic Terms Ahl al-kitāb 6, 151, 165 Ašʿarite 13, 13n.10, 15, 16, 17, 18, 52, 53, 55, 55n.10&11&13, 56, 57, 58, 59n.18, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 86, 87, 93, 96, 98, 100, 101, 102, 103, 132, 133, 134, 136, 137, 138, 142, 143, 144, 153, 155, 158, 160, 161, 166, 167 Atharism 54, 166 Azhar 14, 16, 18, 112, 132, 146, 147, 148, 149n.23, 150, 152, 152n.28, 155, 157, 157n.30&31, 165-166, 166n.1 Falāḥ 2, 168 Fawz 168 Al-Firqah al-nājiyah 55, 56, 57, 100 Ġazālian 17, 55, 58, 60, 62, 93, 96, 98, 102, 129, 129, 139 Hadith-based 52, 53, 87, 138, 158 Īmān 54, 90, 126, 127, 139, 142, 167 Kāfir(ūn)/Kufr/Takfir 53, 54, 58, 62, 63, 65, 88, 89, 90, 95, 100, 102, 126, 128n.31, 142, 151, 152, 156, 157, 157n. 31, 161, 167, 168 khusrān 2 Māturīdi 5, 52, 52n.3, 132, 134, 139, 167

Muʾmin(ūn) 95, 142 Muʿtazilism/Muʿtazilite(s) 52, 52n.1&4, 53, 54, 57, 58, 59, 89, 133, 134, 136, 137, 166, 168 Muhammadan-based 138, 139 Murjiʾites 58, 59, 167 Najāh 2, 168 Nasḫ 61, 61n.19, 62, 92, 140, 141, 161, 165 Peoples of the Book 6, 165 Quran-based 18, 92, 132, 147, 155, 158 Takfīr see Kāfir(ūn) Common Terms Abrogation 7, 8, 140n.8, 141, 165 Denomination-based 53, 55, 58, 61, 90, 139 Epistemology 9, 15, 17, 22, 42, 53, 58, 61, 64, 70, 71, 88, 92, 98n.4, 156, 167 Exclusivism/Exclusivist(s) 2, 3, 3n.1&2, 4, 4n.3, 5, 6, 7, 7n.4, 8, 8n.5, 9, 11, 14, 15, 16, 17, 21, 23, 30, 31, 35, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 48, 50, 64, 71, 88, 92, 101, 107, 111, 114, 124, 124n.24, 155, 156, 158, 159, 161, 162, 163 Excommunication 53, 76, 88, 90, 92, 128n.31, 157, 168 Inclusivism/Inclusivist(s) 2, 3, 3n.2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 15, 16, 17, 21, 23, 26, 30, 37, 87, 92, 103, 111, 114, 119, 124, 124n.24, 155, 156, 158, 159, 161, 162, 163 Magisterium 13, 107, 115, 167 Majoritarian(ism) 11, 158, 159, 163 Minoritarian(ism) 11, 159, 163 Pluralism/Pluralist(s) 1, 2, 3, 4, 4n.2&3, 5, 6, 7, 7n.4, 8, 48, 111, 114, 119, 120, 123n.23, 124n.24, 145, 156, 159, 162 Supersessionism 7, 61, 140, 141, 150, 161, 165 Theology of religions 1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10n.6, 11, 15, 16, 17, 21, 83, 110, 150, 153, 158, 163 Truth 5, 9, 10, 14, 15, 16, 18, 24, 25, 26, 28, 29, 30, 30n.8, 32, 35, 36, 37, 41n.15, 43, 44, 53, 55, 56, 57, 58, 61, 62, 63, 69, 71n.2, 73, 75, 76, 80, 83, 88, 93, 94, 95, 99n.6, 103, 109, 111n.8, 114, 123, 124n.24, 129, 151, 153, 161, 167