I wrote the following paper back in 2008 as an attempt to explore with greater metaphysical precision the relationship between theism and "pantheism." A careful, metaphysical look at the nature of God in classical theism raises the issue of how classical theism relates to pantheism and to religions that have often been labeled “pantheistic,” such as eastern religions like Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism. The paper was written with a philosophical audience in mind.
The relationship between pantheism and theism is of immense importance philosophically and religiously, and the two are often compared and contrasted with each other. However, in my experience, these comparisons and contrasts typically tend to leave the definitions and analyses on a metaphysically superficial and imprecise level. I would like to attempt to help remedy this situation by providing a metaphysically deeper analysis of the similarities and differences between theism and pantheism. I will then show how this deeper analysis helps to elucidate the nature of theism in such a way as to help theists respond to certain philosophical objections to theism that have frequently been proposed by pantheist and atheist thinkers and to articulate a better critique of the pantheistic worldview.
Where Pantheism and Theism Agree
The form of theism I will be discussing is classical theism, which is the form that has been articulated and defended (with more or less consistency) by all the major branches of historic Christianity--Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and most Protestant traditions. This is the form of theism that has given rise to the classical arguments for the existence of God (such as the cosmological and ontological arguments).
The word “pantheism” has been applied to more than simply one monolithic philosophical perspective. For the purposes of this paper, “pantheism” can be defined as “the belief that all reality is one metaphysically simple unified being and that all distinctions between particulars are ultimately illusory.” This definition accords well with central strands of prominent Eastern religions, such as Hinduism and Buddhism, which are usually considered to be “pantheistic.” “Theism,” on the other hand, as I am using it in this paper, can be defined as “the belief that there is one metaphysically simple unified being (God) who is the source and ground of all created reality but that the created particulars are not identical with but are truly distinct from the simple divine being.” So the question is, “Where do these two philosophical/religious perspectives agree, and where do they disagree?” My contention is that classical theism, when examined with metaphysical strictness and developed to its full logical conclusion, will be found to agree with the first half of the definition of pantheism but to disagree with the second half. Thus, classical theism agrees that “all reality is one metaphysically simple unified being” but disagrees with the claim that “all distinctions between particulars are ultimately illusory.”
I suspect that the way I have gone about delineating the line of agreement/disagreement between theism and pantheism will seem very strange to many theists, many of whom might wonder how I can say that theism agrees that “all reality is one metaphysically simple unified being.” But the fact of the matter is that classical theism requires such a view in light of its assumptions, beliefs, and arguments. Classical theism has always taught that God is an absolutely unified, simple being who is the foundation and source and explanation for all of reality and who is outside of all space and time, not subject to change, not affected by anything ultimately distinct from him or independent from him. One of the most comprehensive statements on the nature of God in classical theism (from a Christian perspective) can be found in John the Damascene’s book, An Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, written in the eighth century AD:
We believe, then, in One God, one beginning, having no beginning, uncreate, unbegotten, imperishable and immortal, everlasting, infinite, uncircumscribed, boundless, of infinite power, simple, uncompound, incorporeal, without flux, passionless, unchangeable, unalterable, unseen, the fountain of goodness and justice, the light of the mind, inaccessible; a power known by no measure, measurable only by His own will alone (for all things that He wills He can ), creator of all created things, seen or unseen, of all the maintainer and preserver, for all the provider, master and lord and king over all, with an endless and immortal kingdom: having no contrary, filling all, by nothing encompassed, but rather Himself the encompasser and maintainer and original possessor of the universe, occupying all essences intact and extending beyond all things, and being separate from all essence as being super-essential and above all things and absolute God, absolute goodness, and absolute fulness : determining all sovereignties and ranks, being placed above all sovereignty and rank, above essence and life and word and thought: being Himself very light and goodness and life and essence, inasmuch as He does not derive His being from another, that is to say, of those things that exist: but being Himself the fountain of being to all that is, of life to the living, of reason to those that have reason; to all the cause of all good: perceiving all things even before they have become: one essence, one divinity, one power, one will, one energy, one beginning, one authority, one dominion, one sovereignty, made known in three perfect subsistences and adored with one adoration, believed in and ministered to by all rational creation , united without confusion and divided without separation (which indeed transcends thought). (1)
The logic of the classical theistic view of the universe and the nature of God implies that all things exist in God, by participation in the being of God. This has frequently been recognized by classical theologians. Once again, John of Damascus makes this quite explicitly clear:
That which is comprehended in place or time or apprehension is circumscribed: while that which is contained by none of these is uncircumscribed. Wherefore the Deity alone is uncircumscribed, being without beginning and without end, and containing all things, and in no wise apprehended. (2)
Thomas Aquinas provides us with another example of this way of thinking:
It must be said that every being in any way existing is from God. For whatever is found in anything by participation, must be caused in it by that to which it belongs essentially, as iron becomes ignited by fire. Now it has been shown above (Question 3, Article 4) when treating of the divine simplicity that God is the essentially self-subsisting Being; and also it was shown (11, 3,4) that subsisting being must be one; as, if whiteness were self-subsisting, it would be one, since whiteness is multiplied by its recipients. Therefore all beings apart from God are not their own being, but are beings by participation. Therefore it must be that all things which are diversified by the diverse participation of being, so as to be more or less perfect, are caused by one First Being, Who possesses being most perfectly. (3)
Since in classical theism there is only one God, who is the fullness and source of all of reality and who explains all of reality, there can never be any more being added to reality than there is to begin with. To suggest that created beings, by being created, add more being to reality than there was before is to make God a finite being, circumscribed by a greater common reality that contains both him and the created beings. If the “stuff” we are made of is truly separate from God and in addition to his substance, then it cannot ultimately be explained as having come from God and been created by him. God can only give what he has; he cannot give what he has not. The concept of creation ex nihilo is not the idea that new being can come from absolutely nothing, which is logically absurd. To describe creation as God increasing the overall “substance content” of reality is to make it an irrational, magical concept. It is a principle of logic that one cannot get more than one has to begin with without adding something in from outside, but when we are talking about God and ultimate reality, there is no outside, nothing to add from. Rather, creation ex nihilo is the idea that created beings are not made from a preexisting substance, which would make them to some degree independent from God, but are entirely derived from God, so that they are entirely and utterly dependent on God for the beginning and the continuation of their being.
If we were to think of created beings as adding to the substance of the universe and actually existing “outside” of God, rather than existing in him and by means of a participation in his being, then we would be turning God into one particular among other particulars in a greater common reality. One of the most compelling arguments for God is the need for a common, unifying reality to explain the diversity of the universe. To put it another way, what is it that puts the “uni” in “universe”? Theists have often argued that the existence of a universe implies that there must be a simple, uncompounded being who is the source of all reality. If there were no common source or ground for the particulars in the universe, they would be utterly independent of each other and could share no common reality at all, which would be impossible and logically meaningless. If their common source and ground was a compounded being, a being with parts, that common ground would itself be made up of particulars that would need a common unifying reality to explain them. So we need a simple being as the foundation of all reality. But if created beings are truly, ultimately distinct from God, so that, in metaphysical strictness of language, they exist as an entirely distinct and additional substance (or substances), then God can no longer be the simple, common reality that unifies all things. If created things are not rooted in participation in the being of God, then they are independent entities, and the common reality that includes both God and his creatures would not be an uncompounded, simple reality. This would leave us either with no simple, common reality at all, which would be logically absurd, or we would have to look back further for another simple being that could explain both God and created beings, and that would be the real God.
Also, if we are truly, ultimately, metaphysically separate from God and are additions to the basic substance content of reality, then it seems that we must inevitably bring into our conception of our relationship with God the concept of space. If we are not in God, nor exist by participation in his being, how can we be distinguished from God except by being in a separate location, not taking up the same space? We must inevitably picture God and created beings as existing side by side, both having to move over, so to speak, to make room for the other. But it is absurd to think of God as existing in space, as classical theologians have always recognized, because a spatial object cannot be the common reality that explains all the particulars. A spatial object is inherently a finite being, divisible into parts.
If we are created by God and derive our being from him, as all classical theists believe, then this implies that we must exist “in God,” as in some sense an aspect of his being. If God is a simple entity, then it is impossible to participate in him without somehow being an aspect of his simple being. The only alternative would be to have some spatial picture involving created beings taking some of God’s being and then moving off with it to some alternate location where God is not, as if God could give us pieces of himself, or as if God were like an extended flow of electricity that we could somehow feed on as an appliance feeds on electricity through an electrical outlet, or as if God’s being were like sap flowing through a tree which we as branches could “suck out” and live on. These analogies are not necessarily bad in every respect--indeed, the latter is biblical--but we are interested in developing a metaphysically strict account of things, and we need to be precise. Therefore, we are left with no other conclusion but that classical theism requires that created entities derive their being from God, exist in him and by participation in his being, and thus in a very real sense exist as aspects of God’s being.
While describing created entities as “aspects of God’s being” is very odd-sounding in a theistic context, I want to stress that it does not really add anything to the notion that we exist “in God” and “by participation in God.” As I am going to argue below, saying that we are aspects of God’s being is very different from claiming that we are God, or claiming that God and created beings are identical, or any such thing. This is where the fundamental difference between theism and pantheism comes into the picture. But what I have said so far, though in the interests of being metaphysically precise I have opted to use somewhat daring language to express it, is no more than has always been at least implicit, and sometimes explicit, in classical theistic thought. It is expressed in the very language of the Bible, as well as being implied in everything it says on the nature of God. (4) Speaking of God to the Athenian philosophers on Mars Hill (and quoting, approvingly, their own poets) in Acts 17:27-28, Paul says that God “is not far from each one of us; for in him we live and move and have our being.” In Colossians 1:16-17, Paul says of Christ (as God the Son), “All things were created by him, and for him: And he is before all things, and in him all things consist.” I have already quoted John of Damascus, who could be said to represent Eastern Orthodoxy, and Thomas Aquinas, who could be said to represent Roman Catholicism. Let me add to these quotations a couple from Jonathan Edwards, who, as a prominent Reformed theologian, will suffice (at least for the purposes of this paper) to show the presence of these ideas in historic Protestantism as well. In The Nature of True Virtue, Edwards argues that there can be no true virtue without love to God:
Therefore, he that has true virtue, consisting in benevolence to being in general, and in benevolence to virtuous being, must necessarily have a supreme love to God, both of benevolence and complacence. And all true virtue must radically and essentially, and, as it were, summarily, consist in this. Because God is not only infinitely greater and more excellent than all other being, but he is the head of the universal system of existence; the foundation and fountain of all being and all beauty; from whom all is perfectly derived, and on whom all is most absolutely and perfectly dependent; of whom, and through whom, and to whom is all being and all perfection; and whose being and beauty are, as it were, the sum and comprehension of all existence and excellence: much more than the sun is the fountain and summary comprehension of all the light and brightness of the day. (5)
Edwards explicitly acknowledges, in the same book, that “God himself is in effect being in general.” (6)
Where Pantheism and Theism Disagree
Now, having shown that classical theistic doctrine entails the conclusion that all created entities are aspects of God’s being, rather than something strictly metaphysically separated from him--which is the claim of the first half of the definition of pantheism--I will now show that this fact does not at all imply the second half of the definition, namely, that “all distinctions between particulars are ultimately illusory.” In other words, I am going to argue that the fact that all created beings exist in God and are aspects of his being does not imply at all that human beings are God, that God is human beings, that flowers and rocks are God, that flowers and rocks are human beings, that God is flowers and rocks, etc. There is a true distinction between God and the creation, and there are true distinctions between the various created entities. Furthermore, these distinctions are crucial for understanding the nature of God, the nature of created entities, and the relationships between God and the creation and between created entities and each other.
First of all, we can observe the simple, obvious fact of these distinctions. I can reason to the existence of God, and I can reason from the existence of God to the fact that I must exist in God as an aspect of his being; but it is equally evident to my reason that I am not God. God and I have very different characteristics that distinguish us quite conclusively. For example, God is omnipotent; I am not. God knows all things; I do not. I stubbed my toe a few days ago; God has never stubbed his toe, not having a toe to stub. I am guilty of sin; God is not. I have a body which physically limits me; God does not. And so on.
It is also evident to my reason that I am different from, say, a rock. A rock has no consciousness (at least as far as I can see); I do have consciousness. A rock does not feel pain; I do (as I was reminded of when I stubbed my toe, not God’s toe, the other day). Rocks and I are made up of different substances combined in different ways. And so on. I could go on to show that God is different from rocks, but I suspect this is not necessary.
So reason leads me to believe both that I am an aspect of God’s being and that I am emphatically not God. How can this be? Let’s consider an analogy: Let’s say I were to write a novel. In writing this novel, I invent an entire fictional world. This world is real enough in its own sphere, and my thinking of it gives it some reality, but not a reality external to myself. In creating this fictional world, I invent various characters with different personalities who engage in various activities within the flow of the novel. Let’s look at one of these characters--we can call him Bob. Now, what is the relationship between Bob and myself? Well, Bob is a very dependent being. He is entirely derived from me, from my thinking, and is entirely dependent on me for his initial as well as his continued existence. Bob exists “in me,” in my thoughts. He exists by participation in me and my thoughts. We could say that “in me Bob lives and moves and has his being” and that “in me all things in Bob’s universe consist.” Bob is not metaphysically separate from me. His thoughts and feelings exist as participations in my thoughts and feelings. Bob therefore could accurately be described as an aspect of my being. And yet it would be absurd to equate Bob with myself. Bob and I are very different. Bob is a character; I am the author. Bob is dependent upon me for existence; I am not dependent upon Bob for existence. Bob likes cauliflower; I hate cauliflower. Bob is an accountant; I am a philosopher. And of course I could go on and on. In fact, not only are Bob and I truly distinct, and our distinctions are very important with regard to understanding the two of us, but I can even enter into a relationship with Bob. I could write into my novel a section in which I, the author, speak to Bob and strike up a conversation with him. Bob, upon learning about me, might wonder how we are related. He might reason that he is in some sense an aspect of my being. However, if he concluded from this that therefore he was the author, or that he was not dependent on anyone else but himself for his existence, Bob would be very seriously mistaken.
Classical theists of all stripes have commonly understood God’s purpose for creating the world to have been God’s desire to express and manifest his glorious perfections. Thomas Aquinas had this to say about God’s goal in creating the world:
Every agent acts for an end: otherwise one thing would not follow more than another from the action of the agent, unless it were by chance. Now the end of the agent and of the patient considered as such is the same, but in a different way respectively. For the impression which the agent intends to produce, and which the patient intends to receive, are one and the same. Some things, however, are both agent and patient at the same time: these are imperfect agents, and to these it belongs to intend, even while acting, the acquisition of something. But it does not belong to the First Agent, Who is agent only, to act for the acquisition of some end; He intends only to communicate His perfection, which is His goodness; while every creature intends to acquire its own perfection, which is the likeness of the divine perfection and goodness. Therefore the divine goodness is the end of all things. (7)
With this doctrine traditional Eastern Orthodoxy and most historic Protestants would agree. Calvin, for example, called the world a theater for God’s glory. The Westminster Confession, a classic Reformed statement of faith, has this to say about God’s end in creation and providence:
It pleased God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, for the manifestation of the glory of his eternal power, wisdom, and goodness, in the beginning, to create, or make of nothing, the world, and all things therein whether visible or invisible, in the space of six days; and all very good. (8)
God the great Creator of all things doth uphold, direct, dispose, and govern all creatures, actions, and things, from the greatest even to the least, by his most wise and holy providence, according to his infallible foreknowledge, and the free and immutable counsel of his own will, to the praise of the glory of his wisdom, power, justice, goodness, and mercy. (9)
This doctrine leads us to a very natural understanding as to why the created world, and the created entities in it, exist as aspects of God’s being. The created world is an aspect of God’s knowledge of himself. God delights in the manifestations of his own perfections as he exercises them in his works of creation, providence, and redemption. In the Westminster Confession’s language, “the glory of [God’s] wisdom, power, justice, goodness, and mercy” are displayed in the creation and history of the created universe. Part of God’s display of his glory to himself and his delight in that glory takes the form of God’s authoring a world, a world dependent on him and existing by participation in him, and yet not identified with him. In this world, he displays his attributes. He displays his power in creating, upholding and sustaining this world. He displays his wisdom in its vast and incomprehensible coherence. He displays his justice as a response to the evil rebellions of his creations. He displays his wisdom in his using their evil for his own good purposes. He displays his mercy in the salvation of his chosen people. He displays his power, wisdom, and goodness, by contrasting it with man’s weakness, foolishness, and wickedness, and by causing his creatures to go to him and to him alone as the ultimate supplier of power, wisdom, and goodness. Those who cut themselves off from the all-sufficient source of life die. Those who, by his grace, come to him live through him and through him alone. So we can see that it is crucial to understanding the very purpose for our existence that we understand both our participation in God and also our distinction from him. In fact, these two are inseparable and merge together to describe our true character as creatures--beings who are utterly dependent on God. The concept of “dependence” includes both the idea of our participation in God and of our distinction from God.
One possible misconception needs to be addressed before we move on. If we are aspects of God’s being in some sense, does that make us “part” of God, and therefore in some sense partly divine? No, it does not. We have already seen that created beings are not God. Nor is it possible that they should be “part” of God in the sense that they could be 10% of God, 1%, .0001%, or any other percentage. The God of classical theism is a simple, uncompounded being; he has no “parts” or “pieces.” He is inherently indivisible. Therefore it makes no sense to speak of anything as constituting a certain percentage of him. If I were to say that I am, say, .0000000001% of God, that would imply that if one keeps on adding more and more beings like me to the equation, enough of us would eventually add up to 100% God. But this is absurd. God is not the sum of all the particulars in the universe. No amount of addition of particular entities can even begin to add up to a simple, infinite being. God is the undivided being who is the foundation of the being of the particulars, but he is not the particulars themselves. The particulars exist in him and by participation in him, but he must be considered distinct from them all, even as a group. Therefore, not only are we not God, but we are not even partly divine. In God we live and move and have our being, but that being that we have must be considered to be nothing in comparison to the being of God (much as Bob in my novel, while adding up to something in his own sphere--the world of the novel--yet is nothing in comparison to me, and you can never even begin to add up to me simply by adding more and more Bobs). One could continue to add more and more Mark Hausams together forever and one would never come any closer to adding up to God than with only one of me or none of me. This makes sense in the context of God’s goal of displaying his glory in the creation. God displays his all-sufficiency by virtue of the entire dependence of the created beings on him, which involves the understanding that the created beings are in themselves nothing and therefore must look outside of themselves to God for all their needs. The role we play in God’s display of his glory, which is an aspect of his knowledge of himself and love of himself, is that of those whose lack contrasts with God’s fullness--we are the backdrop, so to speak, for God’s fullness--and also those whose inherent nothingness is filled up by God’s inherent fullness by his grace alone, and therefore to his glory alone. We provide the emptiness which allows God’s all-sufficient fullness to be seen in all its glory and power. Therefore, although our being is in God, our identity as creatures is characterized by our nothingness in comparison to God’s fullness. (10)
Analysis of Buddhism from a Metaphysically-Sophisticated Classical Theistic Point of View
Having now established that classical theism agrees with the first half but disagrees with the second half of the definition of pantheism, and having shown to some degree the importance of this for understanding our identity in relationship to God, I now want to show how a proper and precise understanding of theistic metaphysics in this area helps theists to launch a successful criticism of the pantheistic worldview, and also to respond to some common philosophical objections to theism coming from both pantheists and atheists.
Most theistic arguments against pantheism are on the right track, I believe, but having a more precise understanding of theistic metaphysics and how they relate to pantheistic metaphysics can significantly boost the theist’s articulation of his case. As we have seen, pantheists are in a way half right. Significant portions of their belief system are quite true and accurate. When theists can recognize where pantheism goes right, they can use this as a platform for making a convincing argument as to where pantheism goes wrong. Let me give a concrete example of this. In Buddhism, there is a strong emphasis on “getting away from one’s self.” The big problem human beings have, according to Buddhism, is that we don’t recognize the reality of the Undying, Unborn, Unchanging behind the flux and flow of our spatio-temporal universe, and so we come to identify ourselves with ourselves alone and to become attached to our selves and to the objects of the self’s desires. But the reality is that the self is ultimately only an illusion, and so are all the particular objects we become attached to, and therefore they cannot satisfy--this is the cause of human suffering. The reality behind the illusion is the Unchanging Infinite. What we need to do is to come to see things in the right way and to learn to think and live accordingly. We need to see that the Unborn, Undying is the reality and attach ourselves to that, recognizing ourselves and the particulars as illusions and giving up our attachments to these. If we can identify not just with ourselves but with Infinite Being, we can find that which is truly real, permanent and satisfying, and therefore find true happiness. Theists ought to recognize a lot of truth in this--that God is the ultimate reality, and that we should look outside of ourselves to him for our happiness. We should learn to get beyond ourselves and our petty desires and try to adopt an “eternal perspective.” However, in calling the self and the spatio-temporal universe an “illusion,” and in talking about “identifying oneself with the Infinite,” Buddhism lets in some fundamental ambiguity that clouds Buddhists’ understanding of the truths that they have in their system. Although there is some truth in calling this world an illusion, in the sense that it is nothing compared to God and does not represent the ultimate level of reality (or anything remotely close to it), yet it is a misleading term. The world is not unreal--it may not be ultimate reality, but it is real in its own right. And we are real as well, although we are infinitesimal when compared to God. I do indeed need to learn to “identify with God” in the sense of seeing things from his eternal, objective perspective, but I must never forget that I am not myself God. Buddhism (and other Eastern religions) tend to get confused here, thinking that since I am not ultimate reality while the Infinite Being is, and since I am an illusion, therefore I should think of myself
as the Inf
inite Being. But this contradicts the good start these religions have when they begin with telling us to move beyond ourselves. If I am really nothing and must move beyond myself towards God, this realization and goal are contradicted by subsequently telling me that in fact I am God and I must look within. Here is an example of how the murkiness of Buddhism in this area leads to some erroneous conclusions, from an introductory book on Buddhism written by a Zen Buddhist monk and teacher, Rev. Daizui MacPhillamy:
The principle of there being no soul is actually so fundamental to Buddhism that it is given a name (‘anatta’), and placed on the same level of importance as the principle of universal change (‘anicca’). It is regarded, in other words, as a basic property of how the universe works. Although the first thing that we tend to think of when confronted with the concept of there being no soul is its implications for death and the afterlife, it actually has consequences that are more far-reaching than that.
One of these consequences has to do with just how much ‘at one’ we really are with the flow. A soul, being inherently a separate sort of a thing, would actually place a limit upon that oneness. No soul and no self, no limit. If neither self nor soul is ultimately real, then in truth we are, right at this very moment, completely one with the unborn, undying, unformed nature of reality, whether we recognize and experience this or not. Now, various schools of Buddhism do different things with this fact of absolute oneness. Some simply observe that it exists, while others give it a name and a prominent place in their teaching, using words such as, “we are all Buddha”, or “all people have Buddha Nature.” . . .
As a guide to practice, the understanding that we all have Buddha Nature influences practice away from trying to get something (to achieve a goal of nirvana, for instance) and towards removing the obstacles to realizing what we already have. This is an important but subtle shift. So long as one is doing Buddhist practice as a means to a goal, the effort is inevitably tainted with some degree of desire: a very noble desire, but a desire nonetheless. . . . When an individual adopts the view that he or she is already innately Buddha, all of this can be dropped and practice can be done simply for the sake of practice. . . . This gets back to the ‘goal of goallessness’ that was mentioned in the section on right effort.
Another consequence of the principle of no soul is that where there is no soul there can be no sin. Many religions define sin as the deliberate turning of the soul away from God, but if there is no soul, that can’t happen. And if we are inherently one with everything and we are Buddha by nature, what can be turned away from? The absence of a sense of sin is another major difference between Buddhism and most other great religions of the world, and it has many implications. If there is no sin and no soul, there can be no guilt, no judgement, no atonement, no absolution, no damnation, no salvation. There really can’t even be any such thing as evil, in the way it is normally thought of. (11)
We can see a number of problematic conclusions in this selection from Rev. MacPhillamy’s book. First, it does not follow from the fact that there is an ultimate reality that is infinitely greater than the soul, in which the soul lives, and compared to which the soul is nothing, that there is no soul or self at all. Whatever I may be in relation to God, I still exist. Otherwise, there would be no “I” to be involved in this conversation. Rev. MacPhillamy’s erroneous conclusion here, which is common in pantheistic systems, leads him to other false conclusions. He concludes that because the self is an illusion, therefore the real “me” is the Buddha Nature itself (a Buddhist term for the Infinite Reality). Therefore, since I am myself already Buddha, I need really have no goals at all. I already have all that I seek. Of course, despite Rev. MacPhillamy’s attempt to salvage it, this concept makes nonsense out of Buddhist practice, since nothing at all can be done, including Buddhist practice, without some goal in mind. If I truly have all that I seek, why am I still seeking? More importantly, Rev. MacPhillamy’s reasoning leads to the conclusion that there really are no goals whatsoever we should have. If everything is an illusion except the present reality of the Buddha Nature, then as Rev. MacPhillamy himself points out, there is really no such thing as evil. Everything is ultimately as it should be. Calling one’s self and all the spatio-temporal world an illusion undercuts the importance of the reality of this world and the particulars in it. It clouds our recognition of the reality of evil and suffering in this world, and therefore guts our motivation for service in trying to do good. Yes, everything exists by participation in God, but everything is not God. Yes, everything is ultimately under the control of God and a part of his plan, but everything is not in itself pleasing to him, and therefore there are things we should fight against and ideals we should strive after. It is because the biblical worldview recognizes both our participation in God and also our distinction from God that it is able to recognize evil in the world and exhort us to do good.
Related to this issue is Rev. MacPhillamy’s reasoning that since the soul or self is an illusion, therefore there can be no sin. If sin is turning away from God, and I am God, obviously there can be no sin. But the problem here is that I am not God. Yes, I exist “in God,” and am an aspect of his being in some sense, but my identity and characteristics are fundamentally distinct from his. Therefore, there can be real relationship between myself and God (and between myself and other people), and that relationship can go wrong in the sense that I can turn against God and make him my enemy. In fact, Christianity recognizes that this is exactly what has happened, and therefore my salvation does not consist in my realizing that I am God and don’t need to be saved; it consists in my recognizing my sin, looking outside of myself to God for my salvation, and being saved by his grace through the redemption of Christ. If the soul is real, there can be sin; and if there is sin, there is wrath and justice, a need for an atonement and forgiveness, a need for cleansing, a need for reconciliation, etc. By confusing our metaphysical participation in God with the idea that we are God in our identity, Buddhism makes itself unable to recognize and deal with certain fundamental truths about God, about ourselves and our relationship with God, and about the universe in general.
A theist who understands the metaphysical implications of theism can say to a Buddhist, “You are right about a number of things--about the reality of an Infinite realm of Ultimate Reality behind the spatio-temporal world we inhabit, about the fact that we all exist by participation in that Reality, about the fact that I am nothing compared to that Reality and that I must move beyond myself to relate rightly to it. But you then forget all this and identify yourself with the Infinite and turn your focus back into yourself for your happiness. This makes no sense upon your own principles. If I am nothing, how can I be identified with the Infinite? If my basic problem is that I am ultimately attached to myself and not to the Infinite--I worship and serve the creature rather than the Creator, to put it in Christian terms--and my hope is in getting beyond myself, why do you then move away from the solution and compound the problem by telling me I have the Buddha Nature within and therefore causing me to think that the source of my happiness can be found within myself?” The theist can agree with the arguments for a metaphysical unity grounding all things, and yet point out that this fact does not lead to an ignoring of the reality of the distinctions that exist. Thus the theist, by recognizing the truths in the Buddhist pantheistic system, is able, on the very basis of those truths, to expose the errors in Buddhist thinking, errors that not only put Buddhism out of touch with reality but out of touch with many of its own accurate observations as well. The theist therefore has a point of contact from which he/she can offer a critique of Buddhist pantheistic thought from within, in a sense, and therefore better understand and be better understood. (12)
A Metaphysically-Sophisticated Classical Theism Responds to Objections
A clearer understanding of the relationship between theism and pantheism can also help to answer certain criticisms and objections against theism raised by pantheists and atheists. Pantheists have often accused theism of being metaphysically naïve. Theism is pictured as belief in some super-entity sitting in the sky somewhere who may be more powerful than human beings but who is still a particular within the spatio-temporal universe, and this deity is thus seen by pantheists as something that needs to be transcended just like every other particular. Since theists never transcend their God or seem aware of the need to do so, they strike many pantheists as being metaphysically naïve, not recognizing the reality of an Infinite behind the particular entities of the universe. Theists fuel this objection when they convey the impression that they perceive God as entirely metaphysically distinct from the creation and fail to acknowledge the metaphysical unity that binds all things together in the being of God (without obliterating the importance of the distinctions). To the extent that theists do not recognize this metaphysical unity, they are indeed metaphysically naïve, and although their naiveté is not warranted by the classical theistic tradition or by biblical revelation, they bring both into disrepute through their associating them with such naiveté. Being more metaphysically precise can help avoid this criticism and reason for rejection of theism among pantheists or those attracted to pantheism.
Some philosophers have criticized the doctrine of creation ex nihilo as logically absurd. It seems to violate the principle of the conservation of matter/energy/substance. This is not merely a scientific principle but a logical one as well. If one starts out with a certain amount of something, one cannot increase that amount without adding to the system from without. If this is so, how can God increase the amount of substance in reality? Also, theists say that God is infinite and unbounded. How can an infinite and unbounded being be bounded by the existence of other entities/substances in reality? If God is not all there is, then he is not infinite. Theists say that God fills all things, being omnipresent; and yet if there are other substances, they can only be conceived to exist by imagining that God is not where they are--in other words, God does not fill them and therefore does not fill all things. And where would the additional substance come from, if there were other substances? It couldn’t have come from God, contrary to the idea of creation, since it is in addition to all that God is and has. There is nowhere it can have come from. All of these very rational objections can be answered only by pointing out that, according to a metaphysically sophisticated theism, created entities do not add to the overall substance of reality because they exist in God and are an aspect of his being, without themselves being identified with God. The very real and very important Creator-creature distinction does not require a naïve, disunified metaphysical view of reality.
In this paper I have tried to develop a more coherent, precise and thorough understanding of the metaphysics of classical theism in the context of its relation to pantheism. While I have therefore adopted some language that is a little unusual for typical theistic articulation and have made explicit certain metaphysical implications of classical theism that have often been left hazy, I want to stress again the fact that all that I have said is really nothing new; these elements have always been inherent in classical theism. I think that one of the reasons the development of some of these points has been a bit hazy in theistic thought is a fear common among theists of getting too close to pantheism. Theists have always recognized something wrong with pantheism, and have often defined themselves and their views in the context of a strong motivation to make sure they are adequately distanced from pantheism. There has been some fear that developing certain lines of thought tends to lead in pantheistic-sounding directions, and so those lines of thought have been under-emphasized. Another reason for this metaphysical haziness has been simply a lack of awareness on the part of some theistic theologians of the need for more metaphysical precision in these areas. Yet another reason is that there has been a strong movement among many theistic theologians over the past couple of centuries away from classical theism and towards non-classical forms of theism that advocate entirely different metaphysical views of reality. Some of these non-classical theologians have accused classical theism of being pantheistic or at least of tending towards pantheism, and this in turn has helped to fuel the fear of getting too close to pantheism among classical theologians. But this fear is unjustified. In becoming more metaphysically precise in these areas, classical theists can indeed avoid pantheism; and they are able to advocate a more consistent philosophical theistic perspective, understand pantheistic systems better, and better show why theism, and not pantheism (or atheism), is rational and true.
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1 John of Damascus, An Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, Book I, Chapter VIII (http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/33041.htm - accessed on 6/3/08).
2 Ibid., Book I, Chapter XIII.
3 Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Question 44, Article 1 (http://www.newadvent.org/summa/1044.htm - accessed on 6/3/08).
4 I am assuming here that the correct interpretation of the Bible is the classical theist interpretation. I am, of course, aware that this is a controversial assumption, but it is beyond my scope to argue for it here.
5 Jonathan Edwards, from “The Nature of True Virtue,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, Volume One, revised and corrected by Edward Hickman (Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1974), 125.
6 Ibid., 141.
7 Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Question 44, Article 4 (http://www.newadvent.org/summa/1044.htm - accessed on 6/4/08).
8 Westminster Confession, Chapter 4, Section 1 (http://opc.org/wcf.html - accessed 6/4/08).
9 Ibid., Chapter 5, Section 1.
10 Besides the terms “pantheism” and “theism,” the term “panentheism” has been used to describe views that do not want to equate God and the created universe but want to affirm that the created universe exists “in God” in some way. Is the view that I am advocating here a form of panentheism? If we take the word itself, in its bare etymological meaning--”everything in God”--my view could be seen as a form of panentheism. However, this word is usually used in much more specific ways; it is usually associated with non-classical forms of theism such as process theism which are diametrically opposed to my classical metaphysical views. So while the word itself might not be a bad description of what I am advocating, the word in its actual common usage I reject as referring to ideas that are fundamentally different from and fundamentally opposed to my own. My views do not involve a rejection of classical theism but rather a following through of certain logical implications of classical theism.
11 Rev. Dazui MacPhillamy, Buddhism From Within: An Intuitive Introduction to Buddhism (Mount Shasta, CA: Shasta Abbey Press, 2003), 79-80.
12 I should note that although I have characterized Buddhism as pantheistic, it would be more precise to say that Buddhism and other Eastern “pantheistic” religions, such as Hinduism, often vacillate between pantheism and theism. They are not always consistently pantheistic. The extent to which the Eastern religions really differ from theism and are truly pantheistic is a complicated subject that is very much worthy of more thorough study. I think that this issue should be a focus in dialogues between theists and practitioners of Eastern religions. For an example of this vacillating, see “Zen is a Religion,” by Zen Master Rev. Jiyu-Kennett. It can be found online at https://berkeleybuddhistpriory.org/2020/02/26/zen-is-a-religion/. The essay is from a collection of oral teachings published as Roar of the Tigress by Shasta Abbey Press. Here is a sample from the essay: “And do not suffer from the notion that Zen training will make you anything other than a human being. Accepting our own humanity is one of the hardest tests of all-acceptance. There is a great difference, you know, between thinking you are God and knowing that what is in you is of God. ‘I am not God, and there is nothing in me that is not of God,’ is the way in which one has to think about it. The reason for Zen practice is to find the Eternal. On finding the Eternal, we call it ‘enlightenment’. To know the Eternal (and you really do know It once you have had this experience) is to know how infinitesimal you are in the scheme of things: to know that you are ‘no-thing’: even a grain of sand is miles too big. When you forsake self in this way, then you are the universe, and, if you’ve done it right, you might behave like it.”
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