Showing posts with label Yasuo Yuasa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yasuo Yuasa. Show all posts

2022/05/27

Comparative Philosophy in Japan Nakamura Hajime and Izutsu Toshihiko

The Oxford Handbook of JAPANESE PHILOSOPHY 

Edited by BRET W. DAVIS, © Oxford University Press 2020

====
Contents

PART I SHINTŌ AND THE SYNTHETIC NATURE OF JAPANESE PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

1 Prince Shōtoku’s Constitution and the Synthetic Nature of Japanese Thought -- Thomas P. Kasulis

2 Philosophical Implications of Shintō -- Iwasawa Tomoko

3 National Learning: Poetic Emotionalism and Nostalgic Nationalism Peter Flueckiger

PART II PHILOSOPHIES OF JAPANESE BUDDHISM

4 Saichō’s Tendai: In the Middle of Form and Emptiness -- Paul L. Swanson and Brook Ziporyn

5 Kūkai’s Shingon: Embodiment of Emptiness -- John W. M. Krummel

6 Philosophical Dimensions of Shinran’s Pure Land Buddhist Path Dennis Hirota

7 Modern Pure Land Thinkers: Kiyozawa Manshi and Soga Ryōjin Mark Unno 83

8 The Philosophy of Zen Master Dōgen: Egoless Perspectivism Bret W. Davis 201

9 Dōgen on the Language of Creative Textual Hermeneutics Steven Heine

10 Rinzai Zen Kōan Training: Philosophical Intersections -- Victor Sōgen Hori

11 Modern Zen Thinkers: D. T. Suzuki, Hisamatsu Shin’ichi, and Masao Abe

Mori Tetsurō (trans. Bret W. Davis), Minobe Hitoshi (trans. Bret W. Davis), and Steven Heine





PART III PHILOSOPHIES OF JAPANESE CONFUCIANISM AND BUSHIDŌ

12 Japanese Neo-C onfucian Philosophy -- John A. Tucker

13 Ancient Learning: The Japanese Revival of Classical Confucianism John A. Tucker

14 Bushidō and Philosophy: Parting the Clouds, Seeking the Way Chris Goto- Jones 215

---

PART IV MODERN JAPANESE PHILOSOPHIES

15 The Japanese Encounter with and Appropriation of Western Philosophy 333 
John C. Maraldo

THE KYOTO SCHOOL

16 The Kyoto School: Transformations Over Three Generations 367 Ōhashi Ryōsuke and Akitomi Katsuya (trans. Bret W. Davis)

17 The Development of Nishida Kitarō’s Philosophy: Pure Experience, 
Place, Action- Intuition 389
Fujita Masakatsu (trans. Bret W. Davis)

18 Nishida Kitarō’s Philosophy: Self, World, and the Nothingness Underlying Distinctions 417
John C. Maraldo

19 The Place of God in the Philosophy of Tanabe Hajime 431
 James W. Heisig

20 Miki Kiyoshi: Marxism, Humanism, and the Power of Imagination 447 Melissa Anne-M arie Curley

21 Nishitani Keiji: Practicing Philosophy as a Matter of Life and Death 465 Graham Parkes

22 Ueda Shizuteru: The Self That Is Not a Self in a Twofold World 485 Steffen Döll

26 Japanese Christian Philosophies, Terao Kazuyoshi

27 Yuasa Yasuo’s Philosophy of Self-C ultivation: A Theory of Embodiment,  Shigenori Nagatomo 563 575

OTHER MODERN JAPANESE PHILOSOPHIES

23 Watsuji Tetsurō: The Mutuality of Climate and Culture and an Ethics of Betweenness -- Erin McCarthy

24 Kuki Shūzō: A Phenomenology of Fate and Chance and an Aesthetics of the Floating World -- Graham Mayeda

25 Comparative Philosophy in Japan: Nakamura Hajime and Izutsu Toshihiko - John W. M. Krummel

26 Japanese Christian Philosophies Terao Kazuyoshi

27 Yuasa Yasuo’s Philosophy of Self-C ultivation: A Theory of Embodiment - Shigenori Nagatomo 563 575
28 Postwar Japanese Political Philosophy: Marxism, Liberalism, and the Quest for Autonomy -- Rikki Kersten

29 Raichō: Zen and the Female Body in the Development of Japanese Feminist Philosophy -- Michiko Yusa and Leah Kalmanson

30 Japanese Phenomenology -- Tani Tōru

31 The Komaba Quartet: A Landscape of Japanese Philosophy in the Thought -- Bret W. Davis 685




PART V PERVASIVE TOPICS IN JAPANESE PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT

32 Philosophical Implications of the Japanese Language 665 Rolf Elberfeld (trans. Bret W. Davis)

33 Natural Freedom: Human/N ature Nondualism in Zen and Japanese  

34 Japanese Ethics Robert E. Carter

35 Japanese (and Ainu) Aesthetics and Philosophy of Art - Mara Miller and Yamasaki Kōji

36 The Controversial Cultural Identity of Japanese Philosophy Yoko Arisaka


Index



==
==


Ch 25  Comparative Philosophy in Japan Nakamura Hajime and Izutsu Toshihiko
 
John W. M. Krummel

 Two thinkers who cannot be ignored when discussing comparative philosophy in Japan are Nakamura Hajime (1912–1999) and Izutsu Toshihiko (1914– 1993). Contemporaries, they emerged during the postwar period and were respected for scholarly accomplishments in their respective fields—B uddhist studies and Indology for Nakamura, Islamic studies for Izutsu. Yet both authors, in their inexhaustible appetite and with their multilingual capacity, expanded their investigations to produce numerous comparative studies. Furthermore, each worked on an explicit and distinct theory of comparison.
Nakamura was versed in Sanskrit and Pali and became initially known in Japan for producing the first Japanese translation of the Tripitaka, followed by many other translations and commentaries of Buddhist texts ranging from South to East Asia, as well as of non- Buddhist Indian philosophical texts. His broad knowledge of Asian thought, extending beyond India to include the East Asian traditions, along with his knowledge of Western philosophy and multiple languages, allowed him to author comparative works, many of which were translated into Western languages and won him an international reputation. Astonishingly, his entire oeuvre consists of more than a thousand works, including books and articles he authored and dictionaries and encyclopedias he edited.

Izutsu, on the other hand, first made his mark as a pioneer of Islamic studies in Japan and for the first published translation of the Qur’an from the original Arabic. Based on his knowledge of Middle Eastern languages, he came to author many studies on Islamic thought, especially Persian philosophy and Sufi mysticism and theology. But, in addition, he also studied Western medieval philosophy as well as Jewish thought, and, in his later years and on the basis of his Buddhist background, he expanded his research into the domain of Eastern thought, both East Asian and South Asian. His oeuvre in fact extends beyond the domain of philosophy to include works on literature and the arts, linguistics, history, and Islamic jurisprudence. And his mastery of more than twenty languages enabled him to engage in comparative investigations. His comparative work is unique in providing not only an encounter between East and West, but also between Far East (East Asia) and Near East (Islam, including Arabia and Persia). Both his works on Islamic thought, as well as his comparative studies have been translated and are appreciated the world over.

The comparative project for each is distinct: Nakamura aimed to construct a world history of ideas that uncovers some basic patterns in the unfolding of human “thought.” Izutsu aimed to (re- )construct an original “Oriental philosophy” that would encompass the vast terrain of his studies. In this chapter, I examine their respective comparative philosophies, compare and contrast them, and conclude with an assessment of their merits and demerits.


  Nakamura Hajime
  Project

Why does Nakamura engage in comparative philosophy? Nakamura has been vocal concerning the pitfalls of overspecialization in academia and the need for a comprehensive framework that can clarify the significance of each subject within the contemporary context.  He especially expresses opposition to the division in the study of philosophy in Japanese academia between “Indian philosophy,” “Chinese philosophy,” and so- called pure philosophy (junsui tetsugaku 純粋哲学) that concentrates on Western philosophy. On the one hand, he criticizes scholars who only research Western philosophy while ignoring other regions. On the other hand, he critiques the predominantly philological approach taken in the other two philosophical fields and their lack of any critical spirit willing to tackle universal philosophical issues.  He stresses that Indian and Buddhist philosophies have contemporary relevance, with implications for our lives. Hence, their study belongs within a philosophically broader perspective, a global context that would make their relevance evident. Philosophical claims and ideas in general possess value and meaning for the entire human race, transcending country and period despite the particularities of historical-c ultural context. Therefore we ought to overcome traditional boundaries so that we can obtain a comprehensive understanding of certain philosophical issues that may be universal. And this requires both a universal history of thought (fuhenteki shisōshi 普遍的思想史) and an investigation into the taxonomy of thought (shisō keitaironteki kenkyū 思想形態論的研究). 
 
Especially in today’s world of mass communication and transportation, “our sense of belonging to one world has never been keener than the present.”  But world peace can only be secured by greater mutual understanding between cultures and nations. Although becoming one in terms of technological civilization, the world is still divided in spirit, involving mutual suspicion and ideological conflict. This makes the comparative study of different currents of philosophy, their different views concerning similar issues, increasingly indispensable.  Nakamura laments, however, that there has not yet been any systematic gathering of the facts or features common to the different intellectual traditions within such a comprehensive perspective.  And this is the motivation for his own comparative project. Nakamura’s hope is that comparison can open the gates to realizing peace and understanding among humanity as a whole.  He also states that only through comparison that would connect our lives to the essence of human existence may we hope to reach the truth—a  truth that can lead to a new philosophy that corresponds to the world, a “new world philosophy.”  His comparative project aims to open that possibility.
  Method
Nakamura’s comparative work is, for the most part, directed toward the analysis of “ways of thinking” or “thought” (shisō 思想) rather than philosophy (tetsugaku 哲学) per se. By “thought” he means the thinking habits of a culture, expressed in “the characteristic popular sayings, proverbs, songs, mythology, and folklore of that people,” as opposed to coherent, self- conscious systems of thought that would be “philosophy.”9 As such, it is a cultural phenomenon (bunka genzō 文化現像), involving sociohistorical, psychological, aesthetic, and linguistic phenomena, and so on.  He prefers this broader significance of “thought” over the more restrictive connotation of “philosophy” that might exclude religious scriptures and literary works, because thought is the site of concrete issues encountered in everyday life that also serves as the cultural foundation indispensable to the growth of philosophy in the more restrictive sense. It is the link connecting the philosopher to his or her environment, whereby “the ways of thinking of philosophers cannot be freed completely of national or historical traditions.”  Philosophy has developed within distinct cultural spheres, each with its own mode of thinking. And thus Nakamura takes human thought itself (ningen no shisō sonomono 人間の思想そのもの) to be the fundamental issue of his comparative analyses.  And thought as such should be studied regardless of who it belongs to. The focus of the investigation ought not to be on the personalities or authors traditionally regarded as authority figures,  because the individual is “strongly influenced by the ways of living and thinking in his own nation and culture,”  and it is thought itself vaguely diffused throughout society that becomes concentrated and crystallized in that single thinker. 
Not only do ways of thinking differ on the basis of the sociocultural environment, they also change as those environing conditions change. We cannot ignore their historical development. The comparative investigation of thought therefore must be undertaken historically.  But, in his historical investigations, Nakamura found that comparable modes of thought have emerged in entirely unrelated cultural spheres. On this basis, he also proposes the necessity in the comparative history of thought of a conceptual terminology that can be universally applicable to distinct philosophical currents.  Furthermore, he proposes such comparative research to be carried in two distinct directions: particularization and universalization. Particularization will either clarify the philosophical-i ntellectual tradition of a particular people of a particular region or make conspicuous the philosophical- intellectual particularities of a specific period common to distinct cultural areas (e.g., the medieval periods of both Europe and India). Universalization entails the application of an intellectual taxonomy in order to summarize specific types of philosophical or intellectual positions (e.g., materialism) regardless of the area, period, or developmental stage.  This latter might allow us, for example, to compare Buddhist psychology with modern psychology, as Rys-D avis did.  Nakamura attempts to realize some of these ideas concerning comparison in two monumental works.
  Nakamura’s Comparative History of Thought
Two major and massive works from the 1960s, in which Nakamura engages in such a comparative history of thought, are Ways of Thinking of Eastern Peoples (Tōyōjin no shisō hōhō, 1960 and revised 1964) and History of World Thought (Sekai shisōshi, 1975 based on 1964 lectures). In his slightly earlier work, Ways of Thinking of Eastern Peoples, Nakamura compares the thinking of distinct cultural spheres within the so- called East: India, China, Tibet, and Japan. He follows a common plan by first discussing the language and logic unique to a specific people and then discussing the manifestations of those linguistic- logical patterns in concrete cultural phenomena. He argues that the cultural life of a people, including their way of thinking, is intimately related to the grammar and syntax of its language.  That mode of thinking is also often made explicit and systematized in a logic (ronri 論理), the inductive and deductive modes of inference and judgment. But even logic as such is inseparable from sociocultural conditions. So, characteristic differences in ways of thinking between each people become reflected in patterns of logic. 
Nakamura also examines in Ways of Thinking of Eastern Peoples how each cultural sphere received and modified Buddhism in different ways. His purpose was to isolate indigenous thought patterns that resisted and endured under Buddhist influence.  Throughout his study, he makes comparisons and contrasts with Western ways of thinking as well. But his main focus here seems to be the differences among these peoples of “the East,” differences that would undermine the stereotypical notion that there is a monolithic culture of “the Orient” that can then be contrasted with “the Occident.” For example, he points out in another work of the same period how Indian thought tends to stress universals and disregard individuals or particulars, leading to the Indian disregard for history. Chinese thinking, however, tends to emphasize the particular while lacking consciousness of the universal, with the consequence that the Chinese are uneasy concerning attempts to abstract fixed laws from particular facts of history.23 In general, in Ways of Thinking of Eastern Peoples, Nakamura underscores the same point he makes in On Comparative Thought (Hikaku shisōron, 1976, first edition 1960)24: there are conspicuous differences in thought due to environing sociocultural conditions that preclude reduction to simplistic dichotomies such as East versus West.
In History of World Thought, Nakamura extends his investigation beyond Asia to “the world,” by which he actually means the advanced cultures of Eurasia. He maintains his view that thought is influenced by the sociocultural and linguistic setting, but he also attempts to “isolate, describe, and analyze certain key philosophical problems that have appeared historically in almost parallel developments within different cultural areas, East and West.”  Here, “philosophical problem” has the same broad significance as “thought” in the above- mentioned sense. But by “parallel developments,” Nakamura has in mind the fact that similar intellectual core issues have emerged in certain stages of cultural development in culturally unconnected areas and that particular issues characterize particular stages and lead to similar solutions. Because closely related problems were met in similar stages, the developmental process itself proved to be similar among different cultural areas.  Similar to how civilizations worldwide have generally proceeded through the same stages from Stone Age to Bronze Age to Iron Age, and so on, Nakamura points to common stages in the intellectual history of the major Western and Eastern cultural spheres, moving from (1) ancient thought (in early agricultural societies) to (2) the rise of philosophy to (3) universal thought (with the early universal religions and the ideology of the universal state) to (4) medieval thought, and to (5) modern thought.  An example of a core issue emerging in distinct spheres in parallel stages would be the realism- nominalism debate concerning the status of universals that occurred in both Western Europe and in India during their respective medieval periods.  Another would be the relativisms of Heraclitus in ancient Greece and of the Jains in ancient India during the second stage of intellectual history.  Nakamura does not neglect to point out important contextual differences as well. Nevertheless, his focus here is on the similarity in development of intellectual history and in its stages among unrelated cultural areas.  He concludes that human beings, despite distinct traditions, face much the same problems of life, more or less, and have demonstrated comparable responses to them, due to similarity in human nature and human concerns.  In On Comparative Thought, he had already noticed that there are many philosophical issues universal to humanity and that truth may be discerned among every ethnic group regardless of tradition. But, at the same time, those universal issues, as concrete problems, are dealt with differently in response to different environments. 
  Nakamura’s Rejection of Stereotypes
One point that significantly distinguishes Nakamura from many other comparativists is his rejection of common stereotypes, whether Orientalist essentialism and the purported dichotomy between East and West on the one hand or a simplistic universalism and perennialism on the other. Although his History of World Thought was focused on showing the similarities in stages of development in intellectual history among cultures, he was careful to discuss significant differences that are due to linguistic and sociocultural conditions, as he already had in Ways of Thinking of Eastern Peoples. His analysis precludes the dichotomization of the world into two hemispheres, East and West. Throughout his comparative works, Nakamura repeatedly critiques such dualist formulas as Western logic versus Eastern intuition, Western individualism versus Eastern collectivism, Western analysis versus Eastern synthesis, Western secularism versus Eastern religiosity, Western materialism versus Eastern spirituality, and the like by providing counterexamples and showing the complex diversity within the so- called East.  He concludes, concerning “Eastern thought,” that we are “incapable of isolating a definite trait which can be singled out for contrast with the West” and that “there exists no single ‘Eastern’ feature.”  In this regard, he points out the difficulty in Watsuji Tetsurō’s theory of summing up the characteristics of the whole of what Watsuji called “the monsoon zone”— India, China, and Japan—a nd labeling them as “Asiatic.”  In connection to this, he also criticizes the tendency among Western scholars to take everything east of Marseilles together as “the Orient.”  And, just as the East is not a cultural unity but rather a diversity, the same can be said of the West, that “as far as ways of thinking are concerned, we must disavow the cultural unity of the West.”  He thus finds the purported East– West dichotomy, according to which each is taken as a monolithic entity, to be conceptually inadequate and believes such commonly repeated clichés need to be reexamined.  This point is important to bear in mind as we turn now to examine Izutsu’s comparative work.


  Izutsu Toshihiko

  Project

The trajectory informing Izutsu’s comparative work is ultimately the formulation of a new type of “Oriental philosophy” (tōyō tetsugaku 東洋哲学) “based on a series of rigorously philological, comparative studies of the key terms of various philosophical traditions in the Near, Middle, and Far East.”  ---

Whereas Western philosophy, founded upon the two pillars of Hellenism and Hebraism, presents a fairly conspicuous organic uniformity in its historical development, there is no such historical uniformity or organic structure in the East. Instead, Eastern philosophy consists of multiple coexisting traditions with no cohesion that can be juxtaposed to Western philosophy as a whole.  Izutsu thus proposes to engage in the systematic study of the philosophies of the East in order to arrive at a comprehensive structural framework—a  meta- philosophy of Eastern thought— that could gather those philosophies into a certain level of structural uniformity, a single organic and integral philosophical horizon.  What initially strikes today’s reader, however, is that in his categorization of what is “Eastern” or “Oriental” in philosophy, he includes Islamic thought in conjunction with the South and East Asian traditions. Once having encompassed all the Eastern schools of thought, Izutsu ultimately hopes that such a meta-p hilosophy can then be broadened to encompass Western philosophy as well.
Izutsu claims that today’s world more than ever before is in need of what Henry Corbin has called a “dialogue in meta- history” (un dialogue dans la métahistoire) between East and West.  And philosophy provides the suitable common ground for opening such intercultural meta-historical dialogue.  Comparative philosophy in general thus has the significance of promoting deep understanding between cultures.  ---

But we first need better philosophical understanding within the confines of the Eastern traditions. Once this is done, the West can be included in the meta-h istorical dialogue. He adds that, despite the global dominance of the West, texts of the Orient can stimulate and enrich modern thought and can contribute, ultimately, to the development of a new world philosophy based on the convergence of the spiritual and intellectual heritages of East and West.  In other words, meta- historical dialogue, conducted first for the construction of “Oriental philosophy,” can eventually be expanded to crystallize into a philosophia perennis“for the philosophical drive of the human mind is, regardless of ages, places and nations, ultimately and fundamentally one.”  Here, Izutsu, while focusing on “Oriental philosophy,” unabashedly assumes the final goal of “perennial philosophy.”

===
Izutsu Toshihiko   프로젝트 

Izutsu의 비교 작업을 알리는 궤적은 궁극적으로 "근처의 다양한 철학적 전통의 핵심 용어에 대한 엄밀한 철학적, 비교 연구 시리즈에 기초한 새로운 유형의 "동양 철학"(tōyō tetsugaku 東洋哲学)의 공식화입니다. , 중동 및 극동.” --- 

헬레니즘과 히브라이즘의 두 기둥에 기초한 서양철학은 역사적 발전과정에서 상당히 두드러진 유기적 획일성을 보여주지만 동양에는 그러한 역사적 획일성이나 유기적 구조가 없다. 대신, 동양 철학은 전체적으로 서양 철학과 병치될 수 있는 응집력이 없는 공존하는 여러 전통으로 구성됩니다. 따라서 Izutsu는 포괄적인 구조적 틀(동양 사상의 메타 철학)에 도달하기 위해 동양 철학에 대한 체계적인 연구에 참여할 것을 제안합니다. 완전한 철학적 지평. 그러나 오늘날 독자를 처음 놀라게 하는 것은 철학에서 "동양" 또는 "동양"을 범주화할 때 그가 남아시아 및 동아시아 전통과 함께 이슬람 사상을 포함한다는 것입니다. 일단 동양의 모든 학파를 포괄한 Izutsu는 궁극적으로 그러한 메타 철학이 서양 철학도 포함하도록 확장될 수 있기를 희망합니다. Izutsu는 오늘날의 세계가 Henry Corbin이 동양과 서양 사이의 "메타 역사에서의 대화"(un dialogue dans la métahistoire)라고 부른 것이 그 어느 때보다 필요하다고 주장합니다. 그리고 철학은 그러한 문화 간 메타-역사적 대화를 열기 위한 적절한 공통 기반을 제공합니다. 따라서 일반적으로 비교 철학은 문화 간의 깊은 이해를 촉진하는 의미를 갖는다. --- 

그러나 우리는 먼저 동양 전통의 범위 내에서 더 나은 철학적 이해가 필요합니다. 이것이 완료되면 서구도 메타- 역사적 대화에 포함될 수 있습니다. 그는 서양의 세계적인 지배에도 불구하고 동양의 텍스트는 현대 사상을 자극하고 풍부하게 할 수 있으며 궁극적으로 동양과 서양의 정신적, 지적 유산의 융합에 기반한 새로운 세계 철학의 발전에 기여할 수 있다고 덧붙입니다. . 즉, '동양철학'의 구축을 위해 최초로 진행된 메타역사적 대화는 결국 '영원한 철학(philosophia perennis)'으로 구체화될 수 있다. 궁극적으로 그리고 근본적으로 하나입니다.” 여기서 이즈츠는 '동양철학'을 중시하면서 '영원철학'이라는 최종 목표를 뻔뻔스럽게 내세운다.





===

  Method

In Creation and the Timeless Order of Things, Izutsu complains that comparative philosophy has failed hitherto mainly due to its lack of a systematic methodology.  He proposes that the comprehensive structural framework that would constitute the hoped- for meta-p hilosophy would consist of a number of substructures, each consisting of a network of key philosophical concepts abstracted from the major traditions and semantically analyzed.  The product should be a complex but “well- organized and flexible conceptual system in which each individual system will be given its proper place and in terms of which the differences as well as common grounds between the major schools of the East and West will systematically be clarified.”49 In his later years, in Consciousness and Essence (Ishiki to honshitsu; published in 1983), he calls this theoretical operation, “synchronic structuralization” (kyōjiteki kōzōka 共時的構造化).  He proposes that, on its basis, we can conduct a meta-h istorical analysis of traditions that would be a meta- philosophy of Oriental philosophies. That is, by abstracting the philosophical traditions from the complexities and contingencies of their historical context and transferring them to an ideal plane—t he dimension of what he calls “synchronic thought” (kyōjiteki shisō 共時的思想) where they are spatially juxtaposed and temporally co- current— he purports to construct a new “Oriental philosophy as a whole.”  Within this structural field, the various traditions can be rearranged paradigmatically, enabling us to extract fundamental patterns of thought.  He admits that the development of such an organic unity out of disparate traditions would involve a certain artificial, theoretical, and, indeed, creative operation.  It requires the imposition of a common linguistic (or conceptual) system that would permit a meta- historical dialogue between the traditions.  But he also claims that these extracted patterns of thought are primordial and regulative archetypes in the deep layers of philosophical thinking of the “Oriental peoples.” 
On this basis, the second step of Izutsu’s comparative methodology involves a subjectification of that system of extracted patterns by internalizing them into oneself, thereby establishing one’s own “Oriental philosophical viewpoint.”  This existential move can, in turn, contribute to establishing, from out of the philosophical product of “synchronic structuralization,” a new philosophy in the world context.  The postulation of this second stage seems to have personal significance for Izutsu when he states that the very premise of his comparative project was his self- realization that the root of his own existence lies in “the Orient” (tōyō 東洋), although he acknowledges here that what he means is rather vague and incoherent.  He says that he began to feel this root only as a participant in the Eranos Conference (1967– 82). It was during those years that he decided he ought to pay greater attention to the Eastern traditions. 

  Izutsu’s “Oriental Philosophy”

With the goal of such a meta- philosophy of Eastern thought in view, Izutsu constructs an elaborate ontology using the concepts of existence, essence, and articulation. He begins this in his study of Sufism by taking the Islamic concept of the “oneness/u nity of being” (waḥdat al- wujūd), stemming from Ibn al- ’Arabī and developed in Iran by Mullā Sadrā, as the partial field of such a meta-p hilosophy.  The concept of existence or being— wujud in Arabic and existentia in Latin—h as the same basic connotation in the Islamic and Christian traditions. But the issue of identifying this concept is compounded when there is no historical connection between the ideas being compared, as in Sufism and Daoism. In his study comparing the two (Sufism and Taoism, 1984, first edition 1966– 67) as represented by ‘Arabī on the one hand and Laozi and Zhuangzi on the other, he expresses the need to pinpoint a central concept active in both even if having its linguistic counterpart in only one of the systems while remaining implicit in the other. We must then stabilize it with a definite “name,” which may be borrowed from the one system in which it is linguistically present.  He thinks the concept of “existence/ being” from the Arabic wujud serves this purpose because it is simple and does not color what it intends with unnecessary connotations.  Izutsu believes the Sufi notion of the “unity of being,” if structurally analyzed and developed properly, can provide a theoretical framework or basic conceptual model for clarifying the fundamental mode of thinking characterizing Eastern philosophy in general, not only Islamic philosophy. As such, it provides a broad conceptual framework or common philosophical ground— an archetypal form— on the basis of which a meta- historical dialogue between Eastern philosophies historically divergent in origin can be established.  For example, beyond Islam and Daoism, he includes Buddhism in the mix, with its notion of “suchness” (Sk. tathatā; Jp. shinnyo 真如), which he interprets to mean “being as it really is.”  He also includes Western existentialism in its recognition of the fundamental vision of existence itself as primary. 

Another conspicuous example of his method of extracting a common concept to construct a meta-p hilosophy is his examination of the concept of “essence” (honshitsu 本質) in his Consciousness and Essence. He extracts this notion of the whatness of a thing from the context of the scholastic debates that dominated the history of post- Greco philosophy (as quidditas, essentia, and māhīyah) since Aristotle and extends its application into the context of Eastern thought.  He does this on the basis of his claim that at least conceptual equivalents to it played a significant role in Eastern philosophies as well. What he stresses as noticeable in all cases is its connection with the semantic function of language and the multilayered structure of human consciousness.  In fact, it is the distinction and relationship between the two key concepts of existence (being) and essence, constituting an ontological dynamic, that forms the thematic of the full flowering of Izutsu’s entire comparative project of “Oriental philosophy” in his later years.
Whether the focus is on existence or on essence, one fundamental theme that reappears throughout Izutsu’s project of “the synchronic structuralization of Oriental philosophy” is articulation (bunsetsu 分節)— both ontological and semantic (the two being inseparable). Articulation for Izutsu is the process whereby beings are discriminated or differentiated through meaning.  Language plays an important role in this process, and it is also inseparably connected with consciousness, whereby “the self- same reality is said to be perceived differently in accordance with different degrees of consciousness.” 
On the basis of this theme of articulation, involving both existence and essence, he constructs a general ontology for his Oriental philosophy in Consciousness and Essence. Accordingly, the source or foundation of reality is originally indeterminate and without form or name (musō mumei 無相無名). In different traditions, it is called absolute (zettai 絶対), true reality (shinjitsuzai 真実在), dao (道), emptiness (kū 空), nothing (mu 無), the one (issha 一者), true suchness (shinnyo), al- ḥaqq, wujud, or being/ existence (sonzai 存在), and more.  In its original state prior to any linguistic partitioning, Izutsu calls it 
“absolute non- articulation” (zettai mubunsetsu 絶対無分節).  But we find this idea in his earlier comparative works as well, such as in his study of Sufism and Daoism, wherein he identifies the pure act (actus purus) of existence in both ‘Arabī’s “unity of being” and in Zhuangzi’s “heavenly leveling” or “chaos” (Ch. hundun; Jp. konton 混沌) as unconditionally simple, without delimitation, and not a determinate thing, a nothing (in Zhuangzi, wuwu 無無).  As further references indicative of absolute nonarticulation, he includes Shingon’s “originally unborn” (honpushō 本不生), Vedānta’s Brahman, the nonpolarity (Ch. wuji; Jp. mukyoku 無極) beyond ultimate polarity (Ch. taiji; Jp. taikyoku 太極) in Neo- Confucianism, Nāgārjuna’s emptiness (śūnyatā), Neoplatonism’s “the one,” Kabbalah’s ein sof, and the like.  In that original state of being an undifferentiated whole, things are without essence. 

The vision of that undifferentiated unity of being is obtained in an “abnormal” spiritual state that Izutsu finds exemplified in a variety of traditions, as in the Daoist practice of “sitting in oblivion” (zuowang), the Sufi experience of “self- annihilation” (fanā’), the Buddhist experience of nirvāna, the Zen experience of nothing (mu) or emptiness (kū), and the ātman- Brahman identification in Vedānta.  In all of these cases, what takes place is the emptying of the ego into that nonarticulated source. In such a state, consciousness loses its intentionality to correspond to existence in its original nonarticulation. In Consciousness and Essence Izutsu takes this state of consciousness to be a meta- consciousness of the profound subtlety of being as absolutely unarticulated. 
He asserts this to be a fundamental characteristic of Oriental thought.  Moreover, in many of these traditions, this state of world- and-e go annihilation is followed by a return to the manifold, whereby one engages with the world anew, this time with the awareness that everything is an articulation of the originally unarticulated. For example, in Sufism, that state following fanā’ would be baqā. 
The nothingness of undifferentiation obtained in that vision is at the same time the plenitude of being as the ground of everything.  Hence, the empty vessel that is the dao in Laozi is infinitely full of being  and the undivided chaos crumbles into “an infinity of ontological segments.”  In Shingon Buddhism, emptiness is simultaneously the dharmakāya (hosshin 法身), symbolized by the letter A, meaning both negation and origination.  In Vedānta, that duplicity between nothing and being in the absolute is expressed in the notions of nirguna Brahman and saguna Brahman. In Sufism, it would be the inner essence of God (dhat) and his self-r evealing exteriority (zāhir), and in Neo- Confucianism, it would be nonpolarity (wuji) and ultimate polarity (taiji). Izutsu also refers to Zhuangzi, Nāgārjuna, Zen, and the Jewish Kabbalah as exemplifying parallel ideas.  He does point out differences, however, such as between Mahāyāna Buddhism’s emphasis on the nothingness of all essences of things and Vedānta’s emphasis on Brahman as the one true essence behind everything.83 On the basis of that duplicity of the ontological ground, the world serves as the locus for the continuous and inexhaustible self-a rticulation of what is originally unarticulated. For example, in ‘Arabī, the process moves from the divine essence (haqq) to the created world (khalq); in Laozi, from the mystery of mysteries to the ten thousand things.  Everything in the world is thus indicative of the absolute, as its delimitation, and the many as such eventually returns to ascend back into its source, the one.  What unifies the one and the many here is existence itself as the all-c omprehensive reality of which things are determining qualities or attributes; hence, Izutsu’s generalization of “the oneness of being” (wadhat al- wujūd).  What characterizes these “Oriental” philosophers for Izutsu is that they have learned to see things simultaneously in those two directions— reality as indeterminate and as determined, as one and as many, as nothing and as being, with “compound eyes.”  And all of these examples of Eastern thought that he cites indicate, each in its own way, that process of reality as the self- articulation of absolute nonarticulation (zettai mubunsetsu) into discrete things and events. Through this “articulation” (bunsetsu) theory, Izutsu thus extracts what he views to be the common structure behind the disparate texts of the “Eastern” traditions, including those of the Near East, Persia, and Semitic thought.
According to Izutsu, the process of ontological articulation corresponds to psychological states or degrees of awareness.  He accordingly takes to be another major characteristic of Eastern thought the notion that consciousness is a multilayered structure in correspondence with the articulation process of being.  The mandala in esoteric Buddhism, for example, depicts that dynamic process between nonarticulation and articulation as a matrix not only of cosmological events but also of psychological events.  As usual, he refers to multiple sources from distinct traditions as exemplifying this idea: Mullā Sadrā, Śankara, ‘Arabī, Yogācāra, and others.  In the case of ‘Arabī, he cites the middle realm between the absolute and the world, the mundus imaginalis or realm of primordial images (a’yān thābitah), where so- called essences unfold as archetypes in the deep structures of both being and consciousness. He finds equivalents in the Yijing’s hexagrams and the Kabbalah’s sefirot as all depicting the dynamic process of articulation, involving degrees or levels, moving from the unarticulated to the articulated, in both being and mind.  Izutsu creatively interprets Yogācāra’s notion of the alaya- vijñāna together with the Buddhist notion of karma in correspondence with this theory as well. 
Izutsu approaches articulation further in terms of the cultural environment or network of linguistic meanings that contextualizes the emergent entity. Such semantic articulation (imi bunsetsu 意味分節) is linguistic; it happens through naming, and this determines— particularizes and specifies— what is thus articulated. Everything— facts and thing- events in the empirical world as well as ourselves—i s nothing but ontological units of meaning or meaningful units of being that have been articulated semantically through language. Hence, for Izutsu, “semantic articulation is immediately ontological articulation” (imibunsetsu soku sonzaibunsetsu 意味分節即存在分節),  and he regards this to be one of the main points of Eastern thought in general. Although this became his thesis concerning “Oriental philosophy,” it is interesting to note that even prior to the initiation of his comparative project, in his early anthropological- sociological study from 1956, Language and Magic: Studies in the Magical Function of Speech, he states that the grammatical and syntactic structure of language is to a great extent responsible for the way we think and that it constitutes for its speakers a special sort of meaning.  With his theory of articulation, he extends that early interest in the importance of language in the ontological direction, whereby consciousness draws lines of articulation through the semantic function of words.
In Izutu’s mature thought, it is that articulative function of language, in connection with the multilayered structure of consciousness, that gives rise to “essences” (honshitsu) in the various traditions.  Consciousness is naturally directed toward grasping the “essence” of some thing,  and this directedness is connected to the semantic indicative function of language. Through the reception of a name, something X obtains an identity and crystallizes into such and such a thing.  Thus, in Laozi and Zhuangzi, the originally unarticulated dao that is a nothing (Ch. wu; Jp. mu) transforms into beings by receiving names. Izutsu views that articulation into “essences” to be an a priori occurrence through a cultural and linguistic framework as a kind of transcendental structure, whereby ancient Greece had its own system of “essences” expressed in Socrates’ search for the eternal and unchanging ideas, and ancient China had a distinct system of “essences” expressed in Confucius’ theory of the rectification of names.  Every phenomenon receives its form by passing through this culturally or linguistically specific mesh of archetypal semantic articulation.
Borrowing Buddhist terminology, Izutsu calls that culturally specific collective framework, operating in the deep layers of consciousness, “the linguistic alaya- consciousness” 
(gengo araya- shiki 言語アラヤ識).  As a “linguistic a priori,” it is the storehouse of semantic “seeds” (shuji 種子) of meaning, as karmic traces of our mental and physical activities, their semantic effects, conditioned by the cultural-l inguistic mesh, accumulated and stored, but in constant flux. Eventually, these seeds, as they surface into our conscious states, become objectified, hypostatized, and reified into the concrete images we take to be ontological realities.  On this basis, we tend to polarize the subject and object realms as mutually exclusive,  and we come to recognize “essences” in the empirical world that had been produced through the activation of the semantic “seeds.”  In effect, this is a superimposition of essences upon reality, articulating the originally unarticulated into discrete unities with names.
Essences as such, in themselves, are fictions. This is in contrast to the essentialist positions that would reify essences into absolutes. In his view, essentialism alone cannot comprehend the true nature of reality that is originally undifferentiated.  Izutsu notices as common to the Eastern traditions a deep- seated mistrust of language and its function of articulating reality into such essences.  He refers to the ontological currents of Mahāyāna Buddhism, such as Madhyamaka, Cittamatra, Zen, and Shingon, as well as Advaita Vedānta, Neo- Confucianism, Daoism, and Sufism, to make his case.  He does point out, however, differences among Mahāyāna, ‘Arabī, and Śankara concerning the degree of reality essences possess.  And he also discusses cases that do not fit his view of the “existentialism” of “Oriental philosophy”; for example, the “essentialisms” of primitive Confucianism’s “rectification of names,” of Song Neo-C onfucianism’s notion of li (Jp. ri 理, “principle”), and of the Nyāya-V aisesika of India.  But he seems to regard them as exceptions to the main current of the East. The main philosophical current is this “existentialism,” founded on the intuitive grasp of the “unity of being,” existence as it dynamically unfolds essences, as expressed in Izutsu’s formula “semantic articulation qua ontological articulation” (imi bunsetsu soku sonzai bunsetsu). This also means that essences are not absolutely nonexistent because they are pervaded by existence and are the unfolding of existence.  Izutsu finds this ontological dynamism exemplified in the Mahāyāna phrase, “true emptiness, profound being” (shinkū myōu 真空妙有).  That is to say, essences exist as the articulation of the unarticulated. True suchness thus both resists and permits articulation. 
Izutsu finds that ontology of “true emptiness and profound being”— the semantic qua ontological articulation of the unarticulated— to be the meta- structure common to the various traditions of “Oriental philosophy.” According to Nagai, “the Orient” as a philosophical concept signifies for Izutsu nothing other than that negation of the reification of essence and the ontological dynamism between nonarticulation and articulation.  According to Izutsu’s wife Izutsu Toyoko, this dynamic of articulation is the key perspectival stance and structural hypothesis that Izutsu conceptually designed and intentionally assumed in his attempt to realize “the synchronic integrative structure of Oriental philosophy” (tōyōtetsugaku no kyōjironteki seigō kōzō 東洋哲学の共時論的整合構造).  With this idea, he attempted to integrate the various cultural-t extual horizons he had traversed in his lifelong studies into a single meaningful and organic all- inclusive horizon to bring his philosophical search to closure. 
The last work he completed before his passing, The Metaphysics of Consciousness in the Philosophy of the Awakening of Faith in the Mahāyāna (Ishiki no keijijōgaku— Daijōkishinron no tetsugaku), published in 1992 was supposed to initiate the full- scale concretization of this “synchronic structuralization of Oriental philosophy.” And he allegedly had plans to further incorporate other texts, traditions, and doctrines— alaya- vijñāna, Kegon and Tendai, Suhrawardi’s Illuminationism (Ishraqi), Platonism, Confucianism, Shingon, and Daoism (of Laozi and Zhuangzi), as well as texts of Jewish thought, Indian philosophy, and the Japanese classics, among others— as key topics in the establishment of such a “synchronic structural horizon” (kyōjironteki kōzō chihei 共時論的構造地平).115 The general sense one gets of his concept of “Oriental philosophy,” as we can see, seems expansive enough to include almost anything outside of the mainstream dualist strand of Western philosophy, such that one can find traces of “the East” within “the West” (e.g., Plotinus, Eckhart, etc.) as well as within the Semitic, Persian, and Islamic traditions.

  Conclusion
 
We are now in a position summarize the comparative philosophies of each thinker before comparing and contrasting them and discussing their merits and demerits. We might summarize important features of Nakamura’s comparative philosophy in the following manner. He claims that his work proves philosophy is not confined to the West.116 But, at the same time, he prefers the term “thought” (shisō) over “philosophy” as having a broader significance to encompass intellectual ideas expressed in religion, literature, and mythology as well. In the historical development of such thought, he recognizes similar patterns throughout the advanced cultures due to our common humanity. And yet he also recognizes important differences that result from distinct sociocultural environments. This makes him reject the stereotypical dichotomy of East versus West that would essentialize each or reduce them to monolithic entities because he recognizes diversity within each hemisphere, as well as commonalities between them. To make his point, Nakamura succeeds in compiling an abundant amount of historical information. But while emphasizing the need to go beyond mere philology or historiology in doing comparative philosophy, Nakamura keeps to a minimum his speculations concerning any metaphysical or ontological implications of his comparative analyses.
The scope of Izutsu’s research activities, like Nakamura’s, is vast. But the true trait of his comparative work is really in its speculative depth and originality. I believe Izutsu’s comparative project of “Oriental philosophy” has merit when read as his creative construction of a unique ontology on the basis of concepts appropriated from a variety of 
115 Izutsu Toyoko in Izutsu 1993, 186–1 87.
116 Nakamura 1992, 567.
traditions. But his project becomes problematic if we read him as merely a comparativist aiming to unfold the true essence of “the Orient” common to the disparate traditions he groups under the category of “the East.” In doing this, he appropriates conceptual schemes from a single tradition and uses them to explicate the others. Izutsu admits, for example, to the Greek origin of the Islamic concept of existence and its relation to the Western scholastic concept, existentia.  This connection with philosophical schemes stemming from the scholastic traditions of both Islam and the West becomes obvious especially in Consciousness and Essence when he refers to the essence- existence contrast and the opposition of essentialism and existentialism. One thus cannot help but ask whether Izutsu is reading Daoism and the other traditions of Asia under a light originally cast by ancient Greece. And, if so, would this undermine his claim that what he is uncovering is a truth unique to “the Orient”? Of course, he often includes “ancient Greece” within what he means by “the Orient,” but the essence-e xistence scheme he borrows was fully developed within Western medieval philosophy. And he never provides an explicit defense or justification for his extension of “the Orient” to ancient Greece, which is commonly referred to as the origin of “the Occident.” When he writes that the thought patterns he extracts from his comparative analyses are primordial patterns regulative of the philosophical thinking of Eastern peoples, “the Orientals” (tōyōjin 東洋人),  one cannot help but ask: Who are “the Orientals”? He includes not only the peoples of East Asia and South Asia, but also the Persians and the Semites and even the ancient Greeks. How can the extraction of “the Orient” out of such disparate traditions and diverse peoples not be arbitrary? Is this not an invention of “the Orient” rather than its discovery? Is he ignoring his own ontological premise of “Oriental philosophy,” that is, the linguistic-c ultural contingency of essences, by constructing an “essence”— “Orient”—t hat defies the manifold fluidity of “existence”? Certainly, his project is to construct an ontological standpoint out of the variety of nondualist traditions that fall outside of the mainstream dualist and essentialist current of Western philosophy. But even if we grant this much, why must we call it “Eastern” or “Oriental”? In the end, the question of whether Izutsu’s ontological theory of “existentialism” and “Oriental philosophy” is viable depends largely on how one reads Izutsu—a s a comparative philosopher comparing traditions or as a comparative philosopher creating his own ontology.
Both thinkers were incredibly prolific as comparative philosophers, covering a wide range of traditions based on penetrating analyses of major texts. Moreover, they both reflected on the nature of comparison, and each constructed a theory of comparative philosophy. Having examined their work, we are now in a position to compare and contrast their comparative projects and evaluate their strong and weak points. Both possess a firm foundation in their respective fields—I zutsu in Islamic studies and Nakamura in Indology and Buddhist studies—w ith unsurpassed knowledge of languages permitting them to read texts from multiple traditions. Significantly, both stress the importance of language and its analysis as a starting point for their comparative work. Nakamura focuses on the differences between languages as a basis for sociohistorical differences in ways of thinking among distinct cultures. Izutsu focuses on the universal function of language as semantic articulation that also leads to culturally specific distinctions. Both speak of the need for a common conceptual terminology in comparing the traditions. But in the intellectual history of distinct cultures, both East and West, Nakamura recognizes a pattern they all follow in their stages of development. Izutsu, on the other hand, discerns within the multiple traditions of “the East” a core sensibility that distinguishes them from Western philosophy. Certainly, Nakamura’s project, especially in History of World Thought, aims to show those common patterns through which intellectual history unfolds in response to human situations. But he is careful to point out culture- specific sociohistorical conditions that account for important differences as well. It may then be too simplistic to regard his comparative theory as merely a “universalism.” On the other hand, Izutsu, while emphasizing “the Orient,” attempts to construct a kind of transcultural transhistorical metaphysics that bypasses those cultural- historical specifics that Nakamura is keen on pointing out. Moreover, it encompasses a vast range of traditions that broadens “the Orient” from the Far East to the Near East and includes Semitic, Persian, and even Greek thought. His “relativism” thus harbors within itself a tendency toward “universalism” in its own right. And, like Nakamura, he speaks of the ultimate aim of a “world philosophy,” even a philosophia perennis. I raise these points to underscore the complexity of each of their comparative theories and to prevent us from simplistically characterizing Nakamura as a universalist and Izutsu as a relativist.
Stylistically, their methods of comparison and philosophizing are quite distinct. Nakamura is meticulous in his examination of the relevant historical and sociocultural data. He seems both historically and sociologically, as well as philologically, well- grounded in his claims. But his claims are modest in speculation and do not extend deep into the realms of metaphysics or ontology. Izutsu, by contrast, is much more speculative and metaphysically bold. But, in his enthusiasm, he tends to overlook significant contextual differences between the traditions as he liberally overlays conceptual schemes borrowed from one tradition upon other traditions. Nakamura was keen in debunking popular stereotypes, such as the reductive dichotomy of East and West. Under Nakamura’s penetrating gaze, Izutsu’s entire project of “Oriental philosophy” may appear suspect. But Nakamura, while admonishing scholars of Asian thought for being too philological and lacking any philosophical depth, himself seemed to shy away from venturing into the kind of metaphysical speculation that he might have attempted on the basis of his comparative analyses. Although stating that comparison ought to lead to a new world philosophy, he fails to provide one himself. Izutsu, on the other hand, in his zeal to construct the sort of “world philosophy” to which Nakamura thinks comparison ought to lead, ends up committing the fallacies Nakamura warns against. In short, we can say that Nakamura was too cautious and Izutsu was too daring. Nevertheless, comparative philosophers today need to pay attention to these two intellectual giants of Japan in the field of comparative philosophy. We can learn from both their strengths and weaknesses.


  Bibliography and Suggested Readings
 
Izutsu, Toshihiko (1956). Language and Magic: Studies in the Magical Function of Speech. Tokyo: Keio Institute of Philological Studies.
Izutsu, Toshihiko (1974). “The Philosophical Problem of Articulation in Zen Buddhism,” Revue internationale de philosophie 28: 165– 183.
Izutsu, Toshihiko (1982). Toward a Philosophy of Zen Buddhism, Boulder, CO: Prajñā Press.
Izutsu, Toshihiko (1984). Sufism and Taoism: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Izutsu, Toshihiko (1987). “The Ontological Ambivalence of ‘Things’ in Oriental Philosophy.” In The Real and the Imaginary: A New Approach to Physics, edited by Jean E. Charon. New York: Paragon House, 187−197.

Izutsu Toshihiko (1993). Tōyō tetsugaku kakusho—I shiki no keijijōgaku—Daijōkishinron  no tetsugaku [Notes on Oriental Philosophy: The Metaphysics of Consciousness: The Philosophy of The Awakening of Faith in the Mahāyāna]. Tokyo: Chūōkōronsha.
Izutsu, Toshihiko (1994). Creation and the Timeless Order of Things: Essays in Islamic Mystical Philosophy. Ashland, OR: Cloud Press.
Izutsu Toshihiko (2001). Ishiki to honshitsu [Consciousness and Essence]. Tokyo: Iwanami.
Izutsu, Toshihiko (2008). The Structure of Oriental Philosophy: Collected Papers of the Eranos Conference, Vols. 1 & 2. Tokyo: Keio University Press.

Nakamura, Hajime (1963). “Comparative Study of the Notion of History in China, India and Japan,” Diogenes 42 (Summer): 44– 59.
Nakamura Hajime (1960). Tōyōjin no shisō hōhō [Ways of Thinking of Eastern Peoples]. Tokyo: Shinkōsha.
Nakamura, Hajime (1964). Ways of Thinking of Eastern Peoples: India, China, Tibet, Japan, translated and edited by Philip P. Wiener. Honolulu: East- West Center Press.
Nakamura, Haijme (1967). “Interrelational Existence,” Philosophy East and West 17.1/ 4 (January– October):107– 112.
Nakamura, Hajime (1970). “Pure Land Buddhism and Western Christianity Compared: A Quest for Common Roots of their Universality,” International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 1, 2(Summer): 77– 96.
Nakamura, Hajime (1974). “Methods and Significance of Comparative Philosophy,” Revue internationale de philosophie 28: 184– 193.
Nakamura Hajime (1975). Sekai shisōshi [History of World Thought]. Tokyo: Shunkōsha.
Nakamura Hajime (1976). Hikaku shisōron [On Comparative Thought]. Tokyo: Iwanami.
Nakamura, Hajime (1992). A Comparative History of Ideas. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.
Nakamura, Hajime (2002). History of Japanese Thought 592– 1868: Japanese Philosophy before Western Culture Entered Japan. London: Kegan Paul.
 



2021/07/22

A Japanese Perspective on the Trinity - The Gospel Coalition

A Japanese Perspective on the Trinity - The Gospel Coalition

ARTICLES
Volume 22 - Issue 2
A Japanese Perspective on the Trinity
BY NOZOMU MIYAHIRA


The Christian doctrine of the Trinity has traditionally been expressed in terms of three persons and one substance or being. This belief and formulation is taken for granted by orthodox Christians. But a question may emerge when we take into consideration the fact that, although the gospel itself is universally relevant, unrestricted to any particular place or time, this formula was originally elaborated in the ancient Greco-Roman world, using the terms available in those days and intelligible within that mindset. Is this formula relevant today to Christians with other cultural backgrounds? With this question in mind. I shall set out the reasons why Japanese Christians may use another formula: God is three betweennesses, one concord. I shall do so in two steps: first, I shall explain some Japanese conceptualities, and secondly. I shall seek parallels for them in the orthodox Christian tradition.

Japanese concepts of humanity and community
Historically, the traditional trinitarian formula played a role in distinguishing orthodoxy from heresy. In fact, however, the important point is not so much the formula itself, as what trinitarians intended to express through it. Studying deeply the ancient, heated argument over the doctrine of the Trinity, and in the course of serious argument against the anti-trinitarian Servetus. John Calvin wrote calmly and tersely about trinitarian terms, in his celebrated Institutes of the Christian Religion. ‘I could wish they were buried, If only among all men this faith were agreed on: that Father and Son and Spirit are one God, yet the Son is not the Father nor the Spirit the Son, but that they are differentiated by a peculiar quality.’1 For him, two things are crucial in this definition; unity and difference in God. These are of primary importance: the terms that signify them are secondary. This will lead those in whom a cultural mindset other than the Greco-Roman is ingrained, to say that they may use their indigenous terms provided that they signify unification and differentiation as properly and accurately as possible. When they take this route, they have an advantage. They can begin to understand the mystery of the Trinity through the terminology congenial to their mindset. Besides, they can in their turn contribute to the elucidation of the Christian understanding of God as Trinity, by introducing subtle modifications to the traditional expression of the doctrine as they use their own, native, terms.

In Japan, the original trinitarian terminology, and even its translated terms, such as ‘ikaku’ for ‘person’ and ‘jittai’ for ‘substance’. Is arcane and misleading. This is partly because these translated terms are not indigenous ones, historically used in the actual life of people over a long period of time. So I wish to explore the possibility that we make use of indigenous Japanese terms in order to express the unity and difference in the triune God. Let us now look at the terms that are potentially suitable as differentiating and unifying concepts.

Human betweenness
Obviously, there is no old and indigenous term in Japan for the Christian triune God. But the Japanese have long nursed a term for humanity. How can we make it useful for theology?

The traditional and indigenous Japanese term for a human or humanity is ‘ningen’. If we translate this directly into English, it can be expressed as ‘human betweenness’. In Japan, we tend to think of humans as being what they are in their interrelationship: they are living, as we should put it, ‘between’ one another. This notion is inextricably interwoven with people’s work in rice agriculture, in which a very large number of the Japanese were engaged for about 2,000 years, until the end of the war. Rice agriculture is so labour-intensive that it necessarily demands mutual co-operation. Moreover, workers follow the same pattern of rice cultivation every year. All this means that work with the same people is carried on again and again, because the nature of rice agriculture keeps workers inescapably bound to the same fields. Therefore, people always find themselves in relation to each other or, as we might put it, ‘between’ one another.

In this century, the first major attempt to examine ‘ningen’ was made by Watsuji Tetsuro (1889–1960), ‘the best philosopher of ethics of modern Japan’,2 in his book Ethics as the Study of Man, published in 1934.3 According to this work, the Chinese characters for ‘ningen’ used to mean, not ‘humanity’ but ‘the world of humanity’ or ‘the community’, and it came popularly and erroneously to mean a ‘human’ or ‘humanity’ in Japan about 1,000 years ago.4 Watsuji thought that this event shows how the Japanese understand humanity: their understanding is drawn from the context of community existence (pp. 14, 18f.). He regarded this as an event of great importance, since it brings into clear relief the fact that the Japanese mindset tends to think of humanity and community on the same level. On this basis, he defined ‘ningen’ as ‘hito no aida’, or ‘between humans’, with reference to the fact that they live closely together in a community.

Watsuji attempted to explain, from a Buddhist perspective, how the understanding of community and of humanity are closely related. He interpreted the relation between community and humanity as a dialectical relation of the whole to its parts (pp. 19ff.). For instance, pupils (parts) depend on the school (the whole) in that, without the school, there is nothing to attend and so they can no longer be pupils, whereas the school depends on the pupils in that, without any pupils, there is no longer a school.5 In Buddhism, this kind of argument is called ‘absolute denial’; through this denial, parts and whole are seen in their dialectical relation.6

The second major attempt to interpret humanity in terms of betweenness was made by a psychiatrist. Kimura Bin (1931–) in his Between Man and Man, published in 1972.7 Here, he argued that a self becomes aware of itself when it meets what is not itself (pp. 14ff.). It is the distinction between the self and the non-self that enables the self to be so called. There is no self without the non-self. Both self and non-self appear simultaneously. But before they appear, there must be something which caused this encounter. For the sake of convenience. Kimura uses the terminology ‘between man and man’ to describe this something (p. 15). This does not describe the relationship which holds between two independent individuals who meet each other. Rather, it signifies the atemporal and spaceless field from which the relations between self and non-self, between I and thou, come into existence (pp. 15ff., 65).

There is a relationship here to Western thought. Kimura was stimulated by Martin Buber, who stated that

the fundamental fact of human existence is man with man. What is peculiarly characteristic of the human world is above all that something takes place between one being and another the like of which can be found nowhere in nature … Man is made man by it … It is rooted in one being turning to another as another, as this particular other being, in order to communicate with it in a sphere which is common to them but which reaches out beyond the special sphere of each. I call this sphere, which is established with the existence of man as man, but which is conceptually still uncomprehended, the sphere of ‘between’. Though being realized in very different degrees, it is a primal category of human reality … Where I and Thou meet, there is the realm of ‘between’.8

The atemporal and spaceless field of which Kimura speaks is more concretely expressed in terms of space, in ‘girl’ relation to others (pp. 35ff., 69). ‘Girl’, which describes the typical Japanese social obligations necessary for smooth relations between self and non-self, controls the Japanese pattern of social and moral behaviour to a great extent. The usual ways in which the Japanese fulfil ‘girl’ are to repay others’ kindness and to live up to others’ expectations (p. 40). The ‘girl’ relation originated in the repayment and exchange of kindnesses in the context of the farm work of Japanese rice agriculture.9 It was taken for granted that if one was helped with farm work by others, one was expected to be ready to offer help in return. To what extent one should repay kindness depends on what kind of relationship one has with the other. Whether this is a relationship of equality or subordination does not depend solely on the status of the one or the other; it depends, also, on their interaction, their ‘betweenness’. This betweenness of humanity is not some abstract idea; it embraces a very significant reality which determines Japanese human behaviour (p. 65). In this respect, moral duty is not determined vertically, in relation to God, but is horizontally situated ‘between man and man’ (p. 39).

When this betweenness is viewed in terms of time and, in particular, retrospectively regarded in terms of the self and parents, grandparents and ancestors, the riddle of Japanese ancestor worship is easy to understand (p. 69). From the genetic standpoint, the first non-self which the self temporally meets is the parents, who also encountered their parents as non-selves. Again, there is a connection here with Western thought. John Macmurray wrote that ‘genetically, the first correlate of the Self is the mother; and this personal Other … is gradually differentiated in experience till it becomes the whole community of persons of which I am an individual member’.10 Macmurray also offered an explanation of ancestor-worship:

The ritual head of an existing family or kinship group is inadequate as a representation of the community. For the community has a history which links it with the past, and this community with the past cannot be represented by an existing member of the group. The chief is only the temporary representative of the tribal community, himself related to the representative of a unity which spans the generations. The universal Other must thus be at least the original and originating head of the community, the original father of the kinship group. This explains the development of religion as ancestor worship.11

In Japanese thought, the self, in terms of its concrete existence, is in crucial relation to its ancestors. But this does not mean that its existence depends unilaterally on its parents and ancestors. Rather, it is grounded ‘in between’ itself and them. Parents are parents in virtue of their relation to their children; children are children in virtue of their relation to their parents. Parents depend on their children for their parenthood. One’s existence as the child of parents depends on the field which brought into existence their relation, or their betweenness. Ancestor worship is one way of expressing deference towards this betweenness. So the Japanese do not found the existence of the self just within their own, or another’s, self, but between them.12The Japanese term for self, ‘jibun’, clearly reveals this implication. Kimura points out that the Western concept of the self denotes its individuality and substantiality. This self keeps its identity and continuity eternally. But ‘jibun’ literally means not only ‘self’ but also ‘share’, so designating the self’s share of something which transcends the self, rather than any attribute or substance with an eternal identity (p. 154). That is, the Japanese concept of ‘jibun’ carries within it its share of the field in which it participates in its relation to others. In brief: ‘jibun’ is the fusion of the self and its relation to others, the self and its betweenness.13 Indeed, human betweenness is primary; what I am now is determined between man and man, or self and its partner.14 In contrast to the Western understanding of humanity, in Japan, relation precedes the individuality of the subject and not the other way around (p. 144).

The third major attempt to articulate a Japanese concept of humanity was that of a scholar in Japanese studies. Hamaguchi Eshan (1931–), in The Rediscovery of “Japaneseness”, published in 1977.15 This described the image of the Japanese with the help of a conceptual scheme excogitated from an inherently Japanese perspective. According to this portrayal, Westerners, irrespective of the contexts in which they find themselves, tend to behave on the basis both of what they believe to be a consistent norm determined from within and, at the same time, a sense of public values. The Japanese, on the other hand, worrying about the way in which they are seen by others, usually behave so as to adjust to the particular context in which they find themselves, along with other people.16 In other words, the Western concept of humanity is individualistic, signifying the ultimate indivisible and independent units which comprise society, whereas the Japanese concept of humanity is contextual, relational and communal. Therefore, Hamaguchi coined a new term—‘kanjin’, or ‘contextual’—which signifies this Japanese, as opposed to Western, view of humanity, with its contrasting ‘individual’ (pp. 62ff.).

Hamaguchi calls this contextual point of view ‘outside-in’ (p. 305). ‘Outside-in’ and ‘inside-out’ are technical terms used by aircraft pilots. While in flight, they look inside-out, viewing the window of the cockpit in front of them as their perceptual frame of reference. In this case, they perceive the horizon moving against the aircraft. But when they make a final approach to an airport, they change their perceptual frames of reference from inside-out to outside-in. The outside-in perspective takes the horizon as the fixed perceptual frame of reference. Now it is the aircraft that is moving in relation to the horizon and the pilots must do their best to keep the aircraft horizontal. This perceptual frame is obviously essential for safe landing. Hamaguchi applies these two frames of reference to human behaviour. ‘Inside-out’ is a form of behaviour in which people base their behaviour on some criteria derived from within themselves, and form independent and proper judgements of an event outside themselves. In the ‘outside-in’ form of behaviour, people act on the basis of the situation outside themselves, contextualizing their behaviour according to the human relations involved in the situation. Thus, roughly speaking, Westerners’ behaviour is characteristically inside-out, but it is typical of the Japanese to behave in the outside-in manner (p. 308).

It is natural that the difference between the individualist and the contextual understandings of humanity, between the inside-out and outside-in points of view, is reflected in the distinctive virtues respectively emphasized by Westerners and the Japanese. For the contextual Japanese, who take context and relation to others more seriously than their proper selves, there is something of cardinal importance, something which furthers smooth human relations. That something is ‘concord’, to which we now turn.

Human concord
Where context is concerned, the highly acclaimed virtue can be said to be human concord or harmony.17Hamaguchi presents three characteristics of concord in this situation. Before looking at these, let us see briefly how deeply ‘concord’ is embedded in the Japanese mind.

In Japan, the word ‘wa’, or ‘concord’, is of considerable importance. It is associated, above all, with the name of the country, Japan. Until the seventh century. Japan was called ‘Wa’ by the people of the Asian continent. The Chinese character for this ‘Wa’ meant ‘small’. However, as the Japanese came to understand the meanings of Chinese characters, which were introduced into Japan and came into use among a small number of people in the fifth or sixth centuries, some preferred a different Chinese character. This is also transliterated ‘Wa’ and has the same Chinese pronunciation as ‘Wa’ meaning ‘small’, but itself has the meaning of ‘concord’.

Moreover, this ‘Wa’ assumed an official presence in the first Japanese written law, the Seventeen Article Constitution of 604, ascribed to Prince Shotoku (574–622). The first article of this constitution is overlaid with an affirmation of concord: ‘Concord is to be valued, and an avoidance of wanton opposition to be honoured.’18 This urgent need for concord fundamentally derives from the discords and conflicts prevalent in those days. Before Prince Shotoku came to power and established a centralized state, the powerful clans were notoriously in serious conflict. It was these chaotic social conditions that led Prince Shotoku towards a primary insistence on concord, and the avoidance of wanton opposition.19 Although this understanding of concord is relatively negative, in that it means ‘avoiding discord’, this article means that ‘concord’ has firmly become the watchword of Japan as a term with positive meanings as well. Nowadays, consciously or unconsciously, almost all Japanese communities, such as families, groups of friends, fellow workers, think of concord as indispensable to keeping them together.20 It is especially the leader, or the head, who is expected to play a major role in maintaining concord.21

Hamaguchi clarifies the spirit of the concord infiltrated into the Japanese mind in this way, by contrasting it sharply to the individualism described by Steven Lukes.22 Firstly, individualism is based on self-centredness and attempts to maintain and develop the established inviolable self; contextualism is grounded on mutual dependence and reciprocal help. Secondly, individualism stresses self-reliance and the need for all one desires in life to be met by oneself: contextualism has a high view of mutual reliance which presupposes that all concerned should be trustworthy. Thirdly, individualism regards interpersonal relations as a means for promoting self-interest, and does not maintain inconvenient relationships; contextualism regards interpersonal relations as ends in themselves. In sum, to be in relation to others is of essential value, and to maintain and develop such relations is meaningful for life.23

It is easy to point out, from the perspective of contextualism, the problems associated with individualism. Firstly, excessive self-centredness can infringe the rights of others. Secondly, excessive self-reliance can lapse into self-righteousness. Thirdly, those who treat others as means to an end will sooner or later be faced with a situation where they themselves are treated as a means. These things count in favour of contextualism. Within its perspective, firstly, one may expect others’ help. Secondly, one may have self-respect by being trusted. Thirdly, one may realize that one’s dignity is valued when one is treated as an end in oneself.

These characteristics of concord have been cultivated and developed historically for such a long time, through being embedded in the social economy of rice agriculture, that this framework of thought is deeply rooted in the Japanese mind. We now come to an important question; how can it be used to understand the triune God in the Japanese context?

At this point, it will help the later argument if we consider the possibility that ‘betweenness’ and ‘concord’ could be used as concepts which respectively differentiate and unify. Kimura argues that betweenness is a metaphorical field from which the relation between self and non-self comes into existence. This field can be said to cause a differentiation, as well as an interrelation, between self and non-self. This is naturally so, since, as Watsuji shows, in dialectical thought the relational whole depends on some difference between those parts that engage in the relation and on the wholeness that embraces the differences. As the Japanese terms for ‘between’ (‘aida’, or ‘ma’) originally designate some space differentiating something or someone from something or someone else, betweenness can be, relatively speaking, particularly appropriately used as a differentiating concept. On the other hand, concord can be used as a unifying concept in that, as Hamaguchi argues, the concord maintained in contextualism is grounded on mutual help and reliance. Here, where the relation itself is regarded as essential, this concept plays a role in connecting humans and deepening the relation. We shall extend the scope of these concepts by applying betweenness and concord to the triune God.

Christian concepts of the triune God
How can we relate these Japanese concepts of humanity and community to Christian concepts of the triune God? Jesus Christ was a man in a particular place and time. I do not take this to mean that he accommodated himself to Jewish culture and to no other, but that he can and will accommodate himself to any culture. Athanaslus’s classic study on the incarnation and redemption. On the incarnation, shows the depth and breadth of Christ’s work.24

In Athanaslus’s argument, a motif of some importance emerges. The one and the same Word both created the world and humanity and recreated corrupted humanity by assuming flesh.25 If the Word who made all things universally in creation also recreated them in redemption through the incarnation, this implies that the scope of redemption is also universal.26 In order to emphasize the universal range of redemption. Athanasius states that Christ’s redemptive work was ‘In the stead of all’, ‘on behalf of all’ and ‘for all’.27 According to him, the Word became flesh and dwelt ‘to us’, ‘into us’, ‘among men’ and ‘with them’.28 This variation on the ‘among us’ of John 1:14 points to his interpretation that the Word in flesh relates closely to humanity in every possible way.

How can we develop Athanasius’s argument in a Japanese context? As he argues, the Word condescended and accommodated himself to humanity, in order to teach it higher subjects effectively.29 In the words of a contemporary writer, God ‘chose a personal, interactional, receptor-oriented approach within the frame of reference of those he sought to reach.’30 If we apply the divine receptor-oriented approach to the Japanese concept of humanity conceived in terms of human betweenness, it is possible to interpret the incarnation in terms of Christ being not merely a human but also a human betweenness. That is, the Word became a human and dwelt between us as a human. Christ became a man between man and man. This interpretation is theologically defensible. As we have shown, Athanasius used several prepositions in order to express the ways in which Christ dwelt in relation to us. This latitude in the way of conceiving the relation of Christ to humanity allows us, in a Japanese context, to use our culturally orientated term ‘between’.31Therefore, for us, the Word became a human and dwelt between us as a human betweenness. In fact, this interpretation is exactly identical with John 1:14 in the two recent Japanese translations of the Bible, the New Revised and the New Collaborated versions.32 Both translations run ‘watashi tachi no aida ni’, literally translated as ‘between us’. Christ between man and man is a ‘ningen’ and, as such, is intimately connected with humanity in Japanese culture.

The human betweenness of Christ is closely related to the divine betweenness which the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit maintain. We shall next direct our attention to the betweenness of God.

Triune betweenness
Gregory Nazianzen, who contributed immensely to the formation of the doctrine of the Trinity, interestingly enough refers to the relations and ‘betweenness’ of the triune God. Let us clarify these concepts by focusing on his Five Theological Orations.33

According to Eunomius, the ‘Father’ is a name denoting an essence or an action. But Gregory argues against this, as follows. If ‘Father’ denotes essence, there must be a distinct essence from that of the Son. If it names an action, the same would follow: the Son would be made by the Father’s action and the essence of the Son, as someone made, would be different from the essence of the maker.34 Gregory proceeds to introduce the concept of relation: ‘Father is not a name either of an essence or of an action … But it is the name of the relation in which the Father stands to the Son, and the Son to the Father.’35 These relational names of the Father and the Son ‘denote an identity of nature between him that is begotten and him that begets’ (XXIX.16). Although, on earth, the begetting ‘happened according to flesh’, the Son’s earthly mother is a virgin, and this is called ‘spiritual generation’, by which Gregory seems to mean the begetting through the Holy Spirit (XXIX.4).36 If this begetting is not merely fleshly, but essentially spiritual, ‘begotten of’ does not mean ‘begotten after’, which implies a temporal relation, although ‘in respect of cause’ the Son is not unoriginate (XXIX.3).37 The internal relations within the Trinity, therefore, are beyond such categories as time and space, for they are essentially neither fleshly nor temporal, but, rather, spiritual and eternal.38

Gregory further introduces the concept of betweenness into these spiritual and eternal triune relations. As he proceeds to explain what the Holy Spirit is, he uses ‘mesos’ or ‘between’. He summarizes concisely as follows: the Holy Spirit who ‘proceeds’ from the Father is not a creature: he who is not begotten is not the Son;39 and he who is ‘between [mesos] the unbegotten and the begotten is God’ (XXXI.8). First, Gregory had already confirmed that the Holy Spirit from the Father is God and, as such, ‘consubstantial’ with the Father (XXXI.10); and that the Spirit, as well as the Son, is ‘co-eternal’ with the Father (XXIX.3). Secondly, he made clear that the Spirit is not the Son. The names ‘Father’ and ‘Son’ come from the facts of unbegottenness and begottenness respectively, while the name ‘Holy Spirit’ comes from the fact of the procession (XXXI.9). Thirdly, he explained that the Spirit is between the Father and the Son. Now, what is this ‘between’? According to Gregory, between them ‘nothing … is peculiar’ except the names, Father and Son, ‘because all things are in common’ (XXX.11). This betweenness exists precisely because there is a difference between the Father and the Son. If there were no difference at all, there would be no betweenness at all, simply outright identity. Therefore, betweenness is the relation which arises from begetting: when it is stated that the Spirit is ‘between’ them, he is contrasted with this relation. In other words, the distinctive procession of the Spirit is stated in comparison with the begetting relation between the Father and the Son.40 This means that the procession happens in a way different from the begetting, so that the proper name of the Holy Spirit is secured.41

How can we develop Gregory’s doctrine of the triune relations and that of ‘betweenness’ in a Japanese context? We can begin by finding some similarities between his view of the triune God and the Japanese view of humanity. In Gregory’s trinitarian view, God is what he is in the tri-personal relation: in the Japanese anthropological view, humans are what they are in their relation. In both cases, the category of ‘relation’ refers to what is intrinsic, not optional, and divine and human persons are defined not according to any individualities, but by their relations. As Watsuji refers to the dialectical relation of community (whole) and humanity (parts), so Gregory refers to the dialectical relation between three persons and one substance.42Of course, we must also note the differences regarding relation. Kimura states that relation, or betweenness, precedes the self and the non-self, not in a temporal sense, but ontologically, in the sense that betweenness is the ground of their existence.43 Gregory would not say this in the case of the triune God, since the origin of the existence of the Son and Holy Spirit lies not in their relation, but in the Father, from whom the former is begotten and the latter proceeds.

The supremely interesting point is that, in both cases, the term ‘between’ is used. Now if, as Gregory states, there is a betweenness of Father and Son, and the Spirit is also between them, we may say that the betweenness is shared by the Spirit as well. For the triune God, beyond corporeal and temporal categories, carries neither dissolution nor separation within himself.44 So ‘betweenness’ is a (spatial) metaphor. Further, if the betweenness is shared by all three, we should also have the betweenness which the Father and Spirit share and that which the Son and the Holy Spirit share, as well as that which the Father and the Son share. Thus, the Spirit is between the Father and the Son, and the Father is between the Son and the Spirit, and the Son is between the Father and the Spirit. ‘Three what?’ Augustine asked, about the Trinity.45 We can answer: ‘Three betweennesses.’46 But it is important to emphasize that although the triune God shares betweenness, the three betweennesses I have mentioned differ according to the different relations. The Father-Son betweenness differentiates Father and Son through the begetting. This begetting or begotten betweenness is different from the processional betweenness that relates Father and Spirit. Betweenness, then, is also a differentiating factor in the triune God.

If, in a Japanese context, we can consider humans, living between other humans, as human betweennesses, we can apply the category of ‘betweenness’ to the triune God as well, considered as consisting of three betweennesses. As we said, the Word became a human and dwelt between us; that is, the Word became a human betweenness. The betweenness which the Word assumed on earth can be interpreted as a reflection of that betweenness inherent in the triune God. Because God is divine betweenness, he became human betweenness. Relational humanity is possible for God because deity is relational.47

Triune concord
What should we say, when asked: ‘One what?’ One possibility, consonant with Japanese conceptuality, is to answer: ‘One concord’. But is the use of the term theologically supportable? To examine this, we shall have recourse to Novatian’s The Trinity.48

In order to counter the Patripassian view that the Son is the Father and the Adoptionist view that the Son is only man. Novatian introduces the concept of concord. Whereas he adduces scriptural passages to maintain that God is one (XXX, XXXI passim), he points out that in John 10:30. ‘I and the Father are one’, the word ‘one’ (unum) ‘is in the neuter gender, denoting harmony of fellowship [societatis concordia], not unity of person’ (XXVII.3: cf. XXXI.22). In order to clarify the distinction between them who are ‘unum’. he also has recourse to a scriptural illustration, where Paul refers, in 1 Corinthians 3:6ff., to ‘harmonious unity’ (concordiae unitas) (XXVII.6). Paul states: ‘I planted, Apollos watered.’ Now he and Apollos are not one and the same person. By using the term ‘concord’, on the one hand Novatian corroborates, over against Patripassianism, the existence of two persons, the Father and the Son, who maintain concord.

This concord carries another implication in the relationship between Father and Son. Novatian paraphrases the concord between them in terms of ‘identity of judgement’,49 and he seems to explain what he means concretely in The Trinity XIII.6: ‘… If Christ sees the secrets of the heart [cor]. Christ is certainly God, since God alone knows the secrets of the heart [cor].’ This passage is based on Matthew 9:4. John 2:25 and 1 Kings 8:39,50 and these passages are situated in a context where God or the Son make a certain judgment on humanity by discerning what they have in their hearts. That is, Father and Son share a common way of thinking in making judgment, in discerning the heart. But what they share in judgment is not merely a way of thinking, but also a content. This close relation of Father and Son has much to do with the Son’s origin.

When Novatian confirms that the Son is the Word of God, of divine nature, he adduces the scriptural passage that ‘my heart [cor] has brought forth a good Word’ (XV.6, XVII.3).51 The ‘Word’, or the ‘Son’, is the embodiment of the Father’s heart, with the result that their judgment is necessarily the same on account of having the same origin.52 That is, Father and Son are in concordant relationship, not only in the sense that the divine judgment is the same, in the discernment of human hearts [cor], but also in the deeper sense that they share a common [con-] heart [cor]: i.e., that retain ‘con-cordia’ on account of their origin. Therefore, Novatian’s concept of the concord between them can hardly be delineated only ‘in terms of moral unity’.53Rather, ‘he seems to look beyond this moral union towards something more metaphysical …’.54 Thus Novatian refutes the Adoptionists, too, by corroborating the Son’s divinity and his unity with the Father.

Novatian does not refer much to the Holy Spirit. But he places the Spirit, who proceeds from God, on a par with the Father and the Son, and puts special emphasis on his personal, distinctive outward work.55 We can understand, from this, that the divine concordant relation between the Father and the Son can be applied to God the Holy Spirit as well. That is, the Trinity is one in terms of the divine concord. The similarities to the Japanese concept of concord are clear. As the Japanese concord was officially introduced to counter political discord. Novatian’s concord is introduced to explain that there is no discord of two gods which, the heretics allege, is entailed in the divinity of the Son. Japanese concord emphasizes the mutuality and worth of the human relation itself; Novatian’s trinitarianism emphasizes that the mutual relations to which begetting and procession give rise are essential in the life of the Trinity.

Conclusion
I have argued for three betweennesses.

The begetter/begotten difference comes through the eternal process of begetting. The fact that the Spirit is between Father and Son means that the Spirit operates within this differentiation, playing a role corresponding to that played in the virginal conception, the role of the river of life.
Interpreting betweenness as a differentiating concept enables us to speculate about a second betweenness, where the processor/processed difference comes through the eternal process of procession. The fact that the Son is between Father and Spirit means that the Son operates within this differentiation, playing a role corresponding to that sent when he sent the Holy Spirit from the Father.
The difference between the begotten and the processed is now established. The fact that the Father is between Son and Spirit means that the Father operates within this differentiation, sending both Son and Spirit in different ways, corresponding to the begetting and proceeding.
Divine betweenness is thus a concept which renders the distinctions between Father. Son and Spirit in terms of relations of origin. What are distinct are called the three divine betweennesses.

I have argued, too, for one concord. Although we have the unbegotten/begotten difference between Father and Son, there is concord between them. The same holds good for the difference between Father and Spirit in terms of procession and between Son and Spirit, respectively begotten and proceeded. Because they have the same origin (the Father), the Son and the Spirit are concordant with the Father. Concord is the concept that describes their divine unity. Thus the triune God is one concord.

I therefore propose that the Japanese formulation of the doctrine of the Trinity be this: God is three betweennesses, one concord.

----

1 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion I. tr. F.L. Battles (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1960), p. 126.

2 G.K. Plovesana. ‘Watsuji Tetsuro’, in P. Edwards (ed.), The Encyclopedia of Philosophy, vol. 8 (New York: Macmillan, 1967), p. 280. Japanese names are rendered here in their Japanese order, with the surname first and the Christian name last.

3 Watsuji Tetsuro, Ethics as the Study of Man (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1934). Subsequent page references to this work are given in the text.

4 Ibid., p. 14. However, more recent scholarship shows that it happened in about the early fourteenth century: see Hamaguchi Eshun, The Rediscovery of “Japaneseness” (Tokyo: Kodansha, 1988: originally published in 1977), p. 118 n. 3.

5 Cf. Yuasa Yasuo, Watsuji Tetsuro: The Fate of Modern Japanese Philosophy (Kyoto: Minerva Shobo, 1981), pp. 268ff.

6 Watsuji, op. cit., p. 35. In Japan, this way of thinking (discerning parts in the whole and the whole in the parts) has been prevalent in earlier periods and remains in contemporary everyday language (Watsuji, op. cit., pp 8, 20. For example, ‘heltal’ can refer either to ‘troops’ or to a single member of the troops; a single term has a dual (member and group) meaning. Likewise, we can call a human member of the community ‘ningen’, a word that used to mean ‘community’. Interestingly, we can find a similarity in Hebrew thought: ‘The Hebrew concept designates … the concrete at the same time as the “abstract”, the particular as well as the collective.’ T. Boman. Hebrew Thought Compared with Greek (London: SCM, 1960), pp. 70f. For individuality and community with regard to Abraham and Christ, see J. Macquarrie, Principles of Christian Theology 2nd edn (London: SCM, 1977), p. 68.

7 Kimura Bin, Between Man and Man (Tokyo: Kobundo, 1972).

8 Martin Buber, Between Man and Man (London: Collins, 1961), pp. 244ff. For the self and the other as correlatives, see J. Macmurray, Persons in Relation (London: Faber & Faber, 1961), p. 86: ‘Self and Other are correlatives, and the discrimination of the one involves a correlative discrimination of the other … Moreover, in discriminating myself from the Other, it is always as belonging to the Other.’

9 Kimura, op. cit., p. 72. where he quotes from Minamoto Ryoen. Social Obligation and Human Feeling(Tokyo: Chuuo Koronsha, 1969), pp. 42f.

10 Macmurray, op. cit., p. 80.

11 Ibid., p. 164.

12 Kimura, op. cit., pp. 75f.

13 The implication of this becomes clearer when we consider that the Japanese language has more than ten words for the first person. ‘I’, whereas Western languages have only one. One Japanese term is chosen in relation to the one with whom ‘I’ am talking. We shall not show here how this eventually leads to conceiving relationality in some ways that differ from those of Martin Buber and John Macmurray.

14 Kimura, op. cit., p. 142. Cf. Mori Arimasa, Experience and Thought (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobo, 1970), p. 146. In this respect Kimura is close to Buber: see Martin Buber. 1 and Thou (New York: Scribner’s, 1970), p. 69: ‘… In the beginning is the relation.’

15 Hamaguchi, op. cit. Page references to this work are also given in the text.

16 Ibid., pp. 14ff. Elsewhere, he points out that Japanese culture presupposes that in the beginning is the situation (topos). while Western culture presupposes that in the beginning is the norm (nomos). See Japan, the Society of Contextualism (Tokyo: Toyo Keizai Shinposha, 1982), p. 197.

17 Cf. Hamaguchi, Japan, the Society of Contextualism, p. 127.

18 Tsunoda Ryusaku et al. (eds), Sources of Japanese Tradition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1958), p. 50. The translation is partly my own.

19 Cf. Muraoka Tsunetsugu, Problems in the History of Japanese Thought (Tokyo: Sobunsha, 1957), p. 31; idem. Outline of the History of Japanese Thought (Tokyo: Sobunsha, 1961), p. 190; Nakamura Hajime, ‘Basic features of the legal, political, and economic thought in Japan’, in C.A. Moore (ed.), The Japanese Mind (Honolulu: University of Hawall, 1967), p. 145.

20 Cf. Arakl Hiroyuki, Thinking Japan from the Japanese Language (Tokyo: Asahi Shimbunsha, 1980), pp. 72ff. Cf. also E.O. Relschauer, The Japanese Today (Cambridge. MA: Belknap, 1988), p. 136: ‘The key Japanese value is harmony, which they seek to achieve by a subtle process of mutual understanding, almost by intuition, rather than by a sharp analysis of conflicting views or by clear-cut decisions, whether made by one-man dictates or majority votes.’

21 Nakane Chie, The Human Relationship in a Vertical Society (Tokyo: Kodansha, 1970), pp. 162ff.

22 Hamaguchl, The Rediscovery of “Japaneseness”. pp. 95ff. Here, Hamaguchl draws on Steven Lukes, individualism (Oxford: Blackwell, 1973), pp. 43–78.

23 According to statistics compiled about twenty years ago, 71.7% of the Japanese think that human relationships themselves give meaning to life: see Hamaguchl, Japan, the Society of Contextualism, pp. 52. 153ff. In this respect, Martin Buber would have a high opinion of the Japanese view of human relations: see his I and Thou, pp. 112f.: ‘The purpose of relation is the relation itself—touching the You.’ John Macmurray discovers relation as an end in itself in the relation between mother and baby: see Persons in Relation, p. 63.

24 The Greek text used is that found in F.L. Cross (ed.), Athanasius De Incarnatione: an edition of the Greek text (London: SPCK, 1957). The English translation used is A. Robertson (ed.), A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Second Series, vol. 4 (Grand Rapids. MI: Eerdmans, 1980).

25 ‘The renewal of creation has been the work of the self-same Word that made it at the beginning’ (op. cit., 1).

26 Cf. T.F. Torrance, The Trinitarian Faith (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1989), p. 284.

27 Op. cit., 7, 8. According to Torrance, Athanasius has the habit of ‘combining several prepositions … as though none was sufficient of itself, to help him express the range and depth of the vicarious work of Christ “for us”, “for our sake”, “for our salvation”, “on our behalf”, “In our place”, “In our stead”, “for our need”, and so on’ (op. cit., p. 168), Cf. Torrance, Theology in Reconciliation (London: Chapman, 1975), p. 228; G. Dragas, ‘St Athanasius on Christ’s sacrifice’, in S.W. Sykes (ed.), Sacrifice and Redemption (Cambridge: CUP, 1991), pp. 92f.

But it is important to note that ‘there is no suggestion in the thought of Athanasius of the kind of “universalism” advocated by Origen or by Gregory of Nyssen’ (p. 182; cf. p. 284). See, too. A. Pettersen, Athanasius and the Human Body (Bristol: The Bristol Press, 1990), pp. 40f. In the words of D. Ritschl, salvation is ‘subjective acceptance’ of ‘the objective work of God in the Incarnation’, Athanasius Versuch einer Interpretation (Zurich: Evz-Verlag, 1964), p. 43. So Torrance holds that Origen and Gregory of Nyssen advocate a kind of ‘objectivism’ which diminishes the importance of this subjective dimension.

28 See Athanasius, op. cit., 1–9.

29 Ibid., 15.

30 C.H. Kraft. Christianity in Culture (New York: Orbis, 1984). p. 175.

31 In rendering this in English, we prefer ‘between’ to ‘among’, because ‘between’ is ‘still the only word available to express the relation of a thing to many surrounding things severally and individually, “among” expressing a relation to them collectively and vaguely’. So the 1989 edition of the OED. Christ between man and man relates humans ‘severally and individually’ rather than ‘collectively and vaguely’.

32 Respectively, Seisho Shinkaiyaku (Tokyo: Nihon Seisho Kankokai, 1970) and Seisho Shinkyodoyaku (Tokyo: Nohon Seisho Kyokai, 1988).

33 We use the edition by P. Gallay, Grégoire De Nazianze Discours 27–31 (Discours Theologiques) (Paris: Les Editions Du Cerf, 1978), and the English translation in E.R. Hardy (ed.), Christology of the Later Fathers(London: SCM, 1954).

34 Gregory Nazianzen, The Five Theological Orations, XXIX.16. (Subsequent references to this work are given in the text.) Cf. R.P.C. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1988), p. 712.

35 Gregory, loc. cit. Cf. T.F. Torrance, The Trinitarian Faith op. cit., pp. 239f., 320ff.: idem, Trinitarian Perspectives (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1994). The use of schests, “relationship”, within Trinitarian leaching does not first appear in the works of Gregory. The Dialogue on the Trinity 1:25—a treatise often attributed to Athanasius but probably written by Didymus the Blind—spoke of such a relationship between the Father and the Son’: F.W. Norris, Faith Gives Fullness to Reasoning (Leiden: Brill, 1991), p. 151. See too J.D. Ziziouias, Being as Communion (New York: SI Viadimir’s Seminary Press, 1985), pp. 235f.

36 On account of the life-giving role of the Holy Spirit and the fact that on earth he played a main role in Mary’s conception (Lk. 1:35). It would be more difficult to dissociate the Holy Spirit’s role from the Son’s begetting. See L. Boff, Trinity and Society (Kent: Burns & Oates, 1988), p. 6: ‘The Son, sent by the Father, becomes flesh by virtue of the life-giving Spirit.’ Boff even adds ‘Spirituque’ to ‘Filloque’: ‘The Father “begets” the Son Spirituque, that is, in communion with the Holy Spirit’ (p. 147). And according to Thomas A. Small, the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Son; the Son is eternally begotten of the Father through the Holy Spirit: see C.E. Gunton, The Promise of Trinitarian Theology (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1991), p. 169.

37 Cf. G. L. Prestige, God in Patristic Thought (London: SPCK, 1959), p. 140. Gregory does not seek to Illuminate further the relation between the Father and the Son. This relation is ‘the divine and ineffable generation’ (XXIX.4), ‘a thing so great and august in the eyes of all those who are not altogether groveiling and material in mind’ (XXIX.11). ‘The begeiling of God must be honoured by silence’ (XXIX.8).

38 For the atemporal nature of the Trinity, see XXIX.3. Cf. Norris, op. cit., p. 142. For the incorporeality of the Trinity, see Gregory, XXVIII.7ff.; cf. Norris, op. cit., p. 44. These considerations led Gregory to reject any ranking in or dissection of the triune persons (XXXI.12).

39 This important phrase is missing from Hardy, op. cit., p. 198.

40 In order to highlight this, Gregory states that ‘the proper name of … the unbegottenly proceeding or going forth is “the Holy Ghost” ’ (XXX.19).

41 See J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines (London: A. & C. Black, 1977), pp. 262, 265.

42 ‘No sooner do I conceive of the One than I am illuminated by the splendour of the Three; no sooner do I distinguish them than I am carried back to the One’ (XL. 41). As Gunton says of this: ‘The interesting point about Gregory … a dynamic dialectic between the oneness and the threeness of God is of such a kind that the two are both given equal weight in the processes of thought’ (op. cit., pp. 149f.).

43 Kimura, op. cit., p. 13.

44 This means that the betweenness of the Father and the Son cannot be identified with the Holy Spirit himself. This is one of the differences between Gregory’s doctrine of the triune God and that of Augustine. See V. Lossky, The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church (Cambridge: James & Co., 1957), p. 81.

45 Augustine, The Trinity (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press). V.ix.10.

46 To use physical terminology, the three is the three ‘mesons’, derived from the Greek ‘mesos’. Yukawa Hideki (1907–81), a Japanese physicist, is the first Japanese Nobel prize laureate (1949), who is known for his theory of mesons. It seems to me that Japanese intellectual culture, which esteems betweenness highly, had something to do with his idea and way of thinking. Whether we speak of ‘betweenness’ or ‘meson’, the point is that these terms inherently entail relation to others. Things are ontologically situated between something and something else.

47 Interestingly, Gregory refers to God’s betweenness after the final judgment, too: after separating the saved from the lost. God will stand ‘In the midst of gods, that is, of the saved’ (XXX.4). The gods are the saved that have been deified. The triune God is the divine betweenness not only in terms of himself internally but also in relation to the saved whom he himself deified.

48 Politically schismatic, Novallan was orthodox in the doctrine of the Trinity. We use G.F. Diercks (ed.), Novatiant Opera (Tvrnhoit: Typographt Brepois Edilores Pontificit, 1972), and the translation of Novatian. The Trinity, by R.J. De Simone (Washington, DC: The Catholic University Press of America, 1972). References are given in the text.

49 This concord between Father and Son is ‘the association of love [carliatis societas] itself existing between them’ (XXVII.4). Gregory speaks of the triune God as ‘a monarchy … that is made of an equality of nature, and a union of mind ignomes sumpnoia] and an identity of motion, and a convergence of its elements to unity’ (XXIX.2). Here ‘gnome’ is equivalent to the Latin ‘sententia’, Judgement.

50 Cf. Novalian, The Trinity, p. 53 n. 14f.

51 According to Prestige, ‘It is Theophilus who first employs the actual language of Logos immanent and expressed’: op. cit., p. 126.

52 According to Novatlan: Owing to His origin to the Father. He could not cause any disunion [discordia] in the godhead by making two gods’ (XXXI.13).

53 Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, p. 125.

54 E.J. Fortman, The Triune God (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1982), p. 121.

55 Cf. B. Studer, Trinity and Incarnation, ed. A. Louth, tr. M. Westhoff (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1993), p. 73.

Nozomu Miyahira
Dr Miyahira, who earned his doctorate on the doctrine of the Trinity, is currently Visiting Scholar at Green College, Oxford.