The Qualification of Non-Dualism: Eckhart and Rāmānuja Compared

The Qualification of Non-Dualism: Eckhart and

Rāmānuja Compared

Both Meister Eckhart (1260–1328), the German Christian theologian, and Rāmānuja (10751140), the Śrī Vaiṣṇava Indian theologian, use ‘the language of identity’ to describe the relationship between God and the world (Ganeri, 2015, p.116). And both, in different ways, attempt to safeguard the transcendent otherness of God. It is therefore possible to describe them as propounding forms of qualified non-dualism — which is used in this essay to mean a variety of metaphysical thought that attributes oneness to reality in some fashion, while still affirming the real existence of particulars and distinctions — instead of affirming an absolute oneness of being that implies only one singular entity in existence (Schaffer, 2016; McDermott, 2015).^[1]

Eckhart uses different intellectual ‘systems’ (in the sense of linked coherent ideas) to characterise the One and its qualified non-dualistic relation to the Many. These include characterising God as One, being and the Intellect (Davies, 2011, 115). In effect, as Étienne Gilson has noted, multiple interpretations can be constructed to interpret Eckhart — and they can be so different as to be seemingly contradictory.^[2] Nor does Eckhart make any serious attempt to bring his models together. By contrast, Rāmānuja takes a very different approach to expounding his qualified non-dualist philosophy (Viśiṣṭādvaita).^[3] Where Eckhart might be said to base on his exposition on a deliberate cacophony of models whose juxtaposition explodes neat rational meaning — Rāmānuja sought to create a unified system based upon his exegesis of selected scriptures. This essay will delineate the differing exegetical principles of Eckhart and Rāmānuja, before showing how they impact the radically different expressions of Eckhart and Rāmānuja’s qualified non-dualism. Finally, it will relate these differences to the divergent agendas and visions of the two thinkers.

Eckhart and Rāmānuja : Exegetical Principles

The theologies of Eckhart and Rāmānuja are inextricable from their exegesis. Eckhart seeks the ‘literal’ sense of the text — but since the ‘literal sense is that which the author of a writing intends, and God is the author of holy scripture’, then whatever is the ‘true sense’ intended by God, that is the literal meaning (Prologue to the Book of the Parables of Genesis).^[4] Literal meaning for Eckhart is thus not necessarily surface meaning, and is usually the anagogical meaning under the ‘shell’ of the letter (McGinn, 2001, p.28). This can be of ‘an immense and bewildering range’ (Ganeri, 2015, p.118). But a ‘check’ on this is Eckhart’s second exegetical principle in which an interpretation must be in harmony with the ‘natural principles, conclusions and properties’ of the philosophical learning that has been revived dramatically in Eckhart's era. Indeed, Eckhart has the faith that he can support Christian doctrine through ‘the help of the natural arguments of the philosophers’ (Commentary on John nn.2-3).^[5] Thus, Eckhart’s readings tend to be anagogical, often paradoxical and, by his standards, rational and philosophical — though this co-exists with ‘polarity’ between different systems (Ganeri, 2015, p.117). The confusion created by his works contributes to his controversial reputation — with propositions condemned by the Church of his day, and yet celebrated by his many illustrious disciples, such as Tauler and Henry Suso.

By contrast to Eckhart, Rāmānuja succinctly states his exegetical principles as follows:

We have to interpret all these śrutis (scriptures) in such a manner that there is no contradiction between their statements, however diverse, and that their primary sense is not sacrificed. (Vedārthasamgraha, 84)

Unlike Eckhart’s anagogical reading,  Rāmānuja takes scripture in as literal (primary) a sense as possible. He only assumes a figurative sense (lakṣaṇa-artha) if the literal sense (mukhya-artha) is incoherent given the semantic unity of a given text (Bartley, 2002, p.99).  This view is inspired by the Pūrva-Mīmāṃsaka school of hermeneutics — which postulates an innate (autpattika) and invariable (nitya) connection between a Vedic word and its referent (Bartley 2002, p.4; Vedārthasamgraha, 137). Next, again inspired by the Pūrva—Mīmāṃsaka, Rāmānuja believes that interpretations as a whole must harmonise the contradictions between śrutis. Thus, Rāmānuja sought to create a coherent system that reconciles in toto the seemingly conflicting statements about the relation between the One and the Many in the most authoritative śrutis of the Vedāntic tradition to which he belongs, namely, the  Upaniṣads, and their accompanying smṛtis (tradition), the Brahmasūtras and Bhagavad Gītā (Ganeri, 2015, p.121). And unlike his great Vedāntic predecessor, Śaṇkara, Rāmānuja gives equal authority to all scriptural discourse — both nirguna vākyas (‘apophatic’ discourse describing an Absolute without qualities) or saguna vākyas (‘cataphatic’ discourse describing an Absolute with qualities)  have equal validity and the Mahāvākyas (great sayings) are equal to other texts (Lotte, 1976, p.20). Thus, there can be no ‘dismissal’ of texts—reconciliation is the only option.

Eckhart’s Systemic Cacophony

God as One

In his Latin works, Eckhart often describes God as unum, the One, and uses dialectical language to express the paradoxically indistinct/distinct relation between the One and the Many. Eckhart’s exegetical principles are on display in how he develops this model in his commentary on Wisdom 7:27: 'And since it is one, it can do all things', which is his most complete treatment of the matter.^[6] This is one of the most difficult passages in Eckhart — and has been dealt with variously by different scholars. Following McGinn (2001)’s influential interpretation, one could   set out three steps in Eckhart’s argument:

1)   Predicating God as indistinct

2)   Predicating God as indistinct and as distinct

3)   Predicating God as being more distinct the more indistinct he is

Thus, Eckhart begins with the surface meaning ('[Wisdom] is one; second, a hint that because it is one it can do all things' (Commentary, n.144)) but rapidly moves beyond it — using philosophical arguments throughout. Thus, he posits two ways of understanding unum : one of ‘indistinction’ and one of ‘distinction’. The first consists of asserting that the term 'one' or unity is the same as ‘indistinction’ — for distinct things are ‘two or more’. Then, based on a number of arguments, God is shown to be one and therefore ‘indistinct’ (i.e. lacking in creaturely distinctions and division) from all things (Commentary, nn.145-146).

The second consists in asserting that the ‘one’ may be ‘indistinct’ and is thus ‘negative’ — and yet it is really affirmative:   It is 'the negation of negation which is the purest form of affirmation and the fullness of the term affirmed' (Commentary, n.147). In other words,  God’s indistinctness ‘negates’ everything (including negations, such as 'X is not') that we know ‘is’;  but the negation of all that is opens up a dimension in which the Aristotelian distinction between ‘X is’ and ‘X is not’  no longer applies. Thus God as the negation of negation is simultaneously ‘total emptiness and supreme fulness’ (X is not and is) (McGinn, 2001, pp.93-94).  And if God is as such, it must be beyond number and what is numerable (Commentary, nn.150-154) and is totally distinct from everything in the world.

Eckhart then shows that the two are linked in a dialectical pairing of opposites. First, God must be distinct from all things. As shown earlier, this is actually dialectically predicated on how he is indistinct from everything, i.e. in how he lacks creaturely distinction:

Everything which is distinguished by indistinction is the more distinct the more indistinct it is, because it is distinguished by its own indistinction. (Commentary, n.154)

And finally, Eckhart shows that the converse applies (the more distinct God is, the more indistinct he is from all things). Therefore, ‘God and any creature whatever are indistinct’ (Commentary, n.155) — precisely because of his categorical distinctness from creatures. Thus God is ‘inconceivably transcendent in his immanence and immanent in his transcendence' (McGinn, 2001, p. 95). God is, as Nicholas of Cusa puts it, 'Not Other' — without implying he is indeed everything (or anything or nothing). Such paradoxical discourse explodes the bounds of easy logical delineation (McGinn, 2001, p.95).

God and Soul in One ‘Grunt’

Whereas the previous model can be described as one of qualified non-dualism — where the identity between God’s being and the soul’s being is affirmed but also denied  —  the God as grunt model is more ambiguous. In Middle High German, grunt could mean the physical ground. Abstractly, it could mean the origin or reason, or the inmost essence of a being (McGinn, 2001, p.39). While it is the last meaning that is of the greatest importance in Eckhart — the other connotations enrich the meaning of the metaphor.

This ground is applied to an audacious affirmation of divine-human identity. First, the same word is used to describe the ‘silent desert’ that is the ground of the Trinity (e.g. Sermon 60).^[7] Next, it is also used to describe the most inward part of the soul. Thus, in many places, Eckhart proclaims the identity of the essence of the soul and God:

‘God sent His only-begotten Son into the world.’ You should not take this to mean the external world, as when he ate and drank with us, but you should understand it of the inner world. As surely as the Father in His simple nature bears the Son naturally, just as surely He bears him in the inmost recesses of the spirit, and this is the inner world. Here God’s ground is my ground and my ground is God’s ground. (Sermon 13b)

As in his Commentary, Eckhart moves from the surface meaning to explore spiritual meaning — first evoking one of his most common images : the birth of the Son in the soul — before signalling that this mystical birth is in the soul’s ground that is God’s ground. It may even appear that this is a monistic assertion of oneness of being with God.

Yet as McGinn writes, the grunt  is the 'protean term everywhere at the centre of Eckhart’s mysticism, which, paradoxically, vanishes from our grasp when we try [to] contain it in a definable scheme’ (McGinn, 2001, p.38). The grunt defies ‘quantification’, or for that matter, qualification. A monism of shared being is certainly not what Eckhart has in mind. God himself ‘unbecomes’ in the ground, in one of Eckhart’s striking expressions (Sermon 56). The grunt is a mysterious nothingness Eckhart often compares to the bareness of the desert (McGinn, 2001, 48). Indeed, Eckhart explicitly puts this ground beyond being (esse):

           

There she grasp God nakedly in the ground, where He is above all being. Were there still being there, she would take being in being; but nothing else but one ground is there. (Sermon 70)

Being one with the ground is a sort of being ‘nothing’ — indeed, this is one of Eckhart’s supposed teachings condemned by the Church in the posthumous 1329 Bull (26th article). Eckhart’s grunt  evokes by a kind of ‘poeticization’ of theological language (Davies, 1991, 180): the qualified non-dualistic relationship between God and world that is a oneness without implying a oneness of being.  While this indistinction/distinction is akin in some sense to the description of God as unum, Eckhart does not relate the two models — nor is the relation between them self-evident. The grunt imagery is also more dominant in his German works — while the unum discussion predominates in his Latin works — as if Eckhart wishes the two models to stand without obvious unity.

Being is God ('Esse est Deus') and the Inquantum Principle

To make matters ‘messier’, Eckhart has other systems to relate the One and the Many, such as ‘Deus est Intelligere’, and the phrase that is found throughout his Three-Part Work : ‘Esse est Deus’. Eckhart stresses that creatures do not possess any perfection, including being (esse), in themselves (Davies, 2011). Instead, such perfections are found ultimately in God and are ‘borrowed’ from him and still ‘belong’ to him. As Eckhart puts it: 'God does not give creatures any goodness, but he lends it to them' (The Book of Divine Comfort, I). Eckhart then states that in so far (‘inquantum’ in the Latin works) as humans have being, or justice, or goodness, or another perfection, he is identical with that principle in God (e.g. 'Goodness is not created nor made, not begotten; it is procreative and begets the good: and the good man, in so far as he is good, is unmade and uncreated' (The Book of Divine Comfort, I)). And given that Eckhart accepts the indivisibility of God (a theological commonplace), humans are in fact identical with God in so far as they possess his qualities (a kind of qualified non-dualism).

It is notable that the inquantum principle does not relate to grunt. For the grunt is indeterminate and beyond being.  It makes no sense to claim that in so far as humans have a ground, they are identical with God. The grunt model is not necessarily contradictory to 'Esse est Deus' — since it highlights the ineffable non-otherness of God, while what Eckhart calls the esse determinatum (determinate being) of creatures may still be rooted in the esse ipsum (absolute existence in itself — the Thomistic term used in Commentary on Wisdom with relation to unum) of God. Yet Eckhart does not reconcile the two models — he simply claims the grunt is beyond esse and leaves the two models, and the reader, hanging’ uneasily.

Rāmānuja’s Viśiṣṭādvaita System

At the heart of Rāmānuja’s system is his core concept of śarīra-śarīrī-bhāva that posits an analogous relationship between the Brahman and the world as that between the soul and the body (Bartley, 2002, p.74; Lott, 1976, p.28; Carman, 1974, p.247). This concept is based on quotations from various srutis, such as Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad (3.7.3):

This self (atman) of yours who is present within but is different from the earth…who controls the earth from within—he is the inner controller, the immortal.

Based on such texts, he analyses the body-soul relation:

The relation between soul and body means the relation between substratum and dependent entity incapable of functioning separately (pṛthak siddhi anarha — alternately translated as ‘incapable of independent existence (Bartley, 2002)), between transcendent      controller and thing controlled, between principal and accessory (śeṣaśeṣībhāva). (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 76)

The identity between the entities of the world and the Brahman is thus not a monistic ‘identity in essence’ for then ‘it is logically unsound to maintain difference’ between the imperfect world and the Absolute (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 60). Instead, it is the ‘identity-in-dependent-being’ (Ganeri, 2015, p.53) of the  absolute dependence of an entity's existence on Brahman stated in terms of ‘a body-soul relation’ (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 60). The linguistic implication of this is used by Rāmānuja’s for reconciling seemingly monistic texts without a figurative reading — in that he can justify applying the words expressing creatures (e.g. ‘ox’, ‘fire’, ‘you’) to Brahman without asserting ontological identity  by explaining that words denoting Brahman’s body reach up to It (Lipner, 1986, p.40-41) — 'in as much as all constitute the body of the Supreme Spirit, He can be denoted by all terms' (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 76).  Probably the most important text in this respect, is the Mahāvākya: 'Tat tvam asi' (That you are) from Chāndogya Upaniṣad 6.8.7:

Sa ya eṣo’ṇimaitadātmyam idaṃ sarvaṃ tat satyaṃ sa ātmā tat tvam asi.

The finest essence here—that constitutes the self of this whole world; that is the truth; that is the self (atman). And that's how you are, Śvetaketu.

The meaning of this verse implies a monistic identity between Brahman and the world — and, it is certainly in this sense that Śaṇkara, the Advaitin philosopher, took it. Yet, this seems contradictory to verses such as B.Up. 3.7.3 which postulates difference between Brahman and the world.  

Rāmānuja seeks to reconcile these statements by asserting the grammatical construction of sāmānādhikaraṇya for 'tat tvam' (a relationship where according to Pāṇini’s grammar, the two terms shares the same case and refers to the same entity but  on different grounds). First, Rāmānuja restates his principle about how the names denoting the modes of Brahman apply ultimately to Brahman:

'Tvam means 'you', i.e. you that…are in reality a modification of the Supreme Spirit because you constitute his body, and therefore you terminate in this Supreme Spirit. Hence tvam denotes only the inner Ruler of tvam as differentiated by the mode tvam. Since Brahman is the soul of the embodied individual soul, He has the same name… (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 20).

Then he proceeds to delineate how 'the word tat refers to the Brahman as the One who is the cause of the world, the abode of all perfections, the immaculate and untranslatable  One; whereas tvam refers to that same Brahman under the aspect of inner Ruler of the individual soul as being modified by the embodied soul.' Thus, 'tat and tvam both apply to the same Brahman, but under different aspects' (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 20). In this way, the perfection of Brahman is preserved (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 20)—always a crucial point for Rāmānuja — in that he is not identified substantially with imperfect creatures. In line with this, apophatic sayings (such as Ch.Up 8.7.1) imply that Brahman is free of negative or creaturely qualities — not that he is free of qualities (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 84). The apophatic discourse of the scriptures is thus given a cataphatic interpretation by     Rāmānuja.

While Eckhart leaves multiple systems ‘hanging’—Rāmānuja is careful to relate his discussions continually back to his theory of śarīra-śarīrī-bhāva. In his version of the satkārya theory of causation, in which ‘the cause becomes the effect when entering into another mode of being’ (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 34), and that therefore Brahman is both the ‘material’ and ‘operative’ cause of the universe (Vedārthasamgraha, 33) — Rāmānuja ensures that when he expands on the theory, he explicitly links these discussions back to śarīra-śarīrī-bhāva. For example, Rāmānuja immediately follows his discussion of satkārya in his Śrībhāṣya with the problem of how Brahman could ‘become’ the universe and yet remain untainted. The solution is śarīra-śarīrī-bhāva:

And as now a further doubt may arise as to how the highest Brahman with all its perfections can be designated as one with the world…Brahman is denoted by the term ‘world’ in so far only as it has non-sentient and sentient beings for its body. (Śrībhāṣya, II.I.15)

Brahman’s manifestation of the universe is the transformation of the un-manifest Brahman (in its ‘casual condition’ where all entities cannot be 'designated as apart from Brahman whose body they form') into Brahman with the universe as body (in its 'effected' state when all entities are in their 'gross, manifest state…having distinct names and forms') (Śrībhāṣya, II.I.15). And whatever 'change and imperfection belongs only to the beings constituting Brahman’s body'— Brahman itself remains untainted (Śrībhāṣya, II.I.15).

However, this section of the Śribhasya has proven controversial. There is a certain ‘polarity’ in the discourse (Lipner, 1986, p.134) on  śarīra-śarīrī-bhāva and that of Brahman as material cause. For instance, the body of Brahman seems to be able to be the material cause of the universe by moving from their ‘uneffected’ state to their gross, manifested  state (Ganeri, 2015, p.114) — and it has been argued elsewhere by Rāmānuja that properties of the body do not apply to Brahman (even if it is the ultimate referent for any naming words). Additionally, there are other sets of polarities in Rāmānuja’s works involving, for instance, Brahman as sole agent of knowledge and control, and its immutability and the ‘free will’ of individual selves (Ganeri 2015; Lipner, 1986). These have led scholars like Radhakrishnan (1929) to charge him with logical incoherence (Ganeri, 2015, p. 115). 

Still, Ganeri (2015) has rightly argued that to interpret such polarities as ‘incoherence’ is partly a result of labelling Rāmānuja’s thought with the Western category of ‘philosophy’ — something both Western and Indian thinkers have done to legitimate Indian thought.  This label, however, raises false expectations of logical coherence that takes precedence over everything else. Instead, if a Western analogy has to be sought, Rāmānuja could be more accurately understood with relation to medieval scholasticism, a type of ‘exegetical theology’ where the coherence sought has to take into account reason, tradition and scripture — and where the scriptural text itself often demands polarities that cannot be avoided without either a figurative reading or scriptural ‘negation’ (as Rāmānuja accuses Śaṇkara of doing) (Ganeri, 2015, p.43).

Based on the scholastic analogy, there is definitely coherence in Śribhasya’s account of  satkārya and śarīra-śarīrī-bhāva (Ganeri, 2015, p.115—6). The same texts are used in the sections on both models — and similar exegetical principles are deployed. There is a unity of exegesis and texts; there is also the unifying motif of śarīra-śarīrī-bhāva which recurs in his corpus. We must therefore evaluate this text not according to ‘philosophical’ coherence, but according to the standards of the tightest possible corpus-wide coherence of texts, exegesis and logic that Rāmānuja sought to achieve. 

Eckhart and Rāmānuja : Divergent Goals and Divergent Approaches

Ganeri’s characteristation of Rāmānuja as a scholastic raises questions about Eckhart — who is after all working in the high scholastic era of the 13th century. José Cabezón's study (1998) lists the defining characteristics of scholasticism — some of which do not apply readily to Eckhart. The first is ‘systematicity’ — which involves commitment to ‘consistency between former and later points’ — in contrast to Eckhart’s systemic cacophony. The second is ‘proliferativity’— which includes a propensity towards textual inclusivity. Eckhart, unlike many of his scholastic predecessors (e.g. Thomas Aquinas or Albert Magnus) who tended to write commentaries on complete biblical books, glossed only select verses (Duclow, 2013). In both these ways, Eckhart was unconventional — an unscholastic scholastic — though in his  concern for tradition, rationalism and pedagogy, he was akin to his contemporaries. And Eckhart’s contrast with  Rāmānuja highlights his unconventionality and provokes us to ask why.

Eckhart’s approach to his qualified non-dualism — especially his expression of the paradoxical indistinction/distinction of God is heavily based on that of the 5th century mystical theologian, Dionysius of Aeropagite (Turner, 2009, p.132).  One of the main points throughout the Dionysian corpus is that God is 'beyond assertion and denial' (e.g. Mystical Theology, V.1), and that therefore this negation of affirmation and negation, makes him beyond 'similarity or dissimilarity' or 'nonbeing or being' (Mystical Theology, V.1). As Turner rightly notes, Eckhart’s argument on indistinction/distinction is basically a ‘gloss’ (Turner, 2009, p. 132) on this point.  

Dionysius’s work thus affirms the ultimate inadequacy of human discourse in the face of the Absolute. Both affirmation and negation must be transcended. His influence ensures that it is unlikely that the ‘academic’ purpose of affirming one intellectual system over others was important for Eckhart.  More plausibly, Eckhart’s philosophical poetry is fundamentally for the facilitation of contemplation. His dialectic, in particular, is 'meant to be playful and serious insofar as they ‘play’ a role in the practice of deconstructing the self and freeing it from all that pertains to the created world' (McGinn, 2001, p.49) — especially any fixed notion of the Godhead. And he reinforces this with a cacophony of systems that defy easy reconciliation. He clearly does not intend the reader to smugly rest in any totalizing system.

Arguably then, Eckhart’s theology is to aid in the human wrestle with the Ineffable — a  wrestle that darkly prepares the ascent into Unknowing. For few could begin with silence — it is the discursive intellect that most must first wield. And the intellect must have its food— its earthly satisfaction of logic and discourse. And that, Eckhart satisfies, but only  provisionally. In every place, he feeds the intellect but keeps it hungry by contradiction and paradoxes. For the true Bread lies elsewhere, above —and he invites it to speed its flight towards the Good for the sake of the Good. Eckhart’s strategy, precisely because it is convoluted and self-subverting, is actually straight and true.

By contrast, Rāmānuja’s goal is first to assert 'the Vedāntic legitimacy of his Bhakti religion' (Bartley, 2002, p.2).  Rāmānuja’s Śrī Vaiṣṇava tradition is a religion of Bhakti (devotion) towards a personal God with qualities (saguṇa). This is a devotional cult heavily influenced by the Tamil  Ālvār poets — the ecstatics who wrote hymns expressing intense longing for the God Viṣnu and the pain of separation from him (Bartley, 2002, p.1).  Rāmānuja sought to show that such devotion is justified by the Vedāntic śrutis — and thus transform a popular religion into an ‘orthodox’ spiritual path, founded on what is widely accepted in the medieval Hindu culture as the sole ground of knowledge (pramāṇa) about ‘trans-empirical' reality (Bartley, 2002, p.10). Rāmānuja’s second purpose, inseparable from his first, is polemical. To successfully establish the ‘truth’ of the Śrī Vaiṣṇava tradition, he needs to defend it from criticism from other ‘orthodox’ schools. The most influential of these is Śaṇkara’s Advaitic  Vedānta which questions the reality of a personal God and gives a provisional status to the devotional path — seeing it as preparation for the pursuit of the impersonal Brahman without attributes (nirguṇa).   Rāmānuja’s attack on Advaitic Vedānta are multi-pronged. His primary strategy is to show that with a literal exegesis, it is the Viśiṣṭādvaita system that can best reconcile the conflicting statements of śruti. Advaitic Vedānta by contrast, relies on what he views to be figurative readings and does not produce a coherent interpretation for the whole body of scripture.

Yet, Rāmānuja knows well that God transcends 'the ken of thought and the power of expression’ (Vedārthasaṃgraha,  127). Rāmānuja does not confuse an intellectual system for the realisation of Brahman: One truly ‘attain the Supreme Person’ in ‘the form of contemplation in the highest degree of lucid perception’ (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 91). And it is through devotion (bhakti) that this can be attained, 'when as aspirant…is wholly devoted to meditation…and when an oceanic feeling of perfect love for that meditation itself engulfs him, then by virtue of that love is he able to grasp the Supreme Person’ (Vedārthasaṃgraha, 92). The last word for  Rāmānuja, as for the Gītā, is bhakti — and a close reading of Rāmānuja cannot miss the sheer devotional fervour that runs like a gold vein beneath the scholastic discourse.

But to attain ecstatic contemplation — right actions and intellectual knowledge are needed — as summarised in (Vedārthasaṃgraha,  91): One needs to surrender to God, perform the works of duty, carry out the works of devotion such as glorification and homage, and exercise moral qualities, and apply to this exercise ‘his preceding knowledge of the true nature of the ontological orders’.  Then, through the grace of God and the passion of the devotee, Brahman can be attained. By removing doubt in the reality of a Personal God and reconciling the seeming contradictions in scripture (which engender doubt), he seeks to encourage the faith, actions and intellectual knowledge that are necessary for contemplative ecstasy.

Conclusion : Vision and Expression

Both Eckhart and Rāmānuja promulgate a qualified non-dualistic vision of God and the world. And both share an interest in facilitating the contemplation of the Divine. However, Eckhart’s main concern is to deconstruct the rigid notions of God that stand in the way of contemplation. Rāmānuja, due to his additional polemical and apologetic concerns, and his objective  of removing doubt in the God of his tradition, seeks by contrast to affirm a coherent system that reconciles the body of Vedāntic scriptures.  Thus, while one revels in multiple systems, the other seeks to unify  — showing how a qualified non-dualism need not be self-contradictory — though this effort retains polarities of discourse that reflect those of scripture. Yet neither, ultimately, will disagree that the knowledge of God transcends the intellect or that such realisation is rooted in devotion and God-oriented action (Eckhart’s detachment). Thus, whether through system or paradox — the two spiritual masters, in two cultural contexts and with distinct/indistinct agendas, seek to bring people to realise their respective visions of God.

There is, however, a distinct difference in their visions that is connected to their differing expressions : Eckhart’s grunt is of a Godhead beyond God — in the bareness of the desert beyond discourse. Hence, Eckhart has a need to subvert any totalising linguistic systems. By contrast, Rāmānuja loves the Lord of infinite perfections — where the words of scripture correspond to ontological reality. As such, he sees no need to subvert his cataphatic discourse. Indeed, he even gives cataphatic commentary to apophatic sayings. As discussed, this difference in vision stems in part from their exegetical and scriptural traditions — but since both masters are certainly mystics, differing mystical experiences likely contributed as well. The mystical impetus is especially clear in Eckhart’s case since he appears to have broken in important ways with the scholastic mainstream to incarnate his vision. Thus, a comparison between the two masters highlights not only the inextricable links between exegesis, tradition, theology, and underlying agendas — but also that numinous visions of Reality often demand unique and often radical expressions.

4989 Words (excluding Bibliography and Title. Word count by Apple Pages.)

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Lott, E.J., n.d. God and the universe in the Vedāntic theology of  Rāmānuja’: a study in his use of the self—body analogy. Ramanuja Research Societ, Madras.

Louth, A., 2001. Denys the Areopagite, Outstanding Christian thinkers. Continuum, London.

McDermott, R.A., 2005. Monism. Encyclopedia of Religion.

McGinn, B., 2001. The mystical thought of Meister Eckhart: the man from whom God hid nothing, Edward Cadbury lectures ; 2000—2001. Crossroad Pub, New York.

Naranyanacharya, K.S., n.d. Sri Rāmānuja on tat tvam asi and neti neti, Sri Ramanuja thought. Veda Bid, Dharwad.

Olivelle, P., 1998. The early Upaniṣads: annotated text and translation, South Asia research (New York, N.Y.). Oxford University Press, New York ; Oxford.

Pseudo-Dionysius,  the A., 1987. Pseudo—Dionysius: the complete works, Classics of Western spirituality. Paulist Press, New York.

Pseudo-Dionysius,  the A., 1920. On the Divine names and The Mystical theology, Translations of Christian literature. Series I, Greek texts. Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London.

Rāmānujā, 1890. Śrībhāṣya, Sacred books of the East, v. 34, 38, 48. Clarendon Press, Oxford.

Rāmānuja, 1956. Rāmānuja’s Vedārthasaṃgraha. Deccan College Postgraduate and Research Institute, Pune.

Radhakrishnan, S., 1929. Indian philosophy, 2nd ed. ed, Muirhead library of philosophy. Allen & Unwin, London.

Radhakrishnan, S., Moore, C.A., 1957. A Source Book in Indian Philosophy. Princeton University Press, Princeton.

Schaffer, J., 2016. 'Monism', The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2016 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2016/entries/monism/>

Stang, C.M., 2012. Apophasis and pseudonymity in Dionysius the Areopagite: 'no longer I' [electronic resource], Oxford early Christian studies. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Turner, D., 1995. The Darkness of God: Negativity in Christian Mysticism [electronic resource], Cambridge books online. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Turner, Denys, 2009. Dionysius and  some late medieval mystical theologians of Northern Europe, in: Coakley, S., Stang, C.M. (Eds.), Re—Thinking Dionysius the Areopagite, Directions in Modern Theology. Wiley—Blackwell, Chichester, pp. 121–135.

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^[1] There are various taxonomies of historical ‘monisms’ by modern philosophers.  In Schaffer (2016)’s taxonomy, ‘existence monism’, which postulates exactly one concrete existent, corresponds closest to an ‘absolute’ non-dualism. Thus,  for two individuals, you and I, ‘the existence monist must either deny that at least one of us exists, or deny that at least one of us is a concrete object, or hold that we are identical’ (Schaffer, 2016).

^[2] Translated quote in Davies (2011), p.6.

^[3] Viśiṣṭādvaita is often translated as ‘qualified non-dualism’, this is either taken (as in this essay) as broadly describing a monism that is ‘less absolute’ (e.g. Radhakrishnan and Moore (1957)’s ‘non—dualism with a difference’ (p.508)), or ’the non-dualism of the Brahman with qualities’ (the ‘traditional’ sense related by Dr. Rembert Lutjeharms of Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies).

^[4] Translation from McGinn (2001). There is no edition with English translations of all of Eckhart’s Latin works.

^[5] Translation of Commentary on John from Eckhart (1981).

^[6] Translation of Commentary on Wisdom from Eckhart (1986).

^[7] All translations of German works from Eckhart (2009).

The Virgin and the Goddess: Soteriological Roles in Louis De Montfort’s Mariological Works and the Devīmāhātmya

The Virgin and the Goddess: Soteriological Roles in Louis De Montfort’s

Mariological Works and the Devīmāhātmya

Louis Grignion De Montfort (1673-1716) was a French mystic and priest who was one of the greatest exponents of the French School of Spirituality initiated by Pierre De Bérulle. His Mariology, captured in works such as the True Devotion to Mary (TDM) or The Secret of Mary (TSM), has had a great influence on the devotional practices of the Catholic Church — and he arguably gives Mary a soteriological role that is unsurpassed in the history of the Catholic theology, depicting her as being necessary for saving union with God. Arising in a very different cultural context, the Devīmāhātmya (‘The Glory of the Goddess’, variously called the Caṇḍī or the Śrī Durgāsaptaśati), a poem composed around 500 A.D in northwest India, is one of the earliest Sanskrit texts dealing with a systematic theology of the Devī — the Goddess (Kālī, 2003, p.13). The poem represents one of the first syntheses between Sanskrit Vedic traditions and the goddess worshipping traditions of tribal and pre-Vedic India (Coburn, 1991, p.27). It portrays a Goddess who has been identified in the commentarial tradition with the Brahman, the transcendental and immanent Absolute of the Vedic Upaniṣads — and described as a Woman of fierce wrath who also gives mukti (liberation through right knowledge) to her devotees. The poem has proven to be immensely influential on the practices and theologies of Śākta traditions across India.^[1]  

This essay will compare the soteriological roles assigned to Mary and the Devī through an approach inspired by Francis Clooney’s practice of comparative theology, where ‘we read back and forth across religious borders, examining multiple texts, individually but then too in light of one another’ (Clooney, 2010, p.58) — to increase our insights about how both ‘traditions honour their supreme female person’ (Clooney, 2005, p.228).^[2] It will show that the soteriological roles of Mary and the Goddess are widely divergent — given their different theological and ontological bases. However, the textual discourses expressing these roles enjoy a certain similarity which can provoke consideration of crucial contemporary issues.

Soteriological Role of Mary

The Unchanging Nature of God and Mary’s Role as Co-Redemptrix and Mediatrix

One of the key teachings of Montfort is that Mary is necessary to both God and human beings, though in different ways, for salvation (TDM, 39). First, Mary, in comparison with the ‘Infinite Majesty’, is ‘nothing at all’ — and God is indeed all sufficient (TDM, 14). He has therefore no ‘absolute need’ of the Virgin for the salvation of humanity (TDM, 14). However, God ‘changes not  either in his sentiments or his conduct’ (TDM, 15) — relating the common theological idea, found for instance in the Summa Theologica (Prima Pars, Q.9), that God is immutable due to his infinite perfection. Thus, given his  sovereign choice in how he actually carried out the redemption of humanity — there is now an necessity based on the economy of salvation for Mary’s involvement (TDM, 15; TSM, 6).

To support this, he illustrates how the Three Persons acted to ensure that Mary was instrumental to the initiation of saving grace. The Father gave his Only-Begotten, the sum and source of grace, through Mary. The Son depended ‘on that sweet Virgin, in His Conception, in His Birth, in His Presentation in the Temple, in His Hidden Life of thirty years, and even in His Death, where she was to be present, in order that He might make with her the same sacrifice, and be immolated to the Eternal Father by her consent’ (TDM, 18). Mary is therefore the co-redemptrix in her unreserved consent to God’s workings, and her participation in the redemptive acts of Christ —especially at the cross (Richer, 2008). Similarly, it was Christ’s will ‘to begin His miracles by Mary’ and ‘he will continue them to the end of ages by Mary too’ (TDM, 19). Finally, God the Holy Spirit has become the ‘indissoluble Spouse’ of Mary. It was through Mary, though he had no absolute need for her, that he had ‘become fruitful’ -- and as it ‘is with her, in her, and of her, that He has produced His Masterpiece, which is a God made Man’ (TDM, 20-21; TSM, 13).

Since the Trinity made Mary integral in the first dispensation of grace, Montfort argues that this continues by the Father making her the sea (mare) of his graces. The Son has transmitted to her the merits of his life and passion, and all he has by inheritance. She is his ‘His mysterious canal; she is His aqueduct through which He makes His mercies flow’. The Spirit remains her Spouse, and his graces pass ‘through her virginal hands’ enabling her to form the image of Christ in Christians (TDM, 20-24). Mary, in contradiction to the passivity implied by the traditional ‘aqueduct’ image, distributes ‘graces whom she wills, as much as she wills, as she wills, and when she wills’  (TDM, 25) —sovereignly acting as the mediatrix (Richer, 2008). Thus, humanity must turn to Mary, God’s chosen channel through which grace comes, should they wish to receive the mercies and graces of Christ and attain saving union with Him.  Just as Mary is the ‘the way which Jesus Christ Himself trod in coming to us’ — this remains the way eternally that He will come to us, and the way we can go up to him (TDM, 152).

The Unworthiness and Sinfulness of Humanity

The other cluster of reasons why devotion to Mary is indispensable for salvation is the  sinfulness of humanity. Just as humans, fettered by original and actual sins, are not able to access the Father without the mediation of Christ — Montfort argues that since God the Son is also God, then given our failings and self-love, we require a mediator and intercessor with the divine Mediator, who, despite his tender compassion, is also the supreme Judge. This mediator is Mary:

She is not the sun, who, by the vivacity of his rays, blinds us because of our weakness; but she is fair and gentle as the moon, which receives the light of the sun, and tempers it to render it more suitable to our capacity. She is so charitable that she repels none of those who ask her intercession, no matter how great sinners they have been (TDM, 85)

It is precisely because she is not Divine— ‘our pure nature’ (TDM, 85)— and not therefore being infinitely beyond us that we can bear her Light and she can be patient with our failings. She represents the ‘weak side’ of Jesus (TDM, 149).

Indeed, appealing again to the unchanging divine nature, and citing Augustine and Bernard of Clairvaux, Montfort points out that God has found humanity unworthy to receive Christ — except through Mary, who ‘merited’ it with her God — given her virtues and ‘the force of her prayers’ (TDM, 16). Thus, even today, ‘God, says St. Bernard, seeing that we are unworthy to receive His graces immediately from His own hand, gives them to Mary in order that we may have them through her’ (TDM, 142). She is still the mediatrix.

From the other direction, just as we need a High Priest to present our offerings to God the Father, we need Mary to present our sacrifices to Christ. Montfort’s pastoral counsel is to give ourselves to Mary and become ‘slaves of love’, ‘slaves of Jesus in Mary’ (TDM, 55 and 244). As Montfort prays:

            I deliver and consecrate to thee, as thy slave, my body and soul, my goods, both             

            interior and exterior, and even the value of all my good actions (TSM, Prayers).

This vow and commitment of holy slavery is derived from the teaching of Bérulle — though it has ancient roots.^[3] One justification for this consecration to God through Mary is that all our works and being have little value due to our self-will. Thus, it is the more humble and therefore, in the logic of the gospel, more exalted way to approach Christ: ‘The soul which abases itself exalts God’ (TDM, 143). Indeed, appealing to our need for imitatio Christi, Montfort argues that Jesus sets this example of humility and obedience in submitting to his Mother, and thus gave glory to God (TDM, 139).

Mary also has the power to increase the value of our offerings. Montfort uses a homely example of a peasant presenting an apple to the Queen, who puts it on a golden plate and presents it to the King — who will be pleased with the gift given its packaging, and the person presenting the gift (TDM, 147). He also supports this contention with an anagogical reading of the episode of Isaac and Rebecca in Genesis (TDM, II.II). Thus, given Mary’s closeness, our unworthiness to receive any grace, and the need for humility and imitatio Christi, slavery to Mary is a sure path to divine union. Additionally, Mary has the ability to keep secure our graces and merits from spiritual robbers (TDM, 174). Montfort acknowledges that saving union can be attained via other roads (even then with some Marian  devotion) — but ‘it is by many more crosses, and strange deaths’ (TDM, 152).

Soteriological Role of the Devī

The Goddess as the Non-Dual Brahman

By contrast to orthodox Christianity which accepts a dualistic ontology (in terms of the categorical distinction between God and creatures), the commentarial tradition on the Devīmāhātmya (DM) tends to posit a non-dual relation between the Goddess and the world. These include the traditional commentaries by Bhāskararāya (Guptavati) and Nāgoji Bhatṭa (Nagesi), or modern commentaries by Devadatta Kālī and Vasudeva Agrawala (Kālī, 2003; Coburn 1991, p.145, 157).^[4] These non-dualistic interpretations take varying forms influenced by different traditions. Bhatṭa’s view is closest to that of Advaitic Vēdanta, which is an absolute monism that tends to render particulars and qualities illusory; Bhāskararāya, from the Ṥrividyā Tantric tradition, accepts a real manifestation that results from the pariṇāma (transformation) of a singular Substraum (akin to, for instance, Kashmiri Śaivism) (Coburn, 1991).

Part of the textual basis for this non-dualism derives from how the Goddess, variously named Mahālakṣmi or Durgā or Caṇḍikā or other names, is described in the DM and its appendage texts, the aṅgas, such as the Prādhānika Rahasya, in  terms very similar to the descriptions of nirguna and śaguna  Brahman (the Absolute transcending qualities and It with qualities)  of the various Upaniṣads (Pintchman, 1994, p.119):

O great king, Mahālakṣmi is the supreme sovereign, the true essence of all that is. She is both formless and with form, bearing various names.

She can be described by different names, yet by no other name [can she truly be known] (Prādhānika Rahasya, 31)^[5]

Thus, un-manifest and transcendent, the Goddess is without form — and beyond all affirmations  — reminding us of the ‘Neti Neti' of Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad 2.3.6.  Manifest, she is the One who has become Many (e.g. Chāndogya Upaniṣad 3.14.1; 6.3.1), the immanent One with qualities and names who, 'having manifested in every way…abides in everything' (Prādhānika Rahasya, 1). She is paradoxically both nirguna and śaguna, as Bhāskararāya notes in his commentary (Coburn 1991, p.143) — which also identifies the Goddess with the Brahman (Coburn 1991, p.133).

Her relationship to the Many also mirrors the relations of Brahman with its manifestation. These include being the ‘support’ and ‘soul’ of all (DM, 11.32), parallel to, for example, Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad 3.7.3. She is also the material cause of the universe, and the operative cause of creation:

You are the primordial material (prakṛti) of everything, manifesting the triad of constituent strands (three guṇas)

By you is everything supported, by you is the world created;

(DM, 1.56)

Thus, as prakṛti (a concept borrowed from Sāṃkhya philosophy and originating in the Upaniṣads), she is the source of the three guṇas, or modes of nature, though she transcends them.^[6] As such,  she is also the source of all the gods. In the account in Prādhānika Rahasya, Mahālakṣmi manifests Mahākālī through her guṇa of tamas and Mahāsarasvatī through her guṇa of sattva. From this transcendent triad is produced the male gods of Brahmā (the creator), Rudra (the destroyer) and Viṣṇu (the preserver), and their female consorts. And it is from these that the lesser gods are manifested and the cosmic egg which represents the singularity which gives birth to the universe.

Thus, the Goddess combines in herself all divine powers. She is Śakti — Power itself (DM 1.63 and 5:18). In the battle against great demon Mahiṣa, she arises from the heat energy (tejas) of all the gods, and receives their weapons (DM, 2.7-30). And in the battle against the arch-demon  Śumbha she echoes the Upaniṣads: 'I alone exist here in the world; what second, other than I, is there?' (DM, 10.3), before absorbing all the fighting śaktis of the gods.

If we accept the non-dualistic readings of the commentarial tradition, the Goddess’s soteriological role is as the one who both binds and releases all creatures, gods included — echoing the identification of prakṛti with māyā in the Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad 4:10. She is One without a second, and no one can liberate, if she does not authorise it. And indeed, liberation (mukti) is to merge with her through Knowledge and her grace — or in the interpretation of Bhāskararāya, to realise one’s primordial identity with her — an achievement which is ‘greatly difficult even for the gods to reach’ (Devyāḥ Kavacam, 60-61). Thus, in an uncompromising non-dualism — there is no one else responsible for ignorance — which is at the root of attachment to self, bondage and suffering (DM, 13.13), and it is also she, who is the liberating Knowledge of herself:

This blessed Goddess Mahāmāyā (illusion), having forcibly seized the minds

Even of men of knowledge, leads them to delusion.

…

Just as she is the gracious giver of boons to men, for the sake of (their) release,

She is the supreme, eternal knowledge that becomes the cause of release. (DM, 1.43-44)

In Brahmā’s hymn to the Goddess, this sublime ambiguity is emphasised:

You are the great knowledge (mahāvidyā), the great illusion (mahāmāyā) the great insight  (mahāmedhā) the great memory,

And the great delusion, the great Goddess (mahādevī), the great demoness (mahāsurī).(DM, 1.55--56)

Ultimately, even the demons that she obliterates for the sake of righteousness are under her reign, the power of the mahāsurī. It is for this reason, and due to her omnipotence and divine joy, that the word līlā (play) is used to describe her war:

Broken as if in līlā, showering down her own weapons and arms.

The Goddess, being praised by gods and seers, appeared unruffled. (DM, 2.49)

Thus, there can be no mukti without her consent and power. Where all the other gods combined are routed by demonic armies, the Goddess singlehandedly achieve complete victories.

The Fierce Goddess

In the Mūrtirahasya, one of the angas, there is an extraordinary description of one of the earthly incarnations of the Goddess, Raktadantikā:

Red is her clothing, red her body…Great indeed is the terror she inspires.

Red are her rending talons…As a wife is loving toward her husband, the Devī loves the person who is devoted to her.

She is expansive like the earth, and her two breasts are like Mount Meru, full, heavy, massive, and alluring.

Firm and exquisite, they hold the milk of perfect bliss.

…

As a woman attends her beloved, the Devī attends one who constantly turns the mind to this wonderful hymn to Raktadantikā. (Mūrturahasya, 5-11)

This hymn combines the imagery of the wife, earth, mother, lover, seductress, warrior and lioness — evoking a wondrously incongruous imagery of motherly care, romantic allure  and domestic love juxtaposed with terror, aggression and ‘masculine’ power. It is this ambiguous but supremely attractive figure that is the Goddess — she remains dangerous even as she liberates.

And with her is also fruitfulness like that of the earth. In an image resplendent with the ancient celebrations of life-giving Gaia — or akin to the Harappan seal of the naked goddess with a plant issuing from the womb  (Kālī 2003, 240), is the description of the next incarnation, Śākambharī:

Śākambharī’s colour is blue, her eyes like a blue lotus, her navel deep, and her slender waist adorned with three folds of skin.

Her breasts are firm, even, and full…

Reposing on a lotus, she holds a handful of arrows, a lotus blossom,

and all manner of flowers, tender plants, roots, fruits, and

vegetables in dazzling abundance, with tastes to please very palate,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     said to remove all fear of hunger, thirst, and death. (Mūrturahasya, 12-14)

The Goddess is the fruitful one, the ones with the three earth furrows. She is the beauty and fruitfulness of earth, and it 'is She who maximizes bliss in every realm of experience and who enables all to flourish' (Clooney, 2005, p. 226). She is bhuktimuktipradāyinī (DM, 11.6) -- giving not just mukti but also bhukti (enjoyment/heaven).

The Goddess and The Virgin : Soteriological Roles Compared

Following Clooney’s approach and if we read the texts in the light of each other, it is clear the soteriological roles are very different. Mary’s role is premised on a dualistic ontology that categorically divides God and creature. Despite Montfort attempting to give her the highest place within the bounds of orthodoxy, she remains infinitely inferior to God. Her roles as co-redemptrix and mediatrix, and her will, being and virtues, are dependent on God. And as we are called to be slaves of God — Mary is the most perfect slave. She derives her soteriological importance precisely from her voluntary consent, self-effacement and dependent participation. And God, despite the apophatic tradition or the rare vision of a Julian of Norwich, is depicted by Montfort as being basically masculine — the Father, Son and Spouse of Mary. It appears then that in Montfort’s theology, the ‘feminine’ is thoroughly subordinated to the ‘masculine’. Warner (1976)’s assertion that Mary is portrayed by a patriarchal Church as a subordinate and idealised figure that no woman could or should want to imitate is at least partly applicable here. Certainly, a comparison with the Devī, celebrated for independent power, and organic links to earth and sexuality accentuate such considerations.

Still, this discourse of subordination is nuanced by another strand in which Montfort emphasises ‘the necessary union’ of Mary to Christ (TDM, 63) — to the extent that their identities are practically fused:

Thou, Lord, art always with Mary, and Mary is always with Thee, and she cannot be without Thee, else she would cease to be what she is. She is so transformed into Thee by grace that she lives no more, that she is as though she were not…She is so intimately united with Thee, that it were easier to separate the light from the sun, the heat from the fire. (TDM, 63)

As Clooney aptly puts it, Mary ‘is the only Christian to whom we must remember to deny divinity’ (Clooney, 2005, p.224). Her relation to Christ is not unqualified subordination. Indeed, Montfort attributes a ‘functional’ equality between Mary and Christ. From Christ, she has been given ‘by grace’, ‘all the same rights and privileges which He possesses by nature’ (TDM, 74). And ‘she is so powerful that never have any of her petitions been refused. She has but to show herself before her Son to pray to Him’ (TDM, 85) — which implies a practical omnipotence. And as examined earlier, her role as mediatrix is depicted in autonomous terms.

Thus, arguably, there is a polarity in discourse about Mary in Montfort, which also reflects the lex orandi (practice of devotion) and sensus fidelium (the sense of the faithful) for much of Church history — as can be seen in the liturgical images of ‘Ark of the Covenant’, the ‘Burning Bush’ or, most importantly, ‘Theotokos’ (the God Bearer) that coordinates a differentiated unity between creator and creature. In Thomistic theologies as well, Mary’s divine maternity terminates in and belongs to the hypostatic, and therefore divine and created, order — not only to the created order (Nichols, 2015). While still creaturely, she enjoys ‘a certain infinite dignity’ (Summa Theologica, 1a, q.25, a.6, ad iv). Montfort, given his extensive Jesuit training, may also be influenced by Francisco Suárez (the ‘pious Suarez the Jesuit’ of (TDM, 40)), who asserted a uniquely close union between Mary and Christ. Thus, in Montfort, Mary’s soteriological role is predicated on a coincidence of opposites: of utmost subordination and exaltedness; of slavery and omnipotence; of God and creature; and in so far as God is identified as ‘masculine’, of male and female.

In the Devīmāhātmya,  the Devī’s soteriological role derives from her non-dualistic relation to the universe — which is starkly different from Christian dualistic ontology. She is the only Reality to be known. And only She on which everything depends and is; and only She, who upholds knowledge and the ignorance — can be the liberator.  Even in her role as prakṛti, māyā and Śakti, she is not  defined in relation to a male Absolute — as tends to be the case in the Upaniṣads (e.g. Sve.Up 4.9-10 where the Maheśvara (great Lord) is the possessor of prakṛti/māyā). She is self-defined, or causa sui as the Christian tradition might put it. And, unlike the goddesses of many other Indian traditions, she is no ‘consort’. Even though one of her names is viṣṇu-māyā (DM 5.12) — Viṣṇu is born from her (DM 1.65) and his Power belongs to her (10.4). Indeed, the traditional Śākta  reading is that she deludes and puts even Viṣṇu to sleep (DM 1.54) (Kālī, 2003, p.109) — not that she belongs to Viṣṇu. She herself subsumes the traditionally masculine imagery of war and kingship. Thus it may seem that the ‘masculine’ is placed beneath the ‘feminine’ from which it is born. 

Still, the very non-dualism accepted by tradition, which is evoked by a discourse fusing polarities and which is the basis of her soteriological role, nuances this subordination.  As Brahman, the Goddess is both male and female and neither. Thus, while the Devīmāhātmya clearly gives a priority to the feminine depiction of the Supreme — she as the Absolute transcends gender and it is also the ‘female’ which becomes the ‘male’ in the birth of the gods — implying a hidden identity. Additionally, a pervasive discourse fusing other pairs of opposites, such as in Raktadantikā’s depiction, runs across the Devīmāhātmya. Light and darkness, freedom and bondage, mother of the gods and the demons — all is She — and yet none of these is She. The ontology that is the basis of her soteriological role also ensures her transcendence of all limiting categories — and all limiting discourse.

Reflection and Comparison

Thus, the discourses of Montfort and the Devīmāhātmya share some similarity in their fusion of polarities — though the underlying ideas and ontological bases are different. Still, the provocative discourse of the texts, when simultaneously considered, can challenge our conventional notions of gender, divinity, nature, humanity, and of the notion of ‘boundaries’. Much reflection can result from this — but one contemporary trajectory may be to ponder the ecological possibilities of the Marian cult. For Mary, in a coincidence of opposites, can simultaneously be  celebrated as archetypal matter— the ‘dearest freshness deep down things’ — and as the Mother closest  and almost indistinguishable from the Divine —  something a comparison with Devī-Śakambharī powerfully highlights as well. Indeed, Mary’s virginity is associated since Patristic times (Richer, 2008) with her being ‘the true terrestrial paradise of the new Adam’ (TDM, 261). She is the virginal earth who ‘embodies  the  goodness  of  God's original  creation ,  and  is  the  beginning  and  sign  of  its  future  perfection’ (Boss,  2004, p.41). She is thus a powerful symbol of a soteriological narrative that extends beyond from God to individual human souls to the whole creation — she evokes the profoundly ecological and Christological vision of a divinity that shall be ‘all in all’ (Ephesians 1.22-23). For she, the Theotokos, who is the guarantee of the humanity of Christ, is also the seal of God’s union with creation — and therefore of its sanctity and glorious destiny (Boss, 2004). It is this ecological dimension of the Marian cult that may be increasingly crucial in our world today.

The inter-textual reading of Mary and Devī also highlights the contrasting scriptural and socio-political contexts of Christianity and Hinduism. The Vedic Saṃhitās, the oldest scriptures of India, while having a plethora of male gods, have a complementary set of goddesses. And male Vedic seers are complemented by (some) female ones. There is also the figure of Aditi, who is celebrated as the mother of the gods, and the Earth mother, who is celebrated in great hymn 12.1 of the Atharva Veda. The Upaniṣads, unlike the Bible, are discussions of metaphysical philosophy. Both nirguna and śaguna vākyas are present —  describing the Absolute as both without and with attributes. As such, it was fully ‘orthodox’  within the dominant Brahmanical tradition to construct theologies describing God as man, woman and neuter. Moreover, there has never been any empire powerful enough to impose uniformity of faith or a fixed canon. As such, unlike their extinct equivalents in Europe and Asia Minor, the goddess traditions from the Indus valley civilisation and tribal communities (Brown, 1974, p.xv; Kālī, 2003, p.4-5) were successfully syncretised with the philosophies of Vedic India to form the the ‘orthodox’ types of Śaktism that the  Devīmāhātmya represents (Coburn, 1991, p.27).

By contrast, the Jewish canon, which was fixed by the time of early Christianity, mostly consists of narratives where the form of God is frequently anthropomorphic and — despite some exceptions (especially in the Wisdom literature) — male. There is little possibility for patristic theologians to draw on traditions of goddesses (which existed in the Roman Empire) to interpret such scriptures. This is compounded by how the male-dominated orthodox churches eventually fixed the New Testament canon — and many alternate texts were suppressed by collaborating civil authorities. While an apophatic tradition exists that decries the applicability of any creaturely label to God, it does not have the standing of scripture. Given the male-dominated discourse of the Jewish canon and the limited details about Mary in the Christian texts widely accepted by the ‘emerging orthodoxies’, there are scholars (especially Protestant in alignment) who suspect that Mary’s elevation in early Christianity was partly due to the communities possessing texts which will eventually be defined as ‘heterordox’ to varying degrees (e.g. Book of Mary’s Repose) — texts which give a high place to Mary and women in general (Shoemaker, 2016, p.232). In any event, in the complex process of Marian doctrinal formation, lex orandi certainly tends to run ahead of lex credendi  (doctrinal formulations). For instance, popular devotions likely influenced the outcome of the Council of Ephesus (A.D. 431) and the promulgation of the Theotokos title — and liturgical feasts well pre-dated the declaration of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception in 1854 (Shoemaker, 2016; Rose, 2015). It is clearly possible that high Mariology was generated in spite of canonical scripture — and not because of it.

An inter-textual comparison thus raises questions of how ‘canon’ and doctrine should be defined and by whom. It is not about which cult is ‘superior’ to the other for both have their spiritual possibilities. Still, it remains intriguing whether the Marian cult could have developed its seeds of ecological compassion and feminine empowerment more completely if a greater freedom and ‘organicity’ of enquiry and scriptural development had been permitted — and if female voices had been allowed a greater place.

Conclusion

The comparative study of the Devīmāhātmya and Montfort’s works reveals two soteriological visions of the divine feminine that are divergent in ontology and theological basis, and socio-political and scriptural origins — but which also share an embrace of the coincidence of opposites in discourse. Such discourse highlights a vision of solidarity  between nature, humans, and the Divine (Boss, 2004, p.8) that is potential in the Marian cult. This vision is also implicit in the non-dualistic readings of the Devīmāhātmya and particularly in the figure of Devī-Śākambharī. And it is such general ideas of spiritual/material solidarity that need to take centre stage in a world faced with a mass extinction of human origin and a deadly imbalance between technological power and spiritual capacity — both exacerbated by a techno-capitalist juggernaut.  Contemplating and enacting the wisdom of the divine feminine in the light of different world traditions is one key to a practical ‘soteriology’ — to building a better civilisation that can heal the Earth that so many cultures have personified as the Mother.

(4950 Words -- excluding Bibliography and Title. Word count by Apple Pages.)

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^[1] ‘Soteriological roles’ in the essay are taken to mean the roles played by Mary and Devi in effecting the transfer of humans from some ‘defective condition’ to a state of ‘ultimate’ good — however defined (Smart, 2005). It is a broad definition based on those used in comparative religious studies.

^[3] Ildephonsus of Toledo (d.667), for instance, consecrated himself to Mary as her slave.

^[4] There are no full English translations of any of the numerous traditional commentaries. This essay will cite from the selective translations and summarisation by Coburn (1991). From his study of the commentaries, he opines that the two, which are widely accepted in India to be the most significant, are sufficiently representative to provide a ‘fair sense’ of the commentarial tradition (p.122).

^[5] DM  translations from Coburn (1991) and aṅgas from Kālī (2003).

^[6]  Classical Sāṃkhya is dualistic and prakṛti is one of  two ontological principles. However, both Bhāskararāya and Bhatṭa do not interpret the term dualistically. Bhatṭa, for instance, follows Advaita in identifying the non-dual Brahman with prakṛti due to the illusory imposition of particulars on it (Coburn, 1991, p.145).