Journal of Religion and Health, Vol. 32, No. 3, Fail 1993
Internment and Ministry: A Dialogue with Joseph Kitagawa DAVID M. MOSS III ABSTRACT: This dialogue presents a profile of the late Joseph Kitagawa--a renowned scholar of the history of religions (Religionswissenschaft). It focuses on comparative religion and philosophy, as well as several other important issues related to his distinguished career as an Episcopal priest and dean of the Divinity School of the University of Chicago. They are: his experience of American concentration camps during World War II; Christian atheism and new theological models; concepts of time in Oriental and Occidental faiths; depth-psychology and contemporary ministry; and Paul Tillich's significance for the pastoral counseling movement.
Introduction W h e n I t h i n k of t h e late J o s e p h Mitsuo K i t a g a w a , I envision a l i g h t h o u s e beacon p o i n t i n g t h r o u g h t u r b u l e n t w a t e r s to critical ports of call. F r o m such a perspective, I c o n t i n u e to r e v e r e him. H e was a n exceptional priest, as well as a scholar who was a c t i v e l y a w a r e of his i m m e d i a t e c o m m u n i t y - - w h i c h was i n t e r n a t i o n a l . 1 On two occasions he p r o f o u n d l y influenced m a j o r decisions r e l a t e d to m y m i n i s t r y . He guided m e t o w a r d new perceptions a b o u t m y profession. F u r t h e r m o r e , h e offered such guidance to m a n y . I believe m y experiences of h i m are i l l u s t r a t i v e of the type of impressions I h a v e h e a r d m a n y o t h e r s ascribe to his m i n i s t r y d u r i n g t h e last fifty y e a r s - - b e g i n n i n g w i t h t h e t i m e h e s p e n t in i n t e r n m e n t ? In t h e e a r l y 1960s I was a s t u d e n t of c o m p a r a t i v e religion a t W a s h i n g t o n U n i v e r s i t y in St. Louis. M y faculty advisor was t h e dean, B u r t o n W h e e l e r , who was a scholar of religious l i t e r a t u r e . He i n t r o d u c e d me to t h e work of Mircea E l i a d e and J o s e p h K i t a g a w a 2 H e was also t h e first p e r s o n to suggest t h a t I consider the U n i v e r s i t y of Chicago for g r a d u a t e work. In 1966 D e a n W h e e l e r a r r a n g e d for m y a p p o i n t m e n t as a r e s e a r c h assisDavid M. Moss, Ph.D., Th.D., is the Book Review Editor of this Journal and the Past President of the Georgia Chapter of the American Psychological Association's Division of Psychoanalysis. The interview is part of a series that will be published in a volume entitled Dialogues in Depth Psychology and Religion. Reprint requests should be directed to The Coventry Association for Pastoral Psychology, 2997 Piedmont Road, N.E., Atlanta, Georgia 30305. 163
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tant in ancient Christian history. My basic task was identifying certain esoteric expressions for the devil in the Church Fathers. I also read everything I could digest by Drs. Eliade and Kitagawa. By the time I completed this tenure, I was nearly obsessed with the history of religions school or Reli-
gionswissenschaft. Consequently, my bishop suggested that I consider entering Seabury-Western Theological Seminary with the eventual goal of doctoral work at the University of Chicago. I followed his advice and visited the seminary when classes entered their second week of the Epiphany quarter. The faculty was a fine group of Anglican thinkers headed by a dean who personified gentility. I was very influenced but not convinced that this was my best choice of seminaries, even though the University of Chicago was so close. Then, at Evening Prayer, my reservations were resolved by the guest preacher, Joseph Kitagawa, a graduate of Seabury-Western. Professor Kitagawa's sermon impressed me as a powerful description of ecumenical truths based on common myths in world religions. 4 At dinner that night I was introduced to Dr. Kitagawa. When he found out that I was at Washington University, he immediately asked, "How is Burton Wheeler?" As we talked about Seabury-Western, he told me, "This seminary helped me to direct the course of my ministry. You will like it. If you want to go on to graduate school at the University of Chicago, call me in a few years and I'll see if I can help." Four years later we had dinner again, at the home of the Episcopal chaplain of Northwestern University, Scott Jones2 Dr. Jones brought us together to celebrate our latest degrees from Seabury-Western: Professor Kitagawa received an honorary doctorate; and I was awarded a Master in Sacred Theology.6 He mentioned that he knew two other things about me since we last met: that I had been appointed Assistant Rector of St. Chrysostom's, the largest Episcopal Church in Chicago; and that I had recently applied for admittance into the University of Chicago for the coming fall. A few days later I received a personal note that I immediately recognized as a "pastoral call" from one priest to another. Dear David, You already have a good training in comparative religion and a keen interest for theology. From what I know about your work in our diocese you have other talents as well. Why don't you combine them? Go and talk to Carroll Wise about this. He will know how to help you. Northwestern is the best place for you. Sincerely, Joe
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What seemed so curious was t h a t two other people had mentioned the same thing to me within twenty-four hours. 7 However, Dr. K i t a g a w a pointed the w a y - - j u s t as he had welcomed me to my seminary. He helped to direct the course of my ministry. He was a beacon. Four years later we met again. By t h a t time I had graduated from Northwestern and was now the associate Episcopal chaplain of the University. F a t h e r K i t a g a w a was the guest preacher. Again, I was profoundly moved by his ability to weave together avenues t h a t can broaden our faith. 8 In the sacristy I asked him if he would grant me some time for this interview. What surprised me even more t h a n his willingness was his final comment: "Have you heard a n y t h i n g about Burton Wheeler lately? .... Not lately," I answered, musing to myself, "How could he possibly remember my college dean after nearly ten years?" Martin Marty, his dear friend, nicely described the answer: I always wondered how Joe knew so much about colleges and universities. He knew which departments inflated grades and which deans were effective. Eventually I learned that while in the concentration camp, he connected young Japanese-Americans with colleges to which they could apply after their release. He wrote all the major schools, studied their catalogs, decided that those with the most Ph.D.s must be the best schools, and wrote letters of inquiry to them? Before moving into the actual dialogue, I w a n t to relate another example of a particular trait of Joseph K i t a g a w a - - e m p a t h y . To quote Dr. Marty: Only once in his deanship did Kitagawa tell students about one of the biggest traumas of his life. A few months after he and his brother (and my Ph.D. "classmate," Daisuke) came as Episcopal ordinands seeking more education, World War II began, and they were sent to spend four years in American concentration camps (otherwise known as internment centers). Years passed. Joe became dean in 1970--the year of Cambodia, Kent State and campus unrest, of protest against government policies and academic administrations. In his inaugural words that year, Kitagawa e m p a t h i z e d with the students. Yes, there was much wrong with their country. He knew that; he'd been wrongly imprisoned by it for years. But he found reason to see other sides of our common life, to affirm, to move on. He had, and they eventually did. TM It m a y interest the reader to know t h a t this dialogue took place in the winter of 1974 at the University of Chicago. We met in the dean's office of the Divinity School for coffee about 9:30 A.M. and, within "minutes," it was high noon. One part of our conversation has been deleted. It consisted mostly of a discussion about the chaos breeding in our diocese regarding the possible ordination of women to the priesthood. In essence, we agreed t h a t the problem grew out of psychological defensiveness and theological immaturity. We also speculated t h a t it would take another generation for the Church of England to officially endorse women for the priesthood. Dr. K i t a g a w a was sure t h a t
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this would not happen until female priests were installed as bishops of the Episcopal Church in America. H The dialogue begins in the midst of a discussion about Ansel Adams's photographs of the Relocation Center at Manzanar. That internment camp was located on the edge of California's Sierra Nevada. The artist's motivation was as clear as his art: Moved by the human story unfolding in the encirclement of desert and mountains, and by the wish to identify my photography in some creative way with the tragic momentum of the times, I came to Manzanar with my cameras in the fall of 1943.'~ As we looked at these haunting photographs, Dr. Kitagawa told me about how much Seabury-Western had meant to him after being imprisoned for four years. He graduated from there in 1947, and by 1951 he had earned a Ph.D. at the University of Chicago. After that his accomplishments were exponential. At the time I met with him, he was on the board of directors of The Fund for Theological Education and the International Institute for the Study of Religion in Tokyo. He was the president of the American Society for the Study of Religions and a member of several related groups like the American Council of Learned Societies and the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion. He served as an editorial advisor to the Encyclopaedia Britannica and, along with Mircea Eliade and C. H. Long, held the post of founding editor of the History of Religions: An International Journal for Comparative Historical
Studies. In addition to these activities, he was working on two articles for an Asian journal and completing another book. 13The constant demands of such responsibilities did not distract him from our conversation--except when Martin Marty called about a cartoon in the morning newspaper. TM His power of concentration and the scope of his intellect reminded me of two people I hold in great respect, Albert Schweitzer and Sigmund Freud. Ultimately, these unusual gifts led to his becoming a Canon Theologian of the Episcopal Church. Thus, his death last year marked an important loss for many of us. 15 The dialogue opens after a long conversation about politics in the Diocese of Chicago. We then started talking about people being spiritually imprisoned by their religious beliefs and ethnic myths. This led to a brief discussion about intrapsychic liberation but slowly returned to Adams's photographs of Manzanar and Father Kitagawa's experience of his internment.
Dialogue J.K.: I came to this country in 1941. Shortly thereafter Pearl Harbor was bombed and I spent four years in the concentration camps of the internment.
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D.M.: I first learned about them through the Adams photographs. I was shocked, particularly given the images of contemporary German concentration camps. TM What was it like for you? J.K.: I worried a great deal. Like the German camps, morale was extremely poor. About 11,000 people were confined to one huge camp which was divided into various sections. Everything was public: mess halls, showers, and so on. Children ate by themselves. You may recall that the Oriental Exclusion Act was not rectified until the 1950s. Prejudice was strong. Thus, those who came from J a p a n when I did were not eligible for naturalization. Yet children would be taught courses in American Civics while surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards. Forced education for enemy a l i e n s - add to that the mortality rate. It was a m a d d e n i n g - - a traumatic environment. D.M.: But you emerged from that type of hell, and went on to SeaburyWestern Theological Seminary. J.K.: Yes. I gained a lot of strength in that wonderful seminary. Then I went on to the University of Chicago. D.M.: Whom did you study under? J.K.: Joachim Wach. Do you know of him? D.M.: I've carefully read his Types of Religious Experience and, of course, The History of Religions which you dedicated to his memory. 17 I remember your opening paragraph: Wach noted that there was no one way or method which could be handed down from one generation of scholars and teachers to the next, because the approach will have to be adapted to the specific needs of each generation and different conditions prevailing in different countries. Considering the fact that increasing numbers of educational institutions in America are offering courses in the history of religions and related subjects, it may be worthwhile for us to reflect on the nature and the scope of the discipline, and discuss some of the relevant problems relating to the research and teaching in the field of the history of religions or Religionswissenschaft.18
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Nevertheless, my real exposure to him was through Thomas Altizer. 1~ He once explained to me how Professor Wach had guided him in both sociology and comparative religion. He underscored how the conception of Ultimate Reality which appears in "higher religions" can best be explained by means of Hegelian dialectic--a state integral to Religionswissenschaft or the history of religions. This approach, he said, he learned from your teacher. Incidentally, this is how I was introduced to Hegel in a meaningful way. There is an interesting historical background to what you have just said. Joachim Wach's parents were first cousins. They were also direct descendants of Felix Mendelssohn, the German composer-con-
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ductor and pianist. His grandfather was the famous Jewish philosopher Moses Mendelssohn. "From Moses to Moses there has been none like Moses. ''2~ Exactly. Well, Moses Mendelssohn had tutors for his children, one of whom accepted the position on the condition that he have free access to the family library. This tutor spent a few years teaching the Mendelssohn children how to read, b u t most of his time was spent in the library. That tutor was Hegel. That's fascinating. Wasn't Felix Mendelssohn raised as a Christian? Yes. There were many persons of Jewish descent at that time who decided to mask their ancestry. This became even more pronounced when the Nazi P a r t y rose, of course. But the Mendelssohn family were proud of their background and did not hide it. So, in 1934 Joachim Wach was asked to resign from the University of Leipzig. Some years later, in 1946, he came to the University of Chicago. It was then that I studied under him, and upon my graduation he recommended me for a faculty position. I taught with him for five years, and Tom Altizer was one of our students. 21 A question I wanted to ask you grows out of the first volume of Essays in Divinity, one which contains chapters by Joachim Wach, Mircea Eliade, Paul Tillich, Tom Altizer, and yourself. 22 The kind of tenor Altizer has represented is at the core. The historical period in which the Death-of-God pronouncements were made was one of reaction and radical flux. 23 I was personally challenged by the Christian atheism that he represented; yet it seems to me that today, with so much idealism being undercut through incidents like Watergate, and so on, there m a y be a strong need for us to return to a more traditional model of G o d - - a model which in some respects was pronounced "dead" in the '60s. What do you think? Let me address that question with a preface of two points. First, Tom Altizer, though he took his degree in the history of religions, is essentially a theologian--he thinks theologically. He reflects on historical data in such a way. So there is a kind of resolution of disciplines which many do not attain. Granted he is untraditional and does not settle for the accepted formulas, b u t he is a profoundly religious man. 24 Second, the Death of God is not a new theological theme--especially in the history of religions. However, Tom's sensitivity brought this out in such a way that it appealed to many people who were growing dissatisfied with their traditional formulas. In a sense, then, his work has been a kind of new discovery. Now, in regard to your question--which is a very difficult one to a n s w e r - - I am not sure of what is meant by a "traditional model of God." Speaking as a historian, not as a theologian, I suspect that such a construct is in trouble. Theology has become h u m a n discourse
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about God rather than affirmative statements of that type of Truth one feels and believes. Theology today starts with human experience, not with "Chapter 1: God," "Chapter 2: Angels," "Chapter 3: Jesus Christ," and so on. I guess my conclusion is one of balance. We may need to return to some of the traditional notions of God, but we certainly cannot begin there. You mean begin from a long-ago "revealed" and subsequently fixed constellation of views regarding Ultimate Reality or God, as well as humanity's position vis-d-vis that dimension? Correct. Historically, it has been common to use the spatial metaphor of God "up there" and mankind "down here." Progressively we have discovered a new vista or starting point--that starting point being human sensitivity. That starting point might be conceived of in a psychological way. "Reality orientation" for a depth-psychologist entails an awareness of spatial dimensions which are perceived by the self. ~5 Time is another dimension of such an assessment, and it is to this subject that I'd like to turn for a few minutes. As one who has bridged a marked cultural gap, how do you see the difference in time conceptions in the East and West? How do you think those differences contribute to Oriental and Occidental faiths? There are significant differences in the meaning of existence in time in the experience of the Eastern cultures over against the cultures of the West. Of course, these terms, "East" and "West," are generalizations and should not be understood to imply unified cultural positions. It is convenient, however, to use these terms in a broad way for comparative purposes; I will use the term "East" to designate those cultures of India and East Asia associated especially with Hinduism and Buddhism, and the term "West" to refer to the cultures related to the Judeo-Greek-Christian tradition. To begin with, a common misunderstanding of the experience of time in the East should be dispelled. That is, it is often stated that the East is timeless and has no sense of history. The East does have a sense of history. The meaning that the East finds in history is different from the meaning the West finds in history. One might say that, while the West finds meaning in the progress of history in every new development toward a goal or consummation, the East finds meaning in the flow of history with its recurrences and its integration into the natural process. This difference in the experience of time rests upon a basically different perception of existence. The Western tradition, drawing upon biblical conceptions of reality, tends to experience existence through the dimensions of nature, man, and God. Man is differentiated from nature in that he is a historical being; therefore, man's experiences
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of God's revelation on the historical plane have more significance than reflections of the divine in nature. Since the primary theophany or manifestation of God is in historical events, the meaning of history is related to its progress--its unfolding of God's will and its movement toward the consummation of the Kingdom of God. The Eastern tradition, in contrast, tends to experience existence through the dimensions of sacred nature and sacred man. There is a continuity between nature and man in that both are hierophanic, that is, the sacred is immanent in both nature and man. History is integrated into the natural process in terms of time cycles within the eternal dharma [cosmic order], or in terms of the flow of phenomenal existence within the birth-death cycle. The meaning of time and history, then, is not related to its progress toward a consummation, but is in the experience of the ultimate sacred within the flow of natural events. In religious terms, the East experiences the divine through mystical intuition within the natural process, while the West experiences the divine through prophetic interpretation of God's revelation in historical progress. D.M.: How do these differences in time thrusts contribute to notions of death, dying, and afterlife? J.K.: The notion of an afterlife, of course, differs with different conceptions of time and existence. With the Western emphasis on the consummation of historical progress in the Kingdom of God, the afterlife becomes an ultimate, absolute state identical with the future of that Kingdom. The Eastern conception of time is integrated into the natural cosmic cycles, and afterlife becomes rebirth or reincarnation within the continuing flow of the natural historical process. And, since rebirth or reincarnation is the result of ignorance of the true nature of reality and consequent failure to unify oneself with the Ultimate, the goal of human existence is liberation from the cycle of birth and death. Now, this liberation (moksha or nirvana) does not imply an afterlife in heaven. It is simply the state of complete unification with the One Ultimate Reality. There are, of course, notions of paradise in Eastern religions, and these notions have affected the popular attitude toward death. Nevertheless, rebirth in one of the paradises still is part of the birth-death cycle and is not ultimate liberation. In the Eastern religions, this liberation is a state in which the illusory sense of discrete selfhood is overcome, and the total unity of all reality is experienced. The process of dying is painful and fearful if one clings to his "self." However, if he cultivates the religious path, dying itself becomes one dimension of liberation, and thus it is not feared but accepted as the natural process. In Hindu society, for example, the ideal life cycle involves study and then productive mem-
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bership in society for the main part of a lifetime. But when a man becomes older, he begins to withdraw from society, first as a forest dweller and finally as a renouncer--integrating his own psychic life within the natural process of dying. In the West, the sense of divine revelation in history and of historical consummation in the Kingdom of God is associated with a feeling of the "one-timeness" of life, a strong sense of selfhood over against a personal God, and a hope of continued personal existence in heaven. Death thus has a double meaning: it is feared as the ultimate loss of self; but it is, at the same time, hailed as the doorway to future, absolute life. D.M.: Again, I'm reminded of some discussions with Thomas Altizer, as well as a couple of his books. 2~ Most of these recollections are undoubtedly rooted in his course work with Joachim Wach and yourself. In any event, they lead me to two interrelated questions which are related to our theological foci: What place does depth-psychology have in the study of religious symbolism? And what is the relationship of Religionswissenschaft to depth-psychology? J.K.: There is a close relationship between the study of man's religious expressions and the study of man's psychological depths. It has been recognized that most of our existence is fed by impulses that come from the zone of the unconscious. Both the structure and the contents of the unconscious are the result of innumerable existential situations in the individual's personal history resulting from experiences of the reality of the world and of his being in the world. Since the unconscious has resulted from such existential experiences, it obviously will have many resemblances to the various systems of religious symbolism. It should be made clear, however, that in relating religious symbolism to the unconscious it is not being suggested that religious symbols are the product of the unconscious. Nor is it being suggested that religious symbols are archetypes related to a collective unconscious in a Jungian sense. Rather, religious symbols arise from man's existential mode of being in the world. Man experiences the sacred through the various structures of the cosmos and through the various dimensions of his own existence. The two areas of inquiry--the study of depth-psychology and the study of religious symbolism--have much to contribute to each other, since both deal with structures and contents that have arisen from human existential situations. Depth-psychology deals with the unconscious on the individual level, while the study of religious symbolism investigates the communal symbolic expressions of mankind. Thus, the study of religion can contribute a fuller awareness of the religious depth behind the structure and content of the unconscious. In particular, it can show how symbols function to awaken
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the individual experience and t r a n s m u t e it into an open comprehension of the world on a universal level. Depth-psychology can demonstrate, on an individual level, how existential situations create and alter one's perception of the reality of the world and of his place within it. Specifically, it can show t h a t modern secular m a n still creates symbols to understand his being in the world, even though these symbols m a y not have the universality and power of the various religious symbolisms. D.M.: Richard Rubenstein has nicely paralleled your last points in several of his works, especially Power Struggle: A n Autobiographical Confession. 27In t h a t book he delves into his own Jewish history, as well as his personal psychoanalysis. Then, in the context of both, he brings up a figure we mentioned earlier, Paul Tillich. Dr. Rubenstein studied under him at Harvard. I know you and Professor Tillich were dear friends and t h a t you worked closely with him here. I also recall Dr. Eliade's diary, particularly the entry just after t h a t last public lecture [Oct. 12, 1965], a few hours before Professor Tillich actually started to die. After dinner, lecture of Paul Tillich at Breasted Hall. Packed auditorium. I introduced him--more exactly I said a few words on our seminar in common. Paul spoke of "The Significance of the History of Religions for the Systematic Theologian." I didn't think he would give his lecture. When he arrived a week ago, he telephoned me in despair; angina of the chest, attack after attack, the doctors forbade him all activity, except the Chicago seminar. He seemed very depressed and tired. I saw him a few days later; he was recovered, it seemed to me, but changed. This evening he seemed an old man--but nevertheless he read his lecture with vigor. We went back afterward to Kitagawa's. Paul went to the kitchen first to ask for a glass of whiskey. He told us that he liked very much to linger in the kitchen, near the stove--it reminded him of his childhood. A long conversation with Tom Altizer--and Tom repeating to him that he was the greatest theologian of his time, and that those of the "God-is-dead theology" are his disciples, etc. Paul seemed radiant. He made a date with him for the next day, at his hotel, to continue the conversation. Paul's extraordinary faculty of "recuperating" through the active, creative presence of some intelligent interlocutors. This man lives from human warmth, from fellow feeling, and from dialogue. ~8 Didn't we speak t h a t night? D.M.: Yes. That was the first time I visited the Divinity School. It was a powerful experience. I wish I had known Dr. Tillich personally. His works have been very important to me. What was he like? It is difficult to give a s u m m a r y impression of a m a n as stimulating J.K.: and sensitive as Paul Tillich was. Out of the m a n y memories I have of this great man, one thing stands out above all: his tremendous J.K.:
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zest for life. He had an insatiable sense of curiosity, which led him to probe and taste everything he came into contact with, even things which seemed to others to be irrelevant or trivial. In Tillich's eyes, everything had its own unique importance, and he never rested until he was satisfied that he understood what that was. In his thirst for understanding and experiencing life, Paul Tillich often turned to those members of society usually ignored by academic theologians. He talked freely and extensively with mechanics, waitresses, and prostitutes, as he tirelessly sought to find out what it means to be human. The only time I can remember that he was disappointed in his talks with various types of people was, significantly, in some conversations he had with geishas in Japan. Because of the formal etiquette and stylized conversation of the geishas--and partly, no doubt, because of the use of interpreters--Tillich came away disappointed. He felt he had failed to experience them as human individuals. D.M.: I heard Tillich lecture only one other time. I remember that experience well. He addressed himself to the integration of theology and depth-psychology. He attempted to weave the two together and did so in an impressive way. One of my mentors, Carroll Wise, has said that Tillich is the theologian for the pastoral psychotherapist. As his friend and colleague, how have you understood the theology of the pastoral psychology movement? J.K.: It is significant, I think, that the pastoral psychology movement developed in our particular culture. In a sense, it could only originate here. There is something moralistic about our culture which has led in modern times to a need--almost a compulsion--to be honest with one's self, to adjust to life, to come to conscious recognition of motivations and drives rooted in one's past. The pastoral psychology movement has thus naturally and necessarily developed to meet the needs of our particular culture. The theological significance of the pastoral psychology movement lies in the fact that new insights and possibilities for theology have been opened up since the development of the healing sciences. Paul Tillich has demonstrated, for example, the theological significance of modern therapeutic techniques, together with the psychological insights into man's nature on which these techniques are based. Particularly important is Tillich's insistence on the difference between "neurotic healing," as practiced by psychoanalysts, and "existential healing" which overcomes existential anxiety by healing the center of the personality in a radical--or religious--way. The pastoral psychology movement, with its grasp of both theology and depth-psychology, is in an excellent position to integrate both. On a practical level, one can see in the pastoral psychology move-
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ment a continuation of the "cure of souls" praxis [a deed in progress] which has always been a primary concern of the church from New Testament times. Now that the church's cure of souls has been informed and influenced by the modern healing sciences, pastors of today have a new kind of assurance in their work. The psychiatric approach is implicitly accepted by most people in our society, and pastors have ample opportunity for systematic training in psychological understanding and therapeutic technique. Thus, pastoral psychology can contribute to a renewal of the care of souls in our culture--souls in quest of faith. Since such a development can only occur in a cultural setting, would you agree that the pastoral psychology movement is a peculiar product of the American scene, whereas depth-psychology is Western in the general sense? Yes, in the main. Yet we have to remember that incidences of the socalled "healing sciences" are outside the church and throughout the world. Those techniques and findings have been absorbed by openminded thinkers in the West, especially America. You probably know that Freud had a criticism of Americans: that they were too trend orientedY I've heard some English theologians say that a movement like the "Death-of-God" tenor could only happen in a culture that did not have a long-lasting sense of tradition, and that America, in comparison to Europe, falls into "second place." I'm wondering if it is possible to say that one of the reasons why the pastoral psychology movement has been peculiarly American is because of this country's willingness or openness to grapple more readily with new constructs. From such a perspective trends can be considered as stages in an exceptionally rapid growth process. Yes, and I think that there is much more openness to new ideas here. Yet many Europeans accuse the Americans of not having tradition. I think America has a distinct tradition. Many Europeans look at Americans as an offshoot of European culture. However, I think there is something very organic in America. I come from the other side, and I see Americans as quite different from the Europeans. To me America is very old, whereas many of the "older" nations, like Asia, are much younger today2~ Does this have a historical parallel with the view that Roman culture was the "bastard step-daughter of Greece," and yet, in a real sense, Roman culture had an identity of its own? I'm not sure who it was that originated the distinction--maybe it was Collinwood--that the religious beliefs of Roman culture were that of "mother and daughter. ''31 Not long ago I lectured on this. I mentioned Greek culture, of course, but focused on this "mother and daughter" nature in the Roman world. Daughter is definitely an in-
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dependent individual, though mother m a y not think so. Daughter has her own life, her own destiny, which is, to be sure, shared in some way with her mother. I think that idea is quite important when you talk about Europe and America because Europe is not an everlasting parent as it is frequently thought to be. I think World War I really finished the semblance of unity which has existed in such memory. To me the important thing is that America has its own destiny, quite different from the European view. But also, the whole world has to be seen somewhat differently. I do not think we can look at any part of the world from a European, American, or Oriental point of view. Today you have to look at them in their own right. Yesterday I gave a lecture which focused on Thomas Mann's famous statement that "the world has many centers." I think this is the realization that all of us need to grasp because the world is changing. I think a spirit of vanity really shoots through the foundation of European culture. I also think that a spirit of greater vanity has influenced the American culture. Orientals, through colonial experience or otherwise, did not accept being absorbed by the spirit of such vanity. Yet somehow a spirit of such vanity did penetrate Asian culture. Now, even though m a n y Asian nations have rejected Westernization, they cannot shake off this spirit of more vanity. Indeed, all cultures in Asia have been hit by it. D.M.: We talked about the difference between Eastern and Western thought, as well as the concepts of time and the distinctions between the two mindsets which accompany them. I think of Western as a forward thrust, seen with the end of t i m e - - t h e eschaton. What you were saying about the mother and the daughter dovetails into this. There is a concept used in depth-psychology that is called "symbiosis," an undifferentiated unity between the mother and the child. Slowly, as the child matures in a healthy fashion, what was once part of the mother becomes a separate object. My idea about Eastern thought has been that the culture is focused backwards toward a unification of the symbiotic state, whereas the Western mindset has been focused toward the differentiation of the mother and the daughter, or the differentiation between m a n and God. J.K.: I would put it somewhat differently. I think ancient Greece and Asia were very similar before the rise of those who claim man as a measurable object. Western culture was transformed by a Jewish-Christian accent on God. God became the primary concern. However, from the Renaissance on there is a gradual return to cosmological, on the one hand, and anthropological on the other. From the Renaissance o n - - t h i s is a seriously over-simplified s t a t e m e n t - - t h e r e is a preoccupation with man or the anthropological in a cosmological setting. That is to say, God became a part of the setting of the cosmos.
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D.M.: I would like to end our discussion "on time." And let us approach this difference we are discussing from that vantage point. For me Christianity is bound up in eschatology. I still think The Quest of the Historical Jesus is "must" reading} ~ What do you think about the eschatological notion of time that has been so prominent in our Judeo-Christian tradition? Is it still a living perspective--or even a perspective of living? J.K.: Outside Marxism, which really took this much more seriously than most Christians do today, I think, by and large, that Western people have forgotten this belief in the eschaton--though they pay it lip service. Nonetheless, it is here that we need to improve our memory or recall our history--the history of our religious insights. Mircea Eliade says that "By attempting to understand the existential situations expressed in the documents he is studying, the historian of religion will inevitably attain to a new knowledge of man. ''~ I believe this knowledge will contribute to the development of a new humanism on a worldwide scale. This is my hope, and always, in such a context, sensitive people become aware of their eschatological condition. We must promote this awareness because the eschaton is being experienced by many sensitive people today. I know. I have lived with this awareness since I came to this wonderful country.
References 1. "Kitagawa was internationally known for helping establish and define the discipline of History of Religions. . . . His work led to the formation of the 'Chicago School' of History of Religions, which stressed the study of religious phenomena within the discipline of religion, as opposed to study from other fields like sociology or psychology," Anglican Advance, December 1992, 14. 2. "Born in Osaka, Japan, on March 8, 1915, he came to the United States in 1941 to study at a West Coast seminary, but within a year was placed in a detention camp for people of Japanese origin. During the time he lived in the camps, he was ordained an Episcopal priest. Only recently, in his book, The Christian Tradition, did he write about his incarceration." Episcopal Life, January 1993, 25. 3. Specifically, he recommended: Kitagawa, J.M., '~ History of Religions in America." In Eliade, M., and Kitagawa, J.M., eds., The History of Religions. Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1959, pp. 1-30; and Eliade, M., The Two and the One. Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1965. I remember being struck by this book's profound comment: '~l~e discovery of the unconscious could be put on a level with the maritime discoveries of the Renaissance and the astronomical discoveries that followed the invention of the telescope. For each of these discoveries brought to light worlds whose existence was not even suspected. Each, by shattering the traditional image of the world and revealing the structure of a hitherto unimaginable Universe, achieved a . . . %reak-through,'" pp. 9-10. 4. Dr. Kitagawa expressed the same truths twenty-two years later in the Hale Lectures of Seabury-Western. An excellent summary of that series was published in the seminary's quarterly: Kitagawa, J.M., "Religious Visions of the Unity of Humankind," Crossroads, 18, 3, 1988, 10-12. 5. The Very Rev. Scott Norton Jones died a few months before Dean Kitagawa did. He was Alan Watts's successor at Northwestern and the Episcopal chaplain of that university for thirty-six years.
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6. Moss, D.M., "Parochial Ministry, the Episcopal Church and Alcoholism," J. Religion and Health, 1975, 14, 3, 192-197. 7. Both of these men were very familiar with Carroll Wise's doctoral program. One was a psychoanalyst on the faculty, Alfred Flarsheim, and the other was Armen Jorjorian, the dean of Seabury-Western. 8. The basic ideas of this sermon were subsequently developed into a book-length description: Kitagawa, J.M., The Quest for Human Unity: A Religious History. Minneapolis, Augsburg Publishing House, 1990. 9. Marty, M.E., "A Complex Honorable Man," The Christian Century, 1992, 109, 30, 951. 10. Ibid. 11. On November 11, 1992, the Church of England approved the ordination of women to the priesthood. In many respects these new priests will confront the same issues that their sisters in America encountered more than fifteen years ago. Moss, D.M., "Adjustment Reactions and the Female Priest," Advance Magazine, 1977, 90, 2, 12-13. 12. See Armor, J., and Wright, P., Manzanar: Photographs by Ansel Adams, Commentary by John Hersey. London, Secker & Warburg, 1988, dustjacket. 13. Professor Kitagawa's generativity was consistent. Shortly before he died he published two books: The Christian Tradition: Beyond Its European Captivity. Philadelphia, Trinity Press International, 1992; and Religious Studies, Theological Studies and the University. Atlanta, Scholars Press, 1992. 14. The cartoon was a proclamation by Pogo: "We have faults which we have hardly used yet." Moss, D.M., "Odyssey of the Self: A Dialogue with Martin Marty," Pilgrimage: The Journal of Pastoral Psychotherapy, 1978, 6, 1, 29-44. 15. He died of pneumonia. This illness was the result of a recent stroke. 16. See Kitagawa, J.M., Spiritual Resistance: Art from the Concentration Camps. Philadelphia, Jewish Publication Society, 1987. 17. Wach, J., Types of Religious Experience: Christian and Non-Christian. Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1951. A section of this important text relied on a memorial lecture that Professor Wach delivered at Seabury-Western in 1945, "Church, Denomination and Sect," pp. 187-208. 18. Kitagawa, "The History of Religions in America," op. cir., p. 1. 19. See Cobb, J.B., ed., The Theology of Thomas Altizer: Critique and Response. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1970; and Moss, D.M., Prolegomena Post Mortem Dei: A Critical Overview of the Nature and Structure of Radical Theology. Unpublished master's thesis, Evanston, Seabury-Western Theological Seminary, 1969. 20. This is an expression that refers to Moses of the Exodus, Moses ben Maimon (Maimonides), and Moses Mendelssohn. 21. This is particularly evident in two of Prof. Altizer's early books: Oriental Mysticism and Biblical Eschatology. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1961; and Mircea Eliade and the Dialectic of the Sacred. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1963. 22. The History of Religions: Essays in Divinity, Vol. I. Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1967. This book was dedicated to the memory of Profs. Wach and Tillich. 23. See Moss, D.M., "'On the Margins': A Dialogue with Andrew Greeley," J. Religion and Health, 1990, 29, 4, 266-267. 24. When he was a professor of religion at Emory University, Dr. Altizer was seen by more students as a spiritual thinker than a "Christian atheist." 25. See Moss, D.M., "Reality Principle," Dictionary of Pastoral Care and Counseling. R.H. Hunter, ed. Nashville, Abington Press, 1990, p. 1045. 26. See, especially, Altizer, T.J.J., ed., Toward a New Christianity: Readings in the Death of God Theology. New York, Harcourt, Brace & World, 1967. 27. Rubenstein, R.L., Power Struggle: An Autobiographical Confession. New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1974. 28. On October 13 Dr. Eliade wrote: "We learned that, this morning at four o'clock, Paul had a heart attack and was taken to the clinic. He is in an oxygen tent. And suddenly I feel guilty: if I hadn't insisted that he give his lecture, if he hadn't talked with such passion last night at Kitagawa's . . . . " The next day one of the entries reads: "Paul Tillich had a new attack . . . . At eight o'clock, phone call from the University: Paul had just died . . . . Paul knew that he was going to die, the doctor said, but he was serene, at peace." Eliade, M., No Souvenirs: Journals, 1957-1969. New York, Harper & Row, 1977, 276.
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29. Moss, D.M., "Psychoanalysis with Sigmund Freud and New Frontiers in Mental Health: A Dialogue with Roy R. Grinber, Sr., Pilgrimage: The Journal of Pastoral Psychotherapy, 1975, 3, 2, 27. 30. See Kitagawa, J.M., Buddhism and Asian History. New York, MacMillan Publishing Co., 1989. 31. Collingwood, R.G., Idea of History. New York, Oxford University Press, 1946. 32. Schweitzer, A., The Quest of the Historical Jesus. New York, MacMillan Company, 1954. 33. This is a philosophical statement Prof. Eliade used to describe the basic focus of the journal he edited with Dean Kitagawa, History of Religions.
Internment and Ministry: A Dialogue with Joseph Kitagawa DAVID M. MOSS III ABSTRACT: This dialogue presents a profile of the late Joseph Kitagawa--a renowned scholar of the history of religions (Religionswissenschaft). It focuses on comparative religion and philosophy, as well as several other important issues related to his distinguished career as an Episcopal priest and dean of the Divinity School of the University of Chicago. They are: his experience of American concentration camps during World War II; Christian atheism and new theological models; concepts of time in Oriental and Occidental faiths; depth-psychology and contemporary ministry; and Paul Tillich's significance for the pastoral counseling movement.
Introduction W h e n I t h i n k of t h e late J o s e p h Mitsuo K i t a g a w a , I envision a l i g h t h o u s e beacon p o i n t i n g t h r o u g h t u r b u l e n t w a t e r s to critical ports of call. F r o m such a perspective, I c o n t i n u e to r e v e r e him. H e was a n exceptional priest, as well as a scholar who was a c t i v e l y a w a r e of his i m m e d i a t e c o m m u n i t y - - w h i c h was i n t e r n a t i o n a l . 1 On two occasions he p r o f o u n d l y influenced m a j o r decisions r e l a t e d to m y m i n i s t r y . He guided m e t o w a r d new perceptions a b o u t m y profession. F u r t h e r m o r e , h e offered such guidance to m a n y . I believe m y experiences of h i m are i l l u s t r a t i v e of the type of impressions I h a v e h e a r d m a n y o t h e r s ascribe to his m i n i s t r y d u r i n g t h e last fifty y e a r s - - b e g i n n i n g w i t h t h e t i m e h e s p e n t in i n t e r n m e n t ? In t h e e a r l y 1960s I was a s t u d e n t of c o m p a r a t i v e religion a t W a s h i n g t o n U n i v e r s i t y in St. Louis. M y faculty advisor was t h e dean, B u r t o n W h e e l e r , who was a scholar of religious l i t e r a t u r e . He i n t r o d u c e d me to t h e work of Mircea E l i a d e and J o s e p h K i t a g a w a 2 H e was also t h e first p e r s o n to suggest t h a t I consider the U n i v e r s i t y of Chicago for g r a d u a t e work. In 1966 D e a n W h e e l e r a r r a n g e d for m y a p p o i n t m e n t as a r e s e a r c h assisDavid M. Moss, Ph.D., Th.D., is the Book Review Editor of this Journal and the Past President of the Georgia Chapter of the American Psychological Association's Division of Psychoanalysis. The interview is part of a series that will be published in a volume entitled Dialogues in Depth Psychology and Religion. Reprint requests should be directed to The Coventry Association for Pastoral Psychology, 2997 Piedmont Road, N.E., Atlanta, Georgia 30305. 163
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tant in ancient Christian history. My basic task was identifying certain esoteric expressions for the devil in the Church Fathers. I also read everything I could digest by Drs. Eliade and Kitagawa. By the time I completed this tenure, I was nearly obsessed with the history of religions school or Reli-
gionswissenschaft. Consequently, my bishop suggested that I consider entering Seabury-Western Theological Seminary with the eventual goal of doctoral work at the University of Chicago. I followed his advice and visited the seminary when classes entered their second week of the Epiphany quarter. The faculty was a fine group of Anglican thinkers headed by a dean who personified gentility. I was very influenced but not convinced that this was my best choice of seminaries, even though the University of Chicago was so close. Then, at Evening Prayer, my reservations were resolved by the guest preacher, Joseph Kitagawa, a graduate of Seabury-Western. Professor Kitagawa's sermon impressed me as a powerful description of ecumenical truths based on common myths in world religions. 4 At dinner that night I was introduced to Dr. Kitagawa. When he found out that I was at Washington University, he immediately asked, "How is Burton Wheeler?" As we talked about Seabury-Western, he told me, "This seminary helped me to direct the course of my ministry. You will like it. If you want to go on to graduate school at the University of Chicago, call me in a few years and I'll see if I can help." Four years later we had dinner again, at the home of the Episcopal chaplain of Northwestern University, Scott Jones2 Dr. Jones brought us together to celebrate our latest degrees from Seabury-Western: Professor Kitagawa received an honorary doctorate; and I was awarded a Master in Sacred Theology.6 He mentioned that he knew two other things about me since we last met: that I had been appointed Assistant Rector of St. Chrysostom's, the largest Episcopal Church in Chicago; and that I had recently applied for admittance into the University of Chicago for the coming fall. A few days later I received a personal note that I immediately recognized as a "pastoral call" from one priest to another. Dear David, You already have a good training in comparative religion and a keen interest for theology. From what I know about your work in our diocese you have other talents as well. Why don't you combine them? Go and talk to Carroll Wise about this. He will know how to help you. Northwestern is the best place for you. Sincerely, Joe
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What seemed so curious was t h a t two other people had mentioned the same thing to me within twenty-four hours. 7 However, Dr. K i t a g a w a pointed the w a y - - j u s t as he had welcomed me to my seminary. He helped to direct the course of my ministry. He was a beacon. Four years later we met again. By t h a t time I had graduated from Northwestern and was now the associate Episcopal chaplain of the University. F a t h e r K i t a g a w a was the guest preacher. Again, I was profoundly moved by his ability to weave together avenues t h a t can broaden our faith. 8 In the sacristy I asked him if he would grant me some time for this interview. What surprised me even more t h a n his willingness was his final comment: "Have you heard a n y t h i n g about Burton Wheeler lately? .... Not lately," I answered, musing to myself, "How could he possibly remember my college dean after nearly ten years?" Martin Marty, his dear friend, nicely described the answer: I always wondered how Joe knew so much about colleges and universities. He knew which departments inflated grades and which deans were effective. Eventually I learned that while in the concentration camp, he connected young Japanese-Americans with colleges to which they could apply after their release. He wrote all the major schools, studied their catalogs, decided that those with the most Ph.D.s must be the best schools, and wrote letters of inquiry to them? Before moving into the actual dialogue, I w a n t to relate another example of a particular trait of Joseph K i t a g a w a - - e m p a t h y . To quote Dr. Marty: Only once in his deanship did Kitagawa tell students about one of the biggest traumas of his life. A few months after he and his brother (and my Ph.D. "classmate," Daisuke) came as Episcopal ordinands seeking more education, World War II began, and they were sent to spend four years in American concentration camps (otherwise known as internment centers). Years passed. Joe became dean in 1970--the year of Cambodia, Kent State and campus unrest, of protest against government policies and academic administrations. In his inaugural words that year, Kitagawa e m p a t h i z e d with the students. Yes, there was much wrong with their country. He knew that; he'd been wrongly imprisoned by it for years. But he found reason to see other sides of our common life, to affirm, to move on. He had, and they eventually did. TM It m a y interest the reader to know t h a t this dialogue took place in the winter of 1974 at the University of Chicago. We met in the dean's office of the Divinity School for coffee about 9:30 A.M. and, within "minutes," it was high noon. One part of our conversation has been deleted. It consisted mostly of a discussion about the chaos breeding in our diocese regarding the possible ordination of women to the priesthood. In essence, we agreed t h a t the problem grew out of psychological defensiveness and theological immaturity. We also speculated t h a t it would take another generation for the Church of England to officially endorse women for the priesthood. Dr. K i t a g a w a was sure t h a t
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this would not happen until female priests were installed as bishops of the Episcopal Church in America. H The dialogue begins in the midst of a discussion about Ansel Adams's photographs of the Relocation Center at Manzanar. That internment camp was located on the edge of California's Sierra Nevada. The artist's motivation was as clear as his art: Moved by the human story unfolding in the encirclement of desert and mountains, and by the wish to identify my photography in some creative way with the tragic momentum of the times, I came to Manzanar with my cameras in the fall of 1943.'~ As we looked at these haunting photographs, Dr. Kitagawa told me about how much Seabury-Western had meant to him after being imprisoned for four years. He graduated from there in 1947, and by 1951 he had earned a Ph.D. at the University of Chicago. After that his accomplishments were exponential. At the time I met with him, he was on the board of directors of The Fund for Theological Education and the International Institute for the Study of Religion in Tokyo. He was the president of the American Society for the Study of Religions and a member of several related groups like the American Council of Learned Societies and the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion. He served as an editorial advisor to the Encyclopaedia Britannica and, along with Mircea Eliade and C. H. Long, held the post of founding editor of the History of Religions: An International Journal for Comparative Historical
Studies. In addition to these activities, he was working on two articles for an Asian journal and completing another book. 13The constant demands of such responsibilities did not distract him from our conversation--except when Martin Marty called about a cartoon in the morning newspaper. TM His power of concentration and the scope of his intellect reminded me of two people I hold in great respect, Albert Schweitzer and Sigmund Freud. Ultimately, these unusual gifts led to his becoming a Canon Theologian of the Episcopal Church. Thus, his death last year marked an important loss for many of us. 15 The dialogue opens after a long conversation about politics in the Diocese of Chicago. We then started talking about people being spiritually imprisoned by their religious beliefs and ethnic myths. This led to a brief discussion about intrapsychic liberation but slowly returned to Adams's photographs of Manzanar and Father Kitagawa's experience of his internment.
Dialogue J.K.: I came to this country in 1941. Shortly thereafter Pearl Harbor was bombed and I spent four years in the concentration camps of the internment.
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D.M.: I first learned about them through the Adams photographs. I was shocked, particularly given the images of contemporary German concentration camps. TM What was it like for you? J.K.: I worried a great deal. Like the German camps, morale was extremely poor. About 11,000 people were confined to one huge camp which was divided into various sections. Everything was public: mess halls, showers, and so on. Children ate by themselves. You may recall that the Oriental Exclusion Act was not rectified until the 1950s. Prejudice was strong. Thus, those who came from J a p a n when I did were not eligible for naturalization. Yet children would be taught courses in American Civics while surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards. Forced education for enemy a l i e n s - add to that the mortality rate. It was a m a d d e n i n g - - a traumatic environment. D.M.: But you emerged from that type of hell, and went on to SeaburyWestern Theological Seminary. J.K.: Yes. I gained a lot of strength in that wonderful seminary. Then I went on to the University of Chicago. D.M.: Whom did you study under? J.K.: Joachim Wach. Do you know of him? D.M.: I've carefully read his Types of Religious Experience and, of course, The History of Religions which you dedicated to his memory. 17 I remember your opening paragraph: Wach noted that there was no one way or method which could be handed down from one generation of scholars and teachers to the next, because the approach will have to be adapted to the specific needs of each generation and different conditions prevailing in different countries. Considering the fact that increasing numbers of educational institutions in America are offering courses in the history of religions and related subjects, it may be worthwhile for us to reflect on the nature and the scope of the discipline, and discuss some of the relevant problems relating to the research and teaching in the field of the history of religions or Religionswissenschaft.18
J.K.:
Nevertheless, my real exposure to him was through Thomas Altizer. 1~ He once explained to me how Professor Wach had guided him in both sociology and comparative religion. He underscored how the conception of Ultimate Reality which appears in "higher religions" can best be explained by means of Hegelian dialectic--a state integral to Religionswissenschaft or the history of religions. This approach, he said, he learned from your teacher. Incidentally, this is how I was introduced to Hegel in a meaningful way. There is an interesting historical background to what you have just said. Joachim Wach's parents were first cousins. They were also direct descendants of Felix Mendelssohn, the German composer-con-
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ductor and pianist. His grandfather was the famous Jewish philosopher Moses Mendelssohn. "From Moses to Moses there has been none like Moses. ''2~ Exactly. Well, Moses Mendelssohn had tutors for his children, one of whom accepted the position on the condition that he have free access to the family library. This tutor spent a few years teaching the Mendelssohn children how to read, b u t most of his time was spent in the library. That tutor was Hegel. That's fascinating. Wasn't Felix Mendelssohn raised as a Christian? Yes. There were many persons of Jewish descent at that time who decided to mask their ancestry. This became even more pronounced when the Nazi P a r t y rose, of course. But the Mendelssohn family were proud of their background and did not hide it. So, in 1934 Joachim Wach was asked to resign from the University of Leipzig. Some years later, in 1946, he came to the University of Chicago. It was then that I studied under him, and upon my graduation he recommended me for a faculty position. I taught with him for five years, and Tom Altizer was one of our students. 21 A question I wanted to ask you grows out of the first volume of Essays in Divinity, one which contains chapters by Joachim Wach, Mircea Eliade, Paul Tillich, Tom Altizer, and yourself. 22 The kind of tenor Altizer has represented is at the core. The historical period in which the Death-of-God pronouncements were made was one of reaction and radical flux. 23 I was personally challenged by the Christian atheism that he represented; yet it seems to me that today, with so much idealism being undercut through incidents like Watergate, and so on, there m a y be a strong need for us to return to a more traditional model of G o d - - a model which in some respects was pronounced "dead" in the '60s. What do you think? Let me address that question with a preface of two points. First, Tom Altizer, though he took his degree in the history of religions, is essentially a theologian--he thinks theologically. He reflects on historical data in such a way. So there is a kind of resolution of disciplines which many do not attain. Granted he is untraditional and does not settle for the accepted formulas, b u t he is a profoundly religious man. 24 Second, the Death of God is not a new theological theme--especially in the history of religions. However, Tom's sensitivity brought this out in such a way that it appealed to many people who were growing dissatisfied with their traditional formulas. In a sense, then, his work has been a kind of new discovery. Now, in regard to your question--which is a very difficult one to a n s w e r - - I am not sure of what is meant by a "traditional model of God." Speaking as a historian, not as a theologian, I suspect that such a construct is in trouble. Theology has become h u m a n discourse
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about God rather than affirmative statements of that type of Truth one feels and believes. Theology today starts with human experience, not with "Chapter 1: God," "Chapter 2: Angels," "Chapter 3: Jesus Christ," and so on. I guess my conclusion is one of balance. We may need to return to some of the traditional notions of God, but we certainly cannot begin there. You mean begin from a long-ago "revealed" and subsequently fixed constellation of views regarding Ultimate Reality or God, as well as humanity's position vis-d-vis that dimension? Correct. Historically, it has been common to use the spatial metaphor of God "up there" and mankind "down here." Progressively we have discovered a new vista or starting point--that starting point being human sensitivity. That starting point might be conceived of in a psychological way. "Reality orientation" for a depth-psychologist entails an awareness of spatial dimensions which are perceived by the self. ~5 Time is another dimension of such an assessment, and it is to this subject that I'd like to turn for a few minutes. As one who has bridged a marked cultural gap, how do you see the difference in time conceptions in the East and West? How do you think those differences contribute to Oriental and Occidental faiths? There are significant differences in the meaning of existence in time in the experience of the Eastern cultures over against the cultures of the West. Of course, these terms, "East" and "West," are generalizations and should not be understood to imply unified cultural positions. It is convenient, however, to use these terms in a broad way for comparative purposes; I will use the term "East" to designate those cultures of India and East Asia associated especially with Hinduism and Buddhism, and the term "West" to refer to the cultures related to the Judeo-Greek-Christian tradition. To begin with, a common misunderstanding of the experience of time in the East should be dispelled. That is, it is often stated that the East is timeless and has no sense of history. The East does have a sense of history. The meaning that the East finds in history is different from the meaning the West finds in history. One might say that, while the West finds meaning in the progress of history in every new development toward a goal or consummation, the East finds meaning in the flow of history with its recurrences and its integration into the natural process. This difference in the experience of time rests upon a basically different perception of existence. The Western tradition, drawing upon biblical conceptions of reality, tends to experience existence through the dimensions of nature, man, and God. Man is differentiated from nature in that he is a historical being; therefore, man's experiences
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of God's revelation on the historical plane have more significance than reflections of the divine in nature. Since the primary theophany or manifestation of God is in historical events, the meaning of history is related to its progress--its unfolding of God's will and its movement toward the consummation of the Kingdom of God. The Eastern tradition, in contrast, tends to experience existence through the dimensions of sacred nature and sacred man. There is a continuity between nature and man in that both are hierophanic, that is, the sacred is immanent in both nature and man. History is integrated into the natural process in terms of time cycles within the eternal dharma [cosmic order], or in terms of the flow of phenomenal existence within the birth-death cycle. The meaning of time and history, then, is not related to its progress toward a consummation, but is in the experience of the ultimate sacred within the flow of natural events. In religious terms, the East experiences the divine through mystical intuition within the natural process, while the West experiences the divine through prophetic interpretation of God's revelation in historical progress. D.M.: How do these differences in time thrusts contribute to notions of death, dying, and afterlife? J.K.: The notion of an afterlife, of course, differs with different conceptions of time and existence. With the Western emphasis on the consummation of historical progress in the Kingdom of God, the afterlife becomes an ultimate, absolute state identical with the future of that Kingdom. The Eastern conception of time is integrated into the natural cosmic cycles, and afterlife becomes rebirth or reincarnation within the continuing flow of the natural historical process. And, since rebirth or reincarnation is the result of ignorance of the true nature of reality and consequent failure to unify oneself with the Ultimate, the goal of human existence is liberation from the cycle of birth and death. Now, this liberation (moksha or nirvana) does not imply an afterlife in heaven. It is simply the state of complete unification with the One Ultimate Reality. There are, of course, notions of paradise in Eastern religions, and these notions have affected the popular attitude toward death. Nevertheless, rebirth in one of the paradises still is part of the birth-death cycle and is not ultimate liberation. In the Eastern religions, this liberation is a state in which the illusory sense of discrete selfhood is overcome, and the total unity of all reality is experienced. The process of dying is painful and fearful if one clings to his "self." However, if he cultivates the religious path, dying itself becomes one dimension of liberation, and thus it is not feared but accepted as the natural process. In Hindu society, for example, the ideal life cycle involves study and then productive mem-
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bership in society for the main part of a lifetime. But when a man becomes older, he begins to withdraw from society, first as a forest dweller and finally as a renouncer--integrating his own psychic life within the natural process of dying. In the West, the sense of divine revelation in history and of historical consummation in the Kingdom of God is associated with a feeling of the "one-timeness" of life, a strong sense of selfhood over against a personal God, and a hope of continued personal existence in heaven. Death thus has a double meaning: it is feared as the ultimate loss of self; but it is, at the same time, hailed as the doorway to future, absolute life. D.M.: Again, I'm reminded of some discussions with Thomas Altizer, as well as a couple of his books. 2~ Most of these recollections are undoubtedly rooted in his course work with Joachim Wach and yourself. In any event, they lead me to two interrelated questions which are related to our theological foci: What place does depth-psychology have in the study of religious symbolism? And what is the relationship of Religionswissenschaft to depth-psychology? J.K.: There is a close relationship between the study of man's religious expressions and the study of man's psychological depths. It has been recognized that most of our existence is fed by impulses that come from the zone of the unconscious. Both the structure and the contents of the unconscious are the result of innumerable existential situations in the individual's personal history resulting from experiences of the reality of the world and of his being in the world. Since the unconscious has resulted from such existential experiences, it obviously will have many resemblances to the various systems of religious symbolism. It should be made clear, however, that in relating religious symbolism to the unconscious it is not being suggested that religious symbols are the product of the unconscious. Nor is it being suggested that religious symbols are archetypes related to a collective unconscious in a Jungian sense. Rather, religious symbols arise from man's existential mode of being in the world. Man experiences the sacred through the various structures of the cosmos and through the various dimensions of his own existence. The two areas of inquiry--the study of depth-psychology and the study of religious symbolism--have much to contribute to each other, since both deal with structures and contents that have arisen from human existential situations. Depth-psychology deals with the unconscious on the individual level, while the study of religious symbolism investigates the communal symbolic expressions of mankind. Thus, the study of religion can contribute a fuller awareness of the religious depth behind the structure and content of the unconscious. In particular, it can show how symbols function to awaken
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the individual experience and t r a n s m u t e it into an open comprehension of the world on a universal level. Depth-psychology can demonstrate, on an individual level, how existential situations create and alter one's perception of the reality of the world and of his place within it. Specifically, it can show t h a t modern secular m a n still creates symbols to understand his being in the world, even though these symbols m a y not have the universality and power of the various religious symbolisms. D.M.: Richard Rubenstein has nicely paralleled your last points in several of his works, especially Power Struggle: A n Autobiographical Confession. 27In t h a t book he delves into his own Jewish history, as well as his personal psychoanalysis. Then, in the context of both, he brings up a figure we mentioned earlier, Paul Tillich. Dr. Rubenstein studied under him at Harvard. I know you and Professor Tillich were dear friends and t h a t you worked closely with him here. I also recall Dr. Eliade's diary, particularly the entry just after t h a t last public lecture [Oct. 12, 1965], a few hours before Professor Tillich actually started to die. After dinner, lecture of Paul Tillich at Breasted Hall. Packed auditorium. I introduced him--more exactly I said a few words on our seminar in common. Paul spoke of "The Significance of the History of Religions for the Systematic Theologian." I didn't think he would give his lecture. When he arrived a week ago, he telephoned me in despair; angina of the chest, attack after attack, the doctors forbade him all activity, except the Chicago seminar. He seemed very depressed and tired. I saw him a few days later; he was recovered, it seemed to me, but changed. This evening he seemed an old man--but nevertheless he read his lecture with vigor. We went back afterward to Kitagawa's. Paul went to the kitchen first to ask for a glass of whiskey. He told us that he liked very much to linger in the kitchen, near the stove--it reminded him of his childhood. A long conversation with Tom Altizer--and Tom repeating to him that he was the greatest theologian of his time, and that those of the "God-is-dead theology" are his disciples, etc. Paul seemed radiant. He made a date with him for the next day, at his hotel, to continue the conversation. Paul's extraordinary faculty of "recuperating" through the active, creative presence of some intelligent interlocutors. This man lives from human warmth, from fellow feeling, and from dialogue. ~8 Didn't we speak t h a t night? D.M.: Yes. That was the first time I visited the Divinity School. It was a powerful experience. I wish I had known Dr. Tillich personally. His works have been very important to me. What was he like? It is difficult to give a s u m m a r y impression of a m a n as stimulating J.K.: and sensitive as Paul Tillich was. Out of the m a n y memories I have of this great man, one thing stands out above all: his tremendous J.K.:
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zest for life. He had an insatiable sense of curiosity, which led him to probe and taste everything he came into contact with, even things which seemed to others to be irrelevant or trivial. In Tillich's eyes, everything had its own unique importance, and he never rested until he was satisfied that he understood what that was. In his thirst for understanding and experiencing life, Paul Tillich often turned to those members of society usually ignored by academic theologians. He talked freely and extensively with mechanics, waitresses, and prostitutes, as he tirelessly sought to find out what it means to be human. The only time I can remember that he was disappointed in his talks with various types of people was, significantly, in some conversations he had with geishas in Japan. Because of the formal etiquette and stylized conversation of the geishas--and partly, no doubt, because of the use of interpreters--Tillich came away disappointed. He felt he had failed to experience them as human individuals. D.M.: I heard Tillich lecture only one other time. I remember that experience well. He addressed himself to the integration of theology and depth-psychology. He attempted to weave the two together and did so in an impressive way. One of my mentors, Carroll Wise, has said that Tillich is the theologian for the pastoral psychotherapist. As his friend and colleague, how have you understood the theology of the pastoral psychology movement? J.K.: It is significant, I think, that the pastoral psychology movement developed in our particular culture. In a sense, it could only originate here. There is something moralistic about our culture which has led in modern times to a need--almost a compulsion--to be honest with one's self, to adjust to life, to come to conscious recognition of motivations and drives rooted in one's past. The pastoral psychology movement has thus naturally and necessarily developed to meet the needs of our particular culture. The theological significance of the pastoral psychology movement lies in the fact that new insights and possibilities for theology have been opened up since the development of the healing sciences. Paul Tillich has demonstrated, for example, the theological significance of modern therapeutic techniques, together with the psychological insights into man's nature on which these techniques are based. Particularly important is Tillich's insistence on the difference between "neurotic healing," as practiced by psychoanalysts, and "existential healing" which overcomes existential anxiety by healing the center of the personality in a radical--or religious--way. The pastoral psychology movement, with its grasp of both theology and depth-psychology, is in an excellent position to integrate both. On a practical level, one can see in the pastoral psychology move-
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ment a continuation of the "cure of souls" praxis [a deed in progress] which has always been a primary concern of the church from New Testament times. Now that the church's cure of souls has been informed and influenced by the modern healing sciences, pastors of today have a new kind of assurance in their work. The psychiatric approach is implicitly accepted by most people in our society, and pastors have ample opportunity for systematic training in psychological understanding and therapeutic technique. Thus, pastoral psychology can contribute to a renewal of the care of souls in our culture--souls in quest of faith. Since such a development can only occur in a cultural setting, would you agree that the pastoral psychology movement is a peculiar product of the American scene, whereas depth-psychology is Western in the general sense? Yes, in the main. Yet we have to remember that incidences of the socalled "healing sciences" are outside the church and throughout the world. Those techniques and findings have been absorbed by openminded thinkers in the West, especially America. You probably know that Freud had a criticism of Americans: that they were too trend orientedY I've heard some English theologians say that a movement like the "Death-of-God" tenor could only happen in a culture that did not have a long-lasting sense of tradition, and that America, in comparison to Europe, falls into "second place." I'm wondering if it is possible to say that one of the reasons why the pastoral psychology movement has been peculiarly American is because of this country's willingness or openness to grapple more readily with new constructs. From such a perspective trends can be considered as stages in an exceptionally rapid growth process. Yes, and I think that there is much more openness to new ideas here. Yet many Europeans accuse the Americans of not having tradition. I think America has a distinct tradition. Many Europeans look at Americans as an offshoot of European culture. However, I think there is something very organic in America. I come from the other side, and I see Americans as quite different from the Europeans. To me America is very old, whereas many of the "older" nations, like Asia, are much younger today2~ Does this have a historical parallel with the view that Roman culture was the "bastard step-daughter of Greece," and yet, in a real sense, Roman culture had an identity of its own? I'm not sure who it was that originated the distinction--maybe it was Collinwood--that the religious beliefs of Roman culture were that of "mother and daughter. ''31 Not long ago I lectured on this. I mentioned Greek culture, of course, but focused on this "mother and daughter" nature in the Roman world. Daughter is definitely an in-
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dependent individual, though mother m a y not think so. Daughter has her own life, her own destiny, which is, to be sure, shared in some way with her mother. I think that idea is quite important when you talk about Europe and America because Europe is not an everlasting parent as it is frequently thought to be. I think World War I really finished the semblance of unity which has existed in such memory. To me the important thing is that America has its own destiny, quite different from the European view. But also, the whole world has to be seen somewhat differently. I do not think we can look at any part of the world from a European, American, or Oriental point of view. Today you have to look at them in their own right. Yesterday I gave a lecture which focused on Thomas Mann's famous statement that "the world has many centers." I think this is the realization that all of us need to grasp because the world is changing. I think a spirit of vanity really shoots through the foundation of European culture. I also think that a spirit of greater vanity has influenced the American culture. Orientals, through colonial experience or otherwise, did not accept being absorbed by the spirit of such vanity. Yet somehow a spirit of such vanity did penetrate Asian culture. Now, even though m a n y Asian nations have rejected Westernization, they cannot shake off this spirit of more vanity. Indeed, all cultures in Asia have been hit by it. D.M.: We talked about the difference between Eastern and Western thought, as well as the concepts of time and the distinctions between the two mindsets which accompany them. I think of Western as a forward thrust, seen with the end of t i m e - - t h e eschaton. What you were saying about the mother and the daughter dovetails into this. There is a concept used in depth-psychology that is called "symbiosis," an undifferentiated unity between the mother and the child. Slowly, as the child matures in a healthy fashion, what was once part of the mother becomes a separate object. My idea about Eastern thought has been that the culture is focused backwards toward a unification of the symbiotic state, whereas the Western mindset has been focused toward the differentiation of the mother and the daughter, or the differentiation between m a n and God. J.K.: I would put it somewhat differently. I think ancient Greece and Asia were very similar before the rise of those who claim man as a measurable object. Western culture was transformed by a Jewish-Christian accent on God. God became the primary concern. However, from the Renaissance on there is a gradual return to cosmological, on the one hand, and anthropological on the other. From the Renaissance o n - - t h i s is a seriously over-simplified s t a t e m e n t - - t h e r e is a preoccupation with man or the anthropological in a cosmological setting. That is to say, God became a part of the setting of the cosmos.
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D.M.: I would like to end our discussion "on time." And let us approach this difference we are discussing from that vantage point. For me Christianity is bound up in eschatology. I still think The Quest of the Historical Jesus is "must" reading} ~ What do you think about the eschatological notion of time that has been so prominent in our Judeo-Christian tradition? Is it still a living perspective--or even a perspective of living? J.K.: Outside Marxism, which really took this much more seriously than most Christians do today, I think, by and large, that Western people have forgotten this belief in the eschaton--though they pay it lip service. Nonetheless, it is here that we need to improve our memory or recall our history--the history of our religious insights. Mircea Eliade says that "By attempting to understand the existential situations expressed in the documents he is studying, the historian of religion will inevitably attain to a new knowledge of man. ''~ I believe this knowledge will contribute to the development of a new humanism on a worldwide scale. This is my hope, and always, in such a context, sensitive people become aware of their eschatological condition. We must promote this awareness because the eschaton is being experienced by many sensitive people today. I know. I have lived with this awareness since I came to this wonderful country.
References 1. "Kitagawa was internationally known for helping establish and define the discipline of History of Religions. . . . His work led to the formation of the 'Chicago School' of History of Religions, which stressed the study of religious phenomena within the discipline of religion, as opposed to study from other fields like sociology or psychology," Anglican Advance, December 1992, 14. 2. "Born in Osaka, Japan, on March 8, 1915, he came to the United States in 1941 to study at a West Coast seminary, but within a year was placed in a detention camp for people of Japanese origin. During the time he lived in the camps, he was ordained an Episcopal priest. Only recently, in his book, The Christian Tradition, did he write about his incarceration." Episcopal Life, January 1993, 25. 3. Specifically, he recommended: Kitagawa, J.M., '~ History of Religions in America." In Eliade, M., and Kitagawa, J.M., eds., The History of Religions. Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1959, pp. 1-30; and Eliade, M., The Two and the One. Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1965. I remember being struck by this book's profound comment: '~l~e discovery of the unconscious could be put on a level with the maritime discoveries of the Renaissance and the astronomical discoveries that followed the invention of the telescope. For each of these discoveries brought to light worlds whose existence was not even suspected. Each, by shattering the traditional image of the world and revealing the structure of a hitherto unimaginable Universe, achieved a . . . %reak-through,'" pp. 9-10. 4. Dr. Kitagawa expressed the same truths twenty-two years later in the Hale Lectures of Seabury-Western. An excellent summary of that series was published in the seminary's quarterly: Kitagawa, J.M., "Religious Visions of the Unity of Humankind," Crossroads, 18, 3, 1988, 10-12. 5. The Very Rev. Scott Norton Jones died a few months before Dean Kitagawa did. He was Alan Watts's successor at Northwestern and the Episcopal chaplain of that university for thirty-six years.
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6. Moss, D.M., "Parochial Ministry, the Episcopal Church and Alcoholism," J. Religion and Health, 1975, 14, 3, 192-197. 7. Both of these men were very familiar with Carroll Wise's doctoral program. One was a psychoanalyst on the faculty, Alfred Flarsheim, and the other was Armen Jorjorian, the dean of Seabury-Western. 8. The basic ideas of this sermon were subsequently developed into a book-length description: Kitagawa, J.M., The Quest for Human Unity: A Religious History. Minneapolis, Augsburg Publishing House, 1990. 9. Marty, M.E., "A Complex Honorable Man," The Christian Century, 1992, 109, 30, 951. 10. Ibid. 11. On November 11, 1992, the Church of England approved the ordination of women to the priesthood. In many respects these new priests will confront the same issues that their sisters in America encountered more than fifteen years ago. Moss, D.M., "Adjustment Reactions and the Female Priest," Advance Magazine, 1977, 90, 2, 12-13. 12. See Armor, J., and Wright, P., Manzanar: Photographs by Ansel Adams, Commentary by John Hersey. London, Secker & Warburg, 1988, dustjacket. 13. Professor Kitagawa's generativity was consistent. Shortly before he died he published two books: The Christian Tradition: Beyond Its European Captivity. Philadelphia, Trinity Press International, 1992; and Religious Studies, Theological Studies and the University. Atlanta, Scholars Press, 1992. 14. The cartoon was a proclamation by Pogo: "We have faults which we have hardly used yet." Moss, D.M., "Odyssey of the Self: A Dialogue with Martin Marty," Pilgrimage: The Journal of Pastoral Psychotherapy, 1978, 6, 1, 29-44. 15. He died of pneumonia. This illness was the result of a recent stroke. 16. See Kitagawa, J.M., Spiritual Resistance: Art from the Concentration Camps. Philadelphia, Jewish Publication Society, 1987. 17. Wach, J., Types of Religious Experience: Christian and Non-Christian. Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1951. A section of this important text relied on a memorial lecture that Professor Wach delivered at Seabury-Western in 1945, "Church, Denomination and Sect," pp. 187-208. 18. Kitagawa, "The History of Religions in America," op. cir., p. 1. 19. See Cobb, J.B., ed., The Theology of Thomas Altizer: Critique and Response. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1970; and Moss, D.M., Prolegomena Post Mortem Dei: A Critical Overview of the Nature and Structure of Radical Theology. Unpublished master's thesis, Evanston, Seabury-Western Theological Seminary, 1969. 20. This is an expression that refers to Moses of the Exodus, Moses ben Maimon (Maimonides), and Moses Mendelssohn. 21. This is particularly evident in two of Prof. Altizer's early books: Oriental Mysticism and Biblical Eschatology. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1961; and Mircea Eliade and the Dialectic of the Sacred. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1963. 22. The History of Religions: Essays in Divinity, Vol. I. Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1967. This book was dedicated to the memory of Profs. Wach and Tillich. 23. See Moss, D.M., "'On the Margins': A Dialogue with Andrew Greeley," J. Religion and Health, 1990, 29, 4, 266-267. 24. When he was a professor of religion at Emory University, Dr. Altizer was seen by more students as a spiritual thinker than a "Christian atheist." 25. See Moss, D.M., "Reality Principle," Dictionary of Pastoral Care and Counseling. R.H. Hunter, ed. Nashville, Abington Press, 1990, p. 1045. 26. See, especially, Altizer, T.J.J., ed., Toward a New Christianity: Readings in the Death of God Theology. New York, Harcourt, Brace & World, 1967. 27. Rubenstein, R.L., Power Struggle: An Autobiographical Confession. New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1974. 28. On October 13 Dr. Eliade wrote: "We learned that, this morning at four o'clock, Paul had a heart attack and was taken to the clinic. He is in an oxygen tent. And suddenly I feel guilty: if I hadn't insisted that he give his lecture, if he hadn't talked with such passion last night at Kitagawa's . . . . " The next day one of the entries reads: "Paul Tillich had a new attack . . . . At eight o'clock, phone call from the University: Paul had just died . . . . Paul knew that he was going to die, the doctor said, but he was serene, at peace." Eliade, M., No Souvenirs: Journals, 1957-1969. New York, Harper & Row, 1977, 276.
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29. Moss, D.M., "Psychoanalysis with Sigmund Freud and New Frontiers in Mental Health: A Dialogue with Roy R. Grinber, Sr., Pilgrimage: The Journal of Pastoral Psychotherapy, 1975, 3, 2, 27. 30. See Kitagawa, J.M., Buddhism and Asian History. New York, MacMillan Publishing Co., 1989. 31. Collingwood, R.G., Idea of History. New York, Oxford University Press, 1946. 32. Schweitzer, A., The Quest of the Historical Jesus. New York, MacMillan Company, 1954. 33. This is a philosophical statement Prof. Eliade used to describe the basic focus of the journal he edited with Dean Kitagawa, History of Religions.
