James Dupuis raises a thought-provoking point:
“No amount of comparative study and theological inquiry will ever be able to tell the full impact which in the present order of salvation non-Christian sacred scriptures may make on the event of salvation lived by the non-Christian… Their true significance as possible channels of salvation for non-Christians cannot be decided by a theological evaluation of their content; it can only be surmised by the impact they make on their religious life, wherever this religious life bears the seal of an authentic openness to the Spirit of God.” (Dupuis, The Cosmic Influence of the Holy Spirit and the Gospel Message, p. 136)
This is a valuable acknowledgment, yet it ends—as often happens—with Christian exclusivism. In Dupuis’ framing, even non-Christian scriptures and spiritual traditions need to bear the “seal” of openness to the Spirit as recognized by Christian theology. In effect, the approval still comes from within Christian categories.
A similar dynamic appears when Dupuis reflects on India’s spiritual quest:
“Through the millennia, the Indian religious tradition has sought after God less in His outward manifestation in history than in the intimacy and the spiritual history of the self… Their encounter with God is by listening to the inner voice that speaks secretly to man’s spirit. How must such an untiring aspiration towards self-transcendence in the divine life be theologically interpreted?” (p. 137)
Here Dupuis recognizes the central role of the inner journey in Indian spirituality, yet still frames the issue in terms of how theology should interpret it.
My Reflections
The way history is viewed as his-story, according to Christians—God’s action in the world through chosen people—is not the only way to understand history, whether secular, social, or spiritual.
In India, history flows both ways: from personal to universal, and from universal to personal. An individual who finds mukti often reaches out to transform society; and society, in times of crisis, inspires individuals to rise up for deliverance, justice, or freedom.
We see this in the Buddha’s path and in the life of Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi consistently said he would only act when his inner voice—his sense of God’s guidance—spoke to him. He even declined repeated invitations to travel abroad, explaining that unless God called him, his place was in India.
Even earlier, after his first assignment in South Africa, when he was about to return to India, he happened to read about the proposed “Black Act.” When he warned the Indians there, they urged him to stay and lead their struggle. Listening to his inner voice, he decided to remain and fight for their cause—a commitment that extended for the next 21 years. Later, on returning to India, the same principle guided his political and social actions: unless he received that inner call from God, he refused to act.
For Gandhi, that inward voice shaped his outward historical role in the freedom struggle. In that sense, what Dupuis calls “outward historical manifestation” was, for Gandhi, rooted in inner listening.
We see a similar contrast when comparing the lives of Jesus and the Buddha. The Jewish historical tradition, with its hope for a Promised Messiah, shaped the role of Jesus and gave context to his mission. He did not simply remain a reforming prophet; history pressed upon him the identity of the Messiah, which later brought regeneration to his followers. In contrast, no prior historical expectation shaped the Buddha. His transformation was born of his inner call, and it was this inner experience that went on to shape history through him. This difference illustrates well the contrast between a history-centered Christian approach to theology and the Indian approach that moves from the personal to the historical.
So Dupuis is right to ask how such aspirations should be interpreted. But in the Indian context, theology or philosophy has always followed the inner call and experience—it has never led. Later generations may codify these insights into siddhanta (doctrines) or schools of thought, but the seed is always lived experience. Hindus never “put the cart before the horse.” Theology is meant to be pulled forward by experience, not pushed ahead of it.
This tension becomes sharper when theology—especially in Catholic tradition—claims the authority to define what counts as salvation, scripture, or history. Protestant approaches are more flexible, since in many denominations even lay people can become “theologians” in their own right, without formal training. But in either case, using Christian categories as the starting point to interpret other traditions risks distorting their unique insights.
Conclusion
Dupuis’ recognition of the Indian quest for God through inner experience is a welcome step. But the real issue is not how Christian theology should interpret this search, nor whether it bears the “seal” of openness to the Spirit as defined by Christianity. The deeper lesson lies in recognizing that theology itself must remain secondary—it must follow lived experience rather than dictate it.
For Indians, salvation has never been a matter of fitting into someone else’s framework. It has always been about hearing the inner voice, and allowing that voice to shape both personal liberation and collective history. Gandhi’s life is proof that the inner voice can move mountains, inspiring not just personal transformation but also the renewal of entire societies.
To listen first, and to theologize later—that is the Indian way of honoring the Spirit.
Ashram, August, 23, 2025
Leave a Reply