Pantheism and Panentheism
PANTHEISM AND PANENTHEISM
PANTHEISM AND PANENTHEISM . In Greek pan means "all," theos means "god," and en means "in." Pantheism means that all is God; panentheism, that all is in God. The two doctrines can be definitely distinguished. When considered together they may be called the pan-doctrines.
Although theism is often contrasted with pantheism and panentheism, the idea of all, or totality, is prominent in every form of theism as a doctrine of the high religions. Thus it occurs in the terms all-knowing, all-powerful, creator of all, and still others. Nevertheless, the most usual form of Western theology, sometimes called classical theism, holds or implies that the world of creatures is outside God. Yet it is also said by those in this tradition that in God is knowledge of all things. Can anything be outside knowledge-of-all-things? To many great minds this has seemed an unendurable paradox. To escape this apparent absurdity of a knowing that does not include the known and yet also to avoid including the world in the divine life, Aristotle denied knowledge of particular things to God, who, he held, was aware only of universal forms or ideas. Divine thought then knows only itself: it is pure thinking of thinking. Therewith Aristotle fell into other paradoxes, including that of exalting as divine a being ignorant of us and our world and hence, it seems, inferior to us. Yet classical theists accepted Aristotle's formula "unmoved mover" (meaning unchanged changer) as descriptive of God. This conception implies that there can be nothing changing in God. Was then Paul, who said, referring to God, "For in him we live and move, and have our being" (Acts 12:28), a pan-theologian?
When we human beings know things other than our own minds and bodies, the known things seem to be outside us. However, our knowledge of these outside things is extremely incomplete and uncertain. God must know everything at least as well and as certainly as we know our own pains and pleasures. Nothing can be so external to an all-knowing God as most things are to us. Accordingly, Plato, the first great philosophical theologian, believing in a divine Soul of the World (who knows us and whose body is the universe), made it clear that nothing was simply outside this deity: the universe as divine body is "in" the divine soul rather than the reverse. Plato was certainly a pan-theologian.
The essential difference between the two forms of pantheology is manifest in their answers to the question "Do the creatures have genuine freedom of decision making, or does God determine everything?" Classical pantheism was a form of theological determinism: God decides or determines everything, including our supposed decisions. Both the ancient Greek Stoics and Spinoza (1632–1677) held this view. Panentheists object that, if one power determines all, there is, causally speaking, only one agent in all action. The Stoic-Spinozistic doctrine is an extreme monism rather than a genuine pluralism. Or, at best, its pluralism is unclear or ambiguous, for reality is active agency or nothing. As Plato said, "being is power"; for him every soul is "self-moved." This agrees with panentheism, which admits a plurality of active agents within the reality of the supreme agent.
The medieval tradition, following Aristotle's wisdom in this, admitted that—at least in all cases apart from God—to know something is one thing; to determine or make it is quite another. If this applies to God, there is no absurdity in holding that God knows and in that sense includes all things but does not fully determine their actions. Panentheism avoids both extreme monism and extreme pluralism, and it does this, it claims, without obvious paradox. Indeed, it sees in extremes a chief source of philosophical paradox. Also, since God does not determine all, the problem of evil is less formidable for panentheism than for either classical theism or pantheism as usually formulated. For, as one can see in Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, and many others, classical theism was always tempted by—and, in the case of the early American theologian Jonathan Edwards, frankly adopted—theological determinism.
The possible ideas of God and the created world can be classified with a precision not customary in the past by using the "modal" concepts of necessity and contingency (see table 1). Classical theism contrasts the contingency of the world (meaning that it might not have existed as it actually does) with the necessary existence of God, who, it is held, could not have failed to exist. In table 1 it is assumed that both God and a world exist. Also assumed is that God is a religious term, in that it is appropriate to speak of worshiping, serving, and loving God with all one's mind, heart, soul, and strength.
Let N stand for necessity in God, C for contingency in God; let n and c stand for the same in creatures. Also let > mean that God includes the creatures and ≯ mean that God does not include the creatures. In views 4 and 6 the question mark instead of the inclusion symbol means that, so far as the table goes, it is indefinite what contingent things God, as a wholly contingent being, does or does not include.
View 1 has been long and widely held; view 9 has recently become important. View 1 consists of the view that God, who is wholly necessary, does not include the creatures, who are wholly contingent. View 9 refers to the belief that God (in different respects, otherwise there would be contradiction) is necessary and also contingent and that God includes
|Model Table of Views of God and the Creatures|
|(1) N⦠c||(4) C?c||(7) NC>c|
|(2) N>n||(5) C>n||(8) NC>n|
|(3) N⦠cn||(6) C?cn||(9) NC>cn|
the creatures, who, in different respects, are contingent and necessary.
The reversal of the order of NC and cn (3, 6, 7, 8, 9) symbolizes the greater importance of necessity in God and of contingency in creatures. God, except according to views 4, 5, and 6, exists necessarily but may also (7, 8, 9) have some qualities that might have been otherwise. In contrast, a particular creature, according to six of the views (1, 3, 4, 6, 7, and 9), exists contingently. The n in cn (third row) is best taken to mean only that there must be some creatures or other. The C standing alone (column II) symbolizes that God might not have existed at all. The c alone (first row) means that there might have been no creatures at all, while n alone (second row) means that the creatures are entirely necessary.
The two definite noninclusions (1, 3) result from the law of modal logic according to which there can be nothing contingent in the wholly necessary. Three definite inclusions (2, 5, and 8) express the modal law that the necessary is in everything. The inclusions in views 7 and 9, although not required by modal logic, are permitted by it and, because of the paradox of putting the known outside the all-inclusive and infallible knowledge, are appropriate.
In column I are the three views that take God to be wholly necessary. Classical theism is expressed in view 1; classical pantheism in view 2. View 3 was held by Aristotle. The views that take God to be wholly contingent (column II) include what is usually meant by a "finite God," one entirely without any necessary, absolute, eternal, infinite, or self-sufficient aspect; this is the view held by Charles Renouvier, John Stuart Mill, William James, and others. (John Hick would be among these, except for his attempt to find a meaning for the divine preeminence that implies eternal existence and a necessary support for other existing things but is compatible with the possibility that God might not have existed.) Column III shows the modal possibilities for allowing in God a contrast between necessary and contingent qualities.
Classical pantheism, view 2, derives an advantage from the laws of modal logic, which do not allow a wholly necessary God to include the creatures if they are (even in part) contingent, but do require such a deity to include the creatures if they are wholly necessary. Thus classical pantheism has no problem on this score; but classical theism (in its usual N, c form) does, since it attributes omniscience to God. Precisely for this reason, Spinoza was scornful of classical theism. He was its first severe critic, although Aristotle would have preceded him had classical theism been known in his time.
The fact that the three views in column I were the chief forms of belief during the first two millennia after Plato may be explained in two ways. First, views 1 and 2 are the simplest of the nine views, except for 4 and 5, which reduce God to a mere accident of existence, a "fetish" according to Charles S. Peirce. Second, views 1 and 3 have an advantage over 2 and 4 in that they honor the principle of contrast (Wittgenstein), or polarity (Morris Cohen), which says that one pole of an ultimate contrast, such as necessary-contingent, has meaning only because the other does and that both must apply to reality if either does. Where all is necessary or all is contingent, both concepts lose their distinctive meanings. Hegel had a similar idea. Yet the paradox of an all-inclusive knowledge possessed by a non-all-inclusive being favors view 2, classical pantheism, as against view 1. Thus is explained the recurring opposition between first the Stoics, then Spinoza, and then the German theologian Schleiermacher on the one hand and the countless classical theists on the other. Although views 1 and 2 are perhaps the two simplest religious doctrines that can be made plausible, each has advantages and serious disadvantages when compared with the other. For several centuries, however, the determinism of early modern (Newtonian) science favored view 2.
The unpopularity of view 3 is readily accounted for. It lacks the simplicity of 1 and 2, and it either, with Aristotle and Gersonides (Levi ben Gershom, 1288–1344), denies concrete knowledge to God or shares, with view 1, the paradox of the wholly necessary God knowing something contingent—whether contingent in all or only some respects does not alter this difficulty. (Knowledge of a contingent aspect of something must itself have a contingent aspect. If proposition p is contingent, it could have been false, and then there would have been no such knowledge as knowledge-that-p.)
Aristotle, by clear implication, held view 3 but saw that he must pay the price of denying concrete worldly knowledge to God. The Scholastics and some of the Jewish and Islamic thinkers refused to pay this price yet insisted on the knowledge; but, as Spinoza saw, they failed to pay the equally obligatory logical price of that decision—either by admitting contingency in God as well as in the world (as the Italian Fausto Sozzini later did) or by affirming the sheer necessity of the world (as Spinoza and the Stoics did). Modal law excludes divine cognition from views 1 and 3; both the principle of modal contrast and the need to admit real freedom (therefore contingency) in God and the creatures render view 2 problematic; some would say impossible.
If we eliminate column II as dishonoring deity by making it wholly contingent, we have left column III. View 8 seems absurd—if there is any contingency at all, there must be some in the creatures. View 7 agrees with view 1, or classical theism, that God must be free not only to decide among different kinds of worlds but also to decide upon no world. Yet what good, one may ask, is this freedom to create nothing? Is not anything better than nothing? "Being as such is good" was a traditional doctrine, from Plato down. Why should one suppose it exalts divine power to think of it as capable of creating nothing as well as of creating something? This is another paradox of classical theism. So we are left with 9 as the view that retains the advantages of the others without their disadvantages. Clearly the five positive ideas of the table are all present in 9 and only in 9. Wilmon Sheldon, like Leibniz (both classical theists), held that the mistakes of philosophers were in what they denied, not in what they asserted. If so, it is view 9 that should be preferred. It symbolizes the modal structure of panentheism, or (as I call my version) neoclassical theism.
Besides the polarity of necessary-contingent, there are other ultimate contrasts that play similar roles: absolute-relative, infinite-finite, eternal-temporal, potential-actual, abstract-concrete, object-subject. Each of these yields a set of nine views subject to similar laws, except that while there are modal logics, there are no worked-out logics for the other polarities, although in my writings there are informal indications of what the logics would be like. The ninth combination, I hold, is logically favored for all pairs of universal contraries. If this is so, the American philosopher E. S. Brightman (1884–1952) did well to use the phrases "finite-infinite" and "temporal-eternal" of God.
If the N and the C in NC, or if infinite and finite, were to be applied to God in the same respect, column III would represent self-inconsistent views. But this is not the intention. Whitehead, for example, makes this clear by distinguishing the "primordial" and the "consequent" natures of God, describing the former as abstract, absolute, infinite, and strictly eternal and the latter as concrete, relative (dependent), finite, and "in a sense temporal." The two natures form one being by the "ontological," or "Aristotelian," principle that abstract entities are real only in the concrete. By no logical rule can view 9 be declared contradictory simply because the same being is assigned characters that would be contradictory if both were on the same level of abstractness or concreteness.
Historically, classical theism has been represented by Philo Judaeus (Jewish theologian of the first century ce), Augustine, Anselm, al-Ghazālī (Islamic theologian, 1058–1111), Thomas Aquinas, and countless other scholastics. More recently, Calvin, Luther, Descartes, Leibniz, Kant (in his Ethics ), and the Americans Jonathan Edwards and Wilmon Sheldon—the list could be very long—have been in this tradition.
In this century classical pantheism has been losing ground. Its universal necessity is a doctrine of Brand Blanshard, but Blanshard is not a theist in any clear sense. F. H. Bradley, by one interpretation, was a pantheist (see W. L. Reese's article on Bradley in the Dictionary of Religion and Philosophy, 1980). Josiah Royce could also be so classified. His deity is inclusive and all-knowing, and he says that relations are universally and exclusively internal or essential to their terms, which implies universal necessity; however, the implication is never clearly admitted in so many words, as it is by Blanshard, who was influenced by Royce. Royce's favorite pupil, W. E. Hocking, was a panentheist or a neoclassical theist, although he did not spell out the matter so clearly as some do.
Plato's theism has been rather poorly understood. Plato affirms self-determination ("self-motion") of those creatures that have souls and by implication also conceives the all-inclusive World Soul as self-moved. This implies some contingency in God and the world. As for necessity, Plato never suggests that not existing or not having a world was a possibility for God. In the Timaeus he speaks of two gods, the eternal God, the Demiurge or Creator, and "the God that was to be," the World Soul. There are hints that the Demiurge is a mythical figure, but the World Soul, with its cosmic body, seems intended more literally. The Plato scholar Francis M. Cornford suggests that the World Soul is the actual deity (Ronald Levinson says "Plato's real God") while the Demiurge is only an abstract aspect of the World Soul, its eternal envisagement of the form of the Good, according to which it acts creatively. In this interpretation, which might have somewhat surprised Plato, he can be considered the first panentheist. The Neoplatonists, however, including Plotinus, seem too unclear to be usefully classified. Their emanations from the One are apparently outside it and, as in classical theism, contribute nothing to it; and the World Soul is held less real than the One. Yet we are not told that the emanations might not have taken place or are contingent.
For two thousand years Plato's suggestion of a soul-and-body structure in God was ignored (or misunderstood), first by Aristotle and Plotinus and then by the Scholastics. More recently it was underestimated even by Whitehead. But about 1600 the heretical doctrine Socinianism, named for its founder, Socinus, proposed that God does not know or determine our decisions eternally (they are not eternally there to be known); rather, God knows them only as or after they occur. By making free decisions, we give divine knowledge new content and thus change God. Socinus may not have held that divine knowledge includes the things known, but he might as well have. At any rate his view conforms to NC, cn. A Socinian theologian defined the eternity of God in modal terms, "God is eternal in that he cannot not exist." This was a deliberate avoidance of the well-known medieval doctrine that God is immutable and impassable (meaning that no creature can influence God). This momentous event of three centuries ago—the rejection of a central doctrine of classical theism, a rejection made on behalf of the self-motion, or freedom, of souls—was passed over by historians and scholars until recently. It is still not to be found in encyclopedias and histories. Only a German book on Socinianism (by Otto Fock) tells the story.
The term pantheism goes back to the English writer John Toland (1670–1722), and the term panentheism to the German philosopher K. F. Krause (1781–1832), a student of Hegel and Fichte. Krause thought of the deity as a divine organism inclusive of all lesser organisms. He said that God is more than and includes nature and man. Consciously or not, he was to some extent returning to Plato's Timaeus. Toland coined the word pantheist and held that the universe is God. Similarly, Spinoza had spoken of "God or nature." There seems no evidence that either Toland or Krause had much influence on later doctrines, apart from funishing a label; they were minor figures in the history of thought. Oddly enough, Krause's chief influence was in Spain.
Hegel (1770–1831) must be regarded as a panentheist if he is any definite kind of theist. He holds that contraries must be united to express truth, and he uses both terms, necessity and contingency. Yet, what precisely he means by these is difficult to determine. He certainly holds that the unity of necessary and contingent, infinite and finite, universal and particular, is the truth of both. But how the unity is to be described is the problem. On this issue Hegel is, for me, unclear. Friedrich Schelling (1775–1854), Hegel's fellow student at Tübingen, in his later writings seems a panentheist in a clearer, more definite sense than Hegel, although he is still not notably clear. He did affirm change and freedom of both God and creatures and certainly did not regard either the creator or the existence of some created order as merely contingent.
After Schelling, the German physicist, psychologist, and philosopher G. T. Fechner (1801–1887) developed a rather neat system that easily fits CN > cn : both God and creatures have some freedom; both face an open future; and there is no suggestion that God exists contingently or could have lacked creatures. (Here is an unusually clear case of the ninth view.) As with Socinus, most scholars gave no heed. In France, however, Jules Lequier (1814–1862), aware of the Socinians, took freedom as his "first principle," addressing God thus: "Thou hast created me creator of myself." In this he anticipated Whitehead's "self-created creature." Of course Lequier had no such idea as that the divine existence was a mere logical accident, nor did he imply divine freedom to have no creatures at all. He also clearly affirmed that our decisions make a difference to God, that they "make a spot in the absolute." That the deity includes the creatures in knowing them is not clearly stated, but it seems to be implied.
In Italy Bernardino Varisco (1850–1933) affirmed some freedom of indeterminacy for every creature (which Plato, Socinus, Lequier, and, probably, Hegel had not done) and affirmed that God includes the creatures. Varisco also held that every creature is sentient: there is no dead, mindless matter. This only Fechner, of the previous European writers in this tradition, had proposed. In America Charles S. Peirce (1839–1914) also (after about 1880) asserted that every creature has some freedom and sentience, that chance, or piecemeal contingency, is pervasive in nature, and that the future is partly indeterminate, not simply for our knowledge but in reality. He accepted the characterization of God as the "necessary being" but was not satisfied with the unqualified description of God as eternal or immutable. He did not believe that our thoughts about God could be made very precise and hence left his theological ideas somewhat indefinite and not altogether consistent. But, if he had a definite position, it could only be the ninth view.
Alfred North Whitehead (1861–1947), an English mathematician, logician, physicist, and philosopher who moved to America in 1924, soon thereafter developed a comprehensive metaphysical system, clearly theistic, and, in most respects, clearly a panentheism. The polar principle, which in application to God may be called "dual transcendence," is, as already remarked, quite clear in his writing (apart from the label, which is an invention of mine). His "category of the ultimate," creativity, implies universal freedom, with an open future even for God. Sentience, or "feeling," is taken as universal (from atoms to people), and God is characterized as "the unification of all things" (in the divine "consequent nature"). Although the divine existence is not said to be necessary, still, since God as primordial is taken as the necessary seat of the "pure potentials" without which nothing would even be possible, what "the possibility of the divine nonexistence" could mean is not apparent.
Whitehead's remarkable saying "Every creature transcends God" I take to mean that the becoming of the creature is not divinely determined and that, until the becoming is accomplished, the creature is not yet prehended by, and thus taken into, the divine consciousness, thereby enriching the latter.
I have tried to draw out, clarify, and systematize the entire development as sketched above. Whitehead was somewhat aware of the partial Platonic precedent, but he may have had little or no knowledge of some of the others. Besides using Krause's panentheism for my view, I also call it neoclassical theism. I give many arguments for this form of theism, including six theistic proofs, arguments that are convincing for those who accept the premises on which they are based.
Paul Weiss (b. 1901) seems a panentheist of some kind, since he affirms human freedom and says that, in prayer, both God and the worshiper are transformed. He implies that deity is a unity somehow inclusive of all things so far as they are good. He does not say that God is wholly necessary or that the world is wholly contingent. John Findlay (b. 1903) is similarly heretical from the classical standpoint. W. P. Montague (1873–1963) and J. E. Boodin (1869–1950) are among the recent American nonclassical theists more or less close to panentheism.
The old issues have been partly left behind. The mere contrasts—necessary versus contingent, infinite versus finite, absolute versus relative, or even eternal versus temporal—no longer serve to define deity. Divine love must be sensitive to the weal and woe of the creatures and far from a purely independent, self-sufficient, unrelative, mere absolute. Paul Tillich (1886–1965) was no classical theist, and, in the third volume of his Systematic Theology (3 vols., 1951–1963), he admits that the creatures contribute to the divine life. This had already been said by Nikolai Berdiaev (1874–1948), who called himself a "mystical pantheist" but spoke of a "divine time" and of creaturely freedom undetermined by God. He was essentially a panentheist, except that, like Tillich, he thought that theological truth cannot be stated literally. Schubert Ogden (b. 1928), a theologian who defends panentheism, partly agrees with Tillich and Berdiaev about the irreducibly symbolic, or nonliteral, functioning of religious language.
Among living philosophers whom I know at all well, the nearest to a classical theist is the logician Richard M. Martin, who holds that all truth is timelessly known to God. Yet since Martin (together with the influential logician W. V. O. Quine, b. 1908) thinks that modal concepts are an affair of our language rather than of the nature of things, it is hard to classify his doctrine in modal terms.
The nine views in our modal table do not exhaust possible beliefs about God or the extraordinary, supreme reality. Various forms of atheism, for example, have been omitted. An important omitted view is that the supreme reality is the only reality: what may seem to us nonsupreme, ordinary realities are only appearances of the supreme reality, appearances that we in ignorance wrongly take as realities. To the questions "To whom do the appearances appear?" and "Who wrongly takes them as more than mere appearances?" the reply of some seems to be that the questions, too, are wrong or ignorant. Really, there are no wrongly thinking realities, only the one utterly good and real absolute, or brahman. This is the extreme version of Hinduistic monism, called Advaita Vedānta (advaita means "nondual"; Vedānta refers to the Vedas, ancient hymns and other sacred documents of Hinduism.) Its greatest formulator was Śaṅkara (788–820).
That the doctrine makes sense is more than most Westerners can see and also more than many Hindus—Rāmānuja (eleventh century) and Aurobindo Ghose (1872–1950), for example—can or could see. But it has had countless adherents. The Bhagavadgītā is indefinite or ambiguous on the relationship between advaita (also called "acosmism," implying the unreality of the cosmos) and pantheism or panentheism. Together with Robert Whittemore, a contemporary American philosopher who went to India to inquire into the matter, I consider that the Bhagavadgītā can equally well be interpreted panentheistically as acosmically.
Medieval Islam was classically theistic, with an even greater tendency to deny or belittle creaturely freedom. Yet a great poet in what is now Pakistan, Muhammad Iqbal (1877–1938), a disciple of Henri Bergson, accepted the ideas of a divine becoming and of creaturely freedom.
One branch of Hinduism, the Bengali school, may, according to some of its representatives, be close to the neoclassical view. For example, it has been reported that a disciple of the school's founder, Jiva Goswami, said, "God, although perfect in love, [yet] grows without ceasing." There seems to be no sharp contradiction between this Indian view and Whiteheadian or (in many respects, at least, the same) Hartshornean theology.
Buddhism appears superficially to be entirely nontheistic. It is certainly not classically theistic, with realities outside the supreme reality. In certain forms of Mahayana Buddhism in China, there is some movement toward classical pantheism (the Hua-yen tradition of Fa-tsang, 643–712). In Theravada Buddhism (in Burma, Sri Lanka, and Thailand), there is nothing like theism, although the tendency to deify the Buddha seems to haunt all Buddhism. Whitehead spoke of "the diffuse God of Buddhism," but the standard theism of the medieval or Renaissance West is simply not to be found in Buddhism.
Confucianism was vaguely theistic but hardly further classifiable in Western terms. To relate Taoism to pantheism or panentheism would be even more difficult.
A sharply formulated doctrine of determinism, theological or otherwise, is a largely Western affair. (The idea of karman suggests it, but vaguely.) So is a sharply formulated doctrine of timeless omniscience, as in classical theism. Plato and Aristotle did not have it. Classical theism (which many scholars say is not biblical) is a largely Western (or Near Eastern) invention of the first Christian centuries. Perhaps Madhva (1197–1276) in India most nearly resembles scholastic theology.
So far, almost nothing has been said about the saying "God is love." Whitehead says that God "prehends" the creatures; since he defines prehension (so far as the prehended entity is concrete) as "feeling of feeling" and also as "empathy," which can be taken as the universal kernel of love, he is saying that God (in "perfect" or unsurpassable fashion) feels the feelings of all. What is that but to say that God (in the best possible sense) loves all? Precisely this is the final meaning of neoclassical theism. The idea of divine love is biblical for Jews and Christians, is far from unknown to Muslims and Hindus, and is, perhaps, not so alien to Buddhists as some may think.
The long reign of classical theism and the considerable appeal (for shorter periods of time and to more limited groups) of classical pantheism have, perhaps, not been adequately explained in this essay. Many arguments for one or another of these views have been omitted, partly because of space limitations and partly, no doubt, from bias, as have some objections that partisans of other views could make to neoclassical theism, or, as it is called by some, "process theism." But then, many arguments for the neoclassical and against the classical views have also been omitted. For these deficiencies, further research by the reader is the only remedy.
For historical examples of the doctrines discussed, see William L. Reese's and my Philosophers Speak of God (1953; reprint, Chicago, 1976). In Alfred North Whitehead's Process and Reality (1929; corr. ed., New York, 1978), part 5 should be consulted, as should the index references under God. I have presented my view in The Divine Relativity: A Social Conception of God (1948; reprint, New Haven, 1982) and in chapters 11–14 of Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method (1970; reprint, Lanham, Md., 1983). Also recommended are The Reality of God, and Other Essays (New York, 1966) by Schubert Ogden, Hartshorne and Neoclassical Metaphysics (Lincoln, Nebr., 1970) by Eugene H. Peters, and Process Theology: An Introductory Exposition (Philadelphia, 1976) by John B. Cobb, Jr., and David R. Griffin. About Whitehead's theism, there are many books. For an able discussion of my reasons for believing as I do about God, see Charles Hartshorne and the Existence of God (Albany, N.Y., 1984) by Donald W. Viney.
See also, in Encyclopaedia Britannica, 15th ed. (Chicago, 1982), the article "Pantheism and Panentheism" and, in the Dictionary of Philosophy and Religion: Eastern and Western Thought (Atlantic Highlands, N.J., 1980), edited by William L. Reese and others, the articles on Cournot, Fechner, Iqbal, Krause, Lequier, Plato, Plotinus, and Whitehead (secs. 16–21).
Christ, Carol P. She Who Changes. Re-Imagining the Divine in the World. New York and Basingstoke, England, 2003.
Janssens, David. "The Problem of the Enlightenment: Strauss, Jacobi, and the Pantheism Controversy." Review of Metaphysics, 56 (March 2003): 605–632.
Levine, Michael P. Pantheism: A Non-Theistic Concept of Deity. New York, 1994.
Levine, Michael P. "Pantheism, Theism, and the Problem of Evil." International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 35 (June 1994): 129–152.
Melamed, Yitzhak. "Solomon Maimon and the Rise of Spinozism in German Idealism." Journal of the History of Philosophy 42 (January 2004): 67–97.
Thomson, Curtis L. "From Presupposing Pantheism's Power to Potentiating Panentheism's Personality: Seeking Parallels between Kierkegaard's and Martensen's Theological Anthropologies. " Journal of Religion 82 (April 2002): 225–252.
Zoetmulder, P. S. M. C. Ricklefs, ed. and trans. Pantheism and Monism in Javanese Suluk Literature: Islamic and Indian Mysticism in an Indonesian Setting. Leiden, 1995.
Charles Hartshorne (1987)