David K. Goodin, PhD Candidate and Faculty Lecturer
McGill University, Quebec, Canada

Gregory of Nyssa (c.330-385 C.E.) is one of the earliest systematic theologians of the Orthodox Christian Church.  Gregory defended the Christian faith against the undue influence of Greek philosophies, all the while relying upon those same philosophies to explicate orthodox doctrine. The nature of the phenomenal world, the relation of body to soul, the doctrine of the resurrection, and the eschatological expression of heaven became key topics in this debate with the Gnostics who championed ancient Greek ways of thinking. In this dispute, it is of particular interest that Gregory developed a Christian worldview that strikingly parallels the Mahāyāna theology described in the Mahāparinirvāna Sūtra. While there are seemingly irreconcilable tenets of faith separating Christianity and Buddhism, the writings of Gregory reveal surprisingly subtle distinctions between these religions on the dialectical monism that constitutes phenomenal reality and the 'blessed passionlessness' of the afterlife.

This paper presents an in-depth analysis of these correspondences, beginning with the writings of Gregory and then moving on to the Mahāparinirvāna Sūtra. No position is taken as to whether these correlations result from common humanity perceiving divine reality through the lens of Occidental and Oriental culture respectively, or through ancient historical exchanges of thought between these religions. Instead, this paper seeks to open up common ground and a new inroad for interfaith dialogue for Christianity and Buddhism—through doctrine itself. 

Bringing the Texts into Dialogue

Gregory of Nyssa was an Orthodox Saint who expounded upon the Christian scriptures, while the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāna Sūtra (hereinafter Nirvana Sutra) is itself a Buddhist scripture. Nevertheless, the works of Gregory and this last Sutra of the Mahāyāna canon share certain commonalities that allow for extended comparison, and which serve as a demarcation point for finding new common ground between these religions. Very general speaking, it can be observed that both share a distinctive pedagogical quality: they communicate a meticulously detailed picture of their respective cosmologies, and attempt to make eschatological reality accessible to the yet unenlightened. For his part, Gregory would draw upon philosophical and contemporary 'scientific' knowledge to show the reasonableness of divine prophesy to skeptics,[1] whereas the Nirvana Sutra makes use of analogies derived from phenomenal existence (e.g. a burnt seed, a bright gem, a medicinal tree, etc.) to serve as a bridge to crossover to right understanding. These pedagogical aspects make both sources available for comparative analysis, a feature that soon gives way to deeper and more meaningful correspondences—the most intriguing of which is found with a central message in the works themselves. 

Gregory of Nyssa is best known for the development of Trinitarian theology in advancing the positions of his brother, Basil of Caesarea (329-379 C.E.).[2] But what is significant here for this comparative analysis is that, while other Church Fathers regularly made use of philosophy in their apologetics against heretics, Gregory went further and engaged in speculative expositions on divine scripture in wide ranging theological topics. Yet, even so, he did not fall into the error made by the anathematized Origen of Alexandria (c.185-254 C.E.). Gregory only used philosophy to explicate scripture—he did not create unscriptural theologumenon. Nevertheless, one element of Gregory's work, the doctrine of "restoration" (apokatastasis) would later be accused of Origenism,[3] a subject to which this paper shall return.  And so, while this places Gregory in one respect at the margins of acceptable speculative theology, this unique position still offers a key point for comparison with the Nirvana Sutra.   

The Nirvana Sutra is the final message of the Buddha before his parinirvana, and is considered the supreme and definitive expression of Mahāyāna. The Sutra presents an anonymous chronicler who documents the Buddha's responses to a series of interlocutors who query the Buddha on all matters of faith.  The heart of the Sutra was completed around 300 C.E., with the text being expanded with additional material over the next century, and the Chinese edition finished in 421 C.E.[4] This places the Sutra in temporal relation to the works of Gregory, who wrote in the fourth century C.E.  But the more substantive correspondence is with the doctrine of universal salvation.  The Nirvana Sutra maintains that even the icchantika (those who have slandered Dharma and rejected the Buddha) still retaining the capacity for enlightenment, for their essential Buddha-nature cannot be destroyed—and in this respect, it stands in tension with the Chinese Yogācāra tradition.  It is here that the Nirvana Sutra and the works of Gregory share more than an incidental resemblance.  Both reach toward the other from their respective traditions on the subject of universal salvation. 

In the final analysis, however, such a doctrine (as desirous as it may be) must be considered out of reach.  The foremost reason for this, and very generally speaking, is that Buddhist soteriology places the power of salvation in the individual through correct knowledge and practice in the Noble Eightfold Path; salvation in Christian soteriology, on the other hand, is decidedly not within the power of the individual to obtain themselves—it is only through God's grace and Christ's atonement.  Yet this investigation still reveals surprising subtleties in Gregory's position that are reminiscent of the eschatological vision in the Nirvana Sutra, as well as the existence of other correspondences that reach to the foundations of cosmology and eschatology.  It is here that a solid foundation and common ground can be found for respectful interfaith dialogue today.

The bishops at the First Council of Nicea in 325 C.E. sought to resolve a dispute regarding the substance (hypostasis) and divine essence (ousia) of God and Holy Spirit, versus that of the Person of Jesus.   The ensuing proclamation, the Nicene Creed, established that the Son is consubstantial (homoousios) with the Father and Spirit—a position that preserved the singular unity of the Trinity.   But at the same time, since the 'Word' of God was made flesh in the Person of Jesus, this also signified that the material (hulē) of the created order, which is to say the world of nature, was somehow brought into union with the substance (hypostasis) and essence (ousia) of God.  At first glance this position would seem to pose a scriptural problem on account of the absolute distinction between flesh and spirit in the Pauline epistles.  The doctrinal solution for Gregory and the Cappadocian Fathers was to differentiate the created world between sensible and intelligible realities.  Sensible reality is said to not share the substance or essence of God, even though the Person of Jesus did share creation's material (hulē), which is to say, flesh.  Jesus possessed two natures (divine and human) while the material of the created order is still seen as unreconciled to God—that is, until the eschatological "restoration of all things" (apokatastasis) prophesied in Acts 3:21 (NKJ), a universal eschaton prefigured in the resurrection of new and immortal flesh for Jesus.  And so for these reasons, Gregory described the material of creation as having both a sensible and intelligible aspect, in that:

The intelligible creation does not, to begin with, seem to be in any way at variance with a spiritual Being, but on the contrary to verge closely upon Him, exhibiting as it does that absence of tangible form and of dimension which we rightly attribute to His transcendent nature … [while with respect to the sensible creation] not one of those things which we attribute to body is itself body; neither figure, nor color, nor weight, nor extension, nor quantity, nor any other qualifying notion whatever; but every one of them is a category; it is the combination of them all into a single whole that constitutes body. Seeing, then, that these several qualifications which complete the particular body are grasped by thought alone, and not by sense, and that the Deity is a thinking being, [so too the body has an intelligible reality].[5]

Here it is important to note that the sensible aspects of corporeal creation were not seen as dualistically opposed to the intelligible for, as explained by Gregory, phenomenal reality only exists as an extension of God's direct and continuing intervention:

For since it is the property of the Godhead to pervade all things, and to extend itself through the length and breadth of the substance of existence in every part—for nothing would continue to be if it remained not within the existent; and that which is this existent properly and primarily is the Divine Being.[6]  

Stated another way, Gregory established the view that, "the Divine Will became [the world of] nature."[7]  This position was later reiterated and clarified by Maximos the Confessor (580-662 C.E.) who declared that Jesus as the Word (Logos from John 1:1-3), "ineffably hid Himself in the principles (logoi) of created beings for our sake, [for] He indicates Himself proportionally through each visible thing, as through certain letters, present in His utter fullness in the universe."[8]  For Maximos, creatures (species in nature) exist as 'words' to the Word, and a source for divine revelation that can be read through contemplation.[9]

This position on the intrinsic goodness of creation remains a cornerstone of Orthodoxy.[10]  Sensible reality is a different substance from God, but since all sensible reality is undergirded by the divine will and the principle of existence (i.e. the logoi), it is imbued with an intelligible reality reflecting the essence of God to varying degrees—the paragon of which is humankind's Image of God.  This cosmological understanding forms the basis for current view of Orthodoxy on the relationship between the Creator and Creation: "immanence without pantheistic identification, transcendence without deistic isolation."[11]

Now, returning to Gregory, he also saw that the sensible world, though it contains and is sustained by the mark of the Creator, remained in bondage as a result of humankind's sin.[12]  This view was based on Paul's declaration in Romans 8: 18-23 (NKJ) which proclaimed that the world is pervaded by suffering:

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.  For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God.  For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now.  Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body.

Here we see a remarkable feature of the Christian scriptures.  Creation is personified.  Further, this passage appears to be more than a poetic interlude because creation is described as sharing in the same suffering and alienation from the full presence of the Godhead that also afflicts humankind, and further that creation strives (in some way) for a shared redemption with us.  The Christian concept of a suffering humanity and a suffering world, and its possible connection to the Buddhist Noble Truth of duhkha, will be investigated further in the following section.

But first, as already discussed, in Christian theology, an individual person is seen as an amalgamation of two aspects, the intelligible soul and the sensible corporeal.  But unlike Socrates' "walking sepulcher called a body,"[13] the flesh is not vilified as evil.  In Orthodoxy, the soul is given no special status independent from the physical body (σωμα).  Rather, for Gregory, both the sensible reality of the body and the animating principle of the soul develop together without either being antecedent or preexistent.[14]  Stated another way, there is no 'you' before you existed, and the 'you' who you are now is bound to the suffering world through the generation of the body.  For this reason the Platonic (and by extension, the Hindu) belief in the transmigration of individual souls is rejected.  People do not take the form of various animals and plants in successive earthly incarnations pursuant to their virtue or accumulated sins.[15]  Instead, people are born of, from, and into a suffering world, becoming a unique combination of the sensible and intelligible that only exists once—that is, until the resurrection.  But this in turn raises the question of the fate of the body and soul upon death, and what exactly happens to this unique 'self' when awaiting the Parousia. 

Part of this question is addressed by Gregory through expounding upon the Apostle's analogy of the seed in 1 Corinthians 15:38.  Upon death, the body decays into the soil of the earth.  Thereupon, just as a seed transforms the soil in which it was "dissolved," becoming in time a full-grown inflorescence of wheat, Gregory declared that, "by these miracles performed on seeds you may now interpret the mystery of the Resurrection."[16]  Each person will grow a new spiritual body from the seed of the physical body (i.e. the intelligible principle) using the material of the earth.  This new immortal body will not suffer from the corruptibility of the present world order, but will arise from the soil incorruptible (1 Corinthians 15:42-44).

This then raises the question of what happens to the de-fleshed 'soul' while awaiting the resurrection.  The New Testament scriptures are decidedly coy on this question.  Paul at one point says that people 'sleep' until the Parousia, but then declares: "Behold, I tell you a mystery—we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed" (1 Corinthians 15:51).  Paul also suggestively hints that he would be present with Christ in death, apparently signifying that he will not be one of those who sleep (Philippians 1:23).  There is also Jesus' promise on Golgotha to the repentant criminal that they would be together in paradise that same day (Luke 23:43). Even the analogy of sleep suggests a certain postmortem consciousness, albeit at a diminished capacity. 

Before turning to the Orthodox response to these enigmatic texts, it should be noted that the Catholic Church developed the doctrines of Limbo and Purgatory for 'interim' souls of the dead.   The Orthodox Church, on the other hand, does not recognize the existence of unearthly purgatorial realms of punishment.  Instead, we find in the writings of Gregory another solution to this scriptural enigma.  He argued that the dead need only be envisioned dissolving into the soil of the earth through natural decay: "everything that is affected by death has its proper and natural place, and that is the earth in which it is laid and hidden."[17]  Once in this "invisible and scattered condition," the person losses their original atoms of sensible existence,[18] but does not disappear entirely.  Consciousness merges into the natural world order:

This sentient part, however, does not disappear, but is [also] dissolved. Disappearance is the passing away into non-existence, but dissolution is the dispersion again into those constituent elements of the world of which it was composed.  But that which is contained in them perishes not, though it escapes the cognizance of our senses.[19]

For Gregory, death merely represents a return to the dust of the earth, a post-mortem immanence with the created order.  The world of Nature becomes the interim resting place for the sentient aspect of human beings, and the intelligible principle of the soul remains with its constituent atoms "no matter in what direction or in what fashion Nature may arrange them."[20]  For Gregory, the created order was a type of world-soul, in that "we see the universal harmony in the wondrous sky and on the wondrous earth; [and] how elements essentially opposed to each other are all woven together [by God] in an ineffable union to serve one common end, each contributing its particular force to maintain the whole."[21]  This Christianized anima mundi is not a poetic extravagance.  Nature becomes for Gregory a real and instrumental agent of God that works with sensible matter and the intelligible aspect of the soul (which comes directly from God) to bring forth all life:

Nature, the all-contriving, takes from its kindred matter the part that comes from the man, and molds her statue within herself. And as the form follows upon the gradual working of the stone, at first somewhat indistinct, but more perfect after the completion of the work, so too in the molding of its instrument the form of the soul is expressed in the substratum, incompletely in that which is still incomplete, perfect in that which is perfect; indeed it would have been perfect from the beginning had our nature not been maimed by evil.[22]

This activity also serves to fight against the powers of evil, for "Nature carries on the combat against death" by continually bringing forth new life through this process.[23]  There is also a progressive element in this activity, for Gregory declares that, "humanity itself is a thought of God not yet completed, as these continual additions prove."[24]  This in turn signifies that, for Gregory, Nature has a teleology aimed at life, and that with the apokatastasis, Nature will resurrect deified flesh from its restored material (hulē).  Nature is thus integral to humankind's own deification (theosis) mentioned in Luke 20:36.  This then becomes the basis for Gregory's most controversial claim:

His end is one, and one only; it is this: when the complete whole of our race shall have been perfected from the first man to the last—some having at once in this life been cleansed from evil, others having afterwards in the necessary periods been healed by the Fire, others having in their life here been unconscious equally of good and of evil.[25]

Here Gregory encroaches upon the doctrine of 'universal salvation' by Origen and heterodoxy.  It is unclear if Gregory meant that every sinner is to be released from hellfire, or just the redeemable ones who require a purgatorial cleansing before they join the righteous remnant in theosis.  Gregory only indicates that evil will cease to exist, and God will "all [and] in all."[26]  The modern Orthodox Church cannot accept a doctrine of universal salvation: some sinners must be considered irredeemable.  Gregory's doctrine of apokatastasis should therefore be considered limited to the restoration of the created order, together with those redeemable persons (sans the chaff that must be thrown into the fire and destroyed entirely) who will be reclaimed by God at the end time. 

Gregory believed that even with death the sentient part of the self remains cognizant and able to suffer, for some need to be healed by fire.  The rationale for this necessity is simple.  The soul becomes affected by the actions of the individual during their lifetime.  Virtue upraises, vice corrupts.  For those that achieved purity in this lifetime, it would appear that this post-mortem 'sleep' is characterized by freedom from the passions (i.e. the strong emotional impulses which unbalance judgment) that torment the soul during life.  But as for those who have not dedicated their lives to the temperament of the passion and painstakingly accorded their lives to God, Gregory declared that, "just as the furnace is the proper thing for gold alloyed with dross … [so too] they who have not been admitted to that form of purgation [through religious practice] must be purified by fire."[27]  And so, like in Catholicism, a purgatorial fire awaits after death in Orthodoxy.  But the place of punishment is not an unearthly realm, but the world of Nature which, like us, is also trapped in bondage of sin.  Then with the restoration of Nature at the Parousia, Gregory declared that a resurrection will proceed in which the original person is reconstituted from the earth: 

Death has been introduced as a dispensation into the nature of man, so that, sin having flowed away at the dissolution of the union of soul and body, man, through the resurrection, might be refashioned, sound, passionless, stainless, and removed from any touch of evil.[28]

At this point it should be recalled that Creation does not have true independent status in Orthodox cosmology.  It is created and sustained by the will of God out of nothingness, "for all creation, owing to the whole equally proceeding from non-existence into being, has an intimate connection with itself."[29]  The world-soul therefore is no divinity in its own right, but is essentially a nothingness sustained by the will of God for the purpose of acting as His agent within nature, as Nature.  Creation became at variance within itself due to the disobedience of humankind against the will of God; and as a consequence, the Deity brought forth mortality and suffering into the created order.  But to achieve the resurrection, Nature must be restored to its original and proper order to be able remake humankind perfect, passionless, and immortal. 

This brings us to the final question of what the Kingdom of Heaven will be like. With this question Gregory declares:

We shall be like God so far that we shall always contemplate the Beautiful in Him. Now, God, in contemplating Himself, has no desire and hope, no regret and memory. The moment of fruition is always present, and so His Love is perfect, without the need of any emotion. So will it be with us.[30]

The eschatological end-goal of humankind is this "blessed passionlessness" before the infinite Godhead.  Nature, as an agent of God, is integral to this unfolding process in bringing forth new life, being the abode for the deathly slumber, serving as the place for purgatorial preparation, and as becoming the agent of resurrection.  The final manifestation of Nature at the apokatastasis is not specifically defined by Gregory—that is to say, whether it will be like a new Eden for the spiritualized flesh of the resurrected (a vision promoted by Irenæus of the second century C.E.), or a bringing together of all essences back into the Godhead in an insubstantial paradise.  The latter mystical interpretation was the position of Maximos the Confessor (revealing Neo-Platonic influences from pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite of the fifth century C.E.).[31] The writings of Gregory suggest the afterlife would have the quality of both the material and immaterial paradise coming together in a seamless ineffable union—a stance, as we will see next, that is comparable to the eschatological vision presented in the Nirvana Sutra.

The Nirvana Sutra, the last of the sutras in the Mahāyāna canon, elucidates the Buddha Nature (Buddha-dhatu) residing within the world.  The Buddha-dhatu is the supra-mundane expression of the True Self buried beneath negative states of mind and carnal disposition that characterize the non-Self.  It is the human condition to become preoccupied with the impermanent non-Self, or not-the-Self (anatman), which is formed of the five skandhas.  These are: (1) physical form or earth element; (2) sensible reality; (3) perception and conception of sensible reality; (4) intention and volition in actions; and (5), the states of mind (consciousness) that result from this amalgamation in the anatman.  These skandhas however do not constitute the True Self (atman) for they are all impermanent, existing as transient conditions of life with no real principle of eternalness in-of-themselves.  They form the 'mundane ego' which the unenlightened mistake for their true selves.  Yet it is this very attachment to sensible reality that underlies the cycles of samsara trapping all sentient life in duhkha.

The True Self is equated with the Buddha-Principle (Buddha-dhatu) that emerges from the 'womb' of the Buddha-Matrix (tathaagatagarbha).  The True Self is one's innermost essence (svabhava) and that part which can achieve Dharmakaya—the ultimate level of being, and the true reality of the universe itself.  But only when a person has cleared away the kleshas (mental and moral afflictions, including desire, anger, and pride) from their inner world can the Buddha-dhatu be actualized.  This True Self inheres the Buddha and the body-and-mind complex; the Buddha-dhatu is therefore both immanent to the person and transcendent with the entirety of universe—simultaneously.  For this reason, the Buddha-dhatu can be said to exist in non-human creatures as well.

The Nirvana Sutra declares that, "all sentient beings without exception have Buddha-nature."  The Zen Master Dōgen (1200-1253 C.E.), founder of the Sōtō school, understood this verse from the Nirvana Sutra as signifying that sentient creatures are Buddha-nature, not a symbol or representation, but inherently Buddha-dhatu.  Graham Parkes concludes that Dōgen envisioned a cosmology inclusive of non-human life.[32]  Likewise, we find that the tathaagatagarbha doctrine declares that all creatures have the potential to actualize their Buddhic Element and to become unpolluted by samsara.  Even if it is only through transmigration in the six paths, wherein a human sentient being emerges capable of devoting themselves to Dharma, the species of the phenomenal world would appear to share the potentiality for emancipation. 

In Buddhist cosmology, the phenomenal world continually repeats a four-stage cycle of formation, continuance, decline, and disintegration—cycles of change and rebirth through the four kalpas (æons or ages).  A parallel to Christian cosmology is found here with this conception of an utopian past:

At the beginning of the kalpa, there were many beings.  Each was garbed in the best of virtues. The light that shone from their bodies was so great that one did not need any more to depend upon the light of the sun and moon. [But] due to the power of the non-eternal, the light waned and the virtues lessened.[33]

Like the Christian paradise of Eden, the primordial 'great earth' falls and becomes the present phenomenal world of suffering and unrest.  But in Buddhist cosmology, the cause is the principle of impermanence, not moralistic sin.  In another interesting parallel to Christian ex nihilo cosmology, the phenomenal world is seen to be comprised of Form and Void, and that ultimate reality is related to this dialectical monism:

'O Kaundinya! Form is Void. By doing away with the form that is All-Void, one arrives at the Non-Void form of Emancipation. So does it obtain also with feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness.'  Then the World-Honoured One spoke to Kaundinya: 'Material form is non-eternal. By doing away with this form, one arrives at the Eternal form of Emancipation.  So does it obtain with feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness, too.  By doing away with consciousness, one arrives at the Eternal form of Emancipation and Peace. This also pertains to feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness.'[34]

The phenomenal world is the milieu of the non-Self, and it too is impermanent and non-eternal—its apparent reality only being a consequence of karma.  Yet within this Void, the Buddha-dhatu represents a true intelligible essence in a world of otherwise empty forms.  It is through this dialectic of the insubstantial forms and intelligible essences that the non-eternal leads (through correct Dharma) to the Eternal, and the Void gives way to the non-Void of emancipation.

In this respect, Buddhist cosmology appears to be functionally analogous to the Orthodox Christian conception of sensible creation and intelligible reality.  The five skandhas of the anatman, while encompassing mental states in addition to the sensible aspects of external reality, parallel certain functional dynamics of Gregory's division of the intelligible and sensible creation.  Both systems describe phenomenal reality in terms of a dialectical monism wherein the impermanent sensible aspects (whether termed Void or ex nihilo) are simultaneously undergirded and transcended by the Buddha-Principle (Buddha-dhatu) and the 'Christ-Principle' (Logos-logoi), respectively.  Such equivalences, naturally, begin to breakdown as each corresponding feature takes on a particular and distinctive expression in their respective religions—for Orthodoxy an expression of divine plenitude, in Buddhism a means to transpersonal compassion and contemplation of the Buddha (buddhanusmrti).  Also in Christianity the Logos-logoi is a casual principle as well as an immanent aspect; in Buddhism the Buddha-dhatu is an immanent aspect only—karma is the cause.  But the underlying similarities are not mere appearance or superficial resemblance, but operate as foundations within their cosmological schema extending into a consummation in eschatology.  The main area of disagreement between these systems concerns the persistence of the phenomenal world.  In Orthodoxy, the sensible world exists by the continuing will of God.  In Buddhism, the phenomenal world is a by-product of karma.  In both conceptions, however, the suffering that characterizes the present world order, whether termed duhkha or theodicy, is bound to the consequences of karma/sin.

It is tempting to draw a parallel between the skandhas of the anatman, with the dissolution of the carnal self into the soil of the created order as described by Gregory.  But this may be pushing the correspondences too far.  Christianity professes the resurrection of each person distinct in his or her individuality and personal character.  But even so, if sentience is considered the experience of self, and more particularly the experience of that self in the milieu of the fallen world order, then the Christian resurrection can be envisioned as bringing forth a 'Self' no longer conditioned by mortality, the passions, or the stain of sin.  "Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed" (1 Corinthians 15:51, NKJ).  Such a conception of "not-the-Self" could provide an intriguing basis for comparison to Buddhism's anatman even while upholding the Christian doctrine distinct personal individuality before God.

We now turn to the key question as to whether the phenomenal world in Buddhism is inherently evil or otherwise irreconcilably opposed to the Eternal.  The rejection of the phenomenal world is soteriologically necessary for both Buddhism and Orthodoxy.  Yet in both cases, the religious person is required to embrace that same carnal world with a conscious detachment to its sensible aspects—that is to say, to navigate the 'middle way' between renunciation and participation in worldly affairs, or in Pauline terms, to live one's life according to the Spirit (κατα πνευμα) and not pursuant to the worldly sensibilities of the flesh (Romans 8:1-9).  This becomes a living meditation in daily life, a contemplative consciousness that continually discovers the harmony of the Eternal pervading the impermanent mundane.  The sensible reality is therefore not evil in either conception.  In one sense it is a distraction to what it is truly real.  But even so, neither religion professes an irreconcilable dualism of spirit over and against matter.  For, just as in Orthodox cosmology, the Eternal in the Buddhist conception is accessible to the True Self through the senses, and correctly perceived in contemplation. 

With respect to eschatology, the exact expression of Nirvana is not fully disclosed in this last Sutra.  But it is revealed that the sensible aspects will be without the pollution of karma, for the five skandhas are to be transformed:

O Kaundinya! Material form [rupa] is non-Self.  By doing away with such form, one arrives at the form of the True Self of Emancipation.  Feeling is non-Self.  By doing away with such feeling, one arrives at the feeling of the True Self of Emancipation. Perception is non-Self.  By doing away with such perception, one arrives at the perception of the True Self of Emancipation.  Volition is non-Self.  By doing away with such volition, one arrives at the volition of the True Self of Emancipation.  Consciousness is non-Self. By doing away with such consciousness, one arrives at the consciousness of the True Self of Emancipation.  O Kaundinya!  Form is the non-Pure.  By doing away with this form, one arrives at the Pure Form of Emancipation. So does it obtain also with feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness.  O Kaundinya!  Form is what represents birth, old age, illness, and death. By doing away with such form, one arrives at the form of the non-birth, non-old-age, non-illness, and non-death form of Emancipation. So does it also obtain with feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness.[35]

The Nirvana Sutra proclaims that the material form will be transformed to the Pure Form of the True Self complete with feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness.  This description of Nirvana parallels Gregory's description of the transformation of the flesh from corruption to incorruptibility when the sinful aspects of the phenomenal world are reconciled to God.  The Buddha also declares that, "O good man!  In the life of heaven, we do not have any of this kind of great suffering. The body is soft, delicate and smooth."[36]  It should be noted here that the Buddha's body itself is glorified as pure in the practice of buddhanusmrti, and this principle extends to the incarnations of the Buddha in the various regional pantheons.[37]  This suggests that a corporeal existence awaits at the Buddhist eschaton, or at least a spiritualized form of this corporality free from the pollution of suffering, earthly desires, and illusion. 

There is a counter-argument that states the nirvanic 'body' is just an analogy for a subjective experience of transformation,[38] much like the naturalistic figurations used in the parables of Jesus for spiritual realities.  This is the 'two truths' principle which asserts that ultimate reality can only be described by resorting to conventional language.  Notwithstanding, whether the language of the Nirvana Sutra represents anthropomorphized analogy or actual transcendent reality, the phenomenal flesh cannot be seen as irreconcilably evil in either conception.  At a minimum, such declarations of the Nirvana Sutra point to the truth that hatred of the flesh is yet another attachment that must be surrendered to be liberated.  Moreover, "the possibility of a body which is not that of ordinary humanity" cannot be categorically precluded for the True Self in Nirvana.[39]  While some scholars assert that Theravaada Buddhism is dualistic with respect to body / True Self and that in "final nirvana there is no physical existence at all,"[40] Mahāyāna appears open to this possibility.

A second basis to presume that the flesh is to be transformed or reincarnated pure in Buddhism is that (just as in Christian eschatology) a purgatorial experience to erase the stain of karma awaits the phenomenal self: "O good man! A person who has Wisdom meditates on the suffering of hell.  From one hell to 136 places, each hell has various types of suffering. All arise out of the causal relations of the karma of defilement."[41]  The 136 hells of hot and cold sufferings are represented as unearthly realms for those who have committed evil, yet this can be claimed to be just a reified analogy for subjective experience.  For example, T'ien T'ai (538-597 C.E.; also known as Zhiyi and Chih-i) and Nichiren (1222-1282 C.E.) envisioned the hells as mental states within present life.[42]  Likewise, even for the Yogācāra, the so-called ‘Consciousness Only’ tradition, the ālaya (casual consciousness) is envisioned as becoming sullied by mental states and physical impressions in life (i.e., from the five skandhas); the devotee must uproot and destroy these ‘seeds’ of defilement from their karmic storehouse, lest their ālaya be thrown back into samsaric suffering—possibly further down the wheel of existence or even to become a denizen of hell.  The analogy of body therefore can be considered very real for the devotee even if it is argued that its reality is consciousness-only or Madhyamaka in its non-nature.  What is important to this discussion is that both Orthodox Christianity and Mahāyāna Buddhism profess the necessity of purification for those defiled by karma/sin, with the purpose of such torments being, in the words of Gregory, "to bring back sinners to original grace by the way of repentance and physical suffering."[43]  Flesh is represented in both as a means for spiritual transformation regardless of its exact status of the body in the cosmological schema.  Moreover, the possibility exists that exclusive dualistic categories such as mind/body or subject/object may also only be a function of carnal dispositions in the experience of phenomenal existence, and not fully representative of spiritual realities. 

Though the exact details of Nirvana are not specified, the textual allusions to its nature seem to parallel the previously mentioned description of heaven by Gregory of Nyssa: 

The Buddha said: "O good man! You may say that Nirvana does not fall within the category of the Three Times [past, present and future] and so is Void. But this is not so. Why not? Nirvana is an existence, something visible, that which is veritable, matter, the foot-print, the sentence and the word, that which is, characteristics, by-cause, the refuge which one takes, quietude, light, peace, and the other shore. That is why we can indeed say that it does not come within the category of the Three Times.[44]

Like Gregory's description of 'blessed passionlessness' of heaven where one exists in the moment of fruition and contemplates the beautiful in Him, the Nirvana Sutra paints a similar transcendent landscape in which the devotee takes refuge outside the Three Times in perfect timeless satiety.  The fate of the phenomenal world remains obscure.  The absolute existence described in the above passage suggests that the Nirvanic 'other shore' may also fall somewhere within the same range of Orthodox visions that has Irenæus' new Eden at one end of the spectrum, and Maximos the Confessor's insubstantial paradise on the other.  Gregory's particular revelation combines elements of each in a seamless mystical union, and would thus appear to provide the best mirror for the eschaton described in the Nirvana Sutra. 

Closing Statements

While important details vary considerably, it still remains that the basic schema of the cosmologies and eschatologies in both religions are surprisingly analogous.  Phenomenal reality is defined in both by a dialectical monism, and non-human nature possesses intrinsic value that extends to an eschatological presence and consummation.  Moreover, in each case, the human element is bound to non-human nature in this process of revealing; all of phenomenal existence is to be reconciled to ultimate reality in both Orthodox Christianity and Mahāyāna Buddhism through the human element achieving soteriological fulfillment.  Eco-theologians will want to make special note of these common underlying themes.  But the significance of this analysis also extends to other topics for interfaith dialogue.  Profound doctrinal correspondences exist which make possible deep meaningful exchanges on other questions of theology, cosmology, and eschatology.  The Nirvana Sutra and the works of Gregory do indeed reach toward the other, revealing a path of common, and in places, adiaphorous ground that can support a wide range of subjects for mutually enriching exchange.

Nevertheless, a declaration on the universality of salvation may not be a realistic goal for interfaith dialogue.  Still, it is possible to increase mutual understanding and appreciation of other faiths, especially when those faiths confess many of the same basic truths of one's own.  This analysis has shown that an important inroad for respectful discourse exists for Orthodox Christianity and Mahāyāna Buddhism, a path leading through the works of Gregory of Nyssa and the Nirvana Sutra.  And so, while the soteriologies of these two great world faiths may be incompatible, Christians of today can still find themselves in a position similar to that of Clement of Alexandria (d. circa 215 C.E.) in admiring the extraordinary sanctity of the Buddha[45] yet remaining true to his or her own religion.  Mutually widening and deepening this admiration is perhaps the noblest aspiration for interfaith outreach. 

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Notes: