8 S p i r i t ua l i t y S t u d i e s 8 - 2 Fa l l 2 0 2 2 4 A Troubled Man Panikkar’s impatience for social conventions, institutional roles, and cogent laws and rules, which he saw as obstacles to spiritual freedom and cosmotheandric experience, is well known. This resistance against the law is an intellectual predisposition, namely, the presence of a specific intellectual template that one might call “end of the law”. “Law” stands for a rule of action. The law in discussion is neither the law of nature that binds all men and women at all times (Romans 1:20; 2:14, 15) nor the moral law that is perpetual (Matthew 5:17, 18) and holy (Romans 7:12). It is rather the ceremonial law, the law that prescribes the rites and ceremonies of worship. After Christ, that law has been fulfilled (Hebrews 7:9, 11; 10:1; Ephesians 2:16). The same can be said of the judicial law, the law that directed the civil policy of the Hebrew nation and was translated into the canon law. This predisposition for the “end of the law” is detectable in part of Panikkar’s work and represents an evident assumption of several of his most famous neologisms. But it is explicitly declared in his diary: “I have a direct insight (experience) of the Pauline statements: the Law is superseded, the just do not need the Law, Life is a radical novelty and this not according to any special rules or regulations” (Panikkar 2018a, 186). The quotation continues as follows: “all ‘ius’ is just ‘fictio’, rules” (Panikkar 2018a, 186). Panikkar scholars are well aware of this predisposition. Panikkar believed himself to be a spiritually free man. He was free of conventions, roles, and belongings. In Fragments, he defined this form of freedom as “spontaneity from within, having no constraints from without” (Panikkar 2018a, 42–43). As a consequence, he became a multi-dimensional person who was simultaneously a philosopher, theologian, mystic, priest, and poet. But this is not how he saw himself. By crossing borders and limits or, as he would say, letting himself be open to the flux of life, he believed he was delivering a work of integration. This work of integration, in turn, was propaedeutic to a final step, that of nullification: “the Spirit leads me to the authentic way of nothingness” (Panikkar 2018a, 42–43). If one has to trust Panikkar’s private notes, however, spiritual freedom played no significant role in the most important decisions of his life. Actually, indifference and incapacity to make the right decision, as well as a certain passivity in the face of the events of life, really made the difference. Indifference should be received as “Ignatian indifference,” to borrow a phrase from Panikkar. But, according to Fragments, indifference was also the character of his relationship with mankind. The personal notes in Fragments allow expansion of that indifference well beyond the border of the familiar figure of the ascetic mystic unimpressed by surrounding reality. He Word becomes Flesh… I… suffer for the incarnation (of the word in my life)” (Panikkar 2018b, 89–90). Thus, it is in terms of translation, the translation of the pure experience into a human experience, that Panikkar’s problem must be addressed. Did he translate correctly? Panikkar’s impetus to make the world holy emerges from his diary as genuine. The question remains: did he testify the Mystery? Did he sacralize the world? Was he, as he thought he should be, “a man of the sacred, a man of the mystery?” (Panikkar 2018a, 75–78). The question of translation is, in brief, a question of whether Panikkar reached spiritual freedom. For those who know well Charles de Foucauld, I attempt a comparison. In his travels to the Holy Land and North Africa, de Foucauld acted as a “universal brother” of every person he met (de Foucauld 1966, 34). During his cosmopolitan life, Panikkar never forgot to act as a “universal priest”– the priest of the Ecclesia of the Universe, as he called it. While de Foucauld, a spiritual giant of the 20th century, was successful in developing his own path to spiritual freedom, Panikkar, if one takes his diary for granted, struggled. Another possible comparison is between Panikkar and his friend Abhishiktananda. In his diary, Panikkar made an interesting observation: they experienced the same problem, but Abhishiktananda was a monk. He probably meant that Abhishiktananda’s monastic vocation gave him a path to close the gulf between this world and the other world (Panikkar 2018a, 95–96). On the contrary, Panikkar had no path and had to build one. Of course, he liked mentioning Antonio Machado: “Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking” (Machado 1912, 87). But the adagio was easier to preach than to practice. Panikkar eventually became a mystic in the sense that he had perceptions and visions, but not necessarily liberation from mental restraints and emotional bondage. In a dialogue between the two friends (written by Abhishiktananda), Panikkar reminded Abhishiktananda that he was free to pursue his path: nobody “can tie down the sons of the Kingdom anywhere” because Christ has come and, “the Truth which he proclaimed [note: has] set his people free from every bond” (Abhishiktananda 1998, 46). Abhishiktananda complained that there were things which held him back and prevented him from totally pursuing his path. The same may have held true for Panikkar.
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy MzgxMzI=