Innovation in religion and spirituality is a concept often used but rather under-analyzed. In what follows, I focus on four dimensions of the concept of “innovation” that I think of as necessary aspects for rigorous theoretical engagement and empirical investigation.
Innovation Compared to What?
Like the concepts of religion and spirituality, the concepts of tradition and innovation are defined in relation to each other. Without a shared sense of what constitutes tradition, convention, and the “normal” working of religion or spirituality, it would be impossible to speak of innovation, for innovation is what modifies, reforms, or even challenges these existing norms. In other words, in order to identify “innovation,” we need to have an empirical understanding of the consensus of the tradition to which innovation is compared.
An example of such relational understanding of innovation would be Vatican II (1962-1965). It would have been evident to most Catholics at the time that what Vatican II proposed–a liturgy modernized from Latin to the vernacular, the church’s relationship with nation-states reconsidered, the ecumenical reorientation of the church–was not merely “aggiornamento” (updating), as the Vatican claimed, but change, transformation, and reform of the entire institution. Seen in relation to the church’s traditions, it was clear what Vatican II tried to achieve through complex negotiations and implementation: to bring about new ways of being Catholic for the global church.
But there are other scenarios where the boundary between tradition and innovation are less clear-cut. Within fundamentally diffused religious and spiritual traditions, such as popular Daoism or spiritual practices such as meditation, there might be no central authority to determine–and police–the boundaries of what is considered convention and what is considered innovation. Although there are certainly distinctions between different doctrines and practices, the lack of the strong presence of institutional authority and power structure means that there is a much more open space for creative religious or spiritual action; it is possible to do things differently without encountering great resistance. But how to think about it as innovation?
What Counts as Innovation?
What counts as innovation concerns conceptual clarity that goes beyond trying to identify what change is. What gets identified and classified as innovation? In the example of Vatican II, its contents and effects are considered an update, reform, or change, because many of the changes were to well-established traditions. Even when scholars have a clear sense of what the “norm” of a particular religious or spiritual tradition is, which is often difficult to do, it is not easy to identify what should be counted as innovation rather than change, modification, or reinterpretation.
Defining what is happening outside of the normal workings of religious or spiritual lives as innovation takes an extra step of conceptual clarity. I think this is especially important to address when we think of innovations brought on by women or other religiously marginalized groups. For instance, religious or spiritual rituals involving magic, often practiced by women, are often seen as problematic at the least, and heretical at the worst. The most infamous examples might be the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. What kinds of religious actions might be invisible when one looks for innovations? How do categories of gender, race, and sexuality play in the visibility–or invisibility–of religious innovation?
A further question must be asked: Why does it matter to call something innovation rather than mere change? What makes religious or spiritual innovation different from religious or spiritual change? One way to address this issue is to point to the strong element of purpose in innovation: it calls for the presence of agency, of foresight, of strategy. Rituals are constantly being reinvented through innovation because they are strategic social actions, as Catherine Bell puts it.
What Is the Significance of Innovation?
“Innovation” as a term is largely positive today, but it has not always been considered a good thing. Far from it. In 1548, Edward VI of England wrote a treatise entitled “A Proclamation Against Those that Doeth Innovate.” The purpose of the text is plainly evident in the title. The Reformation thirty years earlier had brought about tremendous religious, social, and political changes: it started as religious innovation and ended as a religious revolution. It is not surprising that those perceived as innovators in religious matters were often punished for their disruption of existing religious authority. Martin Luther’s “Ninety-Five Theses” (1517) led Pope Leo X to declare his excommunication in 1521, and Charles V made him an outlaw in “The Edict of Worms” the same year. Expulsions are common for people who challenge the power of religious authority with new religious ideas and practices, which are usually treated as heresy or heretical (bid’ah in Islam, vinaya pitaka in Buddhism).
Francis Bacon famously acknowledged that change is inevitable for anything existing in time, but innovations are different: they are purposeful, methodical, and might work inconspicuously the way time does. Bacon cautions that innovators should emulate time itself and make changes “greatly, but quietly, by degrees scarce to be perceived.” In other words, innovation may not amount to dramatic changes that break suddenly from the past. Instead it may effect change through steps that are persistent and gradual, but in the end radically transforming. In the 1960s, the physicist and philosopher of science Thomas Kuhn described progress in science via the concept of the paradigm shift. Most of the time, scientists solve small puzzles in their discipline. In the course of normal scientific work “anomalies” occur that challenge the prevailing theoretical paradigm. The paradigm shift happens when the anomalies mount to the extent that theory does not explain them, requiring a new, innovative theory. No matter what form innovation takes–from the production of new scientific knowledge to the formation of new practices or organizational structures in religious and spiritual life–we need to look for actions that might lead to profound transformation.
Innovation For Whom?
If we can identify when innovation is different from mere change in religious and spiritual traditions, if we can empirically separate its process and impact in lived religious and spiritual lives, and if we can recognize its long-term significance, there is still one more question needs to be asked, and it might be the most important one. For whom does the religious innovation take place? Who benefits from the innovation?
Scholars have addressed the impact of innovation and religion in different historical periods and global contexts. Very often we see the underrepresented groups, likely the ones with the least religious and social power, make use of ritual innovation or other forms of innovation to empower themselves and others like them. But there are also cases where it is the ones with the most religious authority who act from positions of power to impose new forms of control through religious innovation. The roles of religious leaders in the contemporary development of white Christian nationalism might be an uncomfortable example. Today we see perhaps too many disturbing cases of religious innovation, if we may use the concept here, where religious vision is entangled with political goals, and the innovative actions are not for the flourishing of all.
To consider the question of “innovation for whom?” leads us to the issue of ethical commitments. Are acts of innovation meant to strengthen the existing power structure and the status quo of practice in a religious tradition? Or are they meant to address the needs and wishes of those who might suffer further harm were the innovations not taking place?
Let me end with a case study from my fieldwork on global Confucianism in East and Southeast Asia. I have been studying Confucian communities in Indonesia for several years. Although Confucian practice has been an important part of life of the small Chinese diaspora in Indonesia for centuries, with Confucian temples strewn across the country, it wasn’t until 1955 that the Supreme Council for the Confucian Religion in Indonesia (MATAKIN) was founded. Based in Jakarta, today the MATAKIN has regional councils and vibrant Confucian communities in Surabaya, Bandung, Malang, and Denpasar, among other cities.
What makes Indonesian Confucianism fascinating is how it has been tremendously innovative. The first time I visited a Confucian temple in Jakarta in 2017, I encountered a Sunday school class with over sixty children, all chanting Confucian texts in Indonesian. When I participated in a temple worship in Denpasar, I was greeted by several women who were members of the choir, and they played the keyboard and sang hymns based on Confucian liturgy during the service. Until the collapse of imperial China in the beginning of the 20th century, Confucian temples were reserved for the elite men who were Confucian officials and students. Today, Confucian temples in East Asia allow anyone, including women, to enter and conduct rituals. The forms of rituals are mostly traditional, such as individual prayers to Confucius, often with offerings of incense, as well as elaborate, well-organized ceremonies for Confucius during his birthday, the most important ritual date for Confucian temples. In contrast, what takes place in Confucian temples in Indonesia is strikingly original: the hymns are contemporary music set to classical Confucian texts in both Chinese and Indonesian. The choirs–the first ones I’ve seen in any Confucian setting–consist mostly of women; the celebrants, both men and women, lead liturgical readings as well as orchestrate the hymn singing of the congregation. In addition, all the temples are part of the MATAKIN association, which meets regularly and circulates new ideas and practices among the Confucian communities across Indonesia.
All these activities are so innovative that they are literally unheard of in traditional Confucian practice. These innovations came about intentionally, starting in the 1950s, with several generations of Indonesian Confucian leaders modelling Confucian temple life after what they saw in successful Protestant church communities. Along the way more activities were added, sometimes entirely new practices and sometimes adaptations from other religious traditions. There are also new Confucian rituals that they see as being true to the original Confucian religion, such as the veneration of tian (the High Heaven) with incense as they enter the temples.
Yet all of these innovations felt very natural in Indonesian Confucianism, for they come from the deep needs of the Chinese-Indonesian communities. During the Suharto Era (1966-1998) these communities had to endure grave systematic discrimination, when the Chinese language was not allowed to be taught in schools and Chinese festivals were not allowed to be celebrated. There was also violent oppression, including killing Chinese-Indonesians and looting their property during the 1998 riots. For many, the only way they could assert their dignity was through practicing their own religion. Although most Chinese-Indonesians are Buddhists or Christians, the ones who identify as Confucians belong to a small but proud minority, as can be seen in the account of Chandra Setiawan, one of the leaders of MATAKIN.
Confucianism was banned in the Suharto era in 1967. For more than three decades Confucian Indonesians engaged in legal and social struggles to have it recognized as an official religion in Indonesia, a case that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was finally decided in their favor in 2000. I had the privilege to meet the couple, Budi Wijaya and Lany Guito, who brought the case. They were married in a Confucian ceremony in 1995, and fought alongside their community tirelessly for the legal recognition of their marriage and the right for all Confucians throughout the country to be officially recognized. It is through their genuine desire to live a meaningful religious life that these structural changes were finally made. They did not seek to innovate for innovation’s sake, yet through their authentic actions, innovation became the foundation of their religious practice. It was not meant for any other purposes than for the true flourishing of their own lives as well as the lives of those whom they care about.
