‘Siberian hunters have never been able to get used to our insistence on pressing our God on everyone else, nor to our way of abasing ourselves before him when they see us as masters of all - conquering the bear and the elk with our rifles, using our knowledge and power to conquer the indigenous people, who have always been determined to hang on to what little they have. How crazy the shaman would be to put his penny in the collection during mass without knowing whether it would be effective or not, whether the ritual would “work” this time - since only the result, here and now, matters to him. Why thank the priest and his God, why let them prosper, when in the end the famine did take hold and the sick did die?’

Like most Africans, particularly those from Western Africa, I come from an oral tradition where the Word has a central place. Whether it is spiritual or educational, transmission takes place primarily through spoken exchange. Our traditions are passed on to children in the evening, after dinner and around bedtime, by their parents, grandparents, uncles and elders. Then the talk touches on basic matters, which are put across in a teaching style that uses images: this is the time for stories through which children discover their ancestors, their family history and the traditional religions. During these evening hours a number of ceremonies and artistic and religious activities also occur. Circumcised boys join together with the whole community for musical festivities that have a religious dimension, for in the traditional world circumcision is the important rite of passage through which a boy learns to master pain: it should never be visible. This is not a purely medical or surgical act. It is ritualized to the highest degree. It is the first marker of a concept that the West does not have, that of generation.

Among the Yezidis the cross-fertilization between the so-called religions of the Book and religions with an oral tradition is reaching a climax. Over the centuries layers of heterogeneous dogmas have been piled one upon another, creating one of the most astonishing syncretisms known to humanity. But in order to penetrate the mysteries of the centuries-old cross-breeding that brought about this situation, we need to try to define what Yezidism is. For we must remember that this is a religion whose mysterious origin and process of development have not yet been traced. Its first appearances on the stage of history are still shrouded in utter darkness.

During the last ten years I have been working on the process of conversion to Protestantism of the indigenous people in Chimborazo province, Ecuador. Protestant evangelization in Ecuador started in the early twentieth century, but it is only in the last thirty years that the process of conversion of the indigenous people has become a large-scale one. During the first sixty years of evangelical activity North American missionaries from the Evangelical Missionary Union baptized only four natives in Chimborazo province. This period was marked by strenuous resistance and rejection of the new religion. Accounts given by missionaries of the period describe the disasters and difficulties that the first evangelizing mission suffered. It was only the conviction that lost souls had to be saved that helped them overcome adversities and later achieve amazing results.

Korea has undergone so much transformation under modernization and industrialization to an extent that tourists visiting from anywhere in the world will not feel inconvenienced for lack of modern facilities. In this modern day and age, it is not easy for foreigners to meet shamans or see shamanistic rituals, even if they try to. The same thing can even be said of educated Koreans. In contrast, shamanists or those attached to shamanism hear shamans perform their rituals anytime and anyplace. There are an estimated 0.2 million shamans in Korea, though the statistics differ according to the researchers’ survey methods. This number surpasses that of all priests of any other established religions. These shamans take their position at the base or margins of Korean society, not readily visible from the surface.

For some years now the proliferation of new religious movements in Africa and the search by individuals for new meanings in belief have held the interest of scholars of religion. But their interpretations of the significance of these ‘religious flowerings’ raise a number of questions, in particular questions about the meaning and applicability of the word ‘new’ in religion. Instead of taking it literally, we should understand this religious ‘innovation’ on two planes of transaction with the sacred, the horizontal and the vertical. First, on the horizontal plane this religious innovation may be discerned in the ongoing adjustments made by traditional African religions as they encounter, whether peaceably or violently, religions originating in the West or Asia; these encounters have given rise to neo-traditional and prophetic movements and to independent Churches. We shall touch later on the two-way borrowings and adaptations that have taken place in some prophetic religions as regards their organization, rites, liturgy and charismatic communication of religious truth. On the other hand, religious renewal is discernible in the adjustments and innovative processes of elaboration adopted by such ‘travelling religions’ as Pentecostalism and Charismatic Renewal in relation to the basic process of making sense of the life of the individual and the community of the faithful.

If, at the outset, we postulate the totality of Jewish thought and lay down the principle of its organic unity and its call to universalism, thus asserting the active solidarity which dominates its relations with Jewish religious and intellectual life in the Maghreb, if we state that both have a privileged interrelationship and use the same modes of expression, then we must add that Maghrebian Judaism is an integral part of the intellectual space, the cultural landscape and the civilization of the Muslim West where it was born, blossomed and bore fruit.

Israel is a country of many cultures and languages and of several religions. The majority of the population adheres to the Jewish religion. The Moslem and the Christian religions come next in size, in that order. Similarly to many other countries in the region, religion fills a more central role in the public sphere of Israel than in most Western countries. It also influences the private sphere immensely, as for example in the matter of marriages and funerals which in most cases are conducted by state employees who have been appointed by the religious establishments of each of the official religions. We are thus discussing religion in a context where it matters highly. Power, welfare and the very right to reside in the country are connected with religion. Symbols of statehood and collective identity are lent from religious texts, objects and rituals. The symbol of the state, the seven-armed golden candelabra, suggests the memory of the temples of Solomon and Herod where a similar one was standing.

The Sai Baba movement, one of the most widespread and popular modern South Asian religious movements, owes its origin to a saint, Sai Baba of Shirdi (d.1918), who was probably born around 1838. Through his successor, Sathya Sai Baba (b. 1926), the movement has become a transnational phenomenon in the late twentieth century and has also expanded the main centers of its charisma, including today Shirdi town in the Indian state of Maharashtra and Puttaparthi town in the neighboring state of Andhra Pradesh. While most of the available literature is hagiographical in nature, some aspects of the movement have been studied - the figures of Shirdi Sai Baba and Sathya Sai Baba, the middle-class constituency of the Sathya Sai Baba movement, role of miracles, and the pedagogical role of movement, for instance. These studies are part of a growing interest in new religious and reformist movements in South Asia in the past century, their impacts on civil society and its institutions, and their relationships to the nation-state.

Buddhism was not really known in the West until a little more than 150 years ago. Although since the thirteenth century there had been numerous contacts with local Buddhist traditions, the travellers and missionaries of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance had not yet brought to light the history of Buddhism and its unity across this immense diversity of worship and doctrine, disseminated through most of the countries of Asia. Of course, since the seventeenth century some Europeans had guessed at the Indian origin of the Buddha and they succeeded in pinning down his historical existence after a fashion. In 1691 and 1693 Simon de la Loubère, Louis XIV's envoy at the court of the king of Siam, published remarkable research which established the possibility of a link between the different regions of Siam, Ceylon, Japan and China and conjured up the possible existence of a single founder long before Christ. But this far too isolated knowledge had scarcely any impact in Europe. It was only with the foundation of the Asiatic Society of Bengal in 1784 that orientalism was to enjoy a rapid and decisive expansion. The word ‘Buddhism’ appeared from the 1820s onwards, and with it the first conceptualization of a tree with many branchings. But it was not until the publication, in 1844, of Eugène Burnouf's magisterial Introduction l'histoire du buddhisme indien, that more detailed knowledge became available, thanks to a critical scrutiny of the most varied sources. The works of the French scholar and of other pioneers in Buddhist studies - mainly Alexander Csoma de Koros and Edmond Foucaux on Tibet, Jean-Pierre Abel-Remusat and Stanislas Julien on China, Christian Lassen and Spence Hardy on Ceylon - were to give rise to a tremendous craze for Buddhism in Europe. Since then there has been no break in the successive waves disseminating it right up to the present day, when the majority of Western countries appear to be so receptive to the message of the Buddha that for some years the media have been insistently questioning the reasons for this ‘Buddhist wave’.

In his study of the conversion of Westerners to Islam, a Turkish sociologist revealed in 1996 that it happened that a significant proportion of the converts had adopted that religion under the influence of Islamic mysticism, or Sufism. Now Sufism, located at the meeting-point of the written and oral traditions of Islam, offers an original commentary on the Quran and a spiritual practice based on psychosomatic exercises close to yoga. Interest in Sufism among Westerners was revealed at the end of the nineteenth century and became considerable from the 1930s onwards, resulting in the foundation in Europe of Sufi groups directed by converts who very quickly became shaykhs (shaikh). These first groups, to which new ones were added, are still active today, although somewhat bruised by numerous divisions. The reasons for conversion to Sufism among Europeans, for the most part from intellectual milieux, rest on concerns of a spiritual dimension linked to the climate of religious crisis which the modern West has experienced since the end of the nineteenth century. To which should be added in recent decades the fashionable exoticism fostered by the development of means of transport and communication which have brought East and West closer.

Until the beginning of the twentieth century Christianity, in order to proclaim its message, was based above all upon the word, the substance of prayer and preaching; certainly manuscripts, with the Scriptures and other fundamental texts, long secured the foundations of the faith, but before the advent of printing their diffusion and reception remained the prerogative of lettered elites, most often clerics such as the Benedictines (remember Umberto Eco's famous novel published in 1980, The Name of the Rose). Moreover, the Catholic Church made extensive use of the image in the Middle Ages, above all in the gothic period, and created remarkable visual splendour in its holy places. Stained glass windows and paintings and sculptures with subjects from the Old and New Testaments reinforced the devotion and faith of the illiterate. It was only after 1450, with Gutenberg's invention of printing - which, moreover, immediately disseminated bibles, missals and prayer-books - that the text became a major means of transmitting the Christian message. From the sixteenth century onwards Protestant Calvinists (but not Lutherans or Anglicans) rejected religious imagery - even the crucifix - as a means of devotion, for they were considered idolatrous; on the other hand, the reformers, more than the Catholic Church, laid stress on the reading of biblical texts by the faithful, especially the Old Testament, henceforth much more widely distributed, thanks expressly to printing. Admittedly the word did not lose its rights; like Catholicism in its churches and cathedrals, the Reformation preached the Good Word in its temples. Yet paradoxically, the present return of the religious image - this time televisual - was to be first of all a Protestant occurrence, principally in the United States.

The source of my interest in the study of heresiology originates in many years of research on the work and life of Meister Eckhart. It is therefore in an Eckhartian perspective, which presupposes a certain leniency, and even sympathy, towards the phenomenon of heresy, that I am going to give a survey of ‘the other side of Christianity’, from the Acts of Simon Magus, ‘father of heresy’, to the dawn of the second millennium, while exposing the medieval period in greater depth.