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Showing posts with label Liberation Theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Liberation Theology. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Liberation Theology, the Gospel, and Glenn Beck

I posted an earlier post asking the question -- what is Liberation Theology?  The answer to the question is important, because it is being misused by Glenn Beck for political purposes.  As we ponder the question, which isn't just about President Obama, but about how we understand the Christian faith, I want to recommend an excellent Huffngton Post article by Jesuit theologian James Martin, SJ that carries the title:  Glenn Beck vs. Christ the Liberator."

Before getting to the question of Liberation Theology, I must confess my discomfort in even giving attention to Glenn Beck, who is little more than a snake-oil salesman and panderer in cheap conspiracy theories that hearken back to the John Birch Society, a group of crazed right wingers that the Republican Party beat back in the 1960s, and which is making a comeback in a new guise.  That said, it is important that we try to understand the nature and purpose of Liberation Theology.  Martin gives an excellent discussion of this movement that emerged out of a Latin American context in the 1950s and 1960s.  He writes:

A little history: Liberation theology began in Latin America in the 1950s and 1960s, and was later developed more systematically by Catholic theologians who reflected on experiences of the poor there. The term was coined by the Rev. Gustavo Gutierrez, a Peruvian priest, in his landmark book A Theology of Liberation, published in 1971. Briefly put, liberation theology (there are many definitions, by the way) is a Gospel-based critique of the world through the eyes of the poor. Contrary to what Beck implies, the liberation theologian doesn't see himself or herself as victim; rather proponents call us to see how the poor are marginalized by society, to work among them, to advocate on their behalf, and to help them advocate for themselves. It has nothing to do with seeing yourself as victim. It is, like all authentic Christian practices, "other-directed."

It also sees the figure of Jesus Christ as the "liberator," who frees people from bondage and slavery of all kinds. So, as he does in the Gospels, Christ not only frees people from sin and illness, Christ also desires to free our fellow human beings from the social structures that keep them impoverished. This is this kind of "liberation" that is held out. Liberation theologians meditate on Gospel stories that show Christ upending the social structures of the day, in order to bring more--uh oh--social justice into the world. Christians are also asked to make, as the saying goes, a "preferential option for the poor."
Since Beck, who infamously told Christians to run from churches that preached social justice, wants to call us back to God (I do find it ironic that evangelicals who consider Mormonism a cult seem to ignore Beck's off-beat version of Mormonism), and wants to tell us that Jesus didn't preach social justice, but only salvation, I want to leave you with the words of the Savior himself -- Jesus the Christ.  

 When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:
‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.
20And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. 21Then he began to say to them, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’  (Luke 4:16-21 NRSV)

What is Liberation Theology?

I can't give you a complete answer to this question in this posting, but I think it's an important question to be raised.  Since Glenn Beck, who is himself a Mormon (and perhaps not the best informed one at that) and not a trained theologian (his post HS education consists of one religion class at Yale), has declared that Barack Obama is captive to "liberation theology," which is all about "victims/oppressors" and condemned by the Pope, "liberation theology" is back in the news.

I think it's important to note that there is not just one liberation theology.  There are many -- Latin-American, Black, Feminist, Asian, Palestinian, and more.  Aspects of liberation theology have always been with us, throughout history, for it is a theology that seeks to transform the world.  This is something that those in power do not like.  It is interesting that the Pope's condemnation of this theology has been brought into the discussion, for the reason why John Paul II and his successor have condemned this theology is because it challenges their power.  It includes a call for the church to be returned to the people.   Luther also got into trouble with the Pope over this issue -- of course, when the Peasants rose up against their oppressors, Luther sided with the authorities and supported the slaughter of people who thought he was on their side.  But all of this is simply a way to get us to a definition (and those can be many).

I simply want to start the discussion by turning to Gustavo Gutierrez, a Peruvian Catholic Theologian, whose book A Theology of Liberation, is considered to be the classic statement on liberation theology.  The quotation I'm about to give comes from 1973 edition.

It is for all these reasons that the theology of liberation offers us not so much a new theme for reflection as a new way to do theology.  Theology as a critical reflection on historical praxis is a liberating theology, a theology of the liberating transformation of mankind and also therefore that part of mankind--gathered into ecclesia -- which openly confesses Christ.  This is a theology which does not stop with reflecting on the world, but rather tries to be part of the process through which the world is transformed.  It is a theology which is open -- in the protest against trampled human dignity, in the struggle against the plunder of the vast majority of people, in liberating love, and in the building of a new, just, and fraternal society  -- to the gift of the Kingdom of God.  (p. 15)  
Glen Beck says that Jesus just came to save our souls, nothing more, nothing less.  That may be the message of the Book of Mormon (I've not read it, so I don't know), but its not the message of the Gospel.  Jesus consistently talks about living a new way of life that transforms the world in which we live.  Evangelism is more than simply rescuing the perishing, it is offering a vision of a new way of living, which Jesus calls the Kingdom of God.  Liberation Theology was born in Latin America out of frustration with a church that turned a blind eye to the abuses perpetrated against the people by dictatorships and a small cadre of wealthy land owners.  When Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador realized what was happening to his people, he woke up to his responsibility and began to speak in opposition.  As a result, death squads aligned with the government (a US supported government) murdered him as he said Mass.  This is what Liberation Theology is all about.  It involves speaking up for those who are voiceless, with a view to a new world of peace and justice.  It is a theology more focused on "orthopraxis" (right living/practice) than "orthodoxy" (right doctrine).  Indeed, I do believe that at its heart is the dictum -- love God and love your neighbor.

Friday, June 18, 2010

What We Love about the Black Church -- Review

WHAT WE LOVE ABUT THE BLACK CHURCH: Can We Get a Witness? By William H. Crouch, Jr. and Joel C. Gregory. Foreword by J. Alfred Smith, Sr. Afterword by Rhoda McKinney Jones. Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press. xxi + 133 pp.



Years ago I was invited to preach at a black church. I declined the offer, thinking that my style and personality might not match the expectations of the people in the pew. Later on, after I’d taken up a position as pastor of a local church, I did preach for the Latino congregation that rented space from our church. Maturity had set in by then, and I enjoyed my experience. Coming to metro-Detroit I’ve found that the majority of Disciple churches in the area are either black congregations or they are pastored by African-Americans. I’ve found my colleagues to be welcoming and supportive. So, when a colleague from Detroit invited me to bring my choir and preach at a revival scheduled for this fall, I knew that this was something I should, without any hesitation, do. What I didn’t realize back then, but have come to understand more recently, is that the congregation won’t expect me to be anything other than myself.

Although Sunday mornings remain largely segregated, that may have more to do with the role that the church plays in ethnic minority communities. For generations these churches provided social cohesion, support, and leadership opportunities. Culture maybe changing to the point where there are now other avenues by which community leadership and solidarity can be expressed, but these churches remain strong centers for the community of color. For those of us standing outside these communities, it is helpful to understand not just who they are, but what we might take away to enrich our lives of faith.

What We Love about the Black Church is authored by two white Baptist pastors who now hold academic posts. Crouch is President of Georgetown College of Kentucky and Joel Gregory teaches preaching at Truett Seminary at Baylor. Both men have had ministries that have crossed the usual boundaries, and their experiences have led to great appreciation for the distinctives of the black church. The authors don’t claim to be basing their reflections on research, but simply upon their own experiences as white Christians with the black church. write:

We simply write as two seasoned ministers who affirm our own personal histories in the white church, yet we have become more fully human and effective ministers because of our experiences in the black church (p. xvi).

The book contains not just the testimonies of these two white pastors, but also the responses of black pastors. This, in my mind, proves very helpful, because the respondents are able to acknowledge problems within the black community that the authors might be reluctant to broach. This is especially true of the role of women in church leadership.

All told there are twelve chapters, which range across topics from preaching to the role of the “first lady”; hospitality to encouragement; freedom of expression to the power of touch. In each chapter the two authors take turns sharing their own stories, after which there are two responses from among the twenty-two contributors. Since I’m Disciple, I’ll acknowledge that one of these respondents is Dr. Cynthia Hale, pastor of Ray of Hope Christian Church in Decatur, Georgia. Each chapter ends with a set of takeaways, things the majority culture could learn from the black church experience.

One of the most poignant stories in the book is Joel Gregory’s experience of being embraced by his black colleagues after leaving Dallas’ First Baptist Church and seeing his marriage end. While his white colleagues stood aloof from him, the black church reached out and encouraged him, showing grace where none was present in the majority culture. This empathy for the dispossessed, of course, is deeply rooted in the African American experience of oppression and prejudice.

My sense is that most white Christians will have a sense of the black preaching style and even the freedom with which worship is experienced. While these chapters are insightful and helpful, most likely the chapters that will prove most helpful are the ones that talk about honoring elders, respecting the spouses of clergy, and the power of touch. With the later contribution, however, one of the respondents, a woman pastor, reminds us that there are issues of gender equity and respect that need to be addressed. Min. Leslie J. Bowling-Dyer reminds us that any enthusiasm one might have for the “lean,” the typical male greeting, needs to be tempered by making sure that this isn’t practiced in a way that undermines male-female partnership in ministry and full mutuality in all aspects of church life (p. 73).

It needs to be noted, in light of the reaction given to statements made by President Obama’s former pastor, Dr. Jeremiah Wright, that liberation themes are very present in the black church, and have always been there – even though they’ve been given further definition by theologians such as James Cone. In fact, Wright is mentioned several times in the book with great affection and respect – this in a book authored by two white evangelicals (even if they’re not the ones writing about Wright). As the Rev. Dr. Gina Stewart puts it:

The black church has had to minister to the whole person because it rarely had the luxury of separating individual salvation from collective salvation. Consequently, the black church has typically focused on a much broader agenda, by addressing issues related to racism, poverty, economics, civil rights, and injustice, as well as issues of personal piety, holiness, ethics and righteousness (pp. 108-109).

Reality has meant that the church must engage in more than simply nurturing piety. It has been called upon to speak to the broader culture and provide opportunity for leadership.

That last mentioned element of the black church experience – offering a place of leadership when there have been few other opportunities, so that even a school janitor can be a respected Deacon in the church – may be one reason why such respect is given to the pastors and their spouses. It was interesting to read Joel Gregory’s reflection upon the use of titles and formality within the black church, in light of the increasing informality in our white churches. He writes that while the shedding of titles is supposed to make pastors more accessibly and human “something has been lost in translation over time” (p. 118) Such is not the case with the black church where pastors and their spouses are addressed as Reverend, Pastor, Doctor, and in the case of a pastor’s wife, Mrs. Smith or Sister Smith, and if first names are used, they’re not used without the title. At a time when white pastors lament their increasing marginalization, perhaps one way of remedying this problem is to “give people the respect they are due, because old-fashioned manners have modern-day import” (p. 119). That may well be true, but as the respondents remind us, use of praise and respect needs to be equitable, and not reserved only for a chosen few. And, as the Rev. Dr. Valerie Miles-Tribble reminds us, this especially holds for women clergy, who too often do not receive equitable treatment within the black church. It is inappropriate to address male clergy with titles such as “Doc, Reverend, Pastor, or Esteemed Bishop, while reference in the same setting is differentiated toward the female counterpart as Sister or worse, by use of her first name” (p. 122).

This is a unique and helpful book. It is a needed reminder that we can all learn from each other. At times the two primary authors tend to highlight the contributions of black churches in a way that leaves white churches in negative light. They are also less likely to critique the black church experience, which is why the responses play such a helpful role in giving a full sense of the back church experience. The authors are to be commended, not just for writing the book but choosing to engage the black church and its leaders as equals in the ministry of Christ. As one who is more and more engaging black colleagues, this book has proven extremely helpful in understanding their experience, and offering encouragement to broaden my experience in my own setting. Take and read, you will be blessed, especially if you take the step of crossing the boundaries between communities.