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What We Must Never Forget

Is Liberation Theology Dying?

By Christopher Zehnder


So, why write about liberation theology? It is, I have been assured, for all practical purposes, dying or dead. Even Pope John Paul II said, while in Mexico in 1999, that its importance was fading -- so what's the point of writing about it?

The point is that, perhaps, liberation theology is not as near death as some make out. While speaking of the fading of liberation theology, the pope also warned against what he called "Indian theology," which, he said is also influenced by Marxism. This "Indian theology" is closely associated with Bishop Samuel Ruiz Garcia, the former bishop of San Cristobal de las Casas in Chiapas, Mexico, about whose visit to California I wrote in the November Faith. Bishop Ruiz, a past presenter at the Los Angeles Religious Education Congress and a celebrity of the Call to Action movement, has also been linked with liberation theology. This "Indian theology," in fact, seems but a new form of liberation theology, or the same thing under another name.

A study of liberation theology helps explain much of the "this-worldliness" and anti-traditionalism in modern Catholic theology. This came home to me after reading one of the classic texts of liberation theology, A Theology of Liberation (1971), by Gustavo Gutierrez. A Peruvian theologian and priest, Gutierrez was one of the first systematizers of what had been an inchoate movement among priests and grassroots Catholic communities in Latin America in the 1960s. For further clarification, in October I also spoke to Blase Bonpane, who, in his book, Guerillas of Peace, Liberation Theology and the Central American Revolution, tells about his experience in Guatemala as a Maryknoll priest and how his commitment to liberation for the poor led him ultimately into lay life. Today, Bonpane runs the Office of the Americas in Santa Monica.

Today, one often hears Catholic theologians speak as if the Church needs to get with the times in her teaching and practice. Somehow, because modern man has approved of artificial contraception (for instance), the Church needs also to approve it. Such a claim makes little sense for those who think man has an unchanging nature; what is wrong for him in the past is wrong for him in the present. But for a liberation theologian like Gutierrez, following the analyses of Hegel and Marx, there are no eternal truths; there is simply historical progress. The awareness or understanding of the mass human consciousness at this point of history, is our "truth," for all intents and purposes.

Much of modern theology is concerned with removing what it calls "dualisms." I had thought that dualism referred to the Manichean and gnostic body/soul, spirit/matter opposition, where what is "spirit" is good and what is "material," evil. The Catholic faith, the sanctifier of the elements of creation, has always opposed this. But for Gutierrez and, it seems, other liberation theologians, dualism refers to any distinguishing of spiritual from material, supernatural from natural. According to liberation theology, as soon as one says that there is a supernatural order apart from the natural order, or calls some things sacred and others profane, he falls into dualism.

The rejection of the "dualism" of natural and supernatural is key to liberation theology. Living among the injustices spawned, ironically enough, by liberal regimes in Latin America, many Catholics thought traditional Catholic teachings hindered the liberation of the oppressed. The Church has distinguished secular liberation from oppressive social structures, on the one hand, and the spiritual and eternal liberation purchased by Christ, on the other. This is not to say secular liberation is not important, or not connected to the work of Christ; indeed, it is ancillary to redemption, since it is in accordance with the moral law of God and clears away some of the obstacles to spiritual liberation. Yet, according to Church tradition, secular liberation is not the same as spiritual liberation.

By removing the "dualism" of spiritual and secular liberation, the liberation theologian could claim that Christian liberation is as much "secular" as it is "spiritual." For liberation theology, Christ came specifically to liberate men from oppressive social structures. This may explain Bonpane's statement in Guerillas of Peace, "personally speaking, I recall clearly concluding while in the village of Aguacatan, that I would rather vaccinate than baptize a child." If there are no distinctions between spiritual and temporal liberation, or spiritual and physical health; if it is all equally the work of Christ, then vaccination may be as important as baptism, in a particular context.

The concept of sin also undergoes a transformation in liberation theology. Gone is the distinction between personal sin and sinful structures. In traditional Catholic thought, the latter are sinful insofar as they derive from sin and lead men into injustice and violation of charity. A system based on economic exploitation is just such a sinful structure, since it is derived from avarice, and conduces to particular acts of injustice. In liberation theology, though, wrote Gutierrez, "sin is not considered as an individual, private, or merely interior reality -- asserted just enough to necessitate a 'spiritual' redemption which does not challenge the order in which we live. Sin is regarded as a social, historical fact, the absence of brotherhood and love in relationships among men, the breach of friendship with God and with other men, and therefore, an interior, personal fracture" [i.e., a fracture between persons.] Gutierrez uses the Marxian term "alienation" to describe sin and seems to see it as a bad relationship between persons rather than as an internal corruption of the individual -- which will have a social dimension, but which is at root a perversion of the will.

So it is, writes Gutierrez, that "sin demands a radical liberation, which in turn necessarily implies a political liberation." In treating of eschatology, Gutierrez is careful to note that the kingdom of God "must not be confused with the establishment of a just society," nor does a just society constitute "a 'necessary condition' for the arrival of the Kingdom." Still, for Gutierrez, "the Kingdom is realized in a society of brotherhood and justice; and in turn this realization opens up the promise and hope of complete communion of all men with God." Gutierrez effectively ignores the Kingdom as an extra-historical reality or as implying a future life in another world, or, as the some Church fathers put it, another "age."

For Gutierrez, political action is one of the forces that helps establish the kingdom -- that brings about the liberation promised by Christ. Indeed, this liberation has various levels: "economic, social and political liberation; liberation which leads to the creation of a new man in a new society of solidarity; and liberation from sin and entrance into communion with God." These different levels, writes Gutierrez, "are profoundly linked; one does not occur without the others."

It would be meaningless, to a liberation theologian, to object that, according to his ideas, Christian liberation is directly a result of purely natural efforts; for, to him, there is no distinction between the natural and supernatural. It is also unimportant, to him, that this "dualism" of natural and supernatural is central to Catholic tradition, for, as Blase Bonpane told me, the liberation theologian removes all dualisms in order "to be more like Christ." In Catholic tradition, said Bonpane, "you would hear phrases, like, 'well, he's a very good man, but he's just naturally good, he's not supernaturally good.' I've always found that repulsive, but you hear that kind of thing. But is that how Jesus spoke of the Samaritan? 'Well, he' s just a Samaritan, but he certainly not supernaturally good. He's just some bleeding heart who did something for somebody at the side of the road. He's not one of us, he's outside of the fold.' No, that was the answer on how to be saved; it was nothing less, nothing more. Jesus did not play those games."

For Bonpane, liberation theology trumps traditional theology, for it is a return to "primitive Christianity." It is "a response," said Bonpane, "to imperial theology, which began in 312 A.D. with the Constantinian approach of military Christianity, which is a disaster. So, to me, we simply look at it as a primitive theology, or as the theology -- today we have so many fads in theology that come and go. We do not see it as a new fad; we see it as the theology -- the primitive theology of the early Church, uninterrupted by Constantinian Christianity."

Imperial theology, said Bonpane, is "the kind of theology that leads to the imitation of the [imperial] Roman curia by establishing an ecclesiastical curia that took on all of the trappings of the Roman Empire in terms of its organization and structure." It is in contrast to the earlier years of Christianity where "we see the election of bishops, the election of people like St. Ambrose, who was not even baptized when he was chosen to be the bishop of Milan -- by the demand of the people; there seemed to more of a respect for democracy in the earlier days than what we see in the following days. And also the tremendous military powers that went along with the [imperial] Church, we feel, were a terrible shame." So, for Bonpane, liberation theology "is a response to all that muscular Christianity which gave us Christendom, leading to the crusades, the bloody crusades, 600 years of inquisition and all that type of imperial behavior. [Liberation theology] is an attempt to capture what Jesus was about."

Although Bonpane praised Pope John Paul II "for his horror in looking at Church history," he thinks that the Church today still needs "a far more inclusive approach." The dualisms are still with us. "Jesus was constantly talking about those who do not fit," said Bonpane. "They do not fit into the synagogue, and He quoted Isaiah and said that Isaiah had been fulfilled that day. The problem today is the exclusivity of the approach of the Church, which is related to wanting to control. Jesus was asked how to be saved and He simply gave the example of the heretic Samaritan who had compassion."

So, for Bonpane, the lack of inter-religious unity is another unfortunate dualism. "The ultimate norm for Jesus is conduct; that's the message of the judgement account," he said. "It is not about creed, in the sense of a formula. I think that is very clear. [That's] the reason why, in what is called liberation theology, there is very little arguing going on about doctrine; it's more a sense of talking to anyone and saying, 'what is your sacred story?' I was talking to some indigenous people and they were saying how a raven created the world; am I going to say that is stupid? No, I'm not. If they have a story, I have a story, too, and then we have something in common. We've shown a lack of respect for the workings of the Spirit in other people. How would one like to meet their maker? As the orthodox dictator of Chile, [Augusto Pinochet] or as the heretical Mahatma Gandhi?"

After talking to Bonpane, it was still unclear to me that one had to go as far as he or other liberation theologians to establish a Christian duty towards social justice. Have not orthodox Catholics been as zealous for the rights of the poor? One thinks of the popes, from Leo XIII to John Paul II. One thinks of Cardinal Manning of England, a crusader for the rights of workers in the 19th century; of Archbishop Oscar Romero of San Salvador; of Hilaire Belloc and G.K. Chesterton, Peter Maurin and Dorothy Day, as just a few examples of orthodox, traditional Catholics who fought for justice and liberation for the oppressed. Bonpane said he did not think orthodoxy a necessary hindrance to a commitment to justice and liberation, but, in speaking of Day and Maurin, he said, "I think they have the same orthodoxy that Mahatma Gandhi had. I think they are in the same church. That's what I think."

Another Catholic who has studied liberation theology, Dale Vree, agreed that orthodoxy is no hindrance is a commitment to social justice. To Vree, who edits the Berkeley-based New Oxford Review, though, liberation theology is an overreaction to unengaged orthodoxy. "In the past the Church seemed only to be concerned with the other world," said Vree. "I think [liberation theologians] overreact against that and go to the other extreme of mostly being concerned with this world. Is it necessary to do that? It is not necessary to do that."

But was the Church's commitment to social justice in the past all that obscure? "I don't know if it was that obscure," said Vree. "You also have to remember that a lot of liberation theology comes from theologians reading Marx and being in Marxist intellectual circles. Marx had no use for religion at all. In fact, he thought it the opiate of the people. It was, in fact, counterproductive. If you thought about the other world, you would do nothing about this world. If you are operating in that kind of milieu, you are certainly going to want to downplay life after death." Though, said Vree, all liberation theologians do not embrace a Marxist dialectic, they still "operate in that milieu. They're influenced by it and forget what they shouldn't forget."

But liberation theologians are not alone in forgetting what they shouldn't forget. We orthodox Catholics of the first world suffer from our own theological amnesia. "We live in a capitalistic milieu and are influenced by that. You can't escape it," said Vree. "The values of capitalism are material possessions and money and the things money can buy. You might just call it, hedonism -- fun, games, distractions, pleasure. Capitalism gives people pleasure and there is a lot in the Bible against that point of view. And it is very easy to be sucked into wanting more, more, more, and also to forget that there are poor people in this country and around the world and that we have an obligation to the poor."

The sense of obligation to the poor, said Vree, is "one of the strong points of liberation theology." Now "the solutions given by liberation theology," he said, "are often haywire, but that obligation to the poor is something we need never to forget."

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