Talking About God

The following excerpt was taken from Irruption of the Third World, a compilation of papers from a conference of the Ecumenical Association of Third World theologians (EATWOT) held during August, 1981, in New Delhi, India. The conference was the second of two such gatherings, the first having been held at Dar es Salaam, Tanzania in 1976. --The Editors

In the years between the EATWOT conferences in Dar es Salaam (1976) and New Delhi (1981) something unusual occurred in the churches of the Third World. Christians who had shouldered ecclesial responsibility and the task of theologizing in those countries, and among the black and Hispanic minorities in the United States, began to get together to share their diverse reflections on their common faith in the God of Jesus Christ. In the past they had customarily met as students in the major theology departments of Europe and North America, or had occasionally been invited to meet in those surroundings. Now they were meeting on their own initiative in the setting of poor countries.

The first country to host these meetings was Tanzania, a small country inhabited by a poor, very poor, population. Its people bears the marks of a harsh past involving colonial rule and racial contempt. But Tanzanians have also shown much courage and creativity in undertaking a thoroughgoing process of liberation. Exploring their roots in their native African tradition, they have set out on their own to construct a just and humane order. This accounts for the disproportionate moral authority exercised by that small nation and its president, Julius Nyerere, in the concert of nations. The achievements of the Tanzanian people enable us to perceive and concretely experience the significance of the poor in history.

After continental meetings in Africa, Latin America, and Asia, a tricontinental meeting was held in New Delhi. There in India we encountered a country whose vastness is both geographical and historical in nature. We were deeply impressed by the poverty of its people, and the thin bodies of New Delhi are still before our eyes. But we were also deeply impressed by its rich cultural and religious heritage. Held in the midst of a small minority of native Christians, our meeting of theologians became aware of its own insignificance. The people of India, poor and profoundly religious, brought us back forcefully to the center of our faith: the mystery of God.

Thus Tanzania and India were not just different geographical locales and different cultural landscapes. They were real theological lessons. The peoples of those countries were living witnesses of God and the poor. For us those experiences represent the starting point for a theology that seeks to combine diverse efforts into a process of reflection carried out from the underside of history. As was the case in the Bible, God and the poor are its great themes.

Some may well see all this as an obsession, feeling that it is time to move on to new questions. But the fact is that poverty, the result of unjust national and international structures, is our historical territory. It is there that our peoples affirm their faith and hope in God. If our theology is not framed in the context of the salvific dialogue between God and the poor, then it ceases to be the word of God in history about the gift of faith.

When we began in Dar es Salaam, we said in the final statement, "We are prepared for a radical break in epistemology which makes commitment the first act of theology and engages in critical reflection on the praxis of the reality of the Third World." The point was spelled out a bit further on in the same statement: "Our conviction is that the theologian should have a fuller understanding of living in the Holy Spirit, for this also means being committed to a lifestyle of solidarity with the poor and the oppressed and involvement in action with them." The New Delhi document picks up the same perspective:

The starting point for Third World theologies is the struggle of the poor and oppressed against all forms of injustice and domination. The committed involvement of Christians in this struggle provides a new locus for theological reflection. Their participation is faith in action and the manifestation of Christian commitment, which constitute the first act of theology.

To say that commitment is the first act of Christian living is to say that the reflection of faith on it must be deeply rooted in the Christian community. It is the assembly of the Lord's disciples as such that is responsible for the proclamation of the gospel message in words and deeds. One is a theologian insofar as one is linked to the life and commitments of a Christian community. Only within such a community does one have a theological function to carry out; that function is an ecclesial task.

This view necessarily makes for a more fluid boundary between those we usually call theologians and those we regard as committed Christians with some sort of ecclesial responsibility. In the broadest and most basic sense, every Christian is a theologian. The first and primary initiator of discourse on the faith is the Christian community located within nations and peoples who are struggling to assert their dignity as human beings and children of God, and to build a just society. And that is our situation, of course.

It is here that we are confronted with various questions, if our theological reflections are supposed to be based on the concretely experienced life of the poor in our world. Can we convene only those who are professionals in the theological world: professors, authors, and so forth? Or should we also invite other Christians involved with other functions within the Christian community? And there is another uncomfortable question raised by the Dar es Salaam statement about a "radical break." If we take that seriously, must we not restrict the kind of theologian we invite to these meetings? And if we do, what effect will that have on strictly theological work?

I do not think we have fully faced up to those questions or answered them yet, which is not surprising. But there the questions stand in any case, forcing us out of our old certainties and opening up new pathways that we must travel one step at a time.

Let me give one example. Our new way of conceiving the work of theologizing has prompted us to hold joint meetings between those whose focus and specialty is theology and those whose work is basically on the grassroots level. Continental meetings, in particular, have tended to be joint meetings of that sort. All of us have gained a wider, overall vision and found our reflection enriched by such joint meetings. But it cannot be denied that they have also given rise to certain tensions.

It is our deep and irreversible conviction that we must avoid an academic theology dissociated from grassroots work, where the "first act" of theology is taken. The point is important and bears stressing. Such a dissociation is ruled out, not just because we want to elaborate a committed theology, but even more importantly because we want to develop a discourse on faith that will respond to the real questions raised by the contemporary world and the Christian community living in it. In short, we rule out such a dissociation because we want a truly serious and scientific theology. By the same token, however, we must acknowledge that the work of theologizing, if it is to be rigorous in its elaboration and universal in scope, calls for a painstaking knowledge of Scripture and careful correlation with both the Christian tradition and contemporary theology. But proper handling of those theological fonts and all the requirements entailed in the process are not always fully appreciated from the standpoint of grassroots urgencies.

These differences in emphasis have sometimes led to sharp debates at our meetings, and the resulting tensions have not been completely resolved. The point I want to stress here, however, is that such confrontations are basically sound and healthy. They are to be found not only in and between groups but also inside every Christian individual who wants to be committed and at the same time wants to reflect on the faith. In short, this tension is to be found in all those persons we call theologians. In the last analysis it is a very beneficial and enriching thing, stemming from our new way of viewing theology rather than from minor or transient issues. In our conception there is really no place for the old circle of theologians as a separate, clearly defined and delimited group within the Christian community.

When we say that commitment to the struggles of the poor for decent and just living conditions is an indispensable precondition for a sound, intelligent understanding of the faith, we are not simply raising a question of theological methodology. We are talking about a specific way of understanding what it means to be a Christian. We are framing method (Greek hodos, "way" or "path") within the broader context of the Christian life. And in the Acts of the Apostles we find that the Christian life is actually described as "the way" initiated by Jesus (Acts 9:2, 18:25, 19:9). The Christian way is prior to the theological way.

The first and most basic thing in this process is charity or love, the only thing that will endure (1 Corinthians 13). The discourse of theology, which in the last analysis is always reflection on God, comes from and moves toward the love of God. That love implies contemplation and practice: we worship God and we put his will into practice by accepting the gift of his kingdom. Only then is it time to bring up discourse about God. To put it in our by now familiar terms: contemplation and practice together constitute the first act; theologizing is the second act. First comes the mystical life and practice; only then can we have any authentic, respectful reflection a-bout God. The mystery of God comes to live in contemplation and in practice (i.e., in solidarity with the poor). Only then, in the second stage, can that way of life give rise to a reasoning process, a discourse.

Contemplation and practice make up the moment of silence before God. Theology (Greek logoa, "reason," "word") is a reasoned talking about God. But to this contemplative aspect of silence we must add the dimension of committed solidarity with the poor and their efforts to end centuries of oppression. We know that from the witness of the poor in our nations, of which Tanzania and its people are one example. Both dimensions of the first act are to be found in the concrete experience of the poor, and they are mutually related.

Silence, then, is one of the preconditions for any talk about God. And distinguishing between these two moments is not simply a question of methodology, as I noted above; it involves a particular style of life. It is a particular way of living our faith in the Lord, of living according to the Spirit. It is a question of spirituality in the strict sense of the word. Our epistemological break in the work of theologizing, as proclaimed in Dar es Salaam, also entails a break in the way we live as Christians and theologians. We must not forget that exigency if we wish to be faithful to the Lord and our peoples.

This way of viewing our theological approach only serves to emphasize the point I made earlier: the close tie between the process of discoursing on the faith on the one hand, and the life of the churches on the other. It becomes clear that our experiences over the past five years entailed more than meetings between theologians, they were confrontations between theologies. They were efforts to link the life and death, the hopes and struggles, of this world's poor to salvation in Jesus Christ. And the primary agents of such efforts are the poor themselves and the communities in which they share their faith in a liberating God. Such a theology imposes an obligation on those Christians who engage in the specific field of theology. It demands that theologians have deep, ongoing involvement in the evangelizing work of their churches and in the struggles of their peoples. Only then can they be both bearers and articulators of the faith-understanding arising from the underside of history.

In the final document of the Dar es Salaam conference we said:

The theologies from Europe and North America are dominant today in our churches and represent one form of cultural domination. They must be understood to have arisen out of situations related to those countries, and therefore must not be uncritically adopted without our raising the question of their relevance in the context of our countries.

Despite all that has been written about this matter in recent years, the phenomenon is still new. For the first time in centuries a new type of theological reflection is arising outside the major European centers of theological work and their North American extensions. The fact still evokes surprise, if not skepticism, hostility, or paternalistic condenscension. These varied reactions are not confined to theological circles in Europe or North America. They can also be found in churches of the Third World and churches ministering to minorities in the United States. In all of them some segments still follow and respond to the dominant theologies, for a variety of reasons.

Given that situation, we can readily understand why our advocacy of a new approach to theological reflection might spark controversy. Such controversy is inevitable and necessary in certain circumstances; but it is not the fundamental thing, and it is not without its own ambiguities. The really crucial thing is to realize and appreciate the fact that there are different perspectives associated with different historical situations and different interlocutors.

I have offered my own characterization of the difference in approach between our theology and that of the affluent countries. In the churches living in affluent countries, theology more attentive to contemporary problems tends to regard the modern mind and spirit as its chief interlocutor. It addresses itself to the modern person, who is an unbeliever in many instances, and to the liberal ideology espoused historically by the middle class. By contrast, theology deriving from the poor majorities of the human race seeks to answer the questions raised by those "without history," by the "nonpersons" who are oppressed and marginalized specifically by the interlocutor of the dominant theologies. So the issue is not simply one of theological niceties. We are talking about two theological perspectives that respond to different needs and questioners.

When theologies take shape as reflection on the faith insofar as it is lived out in solidarity with the lives and struggles of the poor, they are not being driven by any terrible itch for originality in their field. They are simply trying to be loyal to the Lord of history, to lend their support to the proclamation of the gospel and the liberation efforts of their peoples.

Theologizing is both a right and a duty for any people that is both poor and Christian. To evade that task is to create a vacuum that will quickly be filled by reflections centered around other categories, interests, and goals. Such was the case in the past, and it remains the case today. To evade the task would be to betray the experiences and aspirations of the poor and oppressed.

A theology stemming from the poor and their breakthrough into church life and world history is necessarily framed in terms of the dialectic between life and death. It is from there that it seeks to talk about God, the ultimate ground of the meaning that the poor have for any and every Christian.

Solidarity with the human struggle against poverty and for a more just and humane social order presupposes an option for life. One thing, at least, is becoming increasingly clear to our peoples: poverty means death. We see the untimely and unjust death of the vast majority of humanity produced by a socio-economic system that is international in scope. That majority is made up of the poor people in Third World countries and the oppressed minorities in affluent nations. We see death occasioned by starvation, illness, and the repressive measures of those who find their privileged position threatened by every effort at liberation on the part of the oppressed. To physical death is added cultural death. The ruling sectors seek to destroy everything that will give unity and strength to the deprived sectors, so that the latter may more readily fall prey to the machinery of oppression.

All this is implied in our talk about poverty and the destruction of persons, nations, cultures, and traditions. When the poor seek to liberate themselves from those death-dealing conditions, which some are euphemistically calling "living conditions," they are expressing their will to live. Contrary to what is sometimes thought, the challenge facing us is not simply that of a "social situation." It is not something wholly extraneous to the basic demands of the gospel message. Instead we face a situation that runs directly contrary to the kingdom of life proclaimed by our Lord.

In the mystery of Jesus there is revealed to us a dialectic between death and life. That same dialectic pervades our historical situation, surprising us by its current relevance and its demands. Our discourse of faith arises out of our involvement with the reality of the poor--their premature death and their struggles for liberation. Such a discourse, such a theology, cannot help but be an affirmation of life. To be more specific, it cannot help but be a paschal theology dealing with the passage from death to life.

The conditions surrounding the life and death of the poor brings us back to the essence of the biblical message: paschal faith in the life-giving victory of the risen one over death. In a real sense we cannot depart from that central theme if we want to forge what our Asian brothers call a relevant theology. Because of our focus on this essential message of the gospel, our theology may be very unsophisticated and indeed elementary. This only makes for closer ties between theologians and nontheologians in the Christian community.

Proclamation of Christ's resurrection is the heart of the gospel message because it fully and forcefully reveals the kingdom to be a kingdom of life. That message calls us together as church, as a community of witnesses to the fact that death is not history's last word. As the perplexed disciples stood before the empty tomb, they were asked: "Why search among the dead for one who lives?" (Luke 24:5). To be witnesses to the resurrection means to give life, and bearing witness to life takes on special importance from the standpoint of Third World poverty.

Such witness compels us to find a way to talk about God. We need a language rooted in the unjust poverty that surrounds the vast majorities, but also nurtured by the faith and hope of a people struggling for its liberation. We need a language that is both contemplative and prophetic: contemplative because it ponders a God who is love; prophetic because it talks about a liberator God who rejects the situation of injustice in which the poor live, and also the structural causes of that situation. As was the case in the book of Job, idioms arise in Third World countries out of the suffering and hope of innocent victims.

How are we to talk about God in terms of such a state of affairs? Here we come to what may well impress and exasperate the ruling classes most. It is the fact that the poor see their struggle for liberation as a way of "cleaving to God," to echo a phrase from Deuteronomy in which the fundamental dilemma of a believing life is brought vividly before us:

Today I offer you the choice of life and good, or death and evil...I offer you the choice of life or death, blessing or curse. Choose life and then you and your descendants will live; love the Lord your God, obey him and hold fast to him.
(Deuteronomy 30: 15, 19-20)

The fight for liberation is an option for life and a rejection of untimely and unjust death. What is more, the poor and exploited see this fight as an exigency of their faith in God the liberator.

A new prophetic and mystical language about God is arising in these lands filled with exploitation and hope. We are learning anew how to say God. We are seeing the first stages of a process of reflection that seeks to give expression to the life of faith and hope being lived by the oppressed everywhere. It is the language of those in whose faces, noted the Puebla conference, "We ought to recognize the suffering features of Christ the Lord, who questions and challenges us."

This new language reminds us that the ultimate reason behind our option for the poor and our solidarity with their struggles is the God in whom we believe. There may well be other reasons for this privileged commitment. For the follower of Christ, however, this solidarity is ultimately rooted in our faith in the God of life. Above and beyond all the efforts, limitations, and achievements of our theologizing from the standpoint of the poor, we find that something fundamental is at stake: our very faith in God.

Ours is an effort to speak from the standpoint of the poor and their silence. If those who have the role of theological articulation mean to do that, then they must share in that silence of contemplation and practice; they must participate in the sufferings of the innocent poor. Otherwise our theology will merit the same reproach that Job hurled at his pompous friends:

I have heard such things often before, you who make trouble, all of you, with every breath, saying, "Will this windbag never have done? What makes him so stubborn in argument?" If you and I were to change places, I could talk like you; how I could harangue you and wag my head at you! But no, I would speak words of encouragement, and then my condolences would flow in streams.
(Job 16:2-5)

When this article appeared, Gustavo Gutierrez was chair of theology at the Pontifical Catholic University of Peru, chaplain of the National Catholic Student Union of Peru and the author of Theology of Liberation. This article was translated by John Drury.

Exerpted from Irruption of the Third World, edited by Virginia Fabella and Sergio Torres. The book was published in April 1983 by Orbis Press, Maryknoll, New York; © copyright 1983.