If a poll were to be taken in North American churches concerning the causes of poverty, the results might be quite revealing. The major cause of poverty is widely assumed to be "underdevelopment." Other prominent factors are believed to be laziness (we've all read about those exemplary ants in Proverbs 6), vices such as drunkenness, and, however subtly and discreetly expressed, the supposed racial and national inferiority of certain peoples. It's a very comforting worldview and one that our most popular politicians delight to propagate.
But if you look up "underdevelopment" in a concordance, even an exhaustive one, it makes for a very short "quiet time": You find precisely nothing. The Bible contains a few scattered references attributing certain instances of poverty to laziness, drunkenness, and other assorted causes, but hardly enough to substantiate any of them as the basic cause.
Looking up the words "oppress" and "oppression" in the concordance discloses an overwhelming avalanche of texts, however, representing 15 Hebrew roots and two Greek, occurring more than 300 times. Following through the concordance study with references to standard Hebrew and Greek lexicons uncovers even more references, many of them obscured by the traditional translations.
If the biblical vocabulary for oppression is then correlated with the vocabulary for the poor and poverty, we find that in 122 texts oppression is indicated as the cause of poverty. The Hebrew lexicons even indicate an overlapping of meaning in some cases, so some words for poor should be translated the "oppressed-poor." Other causes for poverty, such as laziness, are mentioned in very few texts, though somehow these are the texts we have heard most about.
Oppression is a major category in the Bible's understanding and approach to reality. The Exodus has come to be recognized as playing a central role in the theology of the Old Testament, comparable to that of the cross in the New Testament. And it was in the Exodus that a people God recognized as oppressed won their liberation. In the period of the Judges, or Liberators, Israel repeatedly fell under the oppression of neighboring powers that impoverished them (Judges 6 for example), until they finally opted for a king. This temporarily solved the problem of foreign oppression. But beginning with Solomon, Israel began to feel the brunt of internal oppression.
In the period of the divided kingdom, both North and South suffered at the hands of an increasingly powerful local oligarchy, which tended to collaborate with the great imperial powers of Assyria and, later, Babylon. After the fall of Jerusalem in 586 B.C., a series of empires succeeded Babylon in dominating the Holy Land: Persia, beginning in 539 B.C., followed by Greece, and finally Rome (the latter for the entire New Testament period).
Clearly there were relatively few years in the entire sweep of biblical history when oppression by foreign superpowers and/or local oligarchies was not the daily experience of the common Israelite. It is no exaggeration to say that 90 per cent of biblical history is written from the perspective of a small, weak, oppressed, poor people. Small wonder, then, that oppression and the resulting poverty form so large a bulk of the literature that recounts the struggle.
Nor should we be surprised that theologians from the affluent superpowers miss the boat in seeking to delineate the basic message of the Scriptures. Most of the Bible makes a lot more sense when read from the perspective of the oppressed-poor in the Third World.
Latin American theologians like to point out that after the conversion of Constantine, the church (Catholic and Protestant alike) stopped reading the Bible from the perspective of the oppressed-poor, aligning itself instead with the wealthy and powerful, or at best with the middle class. That would explain why we search in vain in our multi-volumes of systematic theologies and Bible encyclopedias for articles on oppression.
The first explicit reference to oppression is in Genesis 15:13 in which the Lord declares to Abraham, "Know for certain that your descendants will be immigrants in a country not their own, and they will be enslaved and oppressed [Hebrew anah] 400 years." Exodus repeatedly refers to this oppression, using a variety of terms: nagash, "treat like an animal"; labats, "press, put the squeeze on," etc. So if we ask why the Israelites were poor during their stay in Egypt, the Bible is quite explicit. The Israelites were not racially inferior (Exodus begins with a genealogy tracing their roots to the great patriarchs). Nor were they lazy, though that is the explanation their oppressors preferred (Exodus 5:17). Nor does Exodus ever describe the people as given over to vices or idolatry. Repeatedly they are described as suffering oppression, and the Lord makes clear that in a class struggle between oppressors and oppressed he does not remain neutral or impartial: God takes the side of the oppressed-poor and acts decisively for their liberation (Exodus 3:7-10; 6:2-5).
The Exodus experience of oppression-liberation made such an indelible impression on Israel that the rest of the Bible continually hearkens back to it. Thus, Deuteronomy 26:5-9, often referred to as the "Apostles' Creed" of the Old Testament, reflects the experience as it tells us what Israel confessed annually when they brought their offerings of first fruits. The themes are few: patriarchal wanderings, oppression, resulting poverty in Egypt, the Exodus liberation, and possession of Canaan: "The Egyptians mistreated us and oppressed us [labats]. So the Lord brought us out of Egypt." In other words, the Israelites were creedally committed to confess every year a sense of solidarity with their oppessed-poor ancestors and to celebrate the great liberation of the Lord in the Exodus.
In Psalm 103 (so loved, perhaps, because so little understood) we see how the tremendous experience of the Exodus liberation becomes what Latin theologians like to call a "paradigm"--an experience to be repeated by other 5 nations:
The Lord is working liberations [tsedeqot]
and justice for all the oppressed [ashaqim]:
He revealed to Moses his characteristic ways of acting,
his miraculous deeds to the people of Israel.
(Psalm 103:6-7)
Thus, in Isaiah we find such a sweepingly universal invitation:
Turn to me and be liberated, all the ends of the earth;
for I am God, and there is no other.
(Isaiah 45:22)
God continually acts in history on behalf of the poor-oppressed to bring them into an experience of integral liberation-salvation.
The King's Role
The perspective of the Exodus paradigm on oppression is also abundantly evident in Psalm 72. Commonly we treat this psalm as if it were exclusively a messianic prediction to be fulfilled at Christ's return, but commentators agree that originally it was a prayer for a reigning king.
The justice that is to characterize the king is not like our notion of cold neutrality, but justice that takes sides with the oppressed-poor and leaps into the struggle to liberate them from their oppressors:
May he govern your people with justice, and your oppressed-poor [ani] with just judgments...
May he vindicate the oppressed-poor [ani] of the people,
May he save-liberate the sons of the needy,
And crush the oppressor [ashaq]
(Psalm 72:2,4)
This option in favor of the oppressed-poor is motivated by compassionate solidarity with them (verse 13a).
The salvation the king brings to the oppressed-poor is first of all a liberation from the tyrannical oppression and institutionalized violence they continually suffer:
May he liberate the needy who cries for help,
the oppressed-poor whom no one else cares for.
May he manifest compassionate solidarity with the poor and needy, and save the lives of the needy.
May he redeem their lives from tyrannical oppression and from institutionalized violence--
May their lifeblood be precious in his eyes.
(Psalm 72:12-14)
The New Testament similarly proclaims that this dimension of salvation is expected to flow into human history at the birth of Christ (not just at the second coming). Zechariah, filled with the Holy Spirit, prophesied about a salvation that was to include "salvation from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us" (Luke 1:71), beginning at the birth of Jesus' forerunner.
A study of the basic biblical word for violence (Hebrew hamas) makes clear that violence in the scriptures is not what someone does to try to defend the oppressed-poor from the injustices that threaten their lives. Rather, violence in the Bible refers to what the oppressed-poor suffer at the hands of their wealthy oppressors:
This is what the Sovereign Lord says: You have gone far enough, 0 princes of Israel! Give up your violence [hamas] and oppression and do what is just and right. Stop dispossessing my people, declares the Sovereign Lord.
(Ezekiel 45:9)
Thus violence is always unjust, and the Lord hates it (Psalm 11:5).
When we turn to the prophet Isaiah we find that our favorite messianic prophecies speak clearly of liberation from oppression. Perhaps we are so accustomed to hearing Isaiah 9:6 sung in Handel's "Messiah" that our curiosity is not even aroused to ask what is indicated by the "for" (Hebrew ki) in the exultant "For unto us a child is born."
If we trace back in the context (verses 4 and 5 likewise begin with "for" [ki]), we discover the reference to oppression in verse 4: "For as in the day of Midian's defeat [Judges 6] you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressors [nagash]." The liberation from oppression, we should note, is not relegated to the second coming but to the Messiah's birth, which is to mark the beginning of a kingdom characterized by liberation from oppression, continual growth, and the final triumph of true justice (verse 7).
In the fourth Servant Song (Isaiah 52:13-53:12) we find four Hebrew words for oppression occurring six times. In verse 7: "He was oppressed and afflicted." And in verse 8: "By oppression and judgment he was taken away." Rather than referring euphemistically to the "Suffering Servant," we would do well to be as blunt as the Hebrew: He was the "Oppressed Servant."
This more accurate title clarifies considerably the political dimension of Peter's sermon on the day of Pentecost. In denouncing the injustice of Jesus' crucifixion, Peter was denouncing oppression in the tradition of the Old Testament prophets (Acts 2:22-24). Just as Jesus identified with the poor in his birth and ministry (2 Corinthians 8:9), so supremely in his crucifixion he shows his solidarity with the oppressed. The proclamation of the resurrection is thus a declaration of a liberation from oppression that far exceeds what Israel experienced in Egypt.
Only in the light of this Old Testament background can we begin to appreciate the radical nature of the New Testament message. We have to put ourselves in the place of a people living like the Jews of the first century, under the boot heel of Roman oppression, to understand what Jesus said.
What does it mean to follow this Jesus as a disciple? Traditional theology has taught us to think in terms of ethics, a Greek philosophical category commonly used to describe absolutes unrelated to history. Latin American Christians are rediscovering another word that expresses better the biblical understanding: praxis (in the original Greek, the title of the book of Acts is the praxis of the Apostles). It involves, among other things, a commitment to work for the liberation of the oppressed-poor. Luke makes it emphatically clear (Acts 2:42-47; 4:32-37) that this remained a top priority for the early church. So does James, the Lord's brother, in his classic definition of true religion:
Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to care for orphans and widows in their oppression (Greek: thilpsei) and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.
(James 1:27)
Our common English translations prefer to speak of affliction in this text, but Arndt and Gingrich's Greek lexicon correctly recognizes that oppression is the first meaning and the reference to orphans and widows, repeatedly called oppressed classes in the Old Testament, makes the sense unmistakable.
James' reference to oppression in 1:27 is buttressed by his analysis of class struggle. In the strict Marxian sense, of course, class struggle occurs after the rise of capitalism. The Bible, however, abundantly witnesses its awareness of antagonistic classes and the struggle of the poor against their oppressors, particularly in Exodus, the references to "enemies" in the Psalms, and in the eighth century prophets. This reality of class struggle is largely ignored and evaded in conservative evangelical theology.
In Latin America's theological and spiritual revolution, biblical Christians often are accused of introducing class struggle into the churches. This is utterly naive and shows we have understood neither biblical social analysis nor the most elementary facts that are a daily part of Third World poverty. Latin American theologian Jose Miguez Bonino, in his book Doing Theology in a Revolutionary Situation, goes so far as to conclude: "The ideological appropriation of the Christian doctrine of reconciliation by the liberal capitalist system in order to conceal the brutal fact of class and imperialist exploitation and conflict is one--if not the--major heresy of our time."
It is fascinating, though profoundly disturbing, to see the conservative evangelical mentality at work to make James more palatable. In James 4, in a description of the class struggle ("wars," "fights," "ye fight," "ye war," verses 1-2) motivated by greed ("ye covet," verse 2), and expressing itself in all manner of capitalist initiatives ("we will trade and we will make a profit," verse 13) James says directly "you murder" (verse 2b). "Murder?" say the commentators. "Impossible. Free enterprise, capitalist ingenuity, the American way of life, an honest buck; what's good for General Motors is good for the country."
But James says: "you murder." The mechanisms of oppression deprive the poor of their land and other means of livelihood and leave them without the essentials for life (1 Kings 21; Luke 16:19-31). The prophet Micah had gone even further than James, denouncing the mechanisms of oppression and institutionalized violence as "cannibalism" (Micah 3:1-3).
A long line of translators and commentators, beginning with Erasmus, have opted for changing the offending word without a shred of textual support: "you murder" (Greek phoneuete) is changed to "you are envious" (Greek phthoneite). Even a conservative commentator like J. Adamson, however, provides abundant evidence for the recognition of class struggle in the churches James addressed. Clear lines of class demarcation are referred to repeatedly. Thus in James 4:6, " 'Haughty' signifies especially the arrogant rich contrasted in 1:9 with the humble poor." In 2:6, James delineates one of the common mechanisms of oppression condemned in the Old Testament: "Is it not the rich who are oppressing you [poor]? Are not they the ones who drag you into court?"
Adamson points out that the word for oppress has "violent" overtones. He also describes the merchants in James 4:13-17 as "the materialist core of the contemporary bourgeois prosperity." He recognizes that most of James' readers were drawn from the poor and that the verses in James 5:1-6 "apostrophize the rich...as a class."
In his analysis of the class struggle and denunciation of oppression, James does not stand in a tradition different from Jesus (see Matthew 23). Jesus came to fulfill, not spiritualize, the Torah and the prophets and stands in continuity with them. But we cannot reduce our Lord to one who merely repeats and echoes his predecessors. Jesus gives us a comprehension and approach to oppression that is broader and more profound.
Jesus takes his stand squarely in his family's prophetic tradition. In his classic definition of his own understanding of his mission, he declares that God's spirit has anointed him to proclaim "good news to the poor...freedom for the prisoners...liberation for the oppressed" and to inaugurate a jubilee epoch (Luke 4:18-19). Jesus says nothing about needing to energize the lazy, improve the IQ of the racially inferior, develop the underdeveloped, or control the demographic explosion of the excessively prolific.
In fact, careful linguistic examination of the text reveals that Jesus basically directs himself to one group: the oppressed-poor. Prisoners in that time usually were not criminals. More often they were in prison for debt (crimes were commonly punished by fines and execution). The blind to be healed are almost always also beggars in the gospels.
However, Jesus comes not just to repeat the devastating socio-economic analysis of the prophets regarding the causes of poverty; rather, he comes to incarnate and herald the solution: "The Law and the Prophets were proclaimed until John. Since that time, the good news of the kingdom of God is being preached, and everyone is forcing their way into it" (Luke 16:16, NIV). The emphatically evangelical character of Jesus' approach to the oppressed-poor is everywhere evident throughout the gospel.
Jesus' teaching and praxis in regard to the oppression that causes poverty can be observed in a number of areas: his liberating approach to women, particularly widows; his simple lifestyle and teaching against accumulated wealth; his denunciations and protests against the local religious-political oligarchy; and his more subtle critique and stubborn policy of non-cooperation with the Roman Empire.
The gospel of Luke begins by stressing Jesus' identification with the poor in his incarnation. It reaches its climax with his death on the cross as God's "oppressed servant." God then liberated him from all his oppressors in the decisive event of the resurrection, through which he became the first fruits of the liberated children of God and all creation (Romans 8:18-23). The Old Testament paradigm was not "spiritualized" or "depoliticized" but made universal, even as God had promised Abraham (Luke 9:31; Genesis 12:1-3).
Even this cursory examination makes it clear that oppression is a major category of biblical theology. More than 100 texts link oppression to poverty; it must be recognized as the basic cause of poverty in biblical theology. This discovery holds implications for the church.
First, in our approach to the poor, whether in our own slums or in the Third World nations, we need to stop justifying our privileges and start trying to discover, unmask, and denounce the mechanisms of oppression that make and keep people poor. The biblical prophets were geniuses at this. We need to enter into the depths of their social analysis and not content ourselves with the discovery of occasional messianic proof texts.
Second, we need to examine radically our understanding of the Christian gospel and Jesus Christ. We must ask whether Christ is presented as liberator of the oppressed or as champion of an unjust status quo, and whether our gospel is "good news to the poor" or a rationalization for the rich. Strange that John the Baptist should be portrayed in Luke's version of the good news as declaring: "He that has two coats, let him give to him that has none." That may sound like very bad news in an American suburb, but in a Nicaraguan slum that kind of teaching sparked a revolution. It all depends on whether you have two coats or none. We must study carefully what the Bible teaches about the kind of salvation-liberation Jesus came to bring.
Finally, we need to re-examine our foreign policy as the cultural context in which our missionaries must work. The test is whether we promote a foreign policy dominated by fear (contrary to Timothy 1:7) and anti-communism or a policy characterized by trust in the God of the Bible, the Exodus, the cross, and the resurrection--a policy that is firmly and positively pro-justice.
The prophet Amos compared the Lord's speaking to the roar of a lion (Amos 1:2; 3:8). Capitalist ideology has succeeded in domesticating the lion for most North American Christians. In effect, we keep the lion in a cage and parade him around in our circuses. Then we can declare to the world that we are the proud possessors of an inerrant lion.
In Latin America the domesticated lion has escaped and is recovering his roar. Churches are rediscovering their authentic mission and praxis. Dictators are being toppled, the "gospel to the poor" is being proclaimed. Martyrs are dying.
It is time now for our North American churches to examine what the Bible says about the causes of oppression and let the lion roar.
Tom Hanks, a Presbyterian minister, taught Old Testament at the Seminario Biblico Latinoamericano in San Jose, Costa Rica, when this article appeared.
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