Interacting with God of the Oppressed 5 — What is the Good News?

I am working my way through James Cone‘s God of the Oppressed. Come join me on my journey as I learn about Black Liberation Theology.

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In chapter four, Cone tours the Scriptures to introduce us to the God who liberates. Cone contrasts the god of Greek philosophy, who is distant and uninvolved, with the God of the Bible, who is actively involved in the history of the world. In the Old Testament, “God’s revelation is inseparable from the social and political affairs of Israel.” (pg. 57).

The story of God’s acting in the affairs of Israel starts with the Exodus. Here, God liberates Israel from slavery and covenants to be their God. The rest of the Old Testament narrative is the story of how Israel forgets or remembers the God who liberates and the consequences when they disobey the covenant, or blessings when they remember the covenant.

Cone argues that the Old Testament writers (particularly the prophets) are united in their belief that God is completely committed to justice for the poor and weak (pg. 65).

Cone then turns to the New Testament and outlines how Jesus is both the continuation and completion of the Law and the Prophets (pg. 66).

Jesus’ mission, as Cone sees it, is summed up in his Lordship and Servanthood and these represent, “the establishment of justice through suffering” (pg. 69).

Cone emphasizes the texts that demonstrate that Jesus is on the side of the poor. (Luke 4:18-19; Luke 7:22; etc). As such, the Incarnation is  that “God in Christ comes to the weak and the helpless, and becomes one of them, taking their condition as his own and thus transforming their slave-existence into a liberated existence” (pg 71).

The message of liberation that is at the heart of the Incarnation cannot be understood, nor is it good news for the oppressor. It is offensive to them. Indeed, only the poor and weak can truly understand Jesus’ words, “Come to me…and I will give you rest…” (pg. 71)

So who are the poor? Cone rejects all attempts to spiritualize the poor. He argues that scholars from the affluent cultures are guilty of minimizing “Jesus’ gospel of liberation for the poor by interpreting poverty as a spiritual condition unrelated to social and political phenomena” (pg. 72). The gospel, ultimately “excludes those who stand outside the social existence of the poor” (pg. 73).

So what does this mean for theology?

Cone summarizes four implications of this understanding of the gospel:

  1. “There can be no Christian theology that is not social and political…” (pg 75).
  2. “Theology must be prophetic…” (pg. 75).
  3. “Theology cannot ignore tradition…” (pg. 75).

and the big one, 4. “Theology is always a word about the liberation of the oppressed and humiliated. It is a word of judgment for the oppressors and the rulers. Whenever theologians fail to make this point unmistakably clear, they are not doing Christian theology but the theology of the Antichrist” (pg. 76).

While Cone is right to emphasize social justice and Jesus’ mission to the poor and weak and down-trodden, has he taken it too far? How poor is poor? How do we compare the poor? The poor in North America are rich compared to the poor in South America or Africa or Asia. Does that mean that the Gospel is more for the poor in one culture and not another?

Should there not be an element of spiritualization? If Jesus came to save the whole world then are we not all poor, weak, down-trodden in some way, be it physically or spiritually?

I can’t help but wonder if Cone is presenting a modified version of election, wherein the Gospel is only for certain people at a certain time in a certain situation. In which case, in many ways it looks like this “good news” is not for me. Indeed, being a white female living in North America, I am not poor or oppressed compared to so many others in the world. What does this mean then? If Jesus’ good news is for the poor and the oppressed, then did I not actually receive it?

Jesus’ call that I experienced was not merely a call to discipleship, to come and take up my cross and follow him. It was a call to freedom, a call to being liberated from sin and doubt and despair and a crappy childhood. And it is because of that personal call to liberation that I am able to, in turn, take up my cross, to follow Jesus, to not take the side of the oppressors, and to preach freedom and life to the outcast, the poor, the prisoner and the helpless. If I had not experienced it in my own life, no matter how ‘spiritualized’ it was, my testifying to the liberating power of the cross would be hollow.

 

 

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Interacting with God of the Oppressed 4 — The Social Context of Theology

I am working my way through James Cone‘s God of the Oppressed. Come join me on my journey as I learn about Black Liberation Theology.

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If I may be honest, I have, and continue to, struggle with how to interact with this chapter of James Cone’s God of the Oppressed. And what I’m not quite sure is if it is that something in Cone’s writings has changed in this chapter, or if it is because there is something inside me that has changed in how I read this chapter. Part of it, might be my reacting to the language he chooses to employ in this chapter. For example, referencing Marx, Cone writes,

Since most professional theologians are the descendants of the advantaged class and thus often represent the consciousness of the class, it is not difficult to conclude that their theologies are in fact a bourgeois exercise in intellectual masturbation. (pg 43)

I think the slightly graphic and crude language has just irked me the wrong way.

Also, I find myself starting to get annoyed by his broad strokes definition of White theology, as if all White theology is the exact same colour white and that all White theology looks like what Cone describes. It’s beginning to feel a bit like a caricature and perhaps even a bit racist. Of course, I have to recognize two things: 1) Cone is talking about American theology in the 20th century, which is not the same as theology in the post-modern 21st century which, at least in my experience, has been much more open to listening to a multitude of voices (of course, that could be a Canadian thing). And 2), we can be in danger of doing the same thing Cone does, that is,  of lumping all of Black theology together as if it is all one shade and assume that all Black theologians agree with Cone.

So I apologize for how long it has taken to put this post up.  I promise, the next installment will be more timely.

In this chapter, Cone introduces a second dialectic (the first dialectic was between Scripture and experience), a dialectic between theology and social context. Cone briefly sketches out the thought of Ludwig Feuerbach, and Karl Marx, using their philosophical writings to build a foundational principle of Black Liberation Theology: the principle that theology [in Marx, thought] “has no independence from social existence.” (pg 39)

According to Cone, all theology is ultimately “political language.” That is, “What people think about God, Jesus Christ, and the Church cannot be separated from their own social and political status in a given society.” (pg 41)

And Cone is absolutely right. The theology done in a North American (in this case, Canadian) context will look different from theology done in an Asian context. Theology done in a post-modern society will look different than theology done in a pre-modern society, and so forth.

Cone then looks at the three main ways the American church has done theology. He argues that how the American churches have historically dealt with slavery and racism is an indicator of how they have done theology with, but mainly without, thought or interaction with the Black experience. These three ways are:

  1. Ignored slavery (in 19th century), and now (20th century) ignore the Black experience and thoughts of Black theologians. Examples here include Jonathan Edwards and in modern times Paul Tillich; in terms of denominations Cone points to the Anglicans, Presbyterians, Baptists and for a time, the Methodists (pg 43).
  2. Justified slavery on theological grounds. Examples include Cotton Mather, George Whitefield. In terms of denominations Cone points to the Methodists, and Baptists.
  3. Condemned slavery (19th century), and now (20th century) actively seek to engage and seek out the Black perspective when doing theology. Examples include John Woolman, Theodore Weld, and in modern times Frederick Herzog.

And here is where I wish Cone had a few more footnotes. Cone suggests that men like Billy Graham and Norman Vincent Peale are examples of the second group. He writes,

Of course, their [Graham and Peale] of the gospel is not arrived at through an open encounter with the biblical message, but is exclusively determined by the continued social and political dominance of whites over blacks. They are the best examples that religious conservatism and white racism are often two sides of the same reality. (pg 46).

Can someone provide me with some proof of this? It is a heavy charge that really needs to have documentation behind it, which Cone fails to provide here. I had been under the impression that Graham had done quite a bit to break down racial barriers.

Cone later writes, “Because white theologians live in a society that is racist, the oppression of black people does not occupy an important item on their theological agenda” (pg 47) My question, is this absence on the theological agenda specifically a result of racism or is it just an innocent result of the social context of theology? We work with the ‘big’ (most influential) thinkers, because there is only so much time, and we can’t all study every single theological system and theologian that has ever existed. Like it or not, Western theology has and continues to be greatly indebted to dead, mainly German, male white guys.

And while Cone says that White theology has been more focussed on definitions of minutia rather than on the practical acts of freeing the oppressed, feeding the hungry, and comforting the poor, I would suggest that a) that’s not just a ‘White’ issue, but an ongoing tension between theoretical and practical theology that will happen in every culture, and b) there is a place and a need for wrestling with the minutia, for ultimately, it should edify and teach the church. Both the practical and the theoretical are necessary and they shouldn’t be pitted against each other.

 

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Interacting with God of the Oppressed 1 — Working through the Prefaces

I am working my way through James Cone‘s God of the Oppressed. Come join me on my journey as I learn about Black Liberation Theology.

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Great Quote:

In the 1975 preface to GotO, Cone writes,

Theologians do not normally reveal the true source of their theological reflections. They often tell us about the books that are similar and not so similar to their perspectives, but seldom do they tell us about those non-intellectual factors that are decisive for the arguments advanced on a particular issue. More often than not, it is a theologian’s personal history, in a particular sociopolitical setting, that serves as the most important factor in shaping the methodology and content of his or her theological perspective. Thus theologians ought to be a little more honest, and let the reader know something about those non-intellectual factors that are so important for the opinions they advance. (pg xix)

Wahoo! I get to start my reading with actually agreeing with Cone!

Random Reflection:

In the 1997 preface, Cone applies the above to his own theology and writes,

I still regard the Bible as an important source of my theological reflections, but not the starting point. The black experience and the Bible together in dialectical tension serve as my point of departure today and yesterday. The order is significant. I am black first – and everything else comes after that. (pg xi)

This upfront methodology has me asking myself the question: Is there an order or hierarchy to the factors that influence my theology?

No doubt my being: a Canadian, a woman, coming from a non-Christian home, and being born in the post-modern age, all influence my theology.  But I can’t say that there is an order.

I’d like to say that the Bible comes first in informing my theology, but in all honesty it probably doesn’t.

 Intrigued and Want to Find Out More:

What will be interesting to explore further is Cone’s Christology.  In the preface, Cone says that Jesus is not the only revelation of God.

No longer can I do theology as if Jesus is God’s sole revelation.  Rather, he is an important revelatory event among many. (xiv)

Of course, my brain immediately took me to Barth (don’t mock me, it’s valid as Cone did his thesis on Barth), and how different Cone’s approach is.  For Barth, Revelation is Jesus.  Granted, Barth talks about the three-fold nature of Revelation: Revealed Word–Preached Word–Written Word, but ultimately, it all comes back to Jesus, and Jesus alone.

 

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Book Review: William R. Jones’ Is God A White Racist?

William R. Jones’ classic book is subtitled, “A Preamble to Black Theology” and fortunately, I had read four the the six authors that came under Jones’ scrutiny. Without a doubt, this text has to be the greatest reminder for me, at least, to not take God’s goodness for granted. If I could take one lesson from this book, it would be summed up, ripping off Karl Marx, “Divine Omnibenevolence is the opiate of the masses.” Jones’ mission is to put theodicy to the forefront of theology (XIV). He has been influenced by French existentialists such as Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre, as well as Jewish theologian Richard Rubenstein, who in his work After Auschwitz asked, “Is God an anti-Semite?” So logically, Jones would have an inquiry in a similar manner from an African American context.

Theodicy is not just about “justifying g*d” but also about determining the cause of evil (xix). From this, Jones suggests that we must start to consider every possibility within the interpretive data that we have, which may mean considering the probability that God could be demonic. Divine racism have a few traits, including an in group/out group sanctioned by God, the Other-ed group suffers unequally, and God God in se is a member of the in-group (3-4). For example, a White Adam leads to a White Savior.

Jones rejects futurist theologies of hope, insteading opting for African concepts of time that emphasize the past and a dynamic present (14). Ethnic suffering is determined by the maldistribution (unjust amount of oppression leveled against a people group) as well as suffering that occurs over an extended period of time, rather than something like a natural disaster that happens over a short period of time. Chapters 6 through 11 are his critiques of Black (male) theologians such as James Cone, J. Deotis Roberts, Joseph Washington, and Major J. Jones. William Jones concludes that those that argue that God is on anyone’s side are really setting themselves up to possibly become passivists (people who do nothing, hoping for a force not of this world to rescue them). Instead, W Jones believes that God chooses to be limited by human freedom (192) and that history is open ended.

“The concept of God as for the oppressed must be relinquished if this means that the oppressed are the unique object of God’s activity that differs from persuasion” (201).

Jones’ solution offers at least for me a integration of process/open theology and liberation theology. However, throughout the text, Bill Jones gives theologians the false choice between relying on the activity of God and relying on the work of humanity. Why is it a false choice? For Christians, Christ in the Incarnation reconciles God and humanity, so it is quite difficult for me to discuss the Triune God as if God has not participated in personhood. A further critique is made by black theologian and humanist Anthony Pinn in that William Jones does not take all possibilities into account, i.e., a non-theistic solution; for more, read Pinn’s Why Lord, Why?.

RodtRDH

Rod the Rogue Demon Hunter, Preacher of Hope | Black Scholar of Patristics | Writer for Nonviolent Politics. Destroyer of Trolls. It must be that angry puppy.

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An Evening With Alice Walker

Last night, I had the opportunity to attend the event at Texas Christian University, “An Evening With Alice Walker” thanks to fellow biblio-blogger and friend, postmodern emergent J.K. Gayle. Alice Walker is known for her blockbuster novel, The Color Purple, but as she said last night, “the problem with having a blockbuster is that everything else is ignored. I am one of many voices of the earth.”

The event was hosted by TCU’s AddRan College of Liberal Arts. Walker was introduced by TCU Religion Department professor Dr. Melanie Harris, who asked the audience to be “open to the spirit in this place.” Harris noted that in the history of religious studies, the voices of black women had been marginalized, “Oh that God would the voice of black women.”

Walker started the night’s conversation by reading passages from The Color Purple, in the voice of Shug. In the dialogue that followed, I believe that Walker’s “the gospel according to Shug” was Walker’s own explanation of her religious worldview as well as the one presented by her famous novel. Walker suggested that first and foremost, each religion must teach self-love, or self-compassion. Walker, who affirms pantheism, admits to also have been influenced by the Tibetan tradition of Buddhism, and that she has great concern for the city of Fort Worth, especially its damaged air.

Philosophically, Alice Walker proposes that it is the artists of society who should be (what Frantz Fanon called) the cultural creators. Walker’s experience of slavery (the share-cropping industry) as well as her respect for her body, with its limits is where she finds inspiration. for her work. Rejecting institutionalized forms of religion, Walker was quoted last night as saying, “the truth is the priest,” and that she believes that all is needed is enlightenment to take place, as well as the “purity of intent.” One of the most intriguing insights of last night was when she noted about modern society, that one of the disasters in this day and age is, “we know whatever everybody else is doing, and what they are wearing.” This practice, I guess one could implicate twitter in this, contradicts Walker’s notion of self-love.

On writing: Walker rejects the notion of that thing called “writer’s block” (as do I), and that the love she experienced from her family as well as the presence of her ancestors were the inspirations for her characters in her writings.

On religion: Walker admits, “I am a pagan more than anything” and she dismisses the Christian teaching of the Incarnation of Christ, because, “God is all of reality” and no one person could encompass all of reality. She said that she also believes that she finds freedom in the teachings of the Bhudda.

A few comments:

There are many scholars, Christian and secular alike, who act like we can some how remove ourselves from our bodily experiences (our subjectivity), and do scholarship as if we were all blank slates. I came to this event as a black, male, and Christian. I had my first conversion experience at age eight, and was baptized on Mother’s Day. Because Christians affirm that God is everywhere, and Christ promises to be present with us by the power of the Holy Spirit, I can’t see any room for “objectivity” in the modernist sense in the Christian life (as if somehow we can all get to the point of being blank slates in the first instance, and as if truth is propositional, in the second instance). One can be fair, one can read as many sides of an issue as possible, and in that way one can strive to be objective. So, my response to this event is subjective, especially in my reaction to some of the comments made. I was talking to a relative last night who has had enormous influence on my faith journey, and she seemed surprised by Walker’s rejection of the Incarnation. I do not, however have any surprise nor do I expect non-Christians to understand or accept the mystery of the Incarnation– God’s Word/Wisdom becoming made flesh– (since a Christian, after all, is someone who believes in the Incarnate, Crucified, and Risen Christ).

So, as a Christian, I disagree with Walker’s interpretation of what the Incarnation means, as well as her definition of God. All of reality cannot be God, for God is Spirit, and must even surpass what we know and see in creation (invisible).

As a Christian interested in helping the oppressed, I must also show concern about the message of “enlightenment.” My hope it is not that this enlightenment does not come from the top-down, from the elites to the masses.

Lastly, as an African-American, we must realize that no one theory can capture the experience of ALL black women. Where do the black women with more conservative or more charismatic theologies belong in womanist religious scholarship? Working for the school system, while I try so hard to avoid conversations about my degrees (religious studies/MDiv/ThM), the women of African descent I have encounter wear their faith on their sleeves, and they openly discuss events at church, issues regarding eternal life, etc.

If I may rhetorically listen to Walker,

The Truth is the Priest.

RodtRDH

Rod the Rogue Demon Hunter, Preacher of Hope | Black Scholar of Patristics | Writer for Nonviolent Politics. Destroyer of Trolls. It must be that angry puppy.

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