At the
end of the Reagan era, I found liberation theology's pragmatism attractive for four
reasons:
- The then prevalent emphasis on self
(remember the "me" generation) was increasingly disturbing and repugnant
because it is the antithesis to Jesus' teachings.
- My doctoral research on religious
pluralism raised difficult, perhaps unanswerable, questions about the exclusive
trustworthiness of any one religion's scriptures. For example, given both a
lack of scientific evidence and conflicting scriptural accounts about what
happens at death (e.g., the faithful enter new and everlasting life, death
is the end, life follows death which follows life in an endless cycle), one's
cultural heritage and personal biases arguably determine which, if any,
scripture most persons accept as authoritative.
- Marx's critique of religion as the
opiate of the masses poignantly questions individual and institutional
motives for claiming that religion benefits its adherents primarily after
death.
- I learned that the world's major
religions speak with one voice regarding a key element of their basic aim
of salvation, transformation, or liberation. However else a religion may
unpack the term that describes its aim, at a minimum its aim includes
improving the quality of life in the present. For Christians, paradigmatic
examples of this motif are the exodus narrative's theme of liberation and
Jesus' teachings and interactions with people that emphasized God's
acceptance of all (e.g., his interactions with women and sinners), God's
command to love everyone without exception, and Jesus' healing of the sick
and demon possessed.
Concurrently,
social changes during the last half century have subtly pushed Christianity to
emphasize defining salvation in terms of ethics. With globalization came a growing
awareness of the universality of the core ethical teachings of the world's
major religions, in contrast to their mutually exclusive theological or
spiritual precepts. This commonality provides fertile soil for many varieties
of liberation theology.
Additionally,
the apparent incompatibility of science and religion has led many people to
abandon religious belief in favor of atheism, agnosticism, or being spiritual with
no religious preference. Not only has this trend caused worship attendance to
decrease, it has also eroded the certainty of religious belief among some of
those who remain involved in a faith community. This latter group finds
supporting programs that promote a more ethical and just world less
theologically troubling than they do supporting programs that have a narrower
theological or spiritual focus.
Hence,
Episcopal congregations and dioceses, as well as the national Church, invest
more energy and resources in the Standing Rock protest, the Black Lives Matter
movement, and other ethical causes than in evangelism. Even the Presiding
Bishop's appointment of a canon for evangelism and his plan to conduct a dozen
revivals in 2017 reflect this shift. Both moves emphasize Jesus and his
teachings as the reason for engaging in ethical action, largely ignoring the
promises of eternal life central to prior generations' evangelism efforts.
Almost
three decades later, I realize that the factors that drew me to liberation
theology have had opposite effects on many of those who identify as evangelical
Christians. The first three motives are a typology of evangelicalism.
- Some self-identified evangelical
Christians, instead of being repelled by an emphasis on self, have
responded by adopting the "prosperity gospel," i.e., obey God's
teachings and you will prosper materially. Unsurprisingly, Donald Trump
seems to find the prosperity gospel attractive. For example, he invited
one of its leading exponents, Paul White, to offer the invocation at his
inauguration.
- Some self-identified evangelicals
(and conservative Roman Catholics who generally prefer Popes John Paul II
and Benedict to Pope Francis), like some adherents of all major religions,
choose to live in a closed world that excludes disagreement and dissent.
These individuals and their churches regard the Bible as the ultimate
source of truth, the yardstick by which to judge the truth claims of
everything else – science, history, other religions, etc. The slow decline
in Southern Baptist numbers (as well as the decline in attendance at mass of
non-immigrant US Roman Catholics) reflects this approach's diminishing
popularity.
- Yet other self-identified
evangelicals (e.g., Joel Osteen) appear to have taken Marx's critique of
religion seriously, substituting self-help advice clothed in Christian
language and stories for substantive teaching about orthodox Christian theological.
Illustratively, Osteen oversaw his congregation's use of media before
becoming its pastor; he does not have a degree in theology, the Bible, or
religion.
- Finally, and probably in spite of evangelical
leaders' best efforts, social trends are eroding the certainty with which
evangelicals of all three types outlined above subscribe to their church's
belief system. One response has been defensive, denouncing opponents for purportedly
attempting to marginalize or deny Christianity's teachings if not its
right to a voice in the public square. Commentators and participants
sometimes label these debates about Christianity's proper role in the US "culture
wars." White supremacists, including those who see Trump as an ally,
sometimes deploy this type of rhetoric, trying to bolster the appeal of
their message. Another response has dynamics similar to those that draw
people toward liberation theology. However, this time the dynamics result
in campaigns that support the status quo. These campaigns directly or
indirectly advocate oppressing or exploiting women, LGBQT persons, the
poor, and other vulnerable individuals. North Carolina's law requiring
persons to use the public restroom provided for persons of the gender on
their birth certificate, and proposed similar legislation in several other
states exemplifies such campaigns, as do laws restricting access to birth
control and abortion. This type of response diametrically conflicts with
the message of liberation and love that constitute the common core of
ethical teachings of the world's major religions.
Reflecting
on the above typology, I acknowledge that I have written in terms of broad
generalities and blithely ignore exceptions. Nevertheless, I am unable to
discover much common ground between Christians drawn implicitly or explicitly
to a type of liberation theology and Christians who self-identify as
evangelical. This divide mirrors the increasing polarization that I observe and
experience within the Christian tradition. The divide also mirrors the
political and cultural polarities so apparent in last autumn's presidential
campaign.
Sadly, what
I do not see is how to bridge the divide, to reconcile the polarities. Perhaps our
best option is to practice openness, non-judgmentally welcoming everyone, by living
a faith that invites all to journey with the God who liberates, loves, and
transforms death into life.