Theology From The Bottom Up

This past week, Peruvian priest, Fr. Gustavo Gutierrez died. Gutierrez is probably best known for his articulation of what has now become known as “liberation theology.” It is a theology that was initially rejected by the Vatican in the 1970’s which has now pretty much been embraced by people and the church everywhere.

I remember first seeing the cover of this book and was profoundly moved by the crucifix on it. Gutierrez had chosen to represent the crucified Jesus as one who looked like his people, and this was at the heart of his theology.  I bought the book because I was enrolled in a one week class on liberation theology with Gutierrez when he taught summer institute classes at Boston College (when I was doing graduate work there), and I was changed by this experience.

One of the first things people noticed when meeting Fr. Gutierrez was his size. He was probably around 5 ft tall, and most people towered over him. He also had polio as a child and had some physical challenges as a result (I recall him needing a shoe with a large heel on it because one of his legs was shorter than the other). He had an infectious laugh and impish grin and had kind of a wizened look to him. And when he spoke and taught, you could have heard a pin drop!

While Gutierrez grew up in what would be considered a “middle class” household in Lima, Peru, he worked extensively in the poorest areas of Peru and experienced firsthand the squalor and death that results from poverty. He also saw that the theological approaches that had emerged out of North American and European contexts had little relevance to the conditions he experienced and, in fact, could often be used to support the violence of poverty and the colonial mindset. So he changed the starting point of reflection. Instead of reflecting from the “God” end of things, he started his reflections from the “people” side of things (and especially from the end of the people most harmed in this world). The result was a game-changer.

Books and books have been written on liberation theology, so I know that I will not do it justice here. But, essentially, the perspective of the poor – sometimes called “theology from the bottom up” – is what is given priority. The experiences of the marginalized, the forgotten, the rejected and those subjected to structural violence are used to frame our reflections – not the experiences of those with power and privilege.

An online Liberation Theology resource center says it this way:

According to Gutiérrez true “liberation” has three main dimensions: First, it involves political and social liberation, the elimination of the immediate causes of poverty and injustice. Second, liberation involves the emancipation of the poor, the marginalised, the downtrodden and the oppressed from all “those things that limit their capacity to develop themselves freely and in dignity”. Third, liberation theology involves liberation from selfishness and sin, a re-establishment of a relationship with God and with other people. 

The NY Times in a recent article on his passing states it this way: “The theology of liberation,” Father Gutiérrez insisted, “begins from the questions asked by the poor and plundered of the world, by those ‘without a history.’”

The questions asked by the poor and plundered.

What kinds of questions would those be in today’s world?

What made liberation theology “radical” at its time was that it involved itself in the real-life, political and social struggles of the day. It was not an other-world or heaven-centered theology but one that said the kin-dom of God is meant to be experienced in our midst in the here and now and that it is the role of the church both to make this happen and to call out and resist it where it is not happening.

Liberation theology took seriously the words of today’s first reading from Ephesians 2 that says that “you are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God.” It says that the experiences of the poor and marginalized – who are constantly told that they do not matter (directly and indirectly) – matter incredibly because they, too, are full members of God’s household. Their lives are also “a dwelling place of God in the Spirit.”

Our gospel from Luke 6 furthers this point as Jesus chooses some of his close disciples (called “the apostles”). 

Growing up, I am not sure that I thought too much about who the apostles were. Given that I grew up working class/middle class, I think I assumed that they were like me. Regular people who shared my perspective and worldview.

But the people that Jesus chose to be part of his team were essentially insignificant, invisible people in their society. They were, for the most part, the working poor and poor of their day. And they were NOT all men. We need to keep naming this (even when our gospel accounts do not).

The experiences of people on the margin were Jesus’ starting point, and it was Gutierrez’s as well. 

Gutierrez, like many Latin American priests and theologians of his time, were looking at the material conditions of their people and saying, “This is not God’s plan for us.” As they read the scriptures – and especially the gospels – they saw themselves and their people as members of God’s household – and thus deserved more and better not in some afterlife but in this world. They deserved liberation. Thus, Gutierrez and others saw it as the role of the church to be in solidarity with the masses and to resist the systems that subjugated people. 

They also knew that the majority of the church (and church goers) firmly supported the status quo.

Clearly Gutierrez’s work set a lot in motion*, and much has changed in the last 50 years since he first published the book. But much has not changed.

Just this week I heard some of the current statistics related to wealth inequality in the United States.  This report said that the top 10% of households in the US control 67% of the wealth with the bottom half of the population controlling just 2.5% of the wealth. With wealth inequality rising and with costs increasing (like housing and food), we know that more and more people will be living in deprivation. And that is here in a country of great wealth. We know that the struggle is so much worse elsewhere.

Gutierrez’s legacy invites us to look deeply at the social conditions around us and not turn away from what it calls us to do. Especially in an election season, Gutierrez’s work invites us to ask our potential representatives at all levels, “What are you doing to answer the questions of the poor and plundered?” The NY Times said, “Father Gutiérrez always knew that his vision of human redemption, with its summons to political action in solidarity with the oppressed, would be controversial; he was, after all, calling the basic assumptions of the capitalist-bred churches of the United States and Europe to moral and political account.”

May we all find our redemption in the continuation of his work.

* Gutierrez’s work, while transformational, also missed quite a few things. It is important to acknowledge that feminist/womanist critiques, in particular, highlighted that much of the first wave of liberation theology remained grounded in hetero-patriarchal models of church, society and scripture.