In February 2007 at the Basilica of Santa Sabina in Rome, Pope Benedict XVI presided over the Ash Wednesday mass, which is, for Catholics, a solemn occasion marking the beginning of the 40-day season of Lent.During the liturgy, a distinguished few worshipers out of hundreds in attendance were invited to approach Benedict in the basilica’s sanctuary, and receive ashes from the pontiff himself. Among them was a short, Peruvian friar of the Dominican Order, dressed in the Order’s characteristic white and black habit.
This friar was Father Gustavo Gutierrez, who in 1971 authored the seminal book The Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, Salvation, which both coined the term “liberation theology” and earned Gutierrez recognition as the movement’s intellectual father.
This intimate, solemn encounter between the Pope and the Peruvian friar might confuse those familiar with the popular media rendering of a fractious relationship between the Vatican and Latin American liberation theologians.
According to this telling, Benedict – previously recognized as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, head of the Vatican bureau that oversees Catholic doctrine – is cast as the leader of a Vatican condemnation of liberation theology in the 1980s. Striking with the ferocity of a Rottweiler, the future pope ran liberation theologians out of the church as heretics with communist agendas.
Unfortunately, this oft-repeated account gravely misrepresents the interaction that actually took place between Rome and Latin America in the 1980s. The true story is one of equal parts critique, modification, and acceptance.
Far from being stamped out, the theological ideas and reflections characteristic of liberation theology have left a profound impact on the Catholic Church that endures today, not only in Latin America, but also in Rome.
The Mustard Seeds of a New Reflection
Liberation theology developed in the wake of the renewal of the Catholic Church brought about by the Second Vatican Council. Convened by Popes John XXIII and Paul VI from 1962 to 1965, a major focus of the Council was encouraging a greater engagement between the Church and the modern world.
One of the Council’s most important documents, Gaudium et Spes, stated that the Church has “the duty of scrutinizing the signs of the times and of interpreting them in the light of the Gospel.”
The “signs of the times” observed by Latin American Catholics of the day included economic inequality, dehumanizing poverty, and the concentration of political power in the hands of undemocratic governments. These “signs” posed the following question to the church, as outlined by Gutierrez: “How do we talk about God who is revealed as love in a situation characterized by poverty and oppression?”
From this backdrop liberation theology emerged. Among its central characteristics was the articulation of God’s “preferential option for the poor,” which contended that God does not remain neutral in the face of social situations where the poor are exploited, but rather “opts for” or takes the side of the poor in their struggle for justice.
Liberation theologians also understood the salvation won by Jesus not as a narrow notion of spiritual afterlife, but as an “integral salvation” freeing all spheres of human life – including the material and social – from the chains of personal as well as “social” and “structural” sin. Building the “Kingdom of God” with mandates of justice and equity as preached by Jesus, was therefore a fundamental part of the Church’s salvific mission.
These ideas developed and spread as priests, nuns, and lay leaders formed small groups of poor Catholics throughout Latin America to interpret and discuss the Bible in light of their socioeconomic position and the insights of liberation theology.
These “base communities” played an integral role in sparking or providing support for a multitude of social movements that challenged the entrenched powers of injustice prevalent in countries across Latin America.
Liberation theology’s rise accelerated when Latin America’s bishops affirmed liberation theology’s basic precepts at their 1968 Conference in Medellín, Colombia, to be later developed at their next conference in Puebla, Mexico in 1979. Meanwhile, the continent’s power elite panicked.
They began to encroach on the Church’s autonomy, and repress liberation theology’s most stalwart proponents. As a result, the Latin American Church saw many of its bishops, priests, sisters, and lay leaders martyred by the region’s dictatorships and their surrogates.
Latin America Meets Rome
Within its history, the Catholic Church has witnessed numerous internal movements led by so-called firebrands.
In the 12th century, when St. Francis of Assisi led his band of barefoot brothers throughout the towns and villages of Italy to preach the Gospel and beg for food, he attracted the suspicion of many of the Church’s established clerics.
Four hundred years later, when St. Ignatius Loyola instructed his fellow Spaniards on how to develop a spiritual life that finds God in all things, he was briefly imprisoned by the Spanish Inquisition.
That these men and the communities they founded – the Franciscans and Jesuits respectively – are among the most influential and revolutionary in the history of the Catholic Church demonstrates that scrutiny by the ecclesiastical officialdom does not consign one to lack of influence within the Church.
Quite the contrary, these and other similar examples demonstrate a common behavior of renewal movements throughout the history of the Church – that is, an attempt to rearticulate the Catholic faith in a manner more relevant and responsive to the changing times.
Thus, it was not extraordinary that liberation theology’s ascendance captured the interest of Vatican officials in the late 1970s and 1980s. An official investigation into the orthodoxy of the fundamental principles of liberation theology was begun by the Vatican’s Congregation on the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), headed by then-Cardinal Ratzinger.
It is worth noting that at this time, the Roman Curia, as Vatican officials are collectively known, was dominated by Europeans, who from their Eurocentric perspective approached this unfamiliar, foreign-born product with suspicion.
Having spent their formative years witnessing their own continent torn asunder by the ideological torrents of fascism and soviet communism, many in the Curia remained distrustful of anything bearing even a vague resemblance to communist ideology.
(This was certainly true of the worldviews of the Vatican’s two main protagonists: the Polish Pope John Paul II and the German Ratzinger.)
Such suspicions were exploited by the elite political interests threatened by liberation theology to raise alarm in Rome about “Marxists in priests’ dress” through foreign diplomats and sympathetic churchmen.
For example, Roger Vekemans, a Belgian Jesuit living in Latin America with ties to many Church leaders in Europe, saw his projects receive huge sums from the CIA and US AID while making something of a career out of branding liberation theology “a contagion” and its priest adherents “carriers of the bacillus.”
Further heightening suspicions was the fact that in the years after the 1959 Cuban Revolution, Cuba was widely embraced by many Latin American social movement activists as the model for creating social change in the region. Not only did the Church have a rocky relationship with the Cuban government, but the Cuban model implied the tactical adoption of guerrilla warfare, and, contingently, bloodshed – a thought the Church abhorred.
By the time the CDF began its inquiry into liberation theology, however, the Latin American Left’s enchantment with Cuba had already begun to wane.
Nonetheless, many Latin American bishops and the superiors of religious orders came to the defense of liberation theologians and their pastoral work with the poor before the Roman Curia.
Moreover, as the violence against bishops, priests, and sisters intensified, it became increasingly more difficult for liberation theology’s opponents to paint the victims as merely “political activists” – as three nuns and one laywoman who were raped and killed by Salvadoran paramilitaries were famously written off by Jean Kirkpatrick, U.S. Ambassador to the UN – when they so closely resembled the martyrs integral to Christian tradition and identity.
This connection was especially manifest upon the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, who was gunned down at the altar while celebrating Mass in March 1980 on the orders of military officials.
During the course of their investigations, the CDF’s produced two key documents on liberation theology.
The first document, or “instruction” in Vatican terms, was published in 1984 and expressed criticism of “certain aspects” of plural “theologies of liberation [emphasis added].”
Recognizing that there existed different variants of liberation theology, “which are not simply different but more often incompatible with one another”, the instruction criticized theologians whose work included the wholesale adoption of Marxist ideological concepts “in an insufficiently critical manner” and reduced Christianity “to a purely earthly gospel.”
While some voices under the broad characterization of liberation theology were culpable of such a reductionist bent, the heart and the vast majority of the movement were not.
The CDF made this apparent in the first instruction by coupling its critiques of certain tangential areas of liberation theology with a strong affirmation of Liberation Theology’s central principles:
More than ever it is important that numerous Christians, whose faith is clear and who are committed to live the Christian life in its fullness, become involved in the struggle for justice, freedom, and human dignity…More than ever, the Church intends to condemn abuses, injustices, and attacks against freedom … [and] to struggle, by her own means, for the defense and advancement of the rights of mankind, especially of the poor.
Turning an eye toward Liberation Theology’s powerful opponents waiting to pounce on the Instruction and manipulate it into an endorsement of the status quo, the CDF reiterates this point again: the Instruction’s limited critiques, the CDF writes, “should not at all serve as an excuse for those who maintain the attitude of neutrality and indifference in the face of the tragic and pressing problems of human misery and injustice.”
The CDF produced a second instruction with a greater focus on liberation theology’s positive aspects, published in 1986 under the title of “Christian Freedom and Liberation”.
Nearly twice as long as the 1984 instruction, the second instruction stated unequivocally that, “injustice to … the poor is a grave sin and one which destroys communion with God,” and that such “evil inequities and oppression …[which] openly contradict Christ's Gospel … cannot leave the conscience of any Christian indifferent.”
Worth noting is that during the period of Rome’s investigations into liberation theology, not one liberation theologian received a formal, permanent sanction from the Vatican.
And while some liberation theologians clarified their writings in light on the CDF’s concerns, most focused more on the affirmation than critique in the CDF instructions, and continued preaching the incumbency of the Church to be a force of justice in the world with renewed zeal.
Fruit That Will Last
If one seeks to find a lasting effect of liberation theology on the teaching and orientation of the Vatican, one need look no further than Rome’s consistent condemnations of the global effects of neoliberal capitalism over the past two decades.
Pope John Paul II is well remembered for his staunch criticism of Soviet communism and support for liberation movements in his native Poland.
Later into his pontificate, and despite his failing health, he maintained this vigor when attacking neoliberalism and blessing global efforts to construct a more just and democratic form of globalization.
During his 1999 exhortation, Ecclesia in America, John Paul stated “in many countries of America, a system known as ‘neoliberalism’ prevails; based on a purely economic conception of the human person, this system considers profit and the law of the market as its only parameters, to the detriment of the dignity of and the respect due to individuals and peoples.”
And in a sermon during his 1998 visit to Cuba, he lamented “the resurgence of a certain capitalist neoliberalism”, noting that “from its centers of power, such neoliberalism often places unbearable burdens upon less favored countries. The result of such an economic system was clear: “the wealthy grow ever wealthier, while the poor grow ever poorer.”
John Paul was an early backer of the movement for the cancellation of the foreign debt of third world countries, saying in 1998 that the “heavy burden of external debt … compromises the economies of whole peoples and hinders their social and political progress.”
Of course, popes back into the 19th century have questioned the morality of capitalism, condemning excessive greed and affirming principles like the right of workers to form unions.
Liberation theology was able to place these economic principles of justice into a more central location within the body of the Church’s teaching, and clarify beyond doubt with whom the Church’s primary allegiance lies, in terms of economic relations.
Also, from its theological perspective, liberation theology focused the Church’s attention on those most victimized by neoliberalism: the poor in the Global South.
Like his predecessor, Pope Benedict remains concerned about the injustices of neoliberalism.
Last May, Benedict traveled to Aparecida, Brazil to address the opening session of the Fifth Latin American Bishops Conference. Setting the conference’s tenor, Pope Benedict criticized neoliberalism for “treating profit as the supreme value” while creating “ever increasing sectors of society that find themselves oppressed by immense poverty or even despoiled of their own natural resources. As an antidote to this, Benedict stressed the importance of “the preferential option for the poor [which] is implicit in the Christological faith in the God who became poor for us.”
Moreover, Benedict sees value-free neoliberalism as an example of the secularizing forces responsible for the erosion of Christian identity in Europe and around the world – a deep personal concern of his.
New Possibilities, New Potential
While the intellectual and doctrinal battles over liberation theology raged, liberation theology never died on the ground, for it was an authentic and organic articulation of the faith by those facing debilitating poverty.
Though declining in number, there are still thousands of base communities persisting throughout the continent, making them still a unique and important dimension of the Latin American Church, praised in the bishops’ document at Aparecida as “recapture[ing] the experience of the first communities [of Christians] as described in the [biblical text] Acts of the Apostles.”
Many of Latin America’s current priests and bishops were influenced by liberation theology during their seminary training and early years of ministry, and many emergent social movements in Latin America continue to bear liberation theology’s trademarks.
And still, on occasion, church leaders die because of their advocacy for social change: as recently as 2005 Sister Dorothy Stang was gunned down in the Brazilian Amazon for her activism on behalf of the landless peasants inhabiting the region.
The enduring impact of liberation theology notwithstanding, the Church in Latin America has changed tremendously since liberation theology’s heyday.
Over the last 25 years, bishop retirements and the subsequent appointments of their successors by Rome have changed the general shape of the region’s episcopate from one that was activist in orientation, to one that is more passive and administrative.
While the bishops still collectively show a strong affinity to the tenets of liberation theology, as seen in the final document produced at Aparecida, these tenets are less often integrated into the heart of concrete pastoral strategies to the degree they once were in decades past.
The political milieu in Latin America has changed dramatically as well during the last 25 years, creating new possibilities for the expression of liberation theology.
For one, Cuba is no longer viewed as the model for social change in the region; rather, what has emerged from the grassroots are more diverse, power-to-the-people movements united around “one no and many yeses” rather than a singular ideology and guerrilla strategy.
These social movements have not only formidably stemmed the tide of neoliberalism in the region, but have also translated their power into significant national electoral victories in many countries.
The democratic election of left-of-center heads of state in Brazil, Argentina, Bolivia, Venezuela, Nicaragua, Uruguay, and Ecuador has led many commentators to talk about a “New Left” in Latin America, united by a rejection of neoliberalism and a commitment to help the poor.
Among the more prominent of these “New Left” leaders, Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula Da Silva, a former metal worker and union leader, was pushed into office in 2002 by a Workers’ Party Movement that owes much of its history and success to liberation theology and the Brazilian base communities.
Hugo Chavez of Venezuela, another prominent member of this group who has occasionally sparred with his country’s bishops, has also frequently expressed his belief and esteem for the Christian faith.
These New Left leaders are also unique from their left-of-center counterparts in Europe and elsewhere in that they largely have not approached the non-negotiable Catholic issue of abortion – some of them have even expressed pro-life positions – further allowing for positive relations with the Church.
Another important change in the region is the explosion of Latin Americans abandoning the Catholic Church for various evangelical protestant sects.
While estimates vary, some researchers speculate that over 20% of Latin America’s Catholics have converted to evangelicalism over the last 25 years.
This trend has much to do with the history of liberation theology and is important in evaluating its future potential.
Although protestant groups have existed in Latin America since at least the early 20th Century, the explosion in their membership began at a time when liberation theology was an important phenomenon in both Latin American Catholicism and society – that is, about 25 years ago – and grew as liberation theology’s influence in the concrete operation of the Catholic Church’s declined.
To understand the relationship between these two belief systems, one must compare their messages and delivery.
When it came to understanding the important social questions of the time, evangelicalism offered a viewpoint radically different than Catholic liberation theologians: extremely individualist in spiritual orientation, evangelicalism saw poverty as a result less of unjust systemic forces than personal failure, with riches being a sign of God’s favor.
The potent antidote this provided to the effects of liberation theology was not lost on the region’s dictatorships and their supporters in Washington.
Following the recommendations of well-connected conservative think tanks like the Santa Fe Committee, the Reagan administration reached out to Latin American evangelical groups and encouraged the work of U.S.-based evangelical missionaries in Latin America.
Meanwhile, the U.S. evangelical-conservative coalition which was ascending to a position of great influence on domestic issues, began holding the Reagan Administration’s Latin American foreign policy line – particularly the support of the Nicaraguan Contra counterrevolutionaries – with the furor of a crusade.
The region’s U.S.-friendly dictatorships were all too eager to welcome these new missionary advances. In 1987 both the Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet and El Salvador’s military government rolled out the red carpet for the anti-Catholic U.S. preacher Jimmy Swaggart, hosting the Louisianan at public preaching engagements in their nations’ major sports stadiums and meeting with him privately.
Guatemalan dictator Efrain Ríos Montt went even further: angered at the Catholic Church’s criticism of the Guatemalan military regime, he converted to evangelicalism and became an ordained minister of the California-based Gospel Outreach/Church of the Word.
As a general, president, and now evangelical minister, Ríos Montt went on to claim divine inspiration for his government’s policies, a major part of which included the massacre of large sectors of Guatemala’s rural campesino population.
In addition to this early political backing and the bankrolling by powerful U.S. interests, the growth of evangelicalism in Latin America has also benefited from the Catholic Church’s gradual retreat from pastoral strategies based on the principles of liberation theology.
It is true that although reaching radically different conclusions, both liberation theology and evangelicalism are similar in that they articulate religious faith in a way that makes it relevant to the specific social state of believers.
Yet as Catholic preaching has become less concretized to the present social reality, it has created a vacuum that evangelicalism has filled.
First, the gradual de-emphasis on base communities has created an opening for evangelicalism’s rapid growth. Many converts are drawn to evangelicalism for the intimate feeling of community provided by smaller church groups.
Moreover, while nearly anybody can become an evangelical pastor, the pool of aspirants to the Catholic priesthood are limited to men who are open to committing to an unmarried lifestyle, and able to complete the equivalent of a Master’s level education in a region where many people do not complete high school.
This has not only given evangelicalism the advantage of generating more leaders faster, but has at times added to the impression that the Catholic clergy is out of touch with the common experience of the majority, a perception that has been compounded by a historical reliance on foreign-born clergy in many areas in Latin America.
Whatever direction liberation theology takes to respond to these new changes in Latin America, one thing is certain: it will not die out.
For one, the strong history of base communities led to the creation of many well-informed and passionate lay leaders or “catechists” who were knowledgeable about the Bible and able to articulate the Catholic faith to their peers.
It is likely that groups of Catholic lay leaders such as these will go far in reclaiming some of the turf of quotidian religious dialogue lost to evangelicals.
More importantly, liberation theology has been and remains an authentic expression of faith in a situation of unjust economic inequities and poverty.
As long as these conditions persist, people of faith will continue to look for solace and hope in God – a God who preferentially opts for the poor.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Disclaimer
No responsibility or liability shall attach itself to either myself or to the blogspot ‘Clerical Whispers’ for any or all of the articles placed here.
The placing of an article hereupon does not necessarily imply that I agree or accept the contents of the article as being necessarily factual in theology, dogma or otherwise.
Sotto Voce