Theologies of the Marginalized

I'm beginning a research paper this week for my theology class. Our only instructions are to pick a prominent theologian and engage a specific aspect of their theology, e.g. Augustine's soteriology, Anselm's view of the atonement, Barth's christology, or Moltmann's theology of hope. Traditional theologians like these men have had the most significant impact on modern theology, especially among western protestants, but I have become more and more intrigued with theologies of the marginalized. The more I reflect on the foundations of my theology and consider theologies with an alternative perspective emerging from vastly different life experiences, the more I realize both my own subjectivity and theological limitations.

My theology is made by white, euro-centric people for white, euro-centric people. What does it say for multi-ethnic Americans, let alone people from Latin America, Africa, or Asia? Even if I do not want to contribute to oppression, my theology is embedded with structures that continue to exclude, marginalize, and oppress. The contemporary evangelical church professes a message of love, but this love is conditional upon the response of a faithful life. And this "faithful" life is based on subjective standards that have been determined by the dominant culture.

For example, the issue of war is not highly contested by the evangelical church, especially if a claim is made that the war is "just" (in good Augustinian fashion). It is not uncommon to hear the argument, "The God of the Old Testament commanded the nation of Israel to slaughter other people groups, right?" So, of course we should support nationalistic endeavors to rid the world of tyrannical leaders?

But...but what if a claim of "just war" is made on the dominant, white culture? Are we still in ardent support of war?

This is precisely the question that I encountered as I studied James Cone's black theology of liberation last fall (If you followed the Obama/Jeremiah Wright story, Wright was a champion of Cone). Cone, writing amidst the turmoil of the civil rights movement, struck a theological balance between Martin Luther King and Malcolm X. Cone noticed that his theological education (which was dominated by white institutions with white professors studying white theologians) did not have much to say to his life experience as a black man living in America - something else was needed. Cone also recognized that the white experience was not the only valid context for asking theological questions. He wrote, "They fail to recognize that other people also have thought about God and have something significant to say about Jesus' presence in the world." This point is critical - our theology is not only based on the answers discovered about God, but our answers always emerge from the contextual questions we ask concerning God.

Although Cone's Christological and Soteriological developments are way too lengthy to write about in a blog post that's probably lost readers already, it still needs to be said that his work is fascinating and compelling. In Jesus, he discovered a hope for liberation, and he asks if any theology can be Christian in any real sense if there is not a determination to fight injustice. Arising from his experience, he insists that the Church, if it is to have any integrity, must fight against oppression of black people.

Cone's most controversial statement proceeds from his emphasis on liberation. He affirms "emancipation of black people from white oppressors by whatever means black people deem necessary." Whoa! Now, the first time I heard that, I thought Cone stepped way too far - oh, how self-righteous I am.

While opposition to Cone's support of violent means of liberation seems reasonable, it is incongruent with our own justified use of violence through oppression and war (Iraq/terrorism for example). Ironically, we white people vehemently oppose the use of violence as soon as it is directed towards us.

Still, I cannot agree with Cone's contention, but I also cannot remain in the tension of my own incongruence. Perhaps this is why I'm continually moving towards a radical pacifism (that'll have to be another post...)

Well, I didn't intend to write that much...just thought I'd throw out some thoughts on oppression and the marginalized. I guess I am becoming more firm in my belief that marginalized voices and theologies must be heard.

So, to continue my study this semester, I've chosen to study Elizabeth Johnson's feminist theology - I don't know where she'll take me, but I'm excited to find out.

Spring Books

Oscar!

I love the Academy Awards.

Actually, I just love movies.

And since I'm a poor graduate student that rarely enjoys the theater experience, watching the Oscars is like watching one long movie trailer (I may love watching trailers even more than movies themselves!). Every year, anticipation builds for those 5-10 frequently nominated movies that, most likely, I have not seen, but that I have already placed in my Netflix queue - Slumdog Millionaire, the Wrestler, the Reader, Milk...

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of my Oscar experience is that I always have favorites to win, even though I have not seen the movies! I suppose I need someone to root for to intensify my Oscar experience. So, I cheered for Danny Boyle and Slumdog Millionaire as they captured the nod for Director and Picture, and I was disappointed as Mickey Rourke took a backseat to Sean Penn. Granted, I always enjoy Penn, but there's something endearing about Rourke.

After the Oscars, I was captivated as Barbara Walters interviewed him on her special program. He's a man who's wrestled (no-pun intended) with the extremes of life, and although sorrow is permanently embedded on his face, he seems to be discovering some tranquility and peace.

Mickey Rourke overturns my paradigm of Christianity. When I think of the Gospel and of the incarnated Christ, I think, "This is a man who Jesus would eat with." He is not the type to be found idyllically singing the latest contemporary worship song in church on Sunday morning, and he is not the type to hide his self-righteousness under the guise of altruism. Mickey Rourke is far from being the pretentious Pharisee; rather, he is the epitome of the tax collector and sinner. He seems to live in the presence of existential suffering and concrete regret, yet he also seems to have an abiding hope that he too may be called a beloved child of the Holy Father.

I wish I new Mickey Rourke; I think my life would be better for it.

Rourke and I probably will not cross paths, but at least I still have a part of him waiting for me in my Netflix queue.

shave and a haircut, six bits

some days you got it. some days you don't.

Coffee

Ashley had the day off yesterday, so we decided to take advantage of one of Seattle's premier attractions - the local coffee shop. Sure, a Starbucks can be found on every street, but Seattle natives know that the best coffee and best ambiance are only found in the quaint little local shops hidden all over the city. I have a few that have become favorites, but just when I think I've discovered all the good ones, someone enlightens us to another. Last week, Ashley's college roommate and husband gave us a gift certificate to a place they found while visiting Seattle and Mars Hill (she came out to interview for school and received her acceptance letter a few days ago!!). So, with a day off, a gift certificate and a camera in tow, we set out for a rare dining experience - and I think we've both concluded that this should be a more frequent event.