Liberation

Is this not the fast that I choose;

to loose the bonds of injustice,

to undo the thongs of the yoke,

to let the oppressed go free,

and to break every yoke?

-Isaiah 58: 6

In the 1960s and 70s a new school of theology arose primarily in Latin America, among the people who were somewhat condescendingly called the "third world," meaning that their economic development was not quite on par with the "developed" nations like the United States and Europe.  This brand of theology was eventually called "Liberation theology," as it focused on God as a liberator of the oppressed and an ally of the poor and the disinherited.  Critics of Liberation theology tended to focus on the narrowness of emphasizing just one attribute of a multifaceted God, and that critique has some value, as most approaches to God that try and box the Almighty into a neat little container are wrongheaded.

But Liberation Theology was, among other things, actually a liberation OF theology from the cultural and intellectual hegemony of the colonial powers.  The critics were who you would most likely expect them to be, white, male, European, academics.  Most liberation theologians, whether they were Latin American, African American, African, or simply poor and disenfranchised, decided to care not at all about what their cultural overlords had to say about their approach to God.

When I was in Seminary, training in the dark arts of Reformed Theology, I was so very deep in the weeds of the theology of dead white guys, that I blithely dismissed Liberation Theology, as well as Process Theology as being sort of wishy washy and entirely too elastic to suit my tastes.  After some years in ministry, watching the rigid walls of Calvinism and Mainline Protestantism (the poster child of Western European theology) crumble under the onslaught of postmodernism.  And after almost two decades of working with Scripture as a professional clergy person, I have come around to give Liberation as an approach to God another tasting.

It is hard to dismiss liberation as a central theme of Scripture, whether it is the historical narrative of Yahweh bringing Israel out of Egypt, or the promises of the prophets like Isaiah, or whether it is the reality of Jesus demonstrating a way to live as a free person even in the grip of a seemingly invincible Empire, and Jesus teaching us that all sorts of oppressed people are in fact the ones who are blessed.  After seeing the reality that God's personality really does seem to delight in lifting up the last and the least, and taking our weakness and using it in holy ways, I now think that seeing God as a liberator, and understanding the Kingdom of Heaven as a liberation from the bonds of sin, is perhaps as good a way as any to understand what God is up to.  It may not be the only thing God is up to, but it is a good and important part of it at any rate.

This week in the lectionary we hear John the Baptist offer his preview of what will be a core statement of Jesus as well: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is drawing near." Postmodernism is uncomfortable with the idea of repentance, because repentance implies that there is some standard which has been transgressed or ignored and repentance (metanoia in Greek) means to turn away from your current path and towards the path of God.  To many ears, the command to repent sounds judgmental, but to those in the grip of sin, and to those who are oppressed (as were most of the people who listened to John and Jesus), the possibility of a turning is also a hope of liberation.  To those who, as Howard Thurman so eloquently described it, have their backs against the wall, the possibility of change is not a fearful thing, it is hope itself.

Maybe we could all use some liberation from those ideas of God which choke us with guilt.  Maybe it would be good to let go of all the fear that we feel and let the perfect love of God cast it out. That does sound liberating, and exhilarating as well.