First Day of School in Bulgaria
Never Forget
Celebrating 35 Years in Global Ministry
Russia’s imperial dream for access to Israel/Mediterranean
August 25, 2025 by Cup&Cross
Filed under Events, Featured, News, Publication
While doing research couple of years ago for an article on Ezek. 37-38 and Russia’s imperial dream to gain access to Israel and the Mediterranean, AI informed me that there is absolutely no official political news or analytics source that confirms such hypotheses.
Back then, I insisted on proceeding with the article regardless of this informed artificial and intelligent opinion and proceeded with completing the article called: Using Crimea and Splitting Turkey in Russia’s Strategy Against Israel.
PROPHETIC INSIGHT: The first picture with Putin is Ezekiel’s prophecy projecting Gog and Magog crossing into Israel. The other one is from Trump/Zelenskyy’s meeting last week, after no deal was reached with Putin in Alaska.
READ ALSO:
- Russia’s Prophetic Imperial Road to Israel
- Using Crimea and Splitting Turkey in Russia’s Strategy Against Israel
- RUSSIA/UKRAINE WAR: ENTER the BIRTH PANGS
- Bulgaria in the Tension between NATO, Ukraine and Russia
Bulgaria becomes 21st member to adopt euro
BRUSSELS (AFP) — EU ministers gave the final green light on Tuesday for Bulgaria to adopt the euro on Jan. 1, 2026, making it the single currency area’s 21st member.
Bulgaria’s switch from the lev to the euro comes nearly 19 years after the country of 6.4 million people joined the European Union.
“We did it!” Bulgarian Prime Minister Rossen Jeliazkov said.
“We thank all institutions, partners and everyone whose efforts made this landmark moment possible. The government remains committed to a smooth and effective transition to the euro in the interest of all citizens,” Jeliazkov said on X.
In adopting the legal texts necessary for the move, EU finance ministers officially set the euro at 1.95583 Bulgarian lev.
EU chief Ursula von der Leyen and European Central Bank head Christine Lagarde congratulated Bulgaria after the ministers’ approval.
“We are delighted to welcome you,” Lagarde said.
“The euro will strengthen Bulgaria’s economy and bring big benefits for Bulgarian people and businesses,” von der Leyen said on X.
“Joining the euro area is much more than just about replacing lev with euro. It is about building a brighter and more prosperous future for Bulgaria and its citizens at the heart of Europe,” EU economy chief Valdis Dombrovskis said.
The European Commission last month said the EU’s poorest country had fulfilled the strict conditions to adopt the euro, while the ECB also gave a positive opinion.
Mixed feelings
Bulgaria’s journey to joining the eurozone has had a stormy political backdrop with seven elections in three years — the last in October 2024.
But recent polls show Bulgarian society remains divided on the euro, with experts attributing the skepticism largely to fears of rising prices and declining purchasing power.
President Rumen Radev shocked many when he proposed holding a referendum on the matter but that was given short shrift by the Bulgarian Parliament.
Since June, protesters have gathered in Sofia to call for “keeping the Bulgarian lev.” A symbolic protest camp with several tents has been set up near the presidency and the Bulgarian National Bank in the capital.
Proponents in Bulgaria, however, insist the move will help improve the country’s economy, and reinforce its ties to the West and protect against Russia’s influence.
“The political benefits are becoming increasingly significant, as the protests against the euro seem to bear the mark of the Kremlin,” 43-year-old musician Veselin Dimitrov told AFP in Sofia.
Euro club gets bigger
The green light comes as the euro has been gaining in value against the U.S. dollar as President Donald Trump’s protectionist trade policies shake trust in the U.S. currency.
Only 12 countries were part of the single currency area — including France, Germany, Italy, Spain, and Greece — when the first euro bills and coins were rolled out on Jan. 1, 2002.
It gradually widened with Slovenia joining in 2007, Cyprus and Malta in 2008, Slovakia in 2009, Estonia in 2011, Latvia in 2014 then Lithuania in 2015.
Croatia was the last country to join in 2023, bringing the total to 20.
Bulgaria wanted to adopt the euro sooner but Brussels judged its inflation was too high to meet the necessary criteria.
EU states that want to join the single currency area must demonstrate that their economy has converged with other eurozone countries and that they are focused on sound public spending.
The conditions include holding inflation to no more than 1.5 percentage points higher than the rate of the three best-performing EU countries.
Bulgarian Pentecostal riddle…
Five kings with five crowns
Four bishops and castle in the middle
Who will blow the whistle
and who will play the fiddle?
A Bulgarian Pentecostal riddle…
Back to the Basics of Pentecost: Diamonds in the Rough-N-Ready (2025)
Since the beginning of the 21st century, only 6-10% of new born believers in America receive the Baptism with the Holy Spirit, which by 2018 has resulted in:
- Over 60% within Global Pentecostalism do not speak in tongues
- A major doctrinal shift within Pentecostal Theology today claims speaking in tongues is not the only evidence of Holy Spirit Baptism
- Some theologians even claim there is no initial evidence in the Bible
- Others today go further to believe that no outward sign of the Holy Spirit baptism is necessary.
For this reason, WE are re-committing ourselves and ministry to revival and restoration of the Pentecostal Message through praying, fasting and preaching:
- Salvation of the sinner’s soul and entire sanctification through the Blood of Jesus
- Baptism with the Holy Spirit and fire with initial evidence of speaking in tongues
- Supernatural gifts and ministries of the Holy Spirit
- Healing, deliverance and signs following
- Pre-Millennial return of Christ and pre-Tribulation Rapture of His Church to glory
Please consider the URGENCY of this generation!
Let us reason together what can we do to prevent this rapid decline in Biblical spirituality.
Revival will not come without preaching!
Revival of Pentecost will not come without preaching the Message of Pentecost.
Speaking in Tongues in America Prior to the Azusa Street Revival of 1906
April, 1906 – The Azusa street revival swept the globe starting with California
January 1, 1901– The initial phenomenon of speaking in tongues occurred at Parham’s school in Topeka, Kansas
January 6, 1900 – Frank Sanford’s Shiloh school reported that “The gift of tongues has descended”
1896 – Over 100 people baptized in the Shaerer schoolhouse revival conducted by the Christian Union in the North Carolina mountains
1887 – People falling in trances and speaking in tongues were reported at Maria Etter’s revival meetings in Indiana
1874 – Speaking in tongues occurred during healing meetings reported in New York
1873 – William H. Doughty and the Gift People of Rhode Island spoke in tongues
1854 – V. P. Simmons and Robert Boyd reported tongue speaking during Moody’s meetings
FURTHER READING:
Church of God (Cleveland, TN)
- Alive, alive! (A personal testimony)
- Church of God Primitivism
- Bulgarian Church of God
- J.W. Buckalew
- Why revival came? by Dr. Charles Conn
Azusa Street Revival of 1906
- Lucy F. Farrow: The Forgotten Apostle of Azusa
- The FORGOTTEN ROOTS OF THE AZUSA STREET REVIVAL
- Azusa Street’s Apostolic Faith Renewed
- Azusa Street Sermons
- Pentecostal Primitivism Preserved
Prior to Azusa Street Revival of 1906
- First person to speak in tongues in the Assemblies of God was William Jethro Walthall of the Holiness Baptist Churches of Southwestern Arkansas
- The Work of the Spirit in Rhode Island (1874-75)
- Speaking in Tongues in America Prior to the Azusa Street Revival
- WAR ON THE SAINTS: Revival Dawn and the Baptism of the Spirit
- How Jezebel Killed One of the Greatest Revivals Ever
ALIVE 2025
Rev. Dony K. Donev, D. Min.
“When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice; and I am persuaded that in thee also.”
2 Timothy 1:5
My Grandma, Todorka Mindova, was one of the first Sunday school teachers in the Bulgarian Pentecostal Union. After successfully graduating from a training course in the city of Sliven led by Donka Kinareva and personally organized by Dr. Nicolas Nikolov, she was allowed to minister in the denomination. But for grandma, the faith was more than teaching or a sermon. It was life. Many Bulgarian Pentecostal ministers can testify to the effectiveness of her ministry. And for her constant fasting and thousands of answered prayers I could write a book.
But far more interesting for me as a child was the fact that being a Sunday school teacher, Grandma never tried to preach to me. In the hardest moments of life she would only confess these words, which I have remembered from my childhood: “We serve a living God.” More was not needed. For Grandma preached with her life. Read more
The Cross: A Message of Salvation and Revolution
For every Christian, the crucifixion bears one ultimate meaning: salvation. And not just salvation through the cross, but through the death on the cross with multiple layers of significance. It is the fulfillment of Messianic prophecy, the undeniable proof of a sovereign God acting within the drama of human history, and an unprecedented political manifesto revealing the enduring power of faith.
The practice of crucifixion dates back to the 9th century B.C., introduced by the Assyrian king Shalmaneser as a brutal punishment for criminals. Offenders were bound, crucified alive, and raised high to be seen by the public—a horrifying spectacle designed not merely to punish but to sow fear in all who dared challenge the authority of the empire. The true power of this punishment lays not in the death it brought, but in the prolonged agony and exhaustion preceding it.
Before the rise of the Roman Empire, crucifixion already bore the weight of terror and shame. Under Rome, it became the empire’s most dreadful symbol—a declaration that its might could crush any man, any nation. In 71 B.C., following the failed rebellion led by Spartacus, 6,000 of his captured followers were crucified along the road from Capua to Rome.
Rome had turned crucifixion into a science of torture! Death so brutal that the victim became little more than a piece of bloody meat in the eyes of the soldiers. Flesh was torn by whips embedded with metal, bone, and glass. Blood drained from the body until the organs could not function any longer. The body suffocated slowly, painfully, as breathing ceased and the blood powered into the dry limestone dust. The torment was total!
The condemned were then nailed to rough-hewn wooden beams—hands and feet pierced—then lifted slowly into the air. Death came not instantly, but after three to four hours… or three to four days. The sight of a naked, disfigured body suspended on a cross, wracked with agony, could not go unnoticed by the watching crowd. The criminal had turned into a victim of cruelty, of imperial might and of public condemnation.
This is the scene that Tertullian, an early Christian apologist, identified as the peculiar cruelty of crucifixion. The Roman historian Cicero deemed it a “most cruel and horrifying” punishment, while Josephus described it as the “most pitiable of deaths.” Yet for imperial Rome, the crucifixion was a public proclamation: a terrifying sentence reserved for those who dared to disrupt the order and peace of the ultimate pagan state. All rebels against the Empire met such an end!
Jesus knew that this would be His fate! It was foretold in the prophecies. This was how the true Messiah was destined to die. The four Evangelists describe in vivid detail the trial and crucifixion: Judas received his silver and his judgment; conflicting witnesses marred the court; Pilate washed his hands before the crowd, claiming to find no fault. The soldiers’ beatings, the casting of lots for His garments, the crown of thorns, and the long, agonizing walk to Calvary under the burden of the rough heavy wooden cross—all marked the path of redemption.
His blood stained the narrow streets of Jerusalem! The crowd followed Him to the hill called Golgotha. Those near enough saw the splinters of the Roman-crafted cross soaked in blood. Those farther away heard the hammer strike iron through flesh, followed by screams that pierced the air. Then the crowd hushed as the Roman soldiers began to pull the ropes. The cross was raised upright, wedged into the rocky ground. And on it, standing tall between heaven and earth, hung the reason for our faith, the very source of our salvation. The forsaken Messiah, the wounded Healer, the King condemned by kings, the Lord slain by lords. His hands and feet were nailed, His brows crowned with thorns, His body swollen, bloody, and bare. His blood streamed down the tree, dripping onto the hardened faces of the guards below. For this is how God chose to die for the salvation of the world. But even from the cross, through parched lips and a final breath, the Eternal One continued to speak.
At that moment, in midday darkness, the veil of the temple was torn from top to bottom. It was not the end, but a beginning. The wounded, the outcast, the poor, and the powerless were now invited into His presence!
Five apostles—Andrew, Bartholomew, Peter, Philip, and Simon the Zealot also died by crucifixion, as Christ did. Thousands of early Christians were crucified along Rome’s stone paths. John Foxe, in his Book of Martyrs, writes that crosses, poison, and every imaginable cruelty were employed to eradicate Christians. Not for crimes committed, but for the singular “offense” of believing differently. For the early Church, the cross transformed from a symbol of terror into a banner of faithfulness, even unto death.
By the end of the first century, apologists like Minucius Felix were already linking the cross with Christian identity. In the early third century, Tertullian himself proclaimed it the sign of the Lord. History knows no greater reversal, no more profound political declaration: the symbol of Roman oppression became the symbol of the Christian faith.
The early Church’s message was clear: the pagan empire held no power over faith that rose above death, hell, every kingdom and every ruler. The cross carried a social message too, judging justly and restoring dignity. At Golgotha, the lame walked, the blind saw, the poor found their Father.
The cross bore an economic truth as well: an empire built on slavery cannot hold those made free in Christ. But above all, the message of the cross is spiritual. Earthly power cannot liberate the soul. Only Christ, crucified, can redeem those who give their lives to God!
It is likely that, in our own century, a global power may again seek to assert its might crushing dissenters, thinkers, believers alike through legislative, executive, and judicial force. And perhaps, for a time, it will succeed. But it will not endure! For the word of the cross is a power greater than any empire, earthly or otherwise. Easter is the triumph of faith—the holiday that transforms the enemy’s weapons into instruments of salvation.
Christ is Risen! May God keep us all!
Dony K. Donev, D.Min.
Gustavo Gutiérrez’s Mysticism as a Door to Pentecostal Dialogue
Pneuma 33 (2011) 5-24
Te Movement Toward Mysticism in Gustavo Gutiérrez’s Tought: Is Tis an Open Door
to Pentecostal Dialogue?
Joseph Davis
Associate Professor of Religion, Southeastern University, Lakeland, Florida
Abstract
Over the last few years a distinct shift has occurred within the thought of liberation theology’s most famous proponent, Gustavo Gutiérrez. Specifically, Gutiérrez has ventured into mysticism. With this movement a fascinating question can be posed: Does the incorporation of mysti- cism open up a door for dialogue with Latin America’s other popular theology, Pentecostalism? Conversely, should Pentecostalism reflexively understand itself historically and theologically as a liberating movement of the poor? Placed together, an emphasis on praxis seems to reveal, at minimum, a common starting point. Te methodology of the paper incorporates a detailed historical analysis of Gutiérrez’s position on mysticism and moves to the conclusion that the shift in emphasis opens the door, albeit a small crack, to one of the most exciting opportuni- ties to occur within the history of Christianity: the marriage of Pentecostal spirituality with liberating social action.
Keywords
Gustavo Gutiérrez, liberation theology, mysticism, Pentecostalism
At the 2008 Society for Pentecostal Theology conference, Jürgen Moltmann made a startling statement to commence his talk on the work of “Pentecostals and Liberation Teology.” He said, “I met with Gustavo Gutiérrez in Lima a few years ago, and as we were talking he looked out his window and pointed to the barrios below saying, ‘Out there, it is the Pentecostals who are going into the barrios [to reach the poor].”1 What Gutiérrez meant by the statement was that despite the divide that had separated the two most dominant camps of religious fervor within Latin America, the evidence was clear: it was the
1
Jürgen Moltmann, Statement made at Society for Pentecostal Theology, 15 March 2008, Duke University, Durham, North Carolina.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2011 DOI: 10.1163/157007411X554668
1
6
J. Davis / Pneuma 33 (2011) 5-24
Pentecostals who were helping the poor. Laden within such a statement are a plethora of both endless possibilities and admittedly speculative projections. In fact, at the onset one must admit that one small statement does not equate to a full-blown theological tour de force. Nor does it mean that the wedding ceremony is about to begin to join these two previously disparate antagonists. What this statement does create, however, is an open door to further scholarly reflection. Tis is particularly true if the aforementioned statement is coupled with perceived changes in Gutiérrez’s stance toward a kindred spirit of Pente- costalism, namely, mysticism. Granted, mysticism is not Pentecostalism and Pentecostalism is not mysticism.2 But it would not be too much to say that there are similarities between the two, and any movement toward the one may have broader ranging implications for the other. Terefore, before venturing further in fruitless conjecture, a number of questions must be answered. First, have there been any changes in Gutiérrez’s theology of liberation that warrant such projections? Tere are some who feel that all talk of change within Gutiér- rez’s theology of liberation is a misunderstanding of his thought.3 Second, what is Gutiérrez’s approach to mysticism? And third, is it possible that praxis itself has created a crack in the door within Gutiérrez’s thought that might integrate two seemingly disparate theologies? Of course, these questions do not stop at Latin America; rather, the prospect of such a provocative fusion has worldwide implications.
Over the past half-century primarily two religious movements have gripped the imaginations and aspirations of the poor in Latin America. Tose two movements are the theology of liberation and the Pentecostal movement.4 Of the two, only liberation theology can be truly said to be indigenous in origin. Pentecostalism is indigenous in another manner; it is the overwhelming choice of the poor in Latin America.5 Daniel Chiquete, commenting on the perceived rise of Protestantism, denied this misunderstanding by retorting that Latin America has not turned Protestant at all; rather, “Latin America has turned
2
Simon Chan has made an interesting case for a structural compatibility between the two. See Simon Chan, “Pentecostal Teology and Christian Spiritual Tradition,” Journal of Pentecostal Teology Supplement Series 21 (2000).
3
One of Gutiérrez’s most recent biographers, James Nickoloff, maintains such a conservative position. See James B. Nickoloff, “A Future for Peru? Gustavo Gutiérrez and the Reasons for His Hope,” Horizons 19 (Spring 1992): 31-43.
4
Te Pentecostal movement originated at the Azusa Street Revival in 1906. Most point to the Medellín Conference in 1968 as the beginning of the liberation theology movement.
5
Laurie Goodstein, “Pentecostal and Charismatic Groups Growing,” New York Times, 6 Octo- ber 2006.
2
J. Davis / Pneuma 33 (2011) 5-24
7
Pentecostal!”6 In his book on Pentecostalism, Allan Anderson confirms this by saying, “Te growth of Pentecostalism in Latin America has been one of the most remarkable stories in the history of Christianity.”7 In fact, a Templeton grant research project confirmed these observations. In terms of the world’s population, two of the top three countries with the largest percentage of Char- ismatics/Pentecostals are in Latin America.8
Interestingly enough, the tie between Pentecostalism and the poor in Latin America is not a local aberration. Te history of Pentecostalism reveals that a disproportionate number of dispossessed and poor are attracted to its message of a God whose Spirit is active and fully invested in the present. Juan Sep- ulveda notes, “From a statistical point of view, Pentecostalism has spread far more in the lower classes of popular sections of Latin American societies” than in the upper or middle classes of society.9 In fact, recent studies confirm not just an interest among the Hispanic poor in the “spiritual” aspects of faith but also a commitment among Hispanic Pentecostals for social change.10 Why? Te answer lies both in Pentecostalism’s derivation and its foundational thesis that God can speak to the common person of any nation, tongue, or tribe. Chiquete notes, “By their very nature the Pentecostals are natural promoters of plurality and inner-cultural contact.”11 In the Azusa Street Revival, one finds the message of a God active in history born among the poor and racially, sexually (gender), and economically dispossessed. From the movement’s inception, Pentecostals were the people “from the other side of the tracks.” Yet, in spite of these humble roots, the exportation of Pentecostalism to Latin America was often viewed with a jaundiced eye among the local religious intelligentsia. Given its origin in the United States, Pentecostalism was sus- pected of being tinged with imperialism.12 As a result, the missions-centered
6
Daniel Chiquete, “Latin American Pentecostalism and Western Modernism: Reflections of a Complex Relationship,” International Review of Mission 92, no. 364 (2003): 38.
7
Allan Anderson, An Introduction to Pentecostalism (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 63.
8
Tirty-four percent of the population of Brazil and 40 percent of the population of Guate- mala are Pentecostal/Charismatic worshippers. Te Pew Forum, 6 October 2006.
9
Juan Sepulveda, “Future Perspectives for Latin American Pentecostalism,” International Review of Mission 87 (April 1998): 191.
10
Villafane points out that Pentecostals in the Hispanic community in New York City are at the forefront of social concern and outreach. See Eldin Villafane, Te Liberating Spirit: Toward an Hispanic American Pentecostal Social Ethic (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1993), 110-26.
11
Chiquete, “Latin American Pentecostalism and Western Modernism,” 36.
12
Sepulveda refutes this conception, saying, “Te commonly held accusation that the rapid growth of Latin American Pentecostalism is the result of a sort of conspiracy of the U.S.
3
8
J. Davis / Pneuma 33 (2011) 5-24
Pentecostalism exported to Latin America had the label, “Made in America.” Te label should have read more correctly, “Made among the Poor and Dis- possessed of America.” Here, in Pentecostalism, was a movement that began with the poor and contained in its origins the foundational tenets of breaking down the barriers of social, racial, and gender classifications.
Te early Gutiérrez was clearly one of the students of Latin American theol- ogy who viewed any importation of religion from capitalistic countries with caution. He notes, “Te history of Christianity, too, has been written with a white, Western, bourgeois hand.”13 His primary concern resided in changing the structures of societal oppression, which he called “institutionalized violence.”14 From this starting point, spirituality was seemingly subsumed teleologically under the mandate of effectiveness. Teology itself is formed as “a critical reflection on praxis” as a second step. Gutiérrez affirms this view- point in saying, “From the beginning, the theology of liberation posited that the first act is involvement in the liberation process, and theology came after- ward in a second act.”15 Yet, underneath the definition of praxis is an evalua- tive principle — dissolution of poverty. Gutiérrez notes, “Te criterion mentioned to judge praxis is clearly political effectiveness.”16 As a result of this foundation, the measurement of true spirituality lay within the ethos of social revolution. He says, “We are dealing with two inseparable correlations here and it is important to emphasize this. Te potential of a liberating faith, and the capacities of revolution, are intimately bound together . . . Hence it is impossible to cultivate the one without the other as well, and this is what many find unsettling.”17
Within the criterion of political effectiveness, Gutiérrez also accepted Marx- ist economic theory operationally and coupled it with a heavy reliance upon the social sciences as the proper barometers of societal change. In this, Gutiér- rez believes that Marx’s economic understanding of history is a “scientific understanding of historical reality.” He says:
right-wing to counter the people’s movement and Liberation Teology, has very little basis in the facts.” See Sepulveda, “Future Perspectives for Latin American Pentecostalism,” 190.
13
Gustavo Gutiérrez, Te Power of the Poor in History, trans. Robert Barr (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1983), 200-201.
14
Gustavo Gutiérrez, A Teology of Liberation: History, Politics, and Salvation, trans. Sister Caridad Inda and John Eagleson (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1990), xviii.
15
Gutiérrez, Te Power of the Poor in History, 200.
16
Gustavo Gutiérrez, “Notes to a Teology of Liberation,” Teological Studies 31 (1970): 250.
17
Gutiérrez, Te Power of the Poor in History, xx.
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J. Davis / Pneuma 33 (2011) 5-24
9
Marx deepened and renewed this line of thought in his unique way. But this required what has been called an “epistemological break” (a notion taken from Gaston Bachelard) with previous thought. Te new attitude was expressed clearly in the famous Teses on Feuerbach, in which Marx presented concisely but penetratingly the essential elements of his approach. . . . Basing his thought on these first intuitions, he went on to construct a scientific understanding of historical reality. He analyzed capi- talistic society, in which were found concrete instances of the exploitation of man by his fellows and of one social class by another. Pointing the way toward an era in history when man can live humanly, Marx created categories which allowed for the elabora- tion of a science of history.18
Te early Gutiérrez accented the Marxist aspect in his thought by noting, “Many agree with Sartre that Marxism, as the formal framework of all con- temporary philosophical thought, cannot be superseded.”19 Te accentuating of social and economic liberation led to the misguided perception that the salvation motif in Gutiérrez’s writings was almost exclusively immanistic. Gutiérrez even admitted that
[i]t may seem that we entertain precious little interest in a person’s spiritual attitudes. It could even seem that we disdain qualities of faith or of morality in the poor. We are only seeking to avoid beginning with secondary, derivative considerations in such a way that would confer them with what is primary and basic, creating an interminable number of hair splitting distinctions that in the end only yield ideas devoid of interest and historical impact.20
Given the overt political criterion for evaluating theoretical premises, anyone not involved with immediate political change was viewed axiomatically as part of the problem. Pentecostals fell readily into this category, particularly with a premillennial eschatology as the primary understanding of justice in society. However, the corresponding view from Pentecostals that Gutiérrez’s theology was nothing more than reworked Marxism made the chasm between both diametric. Both assumptions missed the mark in the stereotypical minimiza- tions about the other. Pentecostals misunderstood the theoretical foundations implicit within the ethical imperative of liberation theology, and Gutiérrez minimized the liberating effects of a theology whose historical nexus origi- nated from within the world of the poor.
18
Gutiérrez, A Teology of Liberation, xx. 19
Ibid., 59.
20
Gutiérrez, Te Power of the Poor in History, 95.
5
10
J. Davis / Pneuma 33 (2011) 5-24
Te latter misunderstanding struck at the very heart of the characterizations of each position and proleptically disposed each toward a position on personal religion and, by consequence, on mysticism. Was religion a matter of the indi- vidual before God or was God exclusively in the work to liberate the oppressed? Of course, both realized, at least theoretically, that the question raised is not an either/or question but one of degree, given that humanity is made up of individuals, at least on a certain level. Leaning more to the corporate under- standing of self, Gutiérrez placed the poor and oppressed as the basis from which true spirituality began. He said,
A spiritual experience, we like to think, should be something out beyond the frontiers of human realities as profane and tainted as politics. And yet this is what we strive for here, this is our aim and goal; an encounter with the Lord, not in the poor person who is “isolated and good,” but in the oppressed person. . . . [H]istory, concrete history, is the place where God reveals the mystery of God’s personhood. God’s word comes to us in proportion to our involvement in historical becoming.21
Much of Gutierrez’s approach could easily be ascribed to the overwhelming degradation of poverty and the miniscule attention that the issue had previ- ously received in theological forums. Te problem was that most of Gutiérrez’s socioeconomic presentation gave the impression that personal faith only has value within the liberation process. Consequently, the most personal of spiri- tual evidence, conversion, was also stated in terms of self revelation in the midst of involvement with the poor. Tis, coupled with a perceived dialectical universalism, made God seem more like a Hegelian construct than a savior who was accepted personally.22 Te result was that much of the personal moti- vation for societal change was relegated to filial love as an implicit love for God. In other words, of the two Great Commandments, Gutiérrez’s presenta- tion of liberation theology emphasized the second almost as the sum total of the first and the sole extension of its meaning. Gutiérrez had aimed to link the two by showing how love for the poor was biblically equated with a love for God, which, of course, had plenty of biblical support; however, Gutiérrez’s presentation of love for the poor made love for God axiomatic in that the two were the same. Christ was in the naked, the hungry, and the imprisoned — but seemingly nowhere else. Gutiérrez notes, “And this is precisely why it [spirituality] is not a purely ‘interior,’ private attitude, but a process occurring
21
Ibid., 52.
22
Gutiérrez said, “I was greatly influenced by Hegel in his understanding of history in writing A Teology of Liberation. Personal Interview with Gutiérrez, 5 May 1994.
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J. Davis / Pneuma 33 (2011) 5-24
11
in the socio-economic, political, and cultural milieu in which we live, and which we ought to transform.”23 Terefore, there was little need to talk about spirituality prior to its implementation in praxis. Te coterminous equation made spirituality seemingly exclusive to one’s neighbor. Anything else was pietistic narcissism.
Something, or more correctly someone, was lacking. To appropriate Martin Buber, the “I” in the “I-Tou relationship” seemed to be unconditionally assumed in the philosophical category of the other presented by Gutiérrez. Te explanation given for this methodology is that theology is a critical reflec- tion on praxis from the viewpoint of the poor. Te flaw in this methodology was that the original application of this definition viewed the poor almost exclusively through a socioeconomic lens. In other words, the poor were defined by a standard that they themselves did not accept. Te poor viewed themselves as more than merely the victims of institutionalized violence. Reli- gion was not an escape from brutality and minimization; it was a full-scale rebellion to negate the denigrating terms of limitation awkwardly placed upon them by their oppressors.
A Shift in Method Is Noticed
In the early 1980s subtle shifts began to occur within Gutiérrez’s thought that revealed a change in his approach to the question of personal spirituality. Pre- viously Gutiérrez had emphasized theology as a critical reflection on praxis accomplished through the prism of sociopolitical analysis. In the early 1980s word began to leak out from Gutiérrez’s summer school sessions that Gutiérrez had begun to change, or at least modify, his approach to liberation theology. Gerhard Hanlon, who had attended the 1982 summer school session, wrote in a journal article:
In its early years liberation theology in Latin America was concerned with analyzing social reality and interpreting the Bible in terms of liberation from social and political oppression. A few years ago interest turned to the study of the popular religiosity of the masses of the oppressed and attempted to see therein values which might contribute to that liberation. Te most recent interest of Latin American theology is spirituality.24
23
Gutiérrez, Te Power of the Poor in History, 53.
24
Gerhard Hanlon, “A Spirituality for Our Times,” Clergy Review (June 1984): 200.
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In this article Hanlon suggests that there is a new theme in Gutiérrez’s theol- ogy. Tat theme is the “popular religiosity of the masses.” But is this a different direction for Gutiérrez’s thought? Hanlon seems to think that this is an added emphasis but not necessarily a contrary viewpoint. Others, however, find in this added emphasis a discarding of the older ways of thinking to make way for the new.
One of Gutiérrez’s harshest critics in methodology is fellow liberation theo- logian Juan Luis Segundo. In a lecture given at Regent College in 1983, Segundo made a startling remark about what he perceived as a reversal in Gutiérrez’s thinking. Segundo stated that his old friend and compatriot Gustavo Gutiérrez had abandoned the font of his former thinking. In this lecture Segundo called upon his old companion to return to the philosopher’s stone from which they were both hewn. Tat stone, said Segundo, was the sociopolitical methodology that was liberation theology’s original contribu- tion to the world. But more than this, Segundo maintained that the changes in Gutiérrez’s thought were more than just an added dimension to his thought. Segundo asserted that the changes were so drastic that it did not make sense to talk anymore about a singular continuous train of thought but rather “of at least two types of liberation theology.”25 Along these lines, Segundo sadly con- fessed, “And what is painful to me is that I no longer know whether Gustavo himself would endorse what he said then, or whether he would consider it a mere sin of his youth.”26
In 1989 Arthur McGovern, in his book Liberation Teology and Its Critics, took up some of the same questions raised by both Hanlon and Segundo and reached similar conclusions. McGovern noted, “Te revolutionary excitement has dimmed,” and as a result “Gutiérrez has devoted much of his time and writings to the question of spirituality.”27 Echoing both Hanlon and Segundo again, McGovern also noted that Gutiérrez’s liberation theology had “shifted” from a more sociopolitical agenda to one that now emphasizes more the spiri- tual side. He pointed this out by noting the differences between the two books A Teology of Liberation and We Drink from Our Own Wells. He says, “ A Teol- ogy of Liberation deals almost exclusively with the issue of sociopolitical eman-
25
Juan Luis Segundo, Signs of the Times, trans. Robert R. Barr (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1993), 67.
26
Ibid., 93.
27
Arthur McGovern, Liberation Teology and Its Critics: Toward an Assessment (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1989), 87.
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cipation, and most of the discussion about liberation from sin deals with eliminating unjust structures caused by sin.”28 Conversely, McGovern notes,
In We Drink from Our Own Wells, Gutiérrez reflects theologically on the journey of the poor in Latin America and the journey of those who have attempted to walk with the poor. When liberation theology first emerged, Gutiérrez wrote about the “revolution- ary ferment” alive throughout Latin America. Te revolutionary excitement has dimmed, but Gutiérrez finds a deeper, more faith centered hope still strong.29
McGovern concludes, “I would clearly designate spirituality as the dominant theme of contemporary liberation theology.”30
Paul Sigmund in his book Liberation Teology at the Crossroads also sees the changes in Gutiérrez’s thought. Sigmund identifies Gutiérrez as the progenitor of what he calls the new line of theological speculation that began to depart from the older, more militant liberation theology of the early years. He says, “Many writers have seen the anticipation of the characteristic elements of lib- eration theology in the writings by Latin American theologians in the middle and early 1960s. . . . However the clearest beginnings of the new line of theo- logical speculation are in the writings of Gustavo Gutiérrez.”31 Why have all these changes occurred? Te answer, for Sigmund, is the times in which Gutiérrez wrote his books. He says,
In A Teology of Liberation, however, the emphasis is much more on the former than the latter in the sense that the structuralist anticapitalism is discussed at much greater length than the participatory populism. Tis emphasis is an understandable product of the time at which the work was written — the late 1960s and the early 1970s. As the book was being completed Chile elected a Marxist president, Salvador Allende, with the support of a coalition that also included Christians and parties of a more secular orientation. Allende’s popular unity seemed to embody the commitment to the poor and the oppressed — and to socialism — that liberation theology argued was the logical conclusion to be drawn from the scriptures.
32
28
Ibid., 82.
29
Ibid., 87.
30
Ibid., 83.
31
Paul Sigmund, Liberation Teology at the Crossroads (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 28.
32
Ibid., 39.
9
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Te Movement to Mysticism
Had changes occurred within the presentation of a theology of liberation? In A Teology of Liberation Gutiérrez had maintained that “theological categories are not enough. . . . we need a spirituality.”33 With the issuing of the book We Drink from Our Own Wells, Gutiérrez began to make explicit what to many of his followers was implicit, namely, that there was a verdant spirituality within the original coordinates of the theology of liberation schemata. In the fore- word to this long anticipated work, Henri Nouwen stated, “Tis book fulfills the promise that was implicit in his A Teology of Liberation.”34 In this Gutiér- rez was not abandoning his earlier emphasis but “expanding upon the view.”35 In Gutiérrez’s mind, part of the rationale for minimizing the spiritual aspects was that the tenets of spirituality for the poor should germinate from the poor as a part of their own liberation pilgrimage. He notes, “Evangelization, the proclamation of the gospel, will be genuinely liberating when the poor them- selves become its messengers.”36 Tis embryonic spirituality could not be com- plete until the poor were the artisans of their own spirituality: “Te spirituality of liberation will have its point of departure in the spirituality of the anawin.”37 As Gutiérrez warmly anticipated this new type of spirituality, he felt con- strained to contain his own ruminations since the people of liberation would traverse unknown ground in the birthing of a spiritual paradigm. He notes,
Te problem, however, is not only to find a new theological framework. Te personal and community prayer of many Christians committed to the process of liberation is undergoing a serious crisis. Tis could purify prayer life of childish attitudes, routine, and escapes. But it will not do this if new paths are not broken and new spiritual experiences are not lived. . . . Tere is a great need for a spirituality of liberation; yet in Latin America those who have opted to participate in the process of liberation as we have outlined it above, comprise, in a manner of speaking, a first Christian generation. In many areas of their life they are without a theological and spiritual tradition. Tey are creating their own.38
33
Gutiérrez, A Teology of Liberation, 117.
34
Henri Nouwen’s foreword in Gustavo Gutiérrez, We Drink from Our Own Wells: Te Spiri- tual Journey of a People (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1984), xiii.
35
Tis is the title Gutiérrez gave to his new introduction in commemoration of the fifteenth anniversary edition of A Teology of Liberation, xviii.
36
Gutiérrez, Te Power of the Poor in History, 22.
37
Ibid., 53.
38
Gutiérrez, A Teology of Liberation, 74.
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At least in emphasis, Gutiérrez’s liberation spirituality had begun to change. Te question was what would the new changes look like and how would the new emphasis on spirituality cohere with the old expressions of liberation?
A funny thing occurred in the forging of new spiritualities for the theology of liberation. Te new formulations of faith began to look suspiciously like older, more traditional spiritualities within Roman Catholic mystical life. Sigmund commented, “Without admitting that he was doing so, Gutiérrez continued to modify his approach and to emphasize the agreement between his version of liberation theology and the social teaching of the church.”39 Was it a coincidence that the spiritual evolution looked particularly Roman Catho- lic? True, Gutiérrez had previously noted that “without ‘contemplative life,’ to use a traditional term, there is no authentic Christian life.”40 But in its embry- onic development, he had maintained, “what this contemplative life will be is still unknown.”41 Te unknown of the earlier works became known in such traditional Catholic mystics as St. John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila. Monastic pillars of contemplation also began to filter into the thought of Gutiérrez in Augustine and particularly in Ignatius Loyola (contemplation in action). Here, Gutiérrez began to find historical compatriots of liberation who had traversed the spiritual and had never given up the concern for action. As a result, the interior life was seen not as an impediment to liberation but rather as an ally. A recent work by Gutiérrez emphatically embraces spiritual- ity’s help in observing that “spirituality provides strength and durability for social options.”42 In Gutiérrez’s rereading of the mystical and monastic pil- grims, a new vantage point was found to embrace the historical expressions of the faith without losing the present praxis. Te mystical had been demytholo- gized of self-absorbed pietism and had become practical. As a result, Gutiérrez began to mine the deeper recesses of mysticism laden within Christian history. Now Gutiérrez would even become an apostle for the mystical life: “Only within the framework provided by mysticism and practice,” he observed, “is it possible to develop a meaningful discourse about God that is both authentic and respectful of its object.”43 Specifically, the call to contemplation within
39
Sigmund, Liberation Teology at the Crossroads, 171.
40
Gutiérrez, A Teology of Liberation, 74.
41
Ibid.
42
Gustavo Gutiérrez, “Te Teology of Liberation: Perspectives and Tasks,” trans. Fernando F. Segonia, in Toward a New Heaven and a New Earth: Essays in Honor of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2003), 297.
43
Gustavo Gutiérrez, Te Truth Shall Make You Free (Maryknoll, NY Orbis Books, 1990), 55.
11
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mysticism was now seen as an active participation in the process of liberation as opposed to a fearful withdrawal from the world of need.
Contemplation
What was it about mysticism that attracted the later Gutiérrez? Te answer, of course, is praxis. Gutiérrez had always held to a concept of spirituality that included contemplation, but the adoption of mysticism thrust Gutiérrez into the interior life, which previously had only occupied a footnote in his think- ing. Gutiérrez noted, “Poverty was always a central point in the history of spirituality, and it was always linked to the contemplative life.”44 In Gutiérrez’s life as a parish priest he would often reflect upon the contemplative aspect of the poor, both in merely being within the repose of the church and in active praying. Gutiérrez noted the poor’s abiding presence in the local churches as something more than a place to get out of the rain. He says, “Te poor spend long hours reflecting on their lives [in the church].”45 Reflexively and naturally the poor move from their reflection to prayer. He says, “Tere is perhaps noth- ing more impressive and creative than the praying praxis of Christians among the poor and oppressed. Teirs is not a prayer divorced from the liberating praxis of people. On the contrary, the Christian prayer of the poor springs up from roots in that very praxis.”46
Prayer
Prayer in the spirituality of liberation is not to be thought of as routine, pas- sive, or accepting of degradation. Nor does contemplative silence before God equate to an acceptance of brutality. Gutiérrez states, “Passivity or quietism not only is not a real acknowledgement of the gratuitous love of God, but even denies it or deforms it.”47 Prayer, then, actually questions God about the unac- ceptability of suffering from within the constructs of God’s loving nature: “Teology addresses how to speak about God from the sufferings of the inno-
44
James L. Heff, ed., Believing Scholars: Ten Catholic Intellectuals (New York: Fordham Uni- versity Press, 2005), 45.
45
Gustavo Gutiérrez, “Liberation Teology for the Twenty-First Century” in Romero’s Legacy: Te Call to Peace and Justice, ed. Pillar Closkey (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2007), 55.
46
Gutiérrez, Te Power of the Poor in History, 107.
47
Gutiérrez, Te Truth Shall Make You Free, 35.
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cents, the suffering of the poor.”48 Gutiérrez likewise maintains, “If the ele- ment of injustice be added to this situation of suffering, it can produce resentment and a rejection of the presence and existence of God, because God’s love becomes difficult to understand for one living a life of unmerited affliction.”49 It also maintains the theological structure of struggle before God (coram Deo) as opposed to in atheistic disengagement. Gutiérrez affirms, “Tis painful dialectical approach to God is one of the most profound messages of the book of Job.”50 Te prelude of prayer is central to all God talk because it begins in an attitude of faith from which all talk of God must originate.
True prayer also moves one to action. To pray without a commitment to action nullifies the prayers uttered as faithless. In this dialectical process the surd of suffering moves one to a mystical appropriation of Christ’s suffering. In all unjust suffering the Christian is called to understand that Christ suffers with the victim and “will be in agony until the end of the world.”51 In this suf- fering faith is born — not in a dismissing manner but rather in a mystical paschal participation. From identification with Christ a “hermeneutic of hope” is appropriated that sees in the resurrection of Christ the future redemption.52 Yet, because the suffering is not abated in the present time, there is a need for continued contemplation. Tis discipline of silent meditation beckons the sufferer into an interior life that helps them persevere through the present affliction. Gutiérrez notes, “Teology will then be speech that has been enriched by silence.”53 Yet, the present disciplines and the future hope do not always provide easy answers to the larger, more personal questions of theodicy. In this Gutiérrez confesses, “Tis question is larger than our capacity to answer it. It is a very deep, personal question. Ultimately, we have no answers except to be with the poor.”54 As a result, contemplation continues and compassion follows from the inability (both personal and corporate) to explain God’s love in the midst of evil. Perhaps this is why Gutiérrez was fond of quoting Jose Maria Arguedas’ aphorism, “What we know is much less than the great hope we feel.”55
48
Gustavo Gutiérrez, “How Do You Tell the Poor God Loves You?” Interview by Mev Puleo, St. Anthony Messenger 96 (February 1989): 10.
49
Gustavo Gutiérrez, On Job: God-Talk and the Suffering of the Innocent, trans. Matthew J. O’Connell (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1987), 13.
50
Ibid., 65.
51
Ibid., 101.
52
Gutiérrez, Te Power of the Poor in History, 15.
53
Ibid., xiv.
54
Ibid.
55
Ibid., 22.
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Revelation and Praxis
As part of the liberation imperative, Gutiérrez also advocates the age-old dis- cipline of the reading of the Scriptures. From the beginning of Gutiérrez’s project of liberation, the Bible has held a central position. However, even the Scriptures seem to take on a new dimension within the thought of the latter Gutiérrez. Te early Gutiérrez’s epistemology located truth as a dialectical interaction with praxis. He says, “For what we are concerned with is a re- reading of the gospel message within the praxis of liberation.”56 In this he agrees with Congar in saying, “It [the church] must open as it were a new chapter of the theological-pastoral epistemology. Instead of using only revela- tion and tradition as starting points, as classical theology has generally done, it must start with the facts and questions derived from the world and from history.”57 He also notes that “all truth must modify the real world . . . knowl- edge is thus dialectical starts and returns.”58 By 1983 he had revised his episte- mology to include a more preeminent status for revelation in epistemology. He said, “Te ultimate criterion for judgment comes from revelation not from praxis itself.”59 Correspondingly, Gutiérrez also began to modify his position on the social sciences’ place in epistemology. He wrote, “Te Bible concept is very rich, richer than a purely sociological understanding of the poor.”60
Has Gutiérrez’s Mysticism Created an Open Door for Dialogue?
Is Gutiérrez’s incorporation of mysticism a theological portal through which dialogue with Pentecostalism might commence? Given the chasm that has historically separated them, the answer to such a question is at best tentative. First, while the accentuation of mysticism is without question an elaboration of Gutiérrez’s latent spirituality, the translation from mysticism to Pentecostal- ism is not a seamless transition from either side. Yet, there are voices within Pentecostalism who believe that the chasm is not too deep and that a latent commonality abides between the two. Miroslav Volf is one who implores these two theologies to come together. He states, “It is of ecumenical importance for
56
Ibid., 66.
57
Gutiérrez, A Teology of Liberation, 9.
58
Gustavo Gutiérrez, “Te Praxis of Liberation and the Christian Faith,” Humane Vitae (September 1974): 373.
59
Gustavo Gutiérrez, Te Truth Shall Make You Free, 101.
60
Gustavo Gutiérrez, “Gutiérrez Reflects on 15 Years of Liberation Teology,” Interview by Latinamerica Press, Latinamerica Press 15 (19 May 1983): 5-7.
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liberation theology and Pentecostal theology to recognize each other as feud- ing family members,” as opposed to enemies.61 Te reason for this, Volf points out, is an increasing awareness within the Pentecostal movement of both the liberation imperative and the conscientization of socioeconomic need. At first glance, he says, “Liberation theology and Pentecostal theology seem to be prime examples of radically opposing theologies.”62 As Volf notes, however, the two theologies have much more in common than either one of them may wish to believe: “Individual groups of Pentecostalists around the world seem to be slowly discovering the socioeconomic implications of their soteriology, and liberation theologians are becoming more aware of the need for a spiritual framework for their socioeconomic activity.”63 Dario Lopez Rodriguez com- ments on the liberating activity: “Today there is sufficient evidence from sev- eral countries of Latin America that a gradual awakening of the social conscience of a significant sector of the Pentecostal movement is taking place.”64 Doug Peterson agrees: “Ultimately, by empowering people who were previ- ously denied a voice, the Pentecostal Movement in Latin America has acquired a revolutionary potential.”65
On the question of spirituality, Simon Chan also sees a great deal of conti- nuity between Catholic mysticism and Pentecostalism. Within the two tradi- tions Chan sees great possibility in the celebration of the Eucharist as a “central” Pentecostal event.66 Chan also views tongues as, in essence, an expres- sion of Teresa of Avilla’s progression to joy “in which joy becomes so over- whelming that the soul could only respond with all tongues and heavenly madness.”67 Chan says, “Pentecostalism cannot be regarded as a marginal movement, much less an aberration: it is a spiritual movement that matches in every way the time-tested development in Catholic tradition.”68 Chan even believes that the Pentecostal giftings work best in the structure of Roman Catholic and the Episcopal Charismatic traditions. He notes, “In fact I would
61
Miroslav Volf, “Materiality of Salvation: An Investigation in the Soteriologies of Liberation and Pentecostal Teologies,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 26, no. 3 (Summer 1989): 449.
62
Ibid., 447.
63
Ibid., 460.
64
Dario Lopez Rodriguez, “A Critical Review of Douglas Peterson’s Not by Might Nor by Power: A Pentecostal Teology of Social Concern in Latin America,” Journal of Pentecostal Teology 17 (2000): 136.
65
Douglas Peterson, “Latin American Pentecostalism: Social Capital, Networks, and Poli- tics,” Pneuma: Te Journal of Pentecostal Theology 26, no. 2 (Fall 2004): 306.
66
Chan, “Pentecostal Teology and Christian Spiritual Tradition,” 108.
67
Ibid., 60.
68
Ibid., 71.
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like to show that [the Pentecostal reality] is better traditioned in a church that recognizes the constitutive role of the sacraments and the Spirit.”69 But is there a tradition within liberation theology that militates against the indigenous nature of Pentecostalism?
Ecclesiology
In “La Koinonia Eclesial” Gutiérrez proclaims that “the task of the church is as an extension of the missions of the Son and the Spirit.”70 Even in Gutiérrez’s earlier thought he had stated that “spirituality in the strict and profound sense of the word is the dominion of the Spirit.”71 But what does this mean in rela- tion to the ecclesiology? In the formation of the spirituality of liberation, Gutiérrez earlier maintained that he was hesitant to conjecture as to the expli- cation of this “new” spirituality. His reasoning was that the people of libera- tion were “first generation” liberationists; therefore, what liberation spirituality comprised was subsequently in an embryonic and much too formative stage. Gutiérrez has consistently maintained that the poor will not be truly liberated until they are the artisans of their own spirituality. But, as Segundo pointed out, “Something was obvious . . . the common people had neither understood nor welcomed anything from the first theology of liberation, and had actually reacted against its criticism of the supposed oppressive elements of popular religions.”72 Paradoxically, many now have begun to criticize liberation theol- ogy for its lack of indigenous authenticity and for being primarily an academic exercise. Solivan says, “Te power and authenticity present in the early voices of the liberation theologians have been diluted by the process of academic advancement.”73 Charles Self has asserted that “Pentecostalism is truly a faith of the poor and is thus distinct from some liberation theology movements which are for the poor.”74 Tis critique echoes Moltmann’s previous criticism that the theology of liberation had more to do with European theology than it
69
Ibid., 15.
70
Gustavo Gutiérrez, “La Koinonia Eclesial,” trans. David Bustos, Paginas 200 (August 2006): 22.
71
Gutiérrez, A Teology of Liberation, 117.
72
Segundo, Signs of the Times, 74.
73
Samuel Solivan, “Te Spirit, Pathos, and Liberation: Toward an Hispanic Pentecostal Te- ology,” Journal of Pentecostal Supplement Series 14 (1998): 36.
74
Charles Self, “Conscientization, Conversion, and Convergence: Reflections on Base Com- munities and Emerging Pentecostalism in Latin America,” Pneuma: Te Journal of the Society of Pentecostal Theology 14, no. 1 (Spring 1992): 63.
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did with any indigenous ecclesiology. In his “Open Letter to Jose Miguez Bonino,” Moltmann remarked that Gutiérrez’s work “offers many new insights — but precisely only in the framework of Europe’s history, scarcely any in the history of Latin America.”75 Gutiérrez often acknowledges his Euro- pean pedagogy as an encumbrance to his own veracity in speaking for the poor. Solivan states, “Without the poor — those who suffer — as subject, theology denigrates into the academic exercise of cognitive praxis.”76 For a privileged theologian educated in first-rate schools, it would be hard to sepa- rate the wineskins of austere academia from the degradation of poverty. To be sure, Gutiérrez has advocated and modeled the incarnational lifestyle, but does this model extend to his theological method? Or theoretically rephrased, does praxis, itself, have a criterion that uncritically incorporates a residual European pedagogy?
Pneumatology
In We Drink from Our Own Wells, Gutiérrez created considerable distance between “popular religion” and liberation theology by juxtaposing those who believe in miracles with those who are involved in the work of liberation: “Te power of the Spirit leads to love of God and others and not to the working of miracles.”77 Here there is a clear divergence from the view of the poor as it relates to both love and pneumatology. Exceedingly little is said throughout Gutiérrez’s works about pneumatology.78 It is an area of immense neglect. As a result, a penetrating criticism must be directed at this lack, and a question of sufficiency must be raised when the most theologically active participant in historical change (the Holy Spirit) is absent. But perhaps this is the point. Does the weakness in Gutiérrez’s pneumatology nuance his entire understand- ing of the Pentecostal movement? And does this lack predispose the theology of liberation to a critique of immanence from which the Pentecostal poor can speak more adequately? Solivan again points out that the two, miracles and
75
Jürgen Moltmann, “An Open Letter to Jose Miguez Bonino,” Christianity in Crisis 36 (29 March 1976): 5.
76
Solivan, “Te Spirit, Pathos, and Liberation,” 65.
77
Gutiérrez, We Drink from Our Own Wells, 63.
78
A quick perusal of the indexes of Gutiérrez’s books reveals the disparity. In Te Truth Shall Make You Free, the index does not have any references to the Holy Spirit. Tere are thirty-seven to Jesus and eleven to Marx. In A Teology of Liberation there are 107 references to Jesus, ten to Marx, and three to the Holy Spirit. All of the books that Gutiérrez has written display this disparity.
17
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liberation imperatives, are not inimical to one another: “For many suffering people what makes God’s promise possible in their present experience is the acceptance of the miraculous. . . .Te experiences of promises fulfilled today serve as first fruits of what is yet in store.”79 Gutiérrez emphasizes only the silent suffering aspect of transcendence. But why is it inconsistent to believe, as the poor do, that God’s identification with weakness is equally as true as the Holy Spirit’s manifestation of power? On an economic level Gutiérrez agrees — it is just in the supernatural aspects where there is resistance. Of course, one might ask how God acting supernaturally now would be any dif- ferent from the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us long ago. But the fallout does not end there. Systemically there is another more problematic result, namely, liberation itself.
Eschatology
In Acts 2:15-16 Peter exclaims, “Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel.” Not only were they not drunk, but the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost inaugurated a new era within the life of the church that Joel referred to as the last days (v. 17). In Gutiérrez’s thought there is a great empha- sis on the hermeneutic of hope that creates eschatological longing for change. Gutiérrez is correct in believing in an eschatological hope but does not incor- porate any real pneumatology into his eschatology. As a result, the motivation for change rests primarily within the subject of history, as opposed to the Spirit of, over, and in history. Tis places a heavy weight upon the subject of history, who has hitherto been unable to realize his and her eschatological implica- tions. Granted, the hermeneutic of hope comes through humanity, but it does not originate in humanity. To fill this need, Gutiérrez adopts the methodology of conscientization in what seems to appear more as a Promethean construct than an emphasis upon the Spirit. Tis lack of proper emphasis threatens the entire edifice of liberation in that it places the realization of the movement in the ability of humanity to see. Tis is not the biblical presentation of the noetic effects of sin or the Holy Spirit’s relegation to a subordinate eschato- logical role. Te person who leads into all truth is the primogenitor of the eschatological hope. As a result, the assurance for hope is limited to the ability or inability of humanity to both see and accomplish this hope. And this is a
79
Solivan, “Te Spirit, Pathos, and Liberation,” 91.
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23
major difference between Pentecostalism and liberation theology. To para- phrase Solivan, Pentecostalism has placed its hope for the future upon a pres- ent belief in the Spirit’s workings. In so doing, they have found the impetus for change both on a personal level and in society. Tis is why there is hope for the future. Revealed in the present dispensation is the future realization of abiding liberation.
Hope for the Future?
Is there a crack in the door that allows for dialogue between what, on the sur- face, seems like two antagonistic viewpoints on liberation spirituality? Gutiér- rez has noted that theology will not be free of illegitimate presuppositions until the poor create their own theology. What became apparent with the writ- ing of We Drink from Our Own Wells, however, was that Gutiérrez did have within his own mind the parameters of a certain type of spirituality, namely, Roman Catholic mysticism. As Volf and Chan have pointed out, this does not invalidate dialogue between Pentecostalism and Gutiérrez. Conversely, neither do the similarities between the two extinguish all distance. Simply put, what validates or invalidates the Pentecostal experience, according to Gutiérrez’s theology, is liberating praxis. Te question is, does Pentecostalism qualify according to this criterion? For many, and particularly the poor of Latin Amer- ica, the answer is a resounding yes. But is it enough that the poor have voted with their feet? Gutiérrez maintains, “If we are to find God acting in history, we must have an attitude of faith that is open to novelty and mystery.”80 Where does this openness to mystery lead? Te answer is, a door that was previously closed and is being opened ever so slowly. Yet, difficulties abide when a lack of openness to novelty and mystery persist. Te close proximity of focus and geography could not help but create some expected sibling rivalry. However, this should not be enough to seal the door shut or close it back again. Tus, in order for greater openness to occur, the father of liberation theology must realize that true liberating praxis is occurring within Latin America under the name of Pentecostalism. Tere must also be the realization of the indigenous choice and that the label attached to Pentecostalism “Made in America,” is not accurate. Rather, the “Made in America” label should, as previously noted, more correctly read, “Made among the Poor and Dispos- sessed of America.” Te location of liberating praxis’s nexus should not
80
Gustavo Gutiérrez, Te God of Life (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1991), 80.
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disqualify its extension or incorporation. If Gutiérrez truly believes in a theol- ogy from the poor, then the poor must be allowed to speak, even if their thoughts take them down less traditional and more mysterious pathways. And perhaps they have spoken — in tongues. Te elaboration of a spiritual need is what precipitated Gutiérrez’s movement into mysticism. Te limitation of that elaboration is where the truly liberating prospects come to an end. Te desire to have a “faith that is open to novelty and mystery” is a glorious incarnational goal. However, the constricting definitions of “novel” and, in this case, “mys- terious” prohibit implementation. Where does this leave the hopes of dialogue between the two most potent forms of religious expression in Latin America? Te answer is looking at a ray of light behind a partially opened door wonder- ing what might happen if the door were to open fully.
20
