Torture . . . really?

My friend Jonathan just posted a blog citing the Daily Show interview with the guy defending governmental rights to torture. To read, go to www.stormented.org. He ended by asking his readers to respond whether Christians can support torture. And the first two comments can be summed up as affirmative . . . . really.

One comment gave the same tired "if someone were attacking my family/wife" line that's generally proposed by Fox News, and anyone who's dumb enough to listen to Fox News. For now, I'll post my comment, and suggest you go read his blog if you want more context.


"I love how predictable this is. Our country is founded by people fleeing oppressive rule which commonly engaged in torturous acts. Our founders do their best to set up our country to be better than the ones they were fleeing from. Now, that we’ve achieved status as imperial empire, we wish to justify ourselves in doing the things which were the impetus for our escape. Our capacity to willingly adopt what we hate is ridiculous.

I think it important to remember the situation in Rome. We tend to be anachronistic and cast Rome in the perverse mold of Nero and Caligula. Yet, in Jesus’ day Rome was still run under the values of Augustus. Or should I say: the good, moral, family values of Augustus. He being the emperor who demanded marital fidelity, and the proper raising of children within the nuclear family, favoring what we in America would otherwise cast as “good Christian values”.

These being the ends Augustus sought to uphold, he saw no problem using any means to achieve them. Thus why he and his immediate successors saw no problem crucifying any foreigners who potentially undermined such a good, wholesome society. Thus, crucifixion saved countless (Roman) lives, just as water-boarding, among other heinous practices, saves (American) lives today.

Even still, the ends do NOT justify the means, when the means mock the foundations not only of this country, but of any humane society. Our attempts to justify ourselves by recourse to our values of family and “democracy” are a farce that prove only that we have sided with Rome and against the Kingdom of God. Our hypocrisy is further revealed when we now attempt to spin our torturous acts as “mild”, especially since we have previously called those who performed such acts on our people “war criminals” and sought their execution. When Christians seek to vindicate torture in any form, there is no gospel. Just more of the same."

Liberation and Asia

Aloysius Pieris is a Jesuit priest from Sri Lanka, and a brilliant author. To my knowledge he only has a few major books he has written, which I consider to be a great tragedy after just finishing An Asian Theology of Liberation. Pieris is reported to be the first non-Buddhist to be awarded a Ph.D. in Buddhist studies by the University of Sri Lanka. In this book, which was first published in 1986, he combines the insights of liberation theology (then at its height) with a very well thought out theology of religions. His insights into other religions of Asia are profound due not only to his training but also his vast personal experience of those religions. In other words, Pieris is no outsider.

As a liberation theologian he frames the mission of the church as partaking in God’s battle against Mammon, which he occasionally (and I think aptly) refers to as Capital. This battle is both a struggle for and against poverty. The struggle against poverty is something that is becoming common in our present day situation. But, Pieris claims that this is inescapably tied to the converse struggle to be poor. These are two necessary poles of the same struggle against Capital.

Framing his theology as such, though, was not what I found so profound in this book. I’ve heard similar ideas said in much more accessible language by Shane Claiborne, or even among other liberation theologians. What is so innovative with Pieris’ book is his stance on other religions, and their place in this same struggle. Pieris seeks to escape the christocentric thought that has dominated liberation theology up to the present. He argues that all religions have the kernel of liberation in their core, and that all have fallen short of this in their own way. In other words, every religion shares Mammon-Capital as a common enemy, and all have been infiltrated with tendencies to capitulate to this great enemy.

Pieris sees Christian missions in the common usage of the term, as an insidious tool of Mammon-Capital to subvert the liberative tendencies of other religions. Not that he is against any evangelization, but that sharing the good news is inescapably tied to the liberation of the poor from oppressive structures. The history of Christian missions has shown that it’s end result is anything but such a liberation. Thus, Pieris’ most controversial idea is that Christian missions in Asia must be accompanied by a baptism into the religions of Asia. He argues that the story of Jesus is one that seeks to fulfill the faith of the poor by fulfilling their work toward their own liberation. This is because the rich do not pour down the blessings of God upon the poor. Rather God is among the poor already, and if the rich want any part with him then they must sell all they own and come follow him. Jesus certainly did not side with the theology of the rich. It can be easily seen that he cared little for the doctrines of the fortunate few, but lived fully in the worldview of the poor among whom he claimed God shared his favor. Thus, the current idea that the rich of the West should charitably share their “true” faith with the poor of Asia is a complete antithesis of what is actually Christian faith. If we wish to be a part of what God is doing we must lose our faith to find it, and be immersed in the religiousness of the poor. We must do this because this is where Jesus is actually to be found, and where the kernel of liberation is still living waiting to break through the soil.

As liberation theology always manages to do, this book proved to me how I am not a Christian nor do I know any. Yet, at the same time it revealed to me the hope of the gospel in its authentic form. Beyond all my struggles to perceive “the Truth” are the greater matters of human dignity and the oppression of those who don’t have the leisure to consider “theological matters”. For the poor the conflict between science and religion is minutia. Arguments over cosmology and the nature of God are luxuries they are rarely afforded. They are born into a faith and culture that are inadequately replaced by the gospel of missionaries. If I truly hope to follow the man who proclaimed God preferentially living in their midst, then my concern is not that they hear my version of the gospel, but that I participate to my fullest ability in their experience of his liberating blessings.

I give the book five stars. If one has any interest in liberation theology, it is a must read.

Criticism Leading to Conversation

When I was living in Brownwood, a town of roughly 20,000 people, I was constantly faced with the fact that I shared close to no common interests with any of the people who lived there. It was quite challenging. I spent I huge portion of my spare time reading esoteric theology books, analyzing my own beliefs. And then, I would encounter locals who I can safely assume would never think of, nor want to ask any of the questions I found myself wrestling with. Small towns in central Texas don't tend to care much about christology or interreligious dialogue. At the time this distressed me. I found these ideas to be quite important, and simultaneously couldn't really blame Brownwoodites for not caring.

I revisited this experience last week talking with one of my friends who frequently preaches in small towns. He was telling me how irrelevant textual criticism (etc.) seemed to be in small town settings, and I agree . . . and yet totally disagree. Basically, it's true, the Jesus Seminar and various interreligious studies have no relevance to them. The same could be posited for poor people in Oak Cliff and possibly even for the filthy rich of Southlake and Highland Park. If all these historical analyses just complicate their faith and potentially tear it down, then what good does it do them?

At heart, I still basically think missiologically about everything. I mean this in the most anti-colonial sense possible. I think 'good news' is not simply proclaimed, but necessarily conversed about. And in this sense, I think the biggest need we have is to get people talking. I also believe that Christianity in it's unbastardized form, is completely and unequivocally egalitarian. It is a religion that fully rejected heirarchies. So, because of this, I believe that any conversations worth having should be held between equals. This is no small qualification. It is unquestioned in our society that those who teach/proclaim are in a higher position than those who learn/receive. Thus those who give 'good news', give from a privileged and dominant position. A position I believe automatically negates the very message they are preaching.

I believe that Dallas, like any metropolis, is a confounding mixture of cultures and worldviews which awkwardly rest together; pragmatically tolerating each other without ever really reaching understanding. Without understanding, conversation is impossible. Without conversation, the gospel is useless.

This is where I find all the esoteric concepts of theology and biblical criticism invaluable not for the other, but for myself.

John Searle, I philosopher that I like, frequently points out that the human capacity for self-deception is boundless. The 'will to believe' effectively blinds us to the dissonance of our beliefs and makes fundamentalists of us all. This is true of everyone: theists, agnostics, or atheists. Christians, Muslims, scientists, or Hindus. We are all guilty of the 'will to belief' and the purposed ignorance of all that detracts from what we would believe. I think this reveals both the necessity of conversation and the impossiblity of it. If we hope to ever achieve something more than a fractured society of uncomprehending tolerance, we have to seek to truly understand the other. Yet, the crutch of 'willing belief' demands that we avoid conversation, or if we dare to enter into it, do so only in a superior position.

The truth is that if we are incapable of self-critique, then we are also incapable of conversation. To an extent, perfect self-awareness is impossible. Yet, as much as we are capable, we must seek to be aware of our own origins, of our faith's place amongst others, of its similarities with others and its uniqueness. This is necessary because it is the only way to join in conversation with others as equals, avoiding an imperialism of faith and culture. This seems to me the only way that a world of people who will not adopt our faith, can nonetheless hear what is good in our good news.

I think that in this sense, Christians have to lead by example. The truth is that all belief systems, including systems of unbelief, have black marks that they would much prefer to ignore. They assert their superiority over other faiths by willfully ignoring their own history, their own inconsistencies, their own unspeakable questions. No one is exempt from this. Yet, too many would act as though they are. Our very message demands that we should be more than another domineering system, competing and seeking advantage over other faiths and cultures. I believe that this begins with us; with our willingness to critique ourselves, and listen to those voices who for hundreds of years have critiqued what we would otherwise 'will ourselves to believe'.

If we can't manage this, then how do we imagine that others will? And if such an endeavor fails, then are we not doomed to continue talking at and past the other? My hope is that self-awareness can foster a strength that does not fall into the trap of colonial proselytizing and religious arrogance, but rather is a strength that allows for genuine conversation and mutual understanding.