Between
1517 and 1840 it is estimated that twenty million blacks were
captured in Africa, transported to America, and brutally
enslaved. The experience of these blacks--and their
descendants--serves as the backdrop for understanding
contemporary black liberation theology.
During slave trading days, blacks were crammed into ships like
sardines into a can and brought across the Atlantic. Many died
at sea from dysentery, smallpox, and other diseases. "Some
starved themselves to death refusing to eat. To prevent this
form of suicide, hot coals were applied to the lips to force
the slaves to open their mouths to eat."[1]
Upon arriving on American shores, the slaves--men, women, and
children--were forced to work from sunrise to sunset. Even old
and ailing slaves were forced to work.
The brutality shown to the slaves is among the saddest chapters
in American history. Black theologian Anthony Evans tells us
that "black women were raped at will by their masters at the
threat of death while their husbands could only look on.
Families were separated as they were bought and sold like
cattle."[2]
For tax purposes, slaves were counted as property--like
domestic animals. Eventually, however, a question arose as to
how to count slaves in the nation's population. The Congress
solved the problem by passing a bill that authorized the U.S.
Census Bureau to count each slave as three-fifths of a person.
This Congressional compromise resulted in what one Negro writer
of the 1890s called "the 'Inferior Race Theory,' the placing of
the Negro somewhere between the barnyard animals and human
beings."[3]
THE
CHRISTIANIZATION OF SLAVERY
Initially, there was
heated resistance to evangelizing among slaves. Black scholar
C. Eric Lincoln tells us there were three principal reasons for
this: "(1) the hearing of the gospel required time that could
be economically productive; (2) slaves gathered together in a
religious assembly might become conscious of their own strength
and plot insurrections under cover of religious instruction;
(3) there was an English tradition of long standing that once a
slave became a Christian he could no longer be held a
slave."[4]
In addition, many whites were repulsed at the suggestion that
blacks could go to heaven. Morgan Godwyn, a graduate of Oxford
University who served in churches in Virginia around 1665,
wrote that slavemasters would commonly exclaim, "What, such as
they? What, those black dogs be made Christians? What, shall
they be like us?"[5]
Some whites tried to argue that blacks were less than human.
Buckener H. Payne, in his book The Negro: What Is His
Ethnological blacks are present with us today, they must have
been in the ark. There were only eight souls saved in the ark,
however, and they are fully accounted for by Noah's family. As
one of the beasts in the ark, the black has no soul to be
saved."[6] So why try to evangelize them?
Regardless of such preposterous arguments, missionary work
eventually began among the slaves in the early 1700s and many
of them became Christians. The brand of Christianity that was
preached to them, however, was one that justified slavery. It
was argued that Paul and other New Testament writers issued
specific instructions for master-slave relations, thus
apparently sanctioning the practice. Moreover, a curse of
slavery was placed on the "sons of Ham" (Gen. 9:20-27)--who
were interpreted to be blacks. Furthermore, slavery was
considered a "religious good," for it amounted to importing
unsaved heathens to a Christian land where they could hear the
gospel and be saved.
(However, though Paul gave instructions on master-slave
relations, his underlying belief was that slaves should be
freed [1 Cor. 7:21]. Moreover, a curse of slavery was
placed only on Ham's son, Canaan--whose descendants later
occupied Phoenicia and Palestine. They were Caucasians. As for
slavery being a "religious good," this seems an absurd claim in
view of the cruel, inhuman treatment shown to the slaves.)
Most blacks accepted the slave brand of Christianity at face
value. Moreover, white missionaries persuaded the blacks that
life on earth was insignificant because "obedient servants of
God could expect a reward in heaven after death."[7]
The white interpretation of Christianity effectively divested
the slaves of any concern they might have had about their
freedom in the present.
As more blacks began attending white Christian churches,
restrictions in seating, communion services, and property
ownership caused many blacks to seek autonomy in their own
congregations and ultimately, separate denominations. So, by
the mid-1700s, black slaves had begun meeting in private to
worship since authentic worship with whites was impossible.
There is sufficient historical evidence to conclude that themes
later developed by black liberation theologians were present in
these early slave meetings in at least a nascent form.
For example, God was interpreted by the slaves as a loving
Father who would eventually deliver them from slavery just as
He had delivered Israel from Egyptian bondage. Jesus was
considered both a Savior and an elder brother who was a fellow
sufferer.
Heaven had a dual implication for black slaves. Yes, it
referred to the future life, but it also came to refer to a
state of liberation in the present. Because of the risk
involved in preaching liberation, the slave learned how to sing
liberation in the very presence of his master:
"Swing low, sweet chariot (underground railroad -- conestoga wagon)
Coming for to carry me home (up North to freedom)
Swing low (come close to where I am),
Sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home.
I looked over Jordan (Ohio River--border between North and South)
And what did I see,
Coming for to carry me home
A band of angels (northern emancipators with the underground)
coming after me.
Coming for to carry me home."[8]
THE
DEVELOPMENT OF BLACK LIBERATIONIST THOUGHT
It was not long
before slave theology gave rise to black activism. There are
many important figures who contributed to the cause of black
liberation throughout black history. We can only mention a few
here.
Nat Turner (1800-1831) was the most notorious slave
preacher who ever lived on American soil. Turner's hatred of
slavery propelled him to seek freedom by violence. Indeed,
Turner killed nearly sixty white people before being captured
and hanged in September, 1831. This violent revolt marked the
beginning of the black struggle for liberation.
Marcus Garvey (1887-1940) is regarded by many as "the
apostle of black theology in the United States of
America."[9] Martin Luther King, Jr., said Garvey "was
the first man on a mass scale and level to give millions of
Negroes a sense of dignity and destiny, and make the Negro feel
he is somebody."[10] Garvey was one of the first to
speak of seeing God through black "spectacles."
Howard Thurman, in his book Jesus and the Disinherited
(1949), saw black life paralleling Jesus' life because His
poverty identified Him with the poor masses. Thurman also noted
that Jesus was a member of a minority group (the Jews) in the
midst of a larger and controlling dominant group (the Romans).
Thurman thus drew many applications for the black experience
from the life of Jesus.
Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968) was America's most
visible civil rights leader from 1955 until his assassination
in April, 1968 in Memphis, Tennessee. Though he cannot be
called a formal participant in the black theology movement, he
nevertheless roused the conscience of black America to
passionate commitment to liberation.
King was an advocate of Ghandian nonviolent social change.
Through nonviolent suffering, King believed that "blacks would
not only liberate themselves from the necessity of bitterness
and the feeling of inferiority toward whites, but would also
prick the conscience of whites and liberate them from a feeling
of superiority."[11] To some, King's assassination
indicated that nonviolence as a means of liberation had failed
and that perhaps a more revolutionary theology was needed.
Albert Cleage was one of the more militant black writers
of the 1960s. His claim to fame was The Black Messiah, a 1968
collection of sermons in which he set forth his brand of black
nationalism.
Cleage rejected the Pauline books in the New Testament. He said
that--in contrast to the black Messiah--there was a
spiritualized Jesus constructed by the apostle Paul who "never
knew Jesus and who modified his teaching to conform to the
pagan philosophers of the white gentiles. We, as black
Christians suffering oppression in a white man's land, do not
need the individualistic and other-worldly doctrines of Paul
and the white man."[12]
THE
EMERGENCE OF A FORMAL "BLACK THEOLOGY"
Over one hundred and
thirty years after Nat Turner was hanged, black theology
emerged as a formal discipline. Beginning with the "black
power" movement in 1966, black clergy in many major
denominations began to reassess the relationship of the
Christian church to the black community. Black caucuses
developed in the Catholic, Presbyterian, and Episcopal
churches. "The central thrust of these new groups was to
redefine the meaning and role of the church and religion in the
lives of black people. Out of this reexamination has come what
some have called a 'Black Theology.'"[13]
For the first time in the history of black religious thought,
black clergy (primarily educated, middle-class black clergy)
and black theologians began to recognize the need for a
completely new "starting point" in theology. They insisted that
this starting point must be defined by people at the bottom and
not the top of the socioeconomic ladder. So, black theologians
began to re-read the Bible through the eyes of their slave
grandparents and started to speak of God's solidarity with the
oppressed of the earth.
The most prolific and sophisticated writer of this new
theological movement has been James Cone. No one has matched
him either in terms of sheer volume of writing, or in terms of
the challenge posed by his books. For this reason, we shall
examine his theology in depth.
James Cone:
Theologian of Black Liberation
In assessing the
theology of James Cone, it is critical to recognize that he
sees black experience as the fundamental starting point for
ascertaining theological truth. And his own writings are a
reflection of his own "black experience"--that is, the
discrimination he suffered while growing up as a child in
Bearden, Arkansas.
What was it like in Bearden? "It meant attending 'separate but
equal' schools, going to the balcony when attending a movie,
and drinking water from a 'colored' fountain. It meant refusing
to retaliate when called a nigger unless you were prepared to
leave town at the precise moment of your rebellion. You had no
name except for your first name of 'boy.'"[14] Cone
concedes that "my theological reflections are inseparable from
the Bearden experience. What I write is urged out of my
blood."[15]
Cone says that "it is this common experience among black people
in America that Black Theology elevates as the supreme test of
truth. To put it simply, Black Theology knows no authority more
binding than the experience of oppression itself. This alone
must be the ultimate authority in religious
matters."[16]
From the above, one may immediately suspect that Cone has a
deficient view of the authority of Scripture. Indeed, his view
seems very close to the neo-orthodoxy of Karl Barth, as when
Cone writes: "It is true that the Bible is not the revelation
of God, only Christ is. But it is an indispensable witness to
God's revelation."[17] Moreover, "we should not
conclude that the Bible is an infallible witness."[18]
Cone believes the meaning of Scripture is not to be found in
the words of Scripture as such, but only in its power to point
beyond itself to the reality of God's "revelation," which--in
America--takes place experientially in God's liberating work
among blacks.
Black Theology and Black Power. Based on the preeminence
of "black experience," Cone defines theology as "a rational
study of the being of God in the world in light of the
existential situation of an oppressed community, relating the
forces of liberation to the essence of the gospel, which is
Jesus Christ."[19] Cone's theology asks (and seeks to
answer) the question, "What does the Christian gospel have to
say to powerless black men whose existence is threatened daily
by the insidious tentacles of white power?"[20]
In answering this pivotal question, Cone emphasizes that there
is a very close relationship between black theology and what
has been termed "black power." Cone says that black power is a
phrase that represents both black freedom and black
self-determination "wherein black people no longer view
themselves as without human dignity but as men, human beings
with the ability to carve out their own
destiny."[21]
Cone says black theology is the religious counterpart of black
power. "Black Theology is the theological arm of Black Power,
and Black Power is the political arm of Black
Theology."[22] And, "while Black Power focuses on the
political, social, and economic condition of black people,
Black Theology puts black identity in a theological
context."[23]
We gain insights about what Cone means by "black theology" and
"black power" by understanding what blackness means in his
theology. Cone notes two aspects of blackness: the
physiological and ontological. In the first sense, "black"
indicates a physiological trait. It refers to "a particular
black-skinned people in America."[24]
In the second sense, "black" and "white" relate not to skin
pigmentation but to "one's attitude and action toward the
liberation of the oppressed black people from white
racism."[25] Blackness is thus "an ontological symbol
for all people who participate in the liberation of man from
oppression."[26] Seen in this light, "blackness" can be
attributed to people who do not have black skin but who do work
for liberation.
By contrast, "whiteness" in Cone's thought symbolizes the
ethnocentric activity of "madmen sick with their own
self-concept" and thus blind to that which ails them and
oppresses others. Whiteness symbolizes sickness and oppression.
White theology is therefore viewed as a theological extension
of that sickness and oppression.[27]
Having established that the black experience is the governing
principle in Cone's interpretation of Scripture, it is
important to understand how this governing principle has
affected his views of specific doctrines.
God. Cone bases much of his liberationist theology on
God's deliverance of Israel from oppression under the
Egyptians. He says that the consistent theme in Israelite
prophecy is Yahweh's concern for "the lack of social, economic,
and political justice for those who are poor and unwanted in
the society."[28]
This same God, Cone argues, is working for the deliverance of
oppressed blacks in twentieth-century America. Because God is
helping oppressed blacks and has identified with them, God
Himself is spoken of as "black."
Black theology's dominant perspective on God is "God in action,
delivering the oppressed because of His righteousness. He is to
be seen, not in the transcendent way of Greek philosophy, but
immanent, among His people."[29] God is "immanent" in
the sense that He is met in concrete historical situations of
liberation.
This is very similar to the idea of the immanence of God in
process theology. Indeed, process theologian David Ray Griffin,
while recognizing important differences between process and
black theology, has suggested that "process philosophy supports
liberation theologians in locating the reality of God's
presence and creative activity in this world."[30]
Jesus Christ. Cone's intention is to stand in the
Chalcedonian tradition in his understanding of Jesus Christ.
The Chalcedonian creed (A.D. 451) affirmed that Christ is
"truly God and truly man." Cone agrees with this, but adds that
the role of Jesus as God-Incarnate was to liberate the
oppressed: Jesus Christ "is God himself coming into the very
depths of human existence for the sole purpose of striking off
the chains of slavery, thereby freeing man from ungodly
principalities and powers that hinder his relationship with
God."[31]
One of the more controversial aspects of Cone's Christology is
his view that Jesus was (is) black: "The 'raceless' American
Christ has a light skin, wavy brown hair, and sometimes--wonder of wonders--blue eyes. For whites to find him with big
lips and kinky hair is as offensive as it was for the Pharisees
to find him partying with tax-collectors. But whether whites
want to hear it or not, Christ is black, baby, with all of the
features which are so detestable to white society" (emphasis in
original).[32]
Cone believes it is very important for black people to view
Jesus as black: "It's very important because you've got a lot
of white images of Christ. In reality, Christ was not white,
not European. That's important to the psychic and to the
spiritual consciousness of black people who live in a ghetto
and in a white society in which their lord and savior looks
just like people who victimize them. God is whatever color God
needs to be in order to let people know they're not nobodies,
they're somebodies."[33]
For Cone, the Resurrection of the black Jesus--a real event--symbolizes universal freedom for all who are bound. It is not
just a future-oriented hope in a heavenly compensation for
earthly woes. Rather, it is a hope that focuses on the future
in such a way that it prevents blacks from tolerating present
inequities.[34] This is closely related to Cone's
understanding of eschatology (more on this shortly).
Sin and Salvation. In Cone's view, sin is "a condition
of human existence in which man denies the essence of God's
liberating activity as revealed in Jesus Christ."[35]
In this view, sin is anything that is contrary to the oppressed
community or its liberation.
Salvation for Cone primarily has to do with earthly reality,
not heavenly hopes. "To see the salvation of God is to see this
people [i.e., the blacks] rise up against their
oppressors, demanding that justice become a reality now and not
tomorrow."[36] Hence, though Cone often speaks of Jesus
as the Liberator, in practical terms he emphasizes the human
work of self-liberation among blacks and downplays divine
help.
The Church. Cone believes the black church has played an
instrumental role in the religious and social life of black
America. He says the black church was the creation of a black
people "whose daily existence was an encounter with the
overwhelming and brutalizing reality of white power. For the
slaves it was the sole source of identity and the sense of
community. The black church became the only sphere of black
experience that was free of white power."[37]
Still, Cone believes that--since the days of slavery--the
black church has largely capitulated to the demands of a white
racist society. He argues that in order to survive, the black
churches have given up their freedom and dignity. After the
Civil War, black churches became passive in the struggle for
civil rights and freedom while currying favors from the white
establishment. This condition, Cone says, has persisted up to
the present day, rendering the black church "the lifeless pawn
of the status quo."[38]
Only faithfulness to the "pre-Civil War black church tradition"
will issue in "an exclusive identification with black power,"
Cone believes. He says that a continued emphasis on black power
is "the only hope of the black church in America."[39]
(Though "black power" as a movement faded after the 1960s, the
primary emphasis of the movement--the dignity, freedom, and
self-determination of black people--has continued in Cone's
theological writings. It is this emphasis that Cone says has
been missing in many black churches.)
Eschatology. Cone rejects what he terms the "white lie"
that Christianity is primarily concerned with life in the next
world: "If eschatology means that one believes that God is
totally uninvolved in the suffering of man because he is
preparing them for another world, then black theology is not
eschatological. Black theology has hope for this
life."[40]
Cone asks what good there is in golden crowns, slippers, and
white robes "if it means that we have to turn our backs on the
pain and suffering of our own children? Unless the future can
become present, thereby forcing us to make changes in this
world, what significance could eschatology have for black
people who believe that their self-determination must become a
reality now?"[41]
Revolution and Violence. I would be remiss to close this
discussion of James Cone without noting his views on revolution
and violence. Cone defines liberation as the "emancipation of
black people from white oppression by whatever means black
people deem necessary."[42] This definition would seem
to allow for the use of violence.
Cone does not advocate armed revolution against white society.
But some violence, he says, seems unavoidable. He points out
that "the Christian does not decide between violence and
nonviolence, evil and good. He decides between the lesser and
the greater evil. He must ponder whether revolutionary violence
is less or more deplorable than the violence perpetuated by the
system."[43] Injustice, slave labor, hunger, and
exploitation are all violent forms that must be considered
against the cost of revolutionary violence.
LIBERATION
THEOLOGY AND THE BLACK CHURCH
We have seen that
James Cone has developed a full theology based on a reading of
Scripture through the eyeglasses of "blackness." The question
is, How influential has black liberation theology been in the
life of the black church in America?
C. Eric Lincoln and Lawrence H. Mamiya have recently completed
a ten-year statistical study of the black church in America.
They've published their findings in a hefty volume entitled,
The Black Church in the African American Experience (1990).
Part of the Lincoln/Mamiya study dealt with black liberation
theology: "In our urban questionnaire we asked the pastors of
1,531 urban churches, 'Have you been influenced by any of the
authors and thinkers of black liberation
theology?'"[44]
Responses to the urban questionnaire were quite revealing. Only
34.9 percent of urban black clergy said they had been
influenced by black liberation theologians as opposed to 65.1
percent who said they had not. Little more than one-third of
the black pastors interviewed claimed any influence from this
movement!
Lincoln and Mamiya discerned that age and education were among
the most significant variables in determining clergy
responses:
Clergy who are forty and under claimed to be more strongly
influenced by black liberation theology than those who are
older. Education was also very strongly associated with
knowledge of black liberation theology. Pastors with a high
school and less educational background said that they were
minimally influenced by liberation theology, while those with a
college education have the most positive views of the movement.
The majority of the less educated pastors have neither heard of
the movement nor of the names of theologians associated with
it. Among educated clergy familiar with the movement, James
Cone has the highest name recognition.[45]
These differences are not that surprising, Lincoln and Mamiya
say, since black liberation theology is a relatively recent
intellectual movement "occurring largely among the educated
elite of the black clergy."[46]
Another significant variable was found to be denominational
affiliation. According to Lincoln and Mamiya, the black
denominations with higher educational levels among their clergy--such as the African Methodist Episcopal Church--are the
major proponents of liberation theology. "The fact that the
Pentecostal ministers of the Church of God in Christ, which has
the largest sector of lower-class members among the seven
[major black] denominations, have been scarcely
influenced by this theological perspective suggests some of the
class limitations of this movement."[47] This would
seem to indicate that the formulators of black liberation
theology have not been able to move beyond their middle-class
origins, even though black liberationists have sought to do
theology from the "bottom up"--that is, from the perspective
of the oppressed in American society.[48]
Based on their nationwide field experience, Lincoln and Mamiya
have observed that the majority of black clergy are educated as
apprentices--learning "on the job" under the direction of
senior clergy. What little academic education they receive is
usually at the local Bible school level. Moreover, most of
their reading is denominationally oriented. "It is this local
level of clergy education," Lincoln and Mamiya suggest, "that
the new black liberation theology has thus far failed to
penetrate."[49]
Lincoln and Mamiya close with this warning: "Unless the
movement of black liberation theology reaches beyond its
present location in an intellectual elite and gives more
attention to a mass education of clergy and laity in the
churches, the movement will continue to have minimal influence
among its key constituencies."[50]
Lincoln and Mamiya are probably correct. However, the problems
of black liberation theology go much deeper than a simple
failure to reach the masses. This I shall make clear in what
follows.
A
CRITIQUE
It is difficult for a
white person such as myself to critique black theology. As I
write, I am mindful of James Cone's conviction that any
criticism of black theology by a white theologian will be
influenced by white racism and is thus invalid.[51] To
help disarm this objection, I will draw support for each of my
points from one or more black theologians.
I want to begin by affirming that black theology has made some
important contributions. I will mention only four here. First,
black theology has reminded us that theology--if it is going
to meet the needs of twentieth century (and beyond) Christians--must find practical expression in society. Second, black
theology has reminded us that God is involved with His people
in real-life situations. Third, black theology has focused our
attention on the need to reach out to others in the body of
Christ who are suffering. And fourth, black theology serves as
an indictment against the racist views that have been
all-too-often (but not always) present among white people.
These contributions are important and extremely relevant.
Despite these contributions, however, there are some serious
problems that must be addressed. As a preface to my criticisms,
I want to draw attention to Part One of this series in which I
criticized the hermeneutic of Latin American liberation
theology. In that article, I pointed out that Latin American
theologians have approached Scripture with a preunderstanding
that has led them to interpret Scripture with a bias toward the
poor. I emphasized that if we are to understand the biblical
author's intended meaning, it is imperative that
preunderstandings be in harmony with Scripture and subject to
correction by it. This same point must be made with reference
to black theology. However, since I will not repeat any
material from Part One, I urge the reader to review my comments
on preunderstandings in that article.
"Blackness"
and Scripture
In my critique of
black liberation theology, I will focus my attention on the
particular preunderstanding which interprets Scripture through
the eyeglasses of "blackness." More specifically, I shall
address the question: Is it legitimate to make the black
experience the fundamental criterion for interpreting
Scripture?
Certainly I do not wish to minimize the importance of the black
experience. Nor do I want to come across as unsympathetic to
the plight of African Americans in a white-dominated society.
There can be little doubt that black liberation theologians
have a legitimate gripe regarding the treatment of their people
throughout American history. But imposing the black experience
(or any other experience--including feminist, gay,
anti-supernaturalist, New Age, mystic, etc.) onto Scripture
robs Scripture of its intrinsic authority and distorts its
intended meaning.
Theologians who make black experience all-determinative have,
in a way, made the same mistake some white racists did during
the days of slavery--only in reverse. Just as some whites
imposed their "experience" as slavemasters onto Scripture in
order to justify slavery, so some blacks have imposed the
"black experience" onto Scripture to justify their radical
views on liberation. Both positions have erred. For blacks to
use such an experience-oriented methodology is to condone the
very kind of method used by those who enslaved them. In my
thinking, this is self-defeating at best.
Black theologian Anthony Evans directly challenges Cone's
methodology by arguing that the black experience must be seen
as "real but not revelatory, important but not
inspired."[52] Black writer Tom Skinner agrees and
argues that "like any theology, black theology must have a
frame of reference There are some black theologians who seek to
make their frame of reference purely the black experience, but
this assumes the black experience is absolutely moral and
absolutely just, and that is not the case. There must be a
moral frame of reference through which the black experience can
be judged."[53] That frame of reference must be
Scripture.
To produce a biblical liberation theology, Scripture--not the
"black experience"--must be the supreme authority in matters
of faith and practice. By following this approach, a strong
biblical case can be constructed against racism--something I
would think should be at the very heart of a biblical black
theology.
The unity of the human race, for example, is a consistent
emphasis in Scripture--in terms of creation (Gen. 1:28), the
sin problem (Rom. 3:23), God's love for all men (John 3:16),
and the scope of salvation (Matt. 28:19). The apostle Paul
emphasized mankind's unity in his sermon to the Athenians:
"From one man he made every nation of men, that they should
inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for
them and the exact places where they should live" (Acts 17:26).
Moreover, Revelation 5:9 tells us that God's redeemed will be
from "every tribe and tongue and people and nation." Because of
the unity of humanity, there is no place for racial
discrimination--white, black, or otherwise--for all men are
equal in God's sight.
Transcending
Culture
In Part One, I
criticized the hermeneutic of Latin American liberation
theology for its inability to develop a culture-transcending
theology. Black theology's hermeneutic--with its emphasis on
the "black experience"--is open to the same criticism.
A passage relevant to this is John 4 where we find Jesus
confronting a Samaritan woman. Here Jesus deals with the
relationship between truth and culture.
The Jews considered the Samaritans an "unclean" mixed breed--with Israelite and Assyrian ancestry. Because of this, the Jews
were harshly prejudiced against the Samaritans and
discriminated against them. This cultural hostility led the
Samaritan woman to ask Jesus: "'You are a Jew and I am a
Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?' (For Jews do
not associate with Samaritans)" (John 4:9).
During the ensuing discussion, the woman asked Jesus about
which cultural place of worship was valid: Mt. Gerizim where
the Samaritans built their temple, or Jerusalem where the Jews
built theirs. Anthony Evans alerts us to the significance of
Jesus' response: "Jesus does not hesitate to let her know that
once you bring God into the picture, the issue is no longer
culture, but truth. He informs her that the question is not Mt.
Gerizim or Jerusalem, that it is not according to Samaritan
tradition or Jewish tradition (v. 21). In fact, He denounces
her cultural heritage in relation to worship, for he told her,
'Ye worship ye know not what' (v. 22). When she began to impose
her culture on sacred things, Christ invaded her cultural world
to tell her she was spiritually ignorant."[54]
Jesus transcended the whole issue of culture in discussing
spiritual issues with the woman. When it came to her
relationship with God, the issue moved from her cultural
heritage to her heart and the criteria for that relationship
was truth. Jesus acknowledged cultural distinctions, but
disallowed them when they interfered in any way with truth
about God. A principle we can derive from this is: Culture must
always take back seat to the truth of God as revealed in
Scripture.
What does this passage say to the relationship of Scripture to
the black experience? Evans answers: "It says that we as black
people cannot base our relationship with God, or our
understanding of God, on our cultural heritage. Jesus is not
asking blacks to become white or whites to become Jews, but he
insists that all reflect God's truth as given in Scripture.
Where culture does not infringe upon the Word of God, we are
free to be what God created us to be, with all the uniqueness
that accompanies our cultural heritage. However, the truth from
Scripture places limits on our cultural
experience."[55]
Reconciliation:
The Better Way
A biblical theology
of liberation must include an emphasis on reconciliation among
men, without which the theology ceases to be Christian (Eph.
2:14ff.). Black liberation theologian DeOtis Roberts (b. 1927),
though committed to liberation, agrees with this and insists
that black theology must speak of "reconciliation that brings
black men together and of reconciliation that brings black and
white men together."[56] Roberts says "it is my belief
that true freedom overcomes estrangement and heals the
brokenness between peoples."[57] However, Roberts
argues, "reconciliation can take place only between equals. It
cannot coexist with a situation of Whites over
Blacks."[58]
Roberts's point is well taken. Reconciliation and racism are
birds of a different feather; they never fly together. Genuine
reconciliation can come only if people--both black and white--commit to a scriptural view of their brothers of a different
color, seeing all people as created in the image of God (Gen.
1:26) and of infinite value to God (1 Cor. 6:20; 1 Pet.
1:18).
There is much more that needs to be said on this important
issue, but space forbids. As the theological dialogue continues
in coming years, I would like to suggest the following goal:
Let us all--both black and white--seek to build a body of
unified believers who are so committed to the Scriptures and to
Christ that the name Christian becomes truly descriptive of who
they are, and not the color of their skin.
NOTES
1 William L. Banks,
The Black Church in the U.S. (Chicago: Moody Press, 1972),
12.
2 Anthony T. Evans, Biblical Theology and the Black Experience
(Dallas: Black Evangelistic Enterprise, 1977), 19.
3 James W. English, "Could Racism Be Hereditary?," Eternity,
September 1970, 22.
4 C. Eric Lincoln, "The Development of Black Religion in
America," Review and Expositor 70 (Summer 1973):302.
5 Ibid., 303.
6 Millard J. Erickson, Christian Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker
Book House, 1983), 543.
7 James H. Cone, Black Theology and Black Power (hereafter
Theology) (New York: Seabury Press, 1969), 121.
8 Emmanuel McCall, "Black Liberation Theology: A Politics of
Freedom," Review and Expositor 73 (Summer 1976):330; cf. C.
Eric Lincoln and Lawrence H. Mamiya, The Black Church in the
African American Experience (Durham: Duke University Press,
1990), 352.
9 Lindsay A. Arscott, "Black Theology," Evangelical Review of
Theology 10 (April-June 1986):137.
10 Quoted by Clair Drake, Foreword to Garveyism as a Religious
Movement, Randall Burkett (Metucher, NJ: Scarecrow Press,
1978), 15.
11 James H. Cone, "Black Theology in American Religion,"
Theology Today 43 (April 1986):13.
12 Albert B. Cleage, The Black Messiah (New York: Sheed and
Ward, 1969), 4.
13 Charles V. Hamilton, The Black Preacher in America (New
York: William Morrow, 1972), 140.
14 James H. Cone, God of the Oppressed (New York: Seabury
Press, 1975), 3.
15 Ibid.
16 Cone, Theology, 120.
17 James H. Cone, A Black Theology of Liberation (hereafter
Liberation) (Philadelphia: J. P. Lippencott, 1970), 66.
18 Ibid., 67.
19 Ibid., 17-18.
20 Ibid., 32.
21 Cone, Theology, 6.
22 James H. Cone, "Black Power, Black Theology," Theological
Education 6 (Spring 1970):209.
23 James H. Cone, quoted in K. Bediako, "Black Theology," in
New Dictionary of Theology, ed. Sinclair B. Ferguson and David
F. Wright (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1988),
103.
24 Cone, Liberation, 32.
25 Nyameko Pityana, "What Is Black Consciousness?" Black
Theology: The South African Voice, ed. Basil Moore (London: C.
Hurst & Co., 1973), 63.
26 Cone, Liberation, 32.
27 Ibid., 29.
28 Ibid., 19.
29 H. Wayne House, "An Investigation of Black Liberation
Theology," Bibliotheca Sacra 139 (April-June 1982):163.
30 David Ray Griffin, "Values, Evil, and Liberation Theology,"
in Process Philosophy and Social Thought, ed. John B. Cobb
(Chicago: Center for the Scientific Study of Religion, 1981),
185. Process theology espouses a finite God that evolves, is
subject to change, and is intrinsically related to the
world.
31 Cone, Theology, 35.
32 J. H. Cone, "The White Church and Black Power," in G. S.
Wilmore and J. H. Cone, Black Theology: A Documentary History,
1966-1979 (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1979), 116-17.
33 James H. Cone, interviewed by Barbara Reynolds, USA Today, 8
November 1989, 11A.
34 Cone, Liberation, 21.
35 Ibid., 190.
36 Ibid., 227.
37 James H. Cone, "Black Theology and Black Liberation," in
Black Theology: The South African Voice, ed. Basil Moore
(London: C. Hurst & Co., 1973), 92, 96.
38 Cone, Liberation, 236-37.
39 Cone, Theology, 109.
40 Ibid., 123.
41 Cone, Liberation, 241-42.
42 Cone, Theology, 6.
43 Ibid., 143.
44 Lincoln and Mamiya, 178-79.
45 Ibid., 179.
46 Ibid.
47 Ibid., 180.
48 Ibid.
49 Ibid.
50 Ibid., 181.
51 Cone, "Black Power, Black Theology," 214.
52 Evans, 8.
53 Tom Skinner, If Christ is the Answer, What are the
Questions? (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Publishing House, 1975),
112-13.
54 Evans, 13.
55 Ibid., 13-14.
56 DeOtis Roberts, Liberation and Reconciliation: A Black
Theology (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1971), 152.
57 DeOtis Roberts, "Black Theology in the Making," Review and
Expositor 70 (Summer 1973):328.
58 Ibid., 327.
