LIBERATION THEOLOGY: A SEMANTIC APPROACH

by

Harold B. Kuhn

It is a commonplace that there are several forms of theology which are called by the qualifier "Liberation," each of which in its own right professes to outline some form of deliverance for a group feeling itself to be disadvantaged or marginated. Latterly however, the term "Liberation Theology" has become most commonly and clearly associated with Latin America. The conditions which prevail in this part of the world do, of course, condition the objectives which Latin American Liberation Theology seeks to achieve. The economic and political factors which affect the mutual relationships between the United States on the one hand, and the Latin American Republics on the other, serve also to bring theological reflection in the South forcibly to the attention of our own theological scene.

The special historical conditions prevailing in Latin America tend also to cause the peoples of the area to develop in a special way the theological pluralism which is part of today's theological scene. For instance, theologians from the region insist that classic "Northern" theologizing has failed to take into account the context of experience in their lands. Feeling that important segments of the Word of God have been neglected in the theologies of the North, the creative minds of this segment of the world call, not only for an enlargement of northern theological perspectives, but also for a total indigenizing of Latin American theology-a regional re-orienting of classical American-West European theology(-ies).

Much of what is being written in analysis of Latin American Liberation Theology tends to present such diversity that the reader easily becomes lost in the maze of statements and counter statements. This paper aims to elucidate the major features of Liberation Theology by means of a glossary of terms-terms which tend to take on a specialized use and in some cases to become mere slogans. There is no special significance in the order in which I have chosen to take up and define these terms. Some of the definitions may tend to reinforce one another, in which case later ones may be elucidated by those discussed earlier.

One would naturally think that, given the title "Liberation Theology," the meaning of the term "Liberation" would be unambiguous, or at least clearly defined. Actually, the definition is far from clear. James Thomas O'Connor notes at this point that:

A major difficulty in definition is found in the fact that advocates of the Liberation Theology tend to identify every form of liberation as being Christ-oriented. As a result, one may ask, what necessity is there of being explicitly Christian at all, or even of being identified with the Church? As O'Connor points out: "May not the liberating work of a Che Guevara be as anticipatory (Christologically) as that of a Helder Camara? May not a Marxist or socialist ideology be as liberating . . . for man as a Nicene Creed?"2

The issue becomes even more complicated as one notes the manner in which liberation theologians utilize the account of the Exodus as a paradigm for every form of liberation. And the more the concept of liberation becomes politicized, the more difficult it becomes to view it as a genuinely theological concept at all. Now, no Evangelical will deny that Christian redemption is liberating in its very nature and in its true thrust. And within the Wesleyan understanding of things, personal liberation in an Evangelical sense does have profound implications for the expression of that reality in the believer's social milieu.

However, many or most of the applications of the term in conventional Latin American usage tend to follow the model of the Medellin Conference of 1966 in setting "theology of liberation" against what is rather easily termed "theology of oppression." By this last is meant that most of Western Christianity (should we say, Western Christendom?) has either stood on the side of the oppressor, or else, and worse still, has been the oppressor.

It is important to note also, that Latin American thinkers have come to view the liberal theology of the late nineteenth-century and its development in our century as an instrument of continued domination and exploitation. This will be noted in another perspective under the rubric of "Development," but it should be noted here that such a thinker as Gustavo Gutierrez regards American theology as a mere continuation of "the dominant European theology" with its colonial mentality.3

Gutierrez faults the liberal churchmen for promising the developing world a kind of utopia and suggesting that the developing nations would follow the developed world (i.e., the United States and Western Europe) in economic and technological matters. The bitter disappointment of the liberation theologians came from the fact that such "development" provided active participation in economic progress only to the white creole elite, so that "The poorer sectors, Indians, Blacks and Mestizos, either had no participation, or they had a passive participation, in many cases only sporadically."4 It follows that "liberation" means for the Latin American masses deliverance from the exploitation which came through the identification of the Latin bourgeois interests with those of the same class in Western Europe and the United States.

This means that "liberation" must ultimately free the Latin American masses from "the exploitation carried out by the modern countries [which was] . . . a traumatic experience which cannot be forgotten when one speaks of freedom and democracy in the continent."5 This will involve, as a minimum, economic liberation of the peoples "south of the border" from the entire Northern World's system vis-a-vis Latin America, together with their political liberation from their own creole elite.

Such "liberation" is envisioned as reciprocal, particularly in its theoretical and ideological aspect. Here is proposed a freeing of both oppressed and oppressor, perhaps in reverse order. That is to say, when oppression ceases, the invisible sickness of the oppressing powers will be healed, no less than that of the visible (economic) sickness of the disadvantaged and marginalized masses.

Not only are the oppressing persons, agencies and systems to be liberated, but theology itself (that is, the dominant theology of the North, and particularly that of the self-deceived conciliar theology) must undergo a process of freeing. This is indicated dramatically in the title of the volume by Juan Luis Segundo, The Liberation of Theology. Father Segundo's thesis is that a return to the Reformers under the formula "faith seeking Understanding" will bring theological changes affecting the depths of Christian consciousness, and will again place "Jesus and Christian Faith on the side of the struggle for liberation."6

With this Gustavo Gutierrez agrees, in that he sees, contra Marx, that the religious impulse is a valid consciousness, and one to be turned as Richard J. Neuhaus puts it, toward "the task of history and away from the suprahistorical preoccupations that characterize most religious life at present."7 The Rev. Mr. Newhaus objects to one of the major theses of Gutierrez's A Theology of Liberation, in that it "comes close to providing carte blanche legitimation for joining almost any alleged revolutionary struggle to replace any allegedly repressive regime."8 Similarly, he feels that Gutierrez's projection of "a new man in a new society" is most precarious, and in reality suprahistorical.9 Schubert Ogden points out that the term "liberation" is poorly defined with respect to that which it intends.

And yet this confusion occurs constantly in the literature of liberation theologians. All too frequently, after outlining political and economic liberation and giving it high priority, these writers as a seeming afterthought note that individual spiritual liberation is also necessary. What is at stake here is, of course, a matter of priorities.

Much more might be said concerning some of the features of Liberation Theology which seem from our perspective to be excessive. Perhaps one of the most serious of these is pointed out in Thomas M. McFadden's preface to Liberation, Revolution, and Freedom. Quoting from Juan Luis Segundo's Our Idea of God, McFadden notes "that Latin America has its own special destiny to proclaim a new understanding of the Christian tradition and of western civilization."11 Equally sweeping is the statement of Gustavo Gutierrez: "The theology of liberation is a theology of salvation in the concrete historical and political circumstances of today."12

Statements such as these indicate some of the outer perimeters of this form of "doing theology" as these are perceived by its major advocates.

The immense sociocultural transformation of the modern age is marked by a growing awareness of the economic basis for that transformation. For decades, the term "development" promised to meet the yearnings of modern men and women for better living conditions. The countries north of the equator were expressing in their economic life the optimism of conventional liberalism, with its rather uncritical acceptance of the view that the developing lands need only follow the example of the industrial powers (i.e., in economic expansion) and that such a policy would bring a corresponding improvement to their standards of life.

Liberation theology has given currency to the view that the idea of development is by no means a univocal one, but one which is capable of several definitions. It is increasingly clear that its expositors have rejected decisively the usual "liberal" definition of the term. The grounds for this rejection are complex, but have as a common denominator the contention that conventional development rests upon a "headstart" basis-that is, that it had as a prius an economic and industrial base which enabled developed lands to chart their own course. Such a base, it is alleged, is lacking in the developing lands, with the result that they are in no position to develop on their own terms in the bourgeois world. Gutierrez, especially, rejects developmentalism as being at all points hopelessly wed to capitalist scenarios.

GNP and per capita income may serve as indicators for the northern nations; but their achievement in developing lands is inhibited, or even prevented, by the structures of international economics. Thus development as a global process is held to be, in our time, impossible, and development has thus become a pejorative term. True, attempts were made to improve the lot of Latin American lands in the '50s, but because they did not correct the roots of the economic situation existing between North and South, they only led to frustration, and confusion. Liberation theologians note that developing in the modernizing sense was controlled by international agencies which were in turn controlled by the massive forces controlling the world economy. These agencies worked with local oligarchies-the creole interests-so that the changes were really means to increase the power of massive economic groups.

Thus, development in the sense intended by the industrialized nations seems to such theologians inadequate to fulfill the hopes of the developing lands for conditions which will enable their peoples to lead full and human lives. Added to this is the rising consciousness that the peoples of the developing lands have of themselves as marginated, and the increasing clarity with which they see that, like the other and more privileged peoples of the world, they must hold the reins of their own destiny. No doubt Marxism has served to enhance this conviction, albeit containing its own hidden agenda. But the masses of the underprivileged find it difficult if not impossible to see any alternative, to Marxism, and it is not to be wondered that they fall for its promises. It is felt, further, that the term "development" contains hidden agenda of a type inimical to the well-being of the marginated peoples. There are not lacking those who would tendentiously cultivate this conviction.

Thus, it is held by liberation theologians that the term "liberation" is far more relevant as a leitmotif for the developing world. It carries the meaning of self-determination-of marginated persons coming to live and work, not as passive observers of events, but as agents of history. It is widely felt that development has not, and cannot, offer guidance of this type, and that a new perception of roles can be afforded only by an ideology which enhances man's self-perception as a creative subject.

While "development" originally connoted economic achievement, it has been extended to include cultural and social progress as well. But Latin Americans feel that the North has persisted in putting economic progress in place of social improvement. This revolutionary groups feel they must oppose. Consumerism, especially, is faulted for this same error. At Medellin, there was quoted with approval Marx's observation to the effect that "The production of too many useful things results in the creation of too many useless people."13 Medellin condemned the consumer-oriented society in the name of a voluntarily assumed poverty. This mood would thus repudiate development as a proper Leitmotif for Latin American socioeconomic progress today.

One of the most tendentious usages of language by advocates of the Liberation Theology is that of the term "violence." They customarily employ the word with some such qualifying adjective as "systemic," "structural" or "institutionalized." The usual meaning in such cases is that any use of force, whether physical, economic or psychological, is to be regarded as violence if it leads to inequities in society or to unfair dominance by any system or persons over one set or group of individuals.

The Cardiff Consultation of the World Council of Churches elaborates this use (or misuse) of the term "structural violence" to characterize the uneven distribution of vital resources or the concentration of resources in the hands of a privileged group, leading either to dominance over other nations, or to the exploitation of the underprivileged in their own society. In this view, overt force need not be present in a situation of violence. Although no one should deny that there is injustice in such situations, we may properly question whether the unjust situation legitimates the use of the term "violence" here, at least in a univocal manner. With its almost compulsive desire to ingratiate itself with the Third World, conciliar Christianity tends to be closed-minded here in favor of the more sweeping use of the term.

Apart from the semantic issues two problems stem from this usage. First, it renders ambiguous any exercise of coercion by legitimate governments, for aggrieved persons may equate any use of powers of coercion with structural or institutionalized violence. Second, the identification of violence with injustice affords an easy justification for revolutionary counter violence, for it tends to equate any maintenance of law and order with structural violence in support of the status quo.

Advocates of this definition of the term "violence" frequently maintain that the concept is an analytical tool, employed in specialized situations, in which injustice is maintained by the guardians of the established order, to rally support for any and all measures required for an answering use of counter violence. However, the indiscriminate identification of injustice with violence fails to take into account the ambiguities involved in the use of force in current society. We are inclined to agree with Paul Ramsey, that rather than call all unjust forms of socio-economic configuration "violent," we apply the term "gravely unjust" to those societies which actually institutionalize inequity.14 Those who oppose Ramsey at this point seem to do so largely on the ground that the words "gravely unjust" fail to carry the impact or emotional weight borne by the term "violence."15

From the practical point of view, two observations may be in order. First, the more inclusive use of the term "violence" seems to foster a violence-prone mentality. Second, in much of Latin American thought, counter violent forms of reaction to injustice, such as guerilla activity, seem to have lost much of their romantic appeal, since the death of Che Guevara, and more especially, the death of Camilo Torres. The latter is said to have turned to guerilla activity only as a last resort, when he felt all other means had failed.

The term "conscientization," which is reportedly a horror to experts in the English language, is a neologism which has been brought into currency in connection with Latin American Liberation Theology by Paulo Freire, a Brazilian now living in exile. The term emerged from Freire's experimentation with education in northwestern Brazil. Beginning with programs for literacy, he perceived early that literacy was no isolated element, but that it was integrally related to reform movements which were gaining momentum in all of Latin America. He saw, further, that illiteracy and socio-economic conservatism were causally related, and that the limitation of educational possibilities to the upper classes was a techinique used by privileged elites to maintain and foster unjust situations. Where it was impossible to prevent general education, thought Freire, the creole elite manipulated the schooling of the youth of underprivileged classes to their own interest.

Fearing that his work of cultivating literacy, especially at the adult level, was being utilized to spread subversive ideas and to foster social revolt, the Brazilian government in 1963 forced Freire into exile. It was at this point that the concept of conscientization took mature shape. The term was soon taken over by others, and has been defined in several ways, some friendly, some unfriendly. Some see it as a simple synonym for "consciousness building." Others define it in terms of its objective of reversing the internalization of negative cultural myths by oppressed people. The noted sociologist Peter Berger terms it "the cognitive preparation for revolutionary activity."16 J. G. Davies terms it "an awakening of the critical consciousness which produces an experience of social discontent."17 Another seeks to define the term by asking and answering two questions: first, Whose consciousness? The Masses. Second, By whom raised? The Vanguard.

To understand Freire's concept of conscientization, which concept has been adopted widely since his exile in the vernacular of the Liberation Theology in Latin America, one needs to note his understanding of levels of consciousness. He terms the lowest of these levels "intransitive consciousness," by which he means the bondage of the masses in what may be called a one-dimensional state of oppression. To those bound in this level, biological needs otherwise seen at a minimal level occupy the entire stage of human attention, while there is lacking any perspective of history in which change might be envisioned.

The second level Freire terms "semi-intransitivity" or "magical consciousness." This, he thinks, is the form of consciousness which prevails in the societies of the Third World. It is, basically, a form of consciousness which is fatalistic-which accepts closed societies, socio-economic forms of status quo, and an overall form of pessimistic givenness in life. It tends institutionally to national inferiority complex, and an accompanying tendency to accept dependence as a law of life.

The second level does, of course, parallel the analytical form of Marx, who saw society, not only in polarization (between oppressor and oppressed), but also as reflecting a "superstructure-infrastructure" relationship. It may and frequently does give way, thinks Freire, to a third form of consciousness, called "naive" or "semitransitive." Here the lower levels of society begin to be articulate. Instead of perceiving reality as determined by destiny or fate, persons begin to see that the social, economic and cultural environment is created by persons. In consequence they begin to envision the taking of some of the instruments of control into their own hands.

The highest level of consciousness is for Freire that of "critical consciousness," in which men and women begin to investigate critically their problems, and to develop ability to shoulder responsibility for their own destiny. This level is produced by the process of conscientization, which begins in the rejection of all forms of dehumanization by oppressive structures. The aim of conscientizing education is to produce radical criticism not only of the structures themselves, but of the theoretical justification for them. Integral to this is a new awareness of grievances, and a new willingness to move into the element of praxis, which is seen as an authentic union of reflection and action.

Conscientization thus appears as an educational methodology, designed to bring a uniting of knowledge of one's interests with a willingness to take steps to secure and achieve these interests. Thus it is a mode of education which enlarges the awareness of the presence and work of oppressive institutions, and produces an acute sense of being outrageously marginated. It is clear that this has profound implications for education, particularly in Latin America. Learning and facts are to be brought together in terms of praxis, which involves these basic steps: awareness of one's concrete (and exploited) situation, understanding of the historical elements by which this situation has come to exist, awareness of the possibility that this situation may be changed, and by which means, and willingness to act to produce such change. Thus, conscientization is a process which utilizes the dialectic between reflection and action, leading to a radical rejection of one reality, and proclaiming a new reality to take its place.

This crucial term in Latin American Liberation Theology suggests radical indoctrination against a prevailing order, and in favor of one so radically different that it seems incapable of being achieved in any manner short of violent and cataclysmic revolution. Whether the extension of Marxism as an analytical tool to its employment as a working ideology will follow as an inescapable result in Latin America remains to be discovered.

Finally, we note a definition of our term by one of the major leaders in the form of theology under discussion, Gustavo Gutierrez: Conscientization, in practical application, leads to a situation in which "the oppressed themselves can freely and creatively express themselves in society and among the people of God, until they are the artisans of their own liberation. . . ."18

While these terms are not favorites with liberation theologians, they do appear occasionally in primary sources and rather more frequently in writings by critics of this theological form. A case in point appeared in the February 19, 1979 issue of Worldview, which featured a study entitled "A Politicized Christ" by Edward R. Norman. Norman cites as a background the gathering of assorted Christians at Nairobi for the Fifth Assembly of the World Council of Churches. In a flamboyant speech, Dr. Robert McAfee Brown, in gentle self-flagellation, acknowledged not having "made Jesus political enough," and proceeded to confess the sins of the Bourgeois world. Norman then spells out the current meaning-and extent-of politicization of the Christian Evangel.

The term "politization" as currently used does not refer simply to the introduction into political activity of Christian spokespersons. This phenomenon has been, in varying degrees, characteristic of Christians from the earliest times, and more so as the Church developed within relatively free societies, within which believers might speak out on matters of social concern. The word denotes rather, "the internal transformation of the faith itself, so that it comes to be defined in terms of political values-it becomes essentially concerned with social morality rather than the ethereal qualities of immortality. "19

Such a process does of course involve a conceptual framework; this is, in the cage of Latin American Liberation Theology, furnished negatively by the reaction against the developed world, and affirmatively (we think) by the frank adoption of the Marxist model-ostensibly for purposes of analysis. Reflecting a readily justified anger against the practices of the North vis-a-vis its neighbors to the South, Christian leaders of the Latin world have been directed to re-define their religious values and categories by terms which seem, from the biblical standpoint, to reflect a moralism derived from secular sources and only obliquely Christian. That is to say, the measuring rod of the newer "doing of theology" becomes the secularized values of contemporary liberal culture. Supposing themselves to be bringing Christian values as a critique upon their current predicament, these theologians seem rather to make the modern secular consciousness to be the ultimate criterion for theology-for religious truth.

It is an easy step from the acceptance of the modern secular consciousness as a dominant criterion, to the selection of an analytical model which is only in the most remote sense compatible with the ideals of revealed Christianity. Thus, one can understand, from this perspective, the attractive power of the Marxist model. The increasing secularization and politicizing of all values in today's society reduces in increasing measure the power of the transcendent in the public consciousness. And the vacuum which this creates brings a favorable climate for the acceptance of whatever ideology is advanced in the name of the humanizing of society and the development of humanness within society.

Politicization is a process affecting in a large way the clergy, both individually and as a class. This is crucial for the Church in Latin America, since it can easily lead to a total reinterpretation of Christianity. Opinions differ with respect to the impact, present and future, of politicization upon the Church, with a significant number of observers feeling that Politicized clergy have an effect out of proportion to their numerical strength. That is to say, many find it to be chiefly a phenomenon among upper echelon, especially conciliar, clergy who tend, in Latin America as elsewhere, to speak largely for themselves, and to be relatively out of touch with the grass-roots of the religious life. In any case, politicization is the clerical counterpart of the process of conscientization.

Two other terms which form part of the colloquial vocabulary of Latin American Liberation Theology are orthopraxis and praxis. The former of these is frequently set in antithesis to the term "orthodoxy." In this usage it is strongly implied that "actions speak more loudly than words" and that those who seek to maintain right belief frequently manifest ethical blind spots, especially in situations in which they have a vested interest in the continuation of structures of injustice. Certainly it cannot be denied that Evangelicals have been open to this allegation, and that the holding of correct belief is frequently a substitute for the kind of attitudes and actions which correct doctrine ought to inspire.

Praxis is, of course, a term oriented toward action, as opposed to a course oriented in the direction of reasoned posturing. Orthopraxis is, in turn, the correct form of praxis, at which one may inquire, Who can select the correct form? Latin American theologians have not been hesitant in their suggestions at this point. Correct praxis inheres in being opposed to all that negates the freedom of the peoples, and especially the marginated peoples, in the Latin American republics. This implies, as Hugo Assmann suggests in his Theology for a Nomad Church, being anti-imperialistic, antitechnocratic, and (on a national scale) anti-oligarchic.20 As a paradigm, the same writer suggests that "Jesus and the prophets opposed the cultism and legalism of orthodoxy with the orthopraxis' of truth made history by means of effective action in the world."21

Of major importance here is the intention of liberation theologians to be reflective, not in any rationalistic or system-making manner, but in the sense of being analytic with respect to underlying realities. Their first concern is with those realities which deprive men and women of the freedom and opportunity to achieve a self-respecting direction of their own destinies. Orthopraxis is, in this light, action dictated by the need to move away from the enslaving model of development, and in the direction of what Assmann calls "a new polarization of thought and action" (italics his).22 Thus is to be produced a "praxiology" of liberating faith in the world.

Practice thus becomes the inescapable starting point for the doing of a liberating theology. "Reflection ceases to have a world of its own and becomes simply a critical function of action."23

Here some will perceive the two terms under discussion as a sort of anti-language, which proclaims truth within the narrow limits of that which serves liberating purposes. It resists all traditional dogmatism, particularly with respect to the canons of the past, and all a priori forms making claim to being truth. In this anti-language only the taking of risks and the fulfillment of commitment can be regarded to be legitimate human ways of doing.

In the light of the foregoing, it is possible to draw some generalizations, particularly on the points of contact or conflict between Latin American Liberation Theology and the historic Wesleyan manner of formulating theology. It should be said, first, that this Latin American form is not merely a revised version of the social gospel. The latter came from within an advantaged group, whereas the theology of liberation has emerged as a movement of disadvantaged groups-or of their spokesmen.

Liberation theology is the result of serious reflection on the meaning of Christian faith-made within a specialized context in which the prevailing religious climate of marginated peoples is nominally Christian, rather than non-religious. It seeks to offer a reasoned belief that its claims are appropriate to a true Christian witness, and that they are shaped by a liberal commitment to a humanized existence. Certainly the objectives are laudable, and in harmony with historic Wesleyan concern for the uniting of personal and social holiness.

Liberation Theology as we have discussed it is, in reality, a certain way of "doing theology." As such, it shares the weakness (we believe) of most of the allegedly dynamic modes of "doing theology," namely that of rationalizing positions already taken. It assumes, rather uncritically it seems to some of us, that Christian theology exists basically for its liberating praxis, this being too frequently defined rather narrowly.

More specifically, it seems to many that it unduly minimizes the metaphysical aspects of Christian theology, especially the nature and being of God. It opts too easily for God's existential significance. It is noteworthy that even a process theologian like Schubert Ogden senses this as a grave weakness.24 Actually, with the exception of Juan Luis Segundo, liberation theologians ignore or bypass the major question of the existence and nature of the Almighty.25 This leads, of course, to a narrow understanding of Christian missions, and indeed of the Mission of the Church.

Liberation Theology as has been here under observation differs widely from historic Wesleyan understanding of theological discourse in that it tends to be too restricted in its understanding of the larger question of the many bondages from which liberation is needed, e.g., the more subtle forms of bondage which touch both personal and social living. Notable among such bondages is that by which those who are "carnal and sold under sin" remain that way.

Finally, this form of theology, like most conventional forms of theology, fails to take with sufficient seriousness the fact that all who take to heart the Christian witness find alienation from existent systems to be "the normal existence for the people of God."26 Liberation theology seeks to establish its own form of "being conformed to this world," forgetting that all empirical societies, even those with Marxist bases, are earthbound, and omit a dimension which will, at least in "the hour of our deaths," overshadow in importance all others. This dimension tends, in this theology as elsewhere, to become lost in the maze of the confusions which modern complex society produces. The primary significance of the life to come, and the emphasis upon the possession by each human being of "a never-dying soul to save and fit it for the sky," are the points that our own tradition needs consciously to maintain in the face of the myriad voices of secularity in our time.

1James Thomas O'Connor, Liberation: Towards a Theology for the Church in the World, According to the Second General Conference of Latin American Bishops at Medellin, 1968 (Rome: Of ficium Libri Catholici, 1972), p. 14.

2Ibid., p. 63.

3Gustavo Gutierrez and M. Richard Schaull, Liberation and Change (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1977), p. 69.

4Ibid., p. 70.

5Ibid., p. 71.

6Juan Luis Segundo, The Liberation of Theology, trans. John Drury (Maryknoll, N. Y.: Orbis, 1976).

7Richard J. Neuhaus, "Liberation Theology and the Captivities of Jesus," in Mission Trends No. 3: Third World Theologies, ed. Gerald H. Anderson and Thomas F. Stransky (New York: Paulist Press, 1976), p. 51.

8Ibid., p. 56.

9Ibid., p. 57.

10Schubert Ogden, Faith and Freedom (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1979), p. 99.

11Thomas M. McFadden, ed., Liberation, Revolution and Freedom, Theological Perspectives, Proceedings of the College Theology Society (New York: Seabury Press, 1975), p. 16.

12Gutierrez, "The Hope of Liberation," in Mission Trends No. 3, p. 68.

13O'Connor, Liberation. Towards a Theology, pp. 93f.

14Paul Ramsey, "The Betrayal of Language," Worldview, February 1971, pp. 8f.

15John Gordon Davies, Christians, Politics and Violent Revolution (Maryknoll, N. Y.: Orbis Books, 1976), pp. 134f.

16Peter Berger, "The False Consciousness of 'Consciousness Raising,' " in Mission Trends No. 4: Liberation Theologies in North America and Europe, ed. Gerald H. Anderson and Thomas F. Stransky (New York: Paulist Press, 1979), p. 97.

17Davies, Christians, Politics, p. 100.

18Gutierrez, "The Hope of Liberation," p. 69.

19Christianity and Crisis, February 19, 1979, p. 18.

20Hugo Assmann, Theology for a Nomad Church (Maryknoll, N. Y.: Orbis Books, 1975), p. 34.

21Ibid p. 35.

22Ibid., p. 50.

23Ibid., p. 74.

24Ogden, Faith and Freedom, pp. 47-53.

25Ibid., p. 71.

26Jim Wallis, "Liberation and Conformity" in Mission Trends No. 4 p. 55.