Abstract
Over the last five decades, the death of liberation theology has been declared and then discovered to be far too premature. Yet, with the October 2024 passing of Gustavo Gutiérrez, the rich and well-deserved praise for his singular theological contributions were coupled with questions about the lasting impact of the movement whose eponym stemmed from his 1971 masterpiece, Teología de la liberación, Perspectivas. Fortunately, with a debt of gratitude to editor Leo Guardado, we now have Gutiérrez’s final book, which provides not just a fitting coda to a magnificent career but a bold case for the ongoing contributions of liberation theology. Vivir y Pensar el Dios de los Pobres (lit. “To Live and to Think the God of the Poor”) collects the deepest insights of liberation theology and deploys them to face new challenges today, and in doing so, sets out a new mysticism—a path for Christian theology and spirituality for our times.
Like G.’s previous books, this text deals with sophisticated theological questions but avoids technical jargon. There are numerous and substantial footnotes that provide readers a voluminous bibliography on liberation theology while also indicating the wide range of intellectual interlocutors with whom G. engaged, including those from the fields of philosophy, critical theory, literature, and psychology. A literate book, it speaks powerfully to a Christian audience but can speak to a much wider one as well.
Readers familiar with G.’s books will recognize many themes he has developed previously, but this book is not an exercise in nostalgia or a final defense to critics. When the book looks backward, it does so to provide context for readers for whom the Cold War or the Second Vatican Council are the stuff of history books. Thus, ideas such as the irruption of the poor, the threefold understanding of poverty, and the emphasis on Christian praxis for justice appear as an inheritance of liberation theology demanding ongoing reflection.
This ongoing reflection makes itself felt in many ways. It means an assessment of reality that is now more intersectional and ecological. Updates of ecclesial sources ensure every mention of Vatican II or Medellín is followed by citations of Aparecida and Pope Francis. It even reflects a new self-awareness as every mention of Latin America as a region is also coupled with “and the Caribbean.” Most importantly, perhaps, the book takes a well-known methodology from Latin American theology and employs it anew to speak to the most pressing contemporary issues.
The book is structured by four major parts, and its first three reenact the “see–judge–act” methodology that has been so influential in liberation theology. Part I, “The Signs of the Times,” recalls how the so-called “irruption of the poor” configured the beginning of liberation theology and still remains a central challenge today. This challenge is not just the need for a proper analysis of our immediate reality. For G., poverty as a sign of our times disrupts what it means to live faithfully to the gospel in a world of injustice. It is social and global, but also personal, and, ultimately, mystical.
Part II’s “Recognizing the Face of Jesus” explains the theological import of the complex contemporary reality of poverty from a biblical perspective. G. has always steeped his theological reflections in the scriptures, from the more than 400 biblical citations in A Theology of Liberation, to his book On Job and his homiletical reflections in Compartir la palabra. Here, several biblical passages, along with analyses of Hebrew and Greek terms, spell out substantively the biblical rejection of material poverty and the proclamation of God’s reign as its opposite. They fuse with philosophical reflections on alterity and identity to culminate in a mysticism that recognizes “the mark of God in the face of the poor” (263).
The third part deepens the notion of the preferential option for the poor both as a way of thinking and acting. A consideration of hermeneutics and the language of God’s gratuitousness fuses with the demands of Christian discipleship in a world riven by injustice. Thus, the see-judge-act circle restarts in a fourth part that takes up the great challenges of our day with new eyes. Poverty, our modern/postmodern/postcolonial reality, and the dynamism of religious pluralism are strands in a contemporary braid that Christian theology is challenged to weave in proclaiming good news. Key to this task is always recalling that the “insignificant ones” in our midst are the revealers of God’s presence among us.
That ultimate claim confounds those critics who assume that liberation theology is horizontalist activism with no mystical character. This work explores in depth a self-revealing God in history and the possibility of human communion with that God and with each other. That is precisely why this book would also confound those more sympathetic readers who would look to liberation theology only for a political program of social transformation. Whatever spur or support that G. might provide those who wish to change the world, he frames the future of liberation theology as a profound spiritual, and yes even mystical, search for the living God.