In two previous publications, I talked about resistance and wounding in theological education. On this short reflection, I will address how communal theology is not only a way of resistance, but also a path towards healing.
When I was a sophomore in Bible college, I felt pretty comfortable with my theological knowledge. I knew I still had a lot to learn, but I believed I was beyond the average individual’s theological and biblical literacy. Little did I know, the biggest lesson I needed would come from those at the margins of society and those who dare to act, reflect, and discern in solidarity with most vulnerable.
at the end of Spring Break of that year, a good friend of mine invited me to join a theological training he had developed for grassroots leaders in vulnerable and marginalized communities.1 I showed up the first day, and I had the audacity to think that he was inviting me to share the knowledge I was acquiring in Bible college. The reality of everyday life hit me hard and quick. The group of grassroots leaders was reading the Bible from below. In other words, they were reading it in, from, and for everyday life experience and harshness. When they read the Bible, they read it through the eyes of the poor and marginalized, through the perspective of the youth murdered in their communities. I realized very soon that my theology, the Hebrew, the Greek, and all the scholars I could cite had very little to say in that context. This lesson felt like a bath of cold water. It woke me up. It shattered my illusion of self-sufficiency. It dissipated the mirage of possession, control, and mastery. (In order to understand what I am referring to, I invite you to read my previews essays on this series on Resistance and Theological Wounds)
It was a conversion experience. I knew that there were others who had done the work of reading the Bible from below. But I felt limited by an institution that was more focused on affirming doctrinal stances than doing theology. I felt isolated within the walls of the seminary. Interestingly, the community of grassroots leaders became my community. The embraced me for who I was, even with my arrogance and self-sufficiency. We became friends, companions along the way.
It was a liberating experience. It was also challenging because I was in constant tension and struggle with the institution and the self-sufficient whiteness that had made its way through my brown mind, body, and soul. Since I am a bit of a nerd, I had to find out who were the others who had experienced this before me. So, I went to the library and searched for everything that pointed me the way of liberation. I found a new love in liberation theology and theology of integral mission. And the community of grassroots leaders made sure I stayed grounded. They shaped my head, heart, and hands.
I am lucky that I have found communities who have helped me heal. For the last fifteen years. I have been on a journey that is taking me to doing theology in a community in mission, over time, and in context. This is a very specific way of theologizing for it happens through an induction process. In other words, we learn by doing theology and becoming more human as we imitate each other in positive ways. We are only humans, so we also deal with rivalries, disagreements, and tension.
The commitment to be in relationship over time opens the door for peace-building when conflict and disagreements arise. When we walk with a community for a long time, we will find people who will challenge and affirm us in love. We open ourselves to mutually form, shape, and mentor each other in community.
What makes communal theology way for resistance and healing is its diversity. When we celebrate and acknowledge our differences, we resist and heal from white self-sufficient theologizing. When we let go of control and facilitate our conversations instead of teaching from a banking perspective, we resist and heal.2 When we realize we do not posses God nor theology, we resist and heal. And, when we celebrate our human dignity instead of trying to master content and one another, we resist and heal.
I have been able to see and experience this first hand. I have friends and colleagues from different countries, cultures, theologies, and political affiliations. To some of them, I am the most progressive theologian they will ever find, and for others I am the most conservative thinker they will ever befriend. The beauty of this type of community comes about when we all come together and talk of God with one another, when we lift up our desires, and when we invite each other into the circle of our own joy3.
Communal theology is healing and liberation because it stays at the margins of academicism, yet its rigor transcends academia. It calls for a constan testing of ideas against everyday life. It dances between theory and practice in a way that transgresses academicism. We are free to speak without worrying about institutional affiliations and control. We are liberated by each other to heal from the wounds we have caused to one another. We are freed up to love and serve our communities, the most vulnerable and the most powerful with equal integrity. We keep God at the center as She reveals herself through the most vulnerable.
At this point, I don’t even know how to conclude this series. So I will close with a quote. I think it was Voltaire who said: “God is a circle whose center is everywhere and the circumference is nowhere.” That is the God of communal theology.
The Street Psalms community was hosting the training at the time. It was a global conversation with local expressions. You can go here if you want to learn more about Street Psalms.
The banking method of education is concept developed by Paulo Freire in the Pedagogy of the Oppressed. In the banking method, the teacher/professors is the owner of the content. The student is a mere recipient of that content. Education is the process in which the professor deposits the knowledge in the brain of the student as a transaction, hence the banking method of education.
The first time I ever heard of this invitation, I heard it from
. We were in a meeting in which we shared a space as free of rivalry as possible through unRival.netowrk. Gareth’s words have stuck with me and have become a guiding mantra: “invite others into the circle of your joy.”
I just recently came back to this piece to re-read it, and I have to ask: Have you found any published (formally or self-published) theologians or religious thinkers you would recommend?
(Because of my educational plans for the next year, my ability to do this kind of communal theology is very limited. Even if I find myself crossing gender, racial, ethnic, national bounds, I find myself still reading theologians who are generally of the same educational level—and honestly, I’d assume most of them are in the same socioeconomic bounds, too. I’d love to be able to learn theology from people who have learned their theology by practice and combining it with their realities—not just studying it in seminary, as much as I think that has it’s place for being useful and spiritually formative.)