Resistance and Theological Education
Healing and Liberation in Theological Education
I have been working as a formationist in both accredited theological education and spiritual formation for almost two decades now. Time flies by! One of the reasons I chose the path to become a formationist is because I love accompanying people in their faith journeys. I feel called to form incarnational leaders who love their city and seek its peace. I was never interested in traditional pastoral work. I did not want to deal with church and denominational politics. So, teaching and formation made more sense.
During my journey, I have seen first hand the use of theological education and degrees in both liberating, and hurtful ways. I have had mentors who walked with me wholeheartedly. They taught me all they could and encouraged me to think with freedom and responsibility. I have also had mentors and professors who hurt me deeply.
When I was half way through my first master’s degree, I re-encountered a professor I respected and trusted a lot. We sat down for a cup of coffee, and I asked if I could ask him a couple of questions. I was a little nervous because I deeply respected his opinions, and I looked up to him as a scholar. I knew he was serious in giving advice and recommendations. So, I plucked up my courage and asked him: “hey prof, I am thinking about pursuing a career in teaching and theological formation. Do you have any suggestions for a PhD program I can pursue?” He put his hand on his chin as if to ponder and think about something, and he responded: “I think you would do way better if you studied something less demanding, like missions, perhaps something more suited to your gifts.” I did not fully understand why, but it was clear to me that he did not think I had the capacity to go through theological research, writing, and academic rigor. Then he added: “you are more of a practical person anyway.”
I was crushed. I did not want to keep going through seminary. In fact, I did not finish that degree. His words and opinion of myself hurt me deeply. He did not believe in me. Today, I understand that he saw my resistance and desire for liberation and healing within academia as a lack of capacity. I was, and still am, very resistant to the idea of a scholar in the ivory tower. I was constantly testing academic ideas against real life situations. In addition, I was very vocal about how the theology that the seminary was teaching us at the time was irrelevant to the realities I faced while walking in solidarity with my friends in the slum communities.
Resistance
Resistance in theological education is not just limited to rejecting traditional ways of teaching, formation, and doctrinal compliance. It is also about the unwillingness to become “the white self-sufficient man, his self-sufficiency defined by possession, control, and mastery.”1 Sadly, transforming ourselves into this image has been the measure of success in many fields of study and contexts. That is why in my resistance, I refuse a paternalistic possession of the people I serve with. I am working really hard on letting go of control in the classroom and theologizing. In addition, I have come to believe that the knowledge we create as faith communities belongs to the world, not just to a few. (I know. I will have to unpack this paragraph in another post in the near future, please bear with me for now).
The mission that I have been drawn to since my seminary days isn’t one of evangelization and apologetics. It isn’t focused only on the salvation of the soul. It is concerned with healing the wounds of my context. In a way, you could say that I do have a focus on mission. I want to walk with the most vulnerable, for I have seen God in their faces, and I cannot resist God’s insistence and demands for justice, love, and peace.2
Words Matter
My experience as a formationist has taught me that words matter, and ideas have consequences. The words we speak to each other are as important as the words we utter when we theologize with one another. what comes out of our mouth can lift up our desires, and can also crush somebody else’s dreams. When we theologize, we are speaking of God to one another. We are telling stories about God. And the gods we make with our words Impact who we become as a community. Ideas, especially the hurtful ones, may stick to people’s minds and shape them. That is why I still get nervous when I step into a classroom (digital or in person), or when I write one of this reflections. If I share an opinion or an idea, it may impact somebody in ways I don’t fully understand.
As somebody who is called to form others, One thing I need to heal from is the idea of Angry God, for that is the god that requires possession, control, and mastery from its servants in theological matters and life. In other words, we need to explore the possibility that there is a God in whom there is no violence. We ought to untangle ourselves from our violent theologies. We need to resist the temptation of a strong theology, a theology from above that cares only for doctrine, ideology, and the protection of the status quo while inflicting guilt, shame, and pain onto others.
We need to heal and liberate ourselves, and healing “would begin by disabusing ourselves of the high and mighty God of strong theology who promises to make our enemies our footstool (Ps 110:1), and realizing that the name of God is the name of a weak force, of a call, like justice, which is unconditional but without sovereign power.”3 We need to let go of our violent images of God.
Perhaps, that old professor of mine was right. I am not suited for the academicism of high in the sky self-sufficient theology. I care very little about apologetics and theological arguments. Debates and the defense of the faith make no sense to me. I am more comfortable in walking with others in the mystery of our faith as it reveals itself in the face of the most vulnerable. I care for the words that I speak to the students under my care and my colleagues.
I wish I could say that I have been completely healed and liberated from the grip of academicism’s self-sufficiency. I still seek the affirmation and approval of people in theological academy. I am still in the process of letting go of my ideas of a strong, violent, and Angry God. Sometimes, I still desire a God who will triumph over my enemies and make them my “footstool.” But then, I remember that it is very likely that Angry God doesn’t exist, that we made it all up. As a result, the way I approach teaching theology relaxes in the possibility of a God in whom there is no violence.
If you want to learn about the organizations that have helped me heal my image of God check out Street Psalms, CETI Continental, and unRival Network.
You can also purchase my book, A Human Catechism.
Jennings, Willie James. After Whiteness: An Education in Belonging. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2020. Pg. 14
Levinas, Emmanuel. Totalidad e Infinito. 3ra Edición. Salamanca, España: Ediciones Sígueme, 1977. Pg. 238
Caputo, John D. The Folly of God: A Theology of the Unconditional. Salem, Oregon: Polebridge Press, 2016. Pg. 61
I love the idea of experimental. This idea is resistance in itself against the blind allegiance and compliance to doctrinal structures. It is funny to me that we made such a big deal of something that wasn’t supposed to be. I think of the disciples walking on the road to Emaus, they were theologizing. It was in there talking of God with one another that the stranger showed up and revealed himself as Jesus at the very end.
Joel, I love to see you beginning to explore the concept of power in theological education. I love that you are doing this grounded in your own story. The ideas of self-sufficiency, mastery, and a quest for control in theological education all need more exploration and reflection, not just theoretically, but in the light of lived, embodied experience. Thank you for opening that door.