When I arrived at the University of Notre Dame to begin my Ph.D. in Theology, the very first course I took was with the Peruvian father of liberation theology Gustavo Gutiérrez. I knew him by reputation since I had read his groundbreaking first book, A Theology of Liberation, and I was very excited to meet him. Although quite short—less than five feet tall and with sort of a rolling lopsided walk—he was a theological giant.
Gutiérrez passed away on October 22, 2024. The apparent irony of the date of his death—the feast day of Saint Pope John Paul II—is not lost on me. During most of John Paul II’s papacy Joseph Ratzinger was prefect for the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (now the Dicastery) and, while prefect, issued two instructions on liberation theology, in 1984 and 1986, both critical of some of its aspects. And yet as Gutiérrez told us in class: “This was not a moment of condemnation for liberation theology. It was a time when we had to prove our reasons to the CDF” (my paraphrased class notes).
And prove their reasons they did. While theology has always been concerned with the poor and their plight, what distinguishes liberation theology is that it tries to do theology from the perspective of the poor. Gutiérrez taught us in class that there is a difference between a theological source and a theological perspective. Theology finds its enduring source in Divine Revelation: in Scripture, Tradition, and the sacramental and liturgical life of the Church. But theology draws its perspectives from places as diverse as Greek philosophy, monastic life, and yes, even aspects of Marxism. What liberation theologians did was spend time praying, speaking, and even theologizing with the poor in order to hear their perspective. New perspectives bring new questions to theology’s enduring sources, and when new questions are asked, new answers emerge.
Eventually liberation theology would enter the mainstream of the Church. In 2007 Pope Benedict XVI himself told the bishops of Latin America and the Caribbean gathered at Aparecida: “The preferential option for the poor is implicit in the Christological faith in the God who became poor for us, so as to enrich us with his poverty.” Pope Benedict XVI also named Gerhard Müller as his prefect for the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith, a man who had written two books with Gutiérrez and who was deeply committed as a professor of theology to spending his summers in Peru teaching in a poor indigenous seminary. As Müller himself reminds us, “I myself, strongly influenced by Gutiérrez, was appointed prefect of the CDF by Benedict XVI in 2012.” Liberation theology had finally “arrived”.
Or perhaps I should say: Gustavo Gutiérrez’s version of liberation theology had arrived. For there is no such thing as “Liberation Theology” per se. There are liberation theologies, and many different versions have only proliferated over the years. Some forms of liberation theology that engaged in Marxist analysis worried the Vatican. But Gutiérrez always remained a man of the Church and resolutely focused on doing theology from the perspective of the poor.
I would like to reflect on this component of Gutiérrez’s life because it maps closely onto that of another theologian often mentioned in this paper, Henri de Lubac. Matthew Levering, a theologian I greatly respect, recently wrote about an important question: What distinguishes a theology of dissent that characterized so much of post-conciliar American theology from a theology of resistance-within-receptivity? What is the distinction, Levering asks, between the corrosive doctrinal dissent of many American theologians in the 60’s and 70’s and the resistance-within-receptivity of Henri de Lubac during the years when he was silenced by the Church in the 1950s? Levering grants that there are times when a receptive resistance is required from Catholics to some forms of magisterial teaching—although never to infallible or definitively taught magisterial teachings. But de Lubac, Levering notes, did “resist the Magisterium in his scholarly work when he perceived the pope to be repressing a legitimate movement or an enduring perspective in theology. He understood his resistance to be done in accordance with the truth of Mother Church, never in opposition to the Church’s teaching.” What distinguished de Lubac was that he always “refused to react strongly, in a public way” even as he recognized that “Mother Church, as represented by human agents, is capable of some error in magisterial teaching.”
As I read Levering’s distinction between dissent and resistance-within-receptivity and his description of de Lubac, I could not help but think of Gutiérrez—along with Clodovis Boff and several others too—in contrast to other acclaimed dissenting liberation theologians. Like de Lubac, Gutiérrez too resisted the Magisterium in his scholarly work when he perceived the Vatican investigating whether liberation theology was “a legitimate movement or an enduring perspective in theology.” But unlike some other well-known liberation theologians, Gutiérrez never engaged in doctrinal dissent, even as he engaged in a certain amount of resistance. He was, like de Lubac, a homo catholicus, a man of the Church. And eventually, like de Lubac, his perspective on authentic liberation theology was accepted.
Authentic liberation theology draws its perspective from the life of the poor and from listening to the poor reflect on the meaning of the Gospel in their lives. As Gutiérrez listened to the poor as they read and prayed with Scripture, bringing their situation, their experiences, and their sufferings to Scripture, he heard something new and vital. He saw the importance of the perspective of the poor for the life of the Church as a whole. In particular, he heard the importance of what they had to say about Jesus’ offer of liberation.
Authentic liberation theology is neither “liberal” nor “conservative,” though it is often aligned with the liberal theological establishment. My grandpa (hardly a liberal) was an ardent reader of liberation theologians. Liberation theologians recognize that it is easy to become deaf to the perspective of the poor and working classes. Authentic liberation theology challenges everyone in the Church to spend time listening to the poor as they read and interpret the Word of God.
Pope Francis forcefully teaches in Evangelii Gaudium §201: “No one must say that they cannot be close to the poor because their own lifestyle demands more attention to other areas. This is an excuse commonly heard in academic, business or professional, and even ecclesial circles.” Everyone has a “good” excuse for why they cannot spend time on a weekly basis listening to the poor. Thanks to Gustavo Gutiérrez, theologians no longer do.
Houston Catholic Worker, January-March 2025, Vol. XLV, No. 1.
