Cambridge Companion to Black Theology 1.1

For the reasons I blog generally (here), I've decided to start blogging my way through "The Cambridge Companion to Black Theology" (CUP 2012).* 

At the outset, the introductory page provides that the "volume discusses normative theological categories from a black perspective ..." The Preface states, however, that it "critically analyzes black theology of liberation in its varied manifestations ..." (Emphasis added.) Perhaps the discrepancy can be explained by assuming that some blokes in Cambridge wrote the intro while the editors of the volume itself-- Dwight Hopkins and Edward Antonio--wrote the Preface. This observation would be merely pedantic except that the same inconsistency appears in Chapter 1, General introduction, written by Dwight Hopkins himself.

Hopkins begins his chapter with definitions of three important terms: theology, liberation, and black. Theology "signifies the long tradition of the various forms of Christianity beginning with the life of Jesus ..." For Hopkins theology is not a rational reflection on a person, a text, or the history of the reception of a text. Theology is a lived tradition.

In turn liberation "designates the specific mission of Jesus the Anointed One on earth, that is to say, liberation of oppressed communities to attain power and wealth." It seems hard to square Hopkins's definition of the ends of liberation with a great deal of the lived tradition of Christianity. To be sure, much of Christianity "on the ground" has been, and still is for at least some, about getting wealth and power. And keeping it. Nonetheless, starting with what is a commonly accepted version of the life of Jesus himself, and a great deal of the tradition thereafter, has foregrounded a less Nietzschian take on the goals of liberation. Inward and God-ward conceptualizations of liberation do not function in Hopkins's General introduction.

Finally, as Hopkins defines the term "black" is not a natural kind, instead it consists in the "multiple manifestation of black peoples socially constructed world-views, aesthetics, and identifies." Later in his chapter Hopkins explains that 

The racial category of "black" is both a social and phenotypic creation. True, social contexts define whether one is considered black in a definite country. So, too, does phenotype, in the sense that once race is socially and contextually defined, all who fit a certain phenotype are then understood as black.**

Having defined his field of inquiry in term of three categories--theology, liberation, and black--Hopkins sometimes goes on to deploy the phrase "black theology" in a more capacious sense. This is occasionally confusing. Nonetheless, Hopkins usually sticks to his stipulated definition and presents a plausible and short account of the origins of black liberation theology. Black liberation theology in Hopkins's account can be dated to July 31, 1966 with the publication in the New York Times of the "Black Power" document penned a number of African-American clergy. In turn, Hopkins identifies three strands of then-recent history that gave rise to the birth of black liberation theology: Dr. Martin Luther King and African-American Church practices, the secular Black Power movement triggered by the murder of Malcolm X, and the publication of a book by African-American clergyman Joseph R. Washington in which he argued that only white Christianity was a legitimate religion. (You will have to read Hopkins's chapter to find out what the heck Washington was saying.)

By carefully defining black liberation theology to exclude certain theologizing done by blacks, Hopkins is driving home a point that he believes is of world historical significance. With the forceful rejection of European colonialism went a re-centering of theology (as Hopkins defined theology) in terms of "a God of cultural, political, and individual liberation." In other words, nineteenth century (very) white theological liberalism merged with twentieth century anti-colonialism. Hopkins does not address the theologizing done by blacks working within the traditional loci of Western theology, nor with the limited reception that black liberation theology has had in black American churches. Hopkins is free to frame the subject of his chapter but from a review of the table of content it is unclear if all of the other contributors have followed Hopkins's narrower "liberation path.

One might wonder, on Hopkins account of the crucial importance of black liberation theology, is there anything on offer for whites? Yes, is Hopkins's answer where at the end of his chapter he writes:

Essentially, black theology [of liberation] grapples deeply and sincerely with the human questions of today. And, with much passion, it searches for definite answers to those challenges, because many of those questions across the world are exacerbated when they pertain to the darker-skinned communities. 

In addition, a black theology of liberation reminds everyone continually of the necessity of experiencing a passionate love for people, especially those without voices. To love one another is to recognize oneself in the face and life of another. To love someone is to ... expose oneself in the context and conversation and culture of another.

And finally, stepping out from his academic tone and adopting the voice of the Preacher, Hopkins writes:

Love is the ultimate risk of faith--a faith grounded in liberation of all humanity; a faith with a vision for a new heaven and a new earth where each person can achieve the fullest realization of his or her calling as it serves their families and the greater collective human, ecological, and cosmological whole.

A stirring conclusion redolent of the apocalyptic vision of John, yet oddly incomplete.  What reason is there to believe that a faith of love will prevail? Given human history, this faith seems unlikely to succeed in its struggle with the prevailing human condition.  One wonders--especially from a theologian--if a place for God in Hopkins's  grand vision might make it more plausible.

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* Although I sometimes blog simply to organize my thoughts and to analyze what I'm reading, I also regularly engage in critique. On the subject matter of this book, however, my grounds to critique are small; I know much less about black theology than, say, contract law. Thus, little of what I write in this occasional series will extend beyond analysis.

** I became aware of a relationship between color and status while in India, the origins of which predate significant contact with peoples from Africa or Europe.