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by Jim Hodgson

For people like me whose faith found new grounding in the waves of liberation theology that have emerged over the past 55 years or so, a global conversation about solidarity with Palestine offered a chance to reflect with people who are living with the effects not just of the present war, but of generations of conflict that preceded it.

The zoom conversation – “Transnational Solidarity Amongst Liberation Theologies: Palestine & Beyond” – organized by the Sabeel Ecumenical Liberation Theology Centre (a United Church of Canada global partner) in Jerusalem, was held Nov. 10 and drew together about 100 people from around the world.

Sabeel’s director, Rev. Dr. Naim Ateek (an Anglican priest) spoke of both the immediacy of the “crushed children of Gaza” and of the urgent need to “understand the other, respect the other, accept the other. Without those, there is not a healthy or productive exchange.”

“These are absolutely crucial when we think about rebuilding relationships (not just homes), and building solidarity for the future of all the people of Palestine and inside Israel,” he said, adding: “Have in mind the tragedy and the suffering; that is the departure point for us.”

Ateek encouraged those who would be in solidarity with Palestinians to be “pro-peace, pro-understanding, pro-liberation, and pro-reconciliation. We need to be looking for justice in accordance with international law.”

Dr. Farid Esack of the University of Johannesburg (and a member of the United Church of Canada’s first partners council a decade ago) spoke of the reflection-action process in liberation theology that drives praxis beyond theorizing. “We must always reflect on our praxis, and make that affect our praxis,” he said. “Colonialism, imperialism and capitalism always view the Earth as territory to be captured.” For Palestinians, he added, the task is to elaborate a vision of what a “post-Zionist society would look like, and for the rest of us, to follow that.”

Esack, a Muslim scholar of liberation theology in South Africa, emphasized the need to “not demonize all Jews and to always fight anti-Semitism, but I will not fall into the white trap, not privilege that above other forms of racism.”

In response to a question about the role of inter-religious dialogue in seeking justice and peace, he warned against platitudes and “a butterfly dance of escapism and digression.”

“The occupation is not a result of Jews not understanding Muslims or Christians not understanding Jews. In liberation theology, the priority now is inter-religious solidarity against occupation, the armaments industry, the military, and not to remove attention from the occupation.”

This is to put it mildly, but global South views of current conflicts tend to be different from the positions taken by leaders in countries like Canada. A Brazilian Methodist feminist theologian, Rev. Dr. Nancy Cardoso, hoped to press that point as one of the speakers invited to be part of the Sabeel conference. Working now in Angola, she was unable to join the zoom call because of internet problems. I have known her for many years, and contacted her later because I was curious about what she would have said.

“Doing liberation theology implies a distrust of the tradition of bourgeois knowledge, a guerrilla war relationship with the church, university and their bunkers and dictators, a difficult relationship with publishers and their audiences, because it is always marked by class struggle,” says the text she shared with me. 

She drew attention to the actions of “Christian Zionists” – Christian fundamentalists who think Israel needed to be re-founded so as to bring about the return of Jesus Christ – whose “apocalyptic and hypocritical visions… dream with the past.”  

“Reconstruction of hope,” Cardoso insisted, “to be real and not illusion, should spring from the poor and excluded.”

The methods of liberation theology demand re-reading of religious texts including the Bible from the perspective of the poor, she said, and “returning the text methodologically to poor communities, not as a book of power and authority but as a possibility of dialogue with other narratives of faith present in cultures.”