A theology—and an activism—that centers struggle
In the 80s, Edicio De La Torre and other Filipino thinkers helped clergy and laypeople to understand the long-term nature of fighting for change.
Century illustration (Source images: Creative Commons)
In 1971, my aunt was in college when she received a telegram informing her that her dad, my grandpa, was dead, and she should return home to Barrio three in the provinces of Mindanao as soon as possible. My grandpa was stabbed, and the hospital had inadequate resources to tend his wounds. He died a poor farmer, landless. My father was only a boy. I don’t remember how old I was when he first told me this story, but I feel like I’ve carried it my whole life.
Stories of my family’s impoverished life as peasant farmers in the Philippines taught me how much we persevered—and how lives are cut short by the political and economic structures that extract labor while remaining indifferent to exploitation.
In college, I discovered liberation theology in the writings of Black and Latin American Christians. Liberation theology named the political implications of God’s saving work. It named sin as structural and yet proclaimed that Jesus would bring the reign of God. Liberation named the political aspirations embedded in my religious convictions: the kingdom of God means a world free from the extractive tenant farming of capitalist development, from police violence, from failing healthcare structures, from anti-Black racism, anti-Asian hate, and the coercive violence of the American empire.
