Advent Week 4: Church, World, and Eschatology in Black Theology

Advent is the four weeks before Christmas. More precisely, it is three full weeks plus whatever fraction of a week is needed to get to Christmas. What we usually do around here at this time of year is pick an Advent-related topic and talk about it for four weeks.

This year we will be talking about A Black Theology of Liberation by James H. Cone, a work which I believe to be timely in this cultural moment.

Written in 1970, this book has become one of the classics of black theology.  Cone’s work parallels many of the emphases of liberation theology, which was developing in Central and South America at around the same time, though Cone was unaware of this at the time.  In Cone’s view, theology is all about understanding what God is doing in the world, which centers first and foremost around liberation of the oppressed.  Last week we looked at chapter 6, which deals with the role of Jesus Christ in black theology.  This week we will be covering chapter 7, which deals with the concepts of church, world, and eschatology in black theology.

I gave this warning in prior weeks and will repeat it this week:  If you are a white person reading A Black Theology of Liberation and you are not uncomfortable, you’re not reading A Black Theology of Liberation.  This work will expose every raw nerve of white fragility in your entire being, but we must all do the work and get through this.  If what Cone says is true, then we are not in a good place and much that we have believed as white Americans and white Christians needs to change.

First we come to the church.

The Christian church is that community of persons who “got the hint,” and they thus refuse to be content with human pain and suffering.  To receive “the power of God unto salvation” places persons in a state of Christian existence, making it impossible for them to sit still as their neighbors are herded off to prison camps.  The hint of the gospel moves them to say no to the rulers of the world:  “If our brothers and sisters have to go, it will be over our dead bodies.”  They are the ones who believe in the gospel of liberation, convinced that personal freedom is more important than “law and order.”

The church is never on board with anyone’s notions of “law and order”.  Almost a century ago now, Hitler came to power in Germany promising “law and order” in much the same language that American politicians have used since then.  Over six million Jews paid with their very lives for Hitler’s notions of “law and order”.  Today, millions of blacks and other minorities are rotting away in our prisons, and thousands upon thousands have lost their lives at the hands of racist police officers, all as part of the price to be paid for “law and order” here in America.

If you are part of the church, then that is not okay with you.

I don’t care what you really think about this.  I’m telling you:  If you are part of the church, then that is not okay with you.

According to Cone, the task of the church is threefold.  First, it proclaims the reality of divine liberation, that is, it preaches the gospel.  What “preaching the gospel” looks like today is telling blacks that their time of slavery has come to an end and telling whites to let go of the chains.  Second, the church shares in the struggle for liberation.  Although their time is up, the powers-that-be in the old order of white supremacy try to act like they are still in charge.  It is the church’s job to stand up and say “No you’re not.  Your time is up, now shut up and go away.”  Third, the church is to be a visible manifestation that the gospel message which it preaches is a reality.  For too long the church has lived as if the message of liberation for the oppressed is not a reality, and that has to stop.

Next we come to the world.

The world is earthly existence, the place where human beings are enslaved.  It is where laws are passed against the oppressed, and where the oppressed fight back even though their efforts seem futile.  The world is where white and black persons live, encountering each other, the latter striving for a little more room to breathe and the former doing everything possible to destroy black reality.

The world is not a metaphysical entity or an ontological problem, as some philosophers and theologians would have us believe.  It is very concrete.  It is punching clocks, taking orders, fighting rats, and being kicked around by police officers.  It is where the oppressed live.  Jews encountered it in concentration camps, Amerindians on reservations, and blacks on slave ships, in cotton fields, and in “dark” ghettos.  The world is white persons, the degrading rules they make for the “underprivileged,” and their guilt-dispelling recourse to political and theological slogans about the welfare of society “as a whole.”  In short, the world is where the brutal reality of inhumanity makes its ungodly appearance, turning persons into animals.

So how does the church engage with the world?  Retreating from the world is not an option.  This is a luxury that oppressed people cannot afford because it is contrary to their daily lived experience.  Oppressed people, by their very nature as oppressed people, have no place to go and no means to escape the reality of their oppression which confronts them every waking moment of their existence.  Thus, for the church to retreat from the world is to deny its very calling to proclaim the gospel of liberation for the oppressed, to take up the struggle for liberation, and to live as if the gospel message is a reality.

Embracing the world is not an option for the church either.  “Embracing the world” does not mean that we have a lightshow and keyboards and drums in the worship band, or that the service has taken on a “seeker-friendly” format.  Instead it means that we have conflated Christianity and Christian values with nationalism, capitalism, and everything that Donald Trump is all about.  It means that we are willing to link arms with the worst specimens of humanity for the sake of a political leader who is himself one of the worst specimens of humanity but promises to appoint Supreme Court justices who share our political sympathies.  It means proclaiming for all the world to hear that God is VERY OFFENDED at the so-called slaughter of millions of unborn children yet has absolutely nothing whatsoever to say about the centuries of blatant injustice that blacks and native Americans have endured at the hands of white supremacist America.

To think of the church in this society is to visualize buildings with crosses and signs designating Sunday morning worship.  It is to think of pious white oppressors gathering on Sunday, singing hymns and praying to God, while their preachers talk endlessly about some white cat who died on a cross.  For some reason, it never enters the minds of these murderers that Jesus Christ does not approve of their behavior.  Christ dies not to “save” them but to destroy them so as to recreate them, to dissolve their whiteness in the fire of judgment, for it is only through the destruction of whiteness that the wholeness of humanity may be realized.

Finally we come to eschatology.  Any theology that is worth anything has to address the question of what happens to us after we die.  “Eschatology” is a big fancy word that smart church people love to throw around which refers to what happens after we die.  White theology deals with the question of what happens after we die by basically not dealing with it.  White people devise all manner of diversions to evade the issue of death:  hobbies, vacations, big houses and fancy cars and all the other nice things that money can buy.  White theology concerns itself with idle speculations:  harps, pearly gates, streets paved with gold, all in the great by-and-by.  The world is gonna go to shit but don’t worry, we will all be raptured away before it all goes down.

Black theology, by contrast, cannot afford the luxury of idle speculation.  White supremacist oppression is part of the everyday lived experience of black people, consequently the possibility of death is an ever-present reality.  Any eschatology offered by black theology must take this into account.

Life-and-death questions are not hypothetical questions, and answers are not found in a theology or philosophy class.  The answers to questions about the end come when we face the reality of future nonexistence in the context of existence that is characterized by oppression and liberation.  We know what the end is when we face it head-on by refusing, at the risk of death, to tolerate present injustice.  The eschatological perspective must be grounded in the historical present, thereby forcing the oppressed community to say no to unjust treatment, because its present humiliation is inconsistent with its promised future.

Eschatology in black theology does not consist of idle speculation about the rapture and an eternity of heavenly bliss in some far-off place and time that has nothing to do with present reality, waiting idly for said heavenly bliss while enduring all manner of injustice in the here and now.  Instead, the eschatology of black theology is a very down-to-earth thing in which we all work to make the promise of supposed future bliss a reality in the here-and-now.  The possibility of death is an ever-present reality, yet we do not fear it and we do not let it stop us.

We now believe that something can be done about this world, and we have resolved to die rather than deny the reality expressed in black self-determination.  With this view, heaven is no longer analyzed the way it used to be.  Heaven cannot mean accepting injustice in the present because we know we have a home over yonder.  Home is where we have been placed now, and to believe in heaven is to refuse to accept hell on earth.

Some final words as we circle the plane and prepare to land:

The big idea of Cone’s work is that God is black.  Not in the sense of being a literal dark-skinned being, but in the sense of being deeply and profoundly identified with blacks as an oppressed people and working with them to secure their liberation, along with the liberation of all oppressed peoples on the earth.  In order to become part of what God is doing in the world, we must give up our whiteness and become black.  Not in the sense of injecting our skin with melanin, but in the sense of ending our participation in the systems and structures of white supremacy in our world and taking our place alongside blacks in their struggle for liberation.  Not because we pity blacks or feel sorry for them, but because it is simply the right thing to do if you are a decent human being, or a human being at all for that matter.

Black theology has been a lifeline for me in my post-evangelical journey.  Over the past four years I watched my faith sell its very soul out from under me, linking arms with some of the worst specimens of humanity in order to elevate one of the worst specimens of humanity–someone whose life and message are the exact opposite of anything even remotely connected to Jesus Christ–to the highest office in our nation’s government, and then claiming that I am compelled to support the whole shitshow on the basis of my Christian faith.  Over the past four years, and especially the past year, I have seen things that I cannot unsee and that I refuse to unsee.  Now black theology comes along (in actuality it’s been here all along and I am just now discovering it), promising that everything I’ve wanted to believe and hoped was true about God is true after all:  that God is on the side of the oppressed and will hold the oppressors of this world to account.  That God sees exactly what I have seen over the past four years and especially this past year, and does not denounce me as fucking crazy for having seen what I have seen or felt what I have felt about it.

Advent Week 3: Jesus Christ in Black Theology

Advent is the four weeks before Christmas. More precisely, it is three full weeks plus whatever fraction of a week is needed to get to Christmas. What we usually do around here at this time of year is pick an Advent-related topic and talk about it for four weeks.

This year we will be talking about A Black Theology of Liberation by James H. Cone, a work which I believe to be timely in this cultural moment.

Written in 1970, this book has become one of the classics of black theology.  Cone’s work parallels many of the emphases of liberation theology, which was developing in Central and South America at around the same time, though Cone was unaware of this at the time.  In Cone’s view, theology is all about understanding what God is doing in the world, which centers first and foremost around liberation of the oppressed.  Last week we looked at chapters 4-5, which deal with the role of God in black theology and the role of the human being in black theology.  This week we will be covering chapter 6, which deals with the role of Jesus Christ in black theology.

I gave this warning in prior weeks and will repeat it this week:  If you are a white person reading A Black Theology of Liberation and you are not uncomfortable, you’re not reading A Black Theology of Liberation.  This work will expose every raw nerve of white fragility in your entire being, but we must all do the work and get through this.  If what Cone says is true, then we are not in a good place and much that we have believed as white Americans and white Christians needs to change.

In Jesus Christ we come to the starting point and the ending point of all Christian theology.  Much has been said about Jesus Christ in white Christian theology, evangelical or otherwise, yet very little has been said about how Jesus Christ relates to the black struggle for liberation from white supremacist oppression.  How does Jesus Christ relate to the slave ships and the auction blocks?  How does Jesus Christ relate to the ghetto, Jim Crow, mass incarceration, and other contemporary manifestations of white supremacist oppression?  How does Jesus Christ relate to the Underground Railroad, Nat Turner, MLK, Malcolm X, and other heroes of the black struggle for liberation from white supremacist oppression?  These are the questions which Cone seeks to address in his theology, which white Christian theology has very largely left unaddressed.

Unless [Jesus Christ’s] existence is analyzed in light of the oppressed of the land, we are still left wondering what his presence means for the auction block, the Underground Railroad, and contemporary manifestations of black power.  To be sure, white theology has informed us that Jesus Christ is the content of the gospel, but it has failed miserably in relating that gospel to Nat Turner, Denmark Vesey, and Gabriel Prosser.  It is therefore the task of black theology to make theology relevant to the black reality, asking, “What does Jesus Christ mean for the oppressed blacks of the land?”

The task of explicating the existence of Jesus Christ for blacks is not easy in a white society that uses Christianity as an instrument of oppression.  White conservatives and liberals alike present images of a white Jesus that are completely alien to the liberation of the black community.  Their Jesus is a mild, easy-going, white American who can afford to mouth the luxuries of “love,” “mercy,” “long-suffering,” and other white irrelevancies, because he has a multibillion-dollar military force to protect him from the encroachments of the ghetto and the “communist conspiracy.”  But black existence is existence in a hostile world without the protection of the law.  If Jesus Christ is to have any meaning for us, he must leave the security of the suburbs by joining blacks in their condition.  What need have we for a white Jesus when we are not white but black?  If Jesus Christ is white and not black, he is an oppressor, and we must kill him.

Not surprisingly, Cone comes out as saying that Jesus Christ is black.  Not in the sense of literal skin color (though it is very doubtful that a Jew born in first-century Palestine would be light-skinned) but in the sense of his identification with oppressed peoples.  This is true from his birth, in a manger in a stable (the first-century equivalent of a beer carton in a ghetto alley).  By submitting to John’s baptism, a baptism of repentance for sinful Israel, Jesus identified himself with sinners though he himself was not sinful.  God’s words for Jesus after the baptism (Mark 1:11) express His approval of this identification.  In the subsequent temptation in the wilderness, Jesus refused to avail himself of any of the modes of oppressive, self-glorifying power that the tempter offered and kept his ministry squarely identified with the poor and oppressed.

Jesus’ ministry is an actual working out of his identification with the poor and oppressed, as expressed in his birth, baptism, and temptation.  Much has been said about the passage by which Jesus introduces his ministry (“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:14-15)) but this much should be clear:  “The kingdom of God is at hand” means that slavery is about to end because God has displaced all false authorities.  “Repent and believe in the gospel” means to recognize the importance of the hour at hand and take one’s place in the coming kingdom, as it is revealed in the words and work of Jesus.  Much has also been said by white New Testament scholars in attempting to explain away the real significance of Jesus’ ministry among the poor.  They state that Jesus did not mean the economically poor but instead the “poor in spirit”, they point to examples like Joseph of Arimathea who was a wealthy follower of Jesus, or Zaccheus who only promised to give away half his wealth as proof that it is OK to be rich and enslave others while still counting yourself as part of Jesus’ kingdom.  This completely misses the point.

It seems clear that the overwhelming weight of biblical teaching, especially the prophetic tradition in which Jesus stood unambiguously, is upon God’s unqualified identification with the poor precisely because they are poor.  The kingdom of God is for the helpless, because they have no security in this world.  We see this emphasis in the repeated condemnation of the rich, notably in the Sermon on the Mount, and in Jesus’ exclusive identification of his ministry with sinners.  The kingdom demands the surrender of one’s whole life.  How is it possible to be rich, seeing others in a state of economic deprivation, and at the same time insist that one has complete trust in God?  Again, how can it be said that Jesus was not primarily a social reformer but “concerned with men’s motives and hearts,” when the kingdom itself strikes across all boundaries–social, economic, and political?

Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom is the most radical, revolutionary aspect of his message.  It involves the totality of a person’s existence in the world and what that means in an oppressive society.  To repent is to affirm the reality of the kingdom by refusing to live on the basis of any definition except according to the kingdom.  Nothing else matters!  The kingdom, then, is the rule of God breaking in like a ray of light, usurping the powers that enslave human lives.

Jesus’ death and resurrection are the capstone of his earthly ministry and his identification with the poor.  In his death, he takes upon himself the totality of all human oppression, in his resurrection we see that he is not overcome by it but instead offers the possibility of freedom.

For men and women who live in an oppressive society this means that they do not have to behave as if death were the ultimate.  God in Christ has set us free from death, and we can now live without worrying about social ostracism, economic insecurity, or political tyranny.

…Christian freedom is the recognition that Christ has conquered death.  Humankind no longer has to be afraid of dying.  To live as if death had the last word is to be enslaved and thus controlled by the forces of destruction.  The free are the oppressed who say no to an oppressor, in spite of the threat of death, because God has said yes to them, thereby placing them in a state of freedom.  They can now deny any values that separate them from the reality of their new being.

To say that Jesus Christ is black means that he is identified with the oppressed, which here in present-day America is the black community, and that he is working through the black community in their struggle for liberation from white supremacist tyranny and oppression.  To become Jesus’ disciple you must become black, not on the sense of injecting your skin with melanin but in the sense of becoming identified with the black community to the point that their struggle becomes your own.  To the point where you will no longer sit idly by as white supremacy places its knee upon the neck of black America and proceeds to choke the life out of it, but instead will rise up and say “No.  Not today.”

To be a disciple of the black Christ is to become black with him….  What is primary is that blacks must refuse to let whites define what is appropriate for the black community.  Just as white slaveholders in the nineteenth century said that questioning slavery was an invasion of their property rights, so today they use the same line of reasoning in reference to black self-determination.  But Nat Turner had no scruples on this issue; and blacks today are beginning to see themselves in a new image.  We believe in the manifestation of the black Christ, and our encounter with him defines our values.  This means that blacks are free to do what they have to in order to affirm their humanity.

…To participate in God’s salvation is to cooperate with the black Christ as he liberates his people from bondage.  Salvation, then, primarily has to do with earthly reality and the injustice inflicted on those who are helpless and poor.  To see the salvation of God is to see this people rise up against its oppressors, demanding that justice become a reality now, not tomorrow.  It is the oppressed serving warning that they “ain’t gonna take no more of this bullshit, but a new day is coming and it ain’t going to be like today.”  The new day is the presence of the black Christ as expressed in the liberation of the black community.

In Defense of Basic Human Decency

For those of you who have been living under a rock lately, there is a big Senate runoff here in Georgia next month. Both of our state’s Senate seats are up for grabs. At stake is which party will control the Senate for the next two years.

Conservatives are feeling the pressure. Their attacks on the Democratic candidates are reaching a level of urgency and desperation heretofore unfathomed as the election draws nigh. “RADICALS!!!!!!!!!” they scream. “DOWN WITH WARNOCK AND OSSOFF AND THEIR GODLESS RADICAL LEFTIST AGENDA!!!!!!!!!” “WARNOCK’S IN BED WITH MURDEROUS COMMUNIST DICTATORS!!!!!!!!!!!!!” “IF YOU ARE A GOD-FEARING AMERICAN YOU WILL REJECT WARNOCK AND OSSOFF AND THEIR GODLESS COMMUNIST ANTI-AMERICAN AGENDA!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Conservative evangelical Facebook friends are grousing about how the only way a Christian pastor running for public office is acceptable is if he’s with the left (Raphael Warnock, one of the Democratic candidates, is a former pastor), but if a conservative pastor tried to run he would be crucified by the godless liberal media – separation of church and state and all that bullshit. Translation: The kind of pastors they want to see running for public office are the kind whose basic overall message is “Abortion is murder, gays are shit, and here’s the Bible verses to prove it.”

I’ve never been to Warnock’s church or heard any of his sermons but I would bet good money that his basic overall message is something along the lines of “JUST BE A DECENT HUMAN BEING FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Back when I started this blog, I did not imagine that I would spend my blogging career dropping diatribes in defense of just being a decent human being, for fuck’s sake. Yet here we are.

We now live in an age in which just being a decent human being can get you condemned as a radical, anti-God, anti-American, communist thug. That is unacceptable.

Advent Week 2: God and the Human Being in Black Theology

Advent is the four weeks before Christmas. More precisely, it is three full weeks plus whatever fraction of a week is needed to get to Christmas. What we usually do around here at this time of year is pick an Advent-related topic and talk about it for four weeks.

This year we will be talking about A Black Theology of Liberation by James H. Cone, a work which I believe to be timely in this cultural moment.

Written in 1970, this book has become one of the classics of black theology.  Cone’s work parallels many of the emphases of liberation theology, which was developing in Central and South America at around the same time, though Cone was unaware of this at the time.  In Cone’s view, theology is all about understanding what God is doing in the world, which centers first and foremost around liberation of the oppressed.

Last week we looked at chapters 1-3, which deal with the content, sources and norms of black theology, and the role of revelation in black theology.  Cone’s big idea is that Christian theology is all about liberation of the oppressed, and any theology that is not thusly concerned is a waste of your time.  Theology is all about coming to terms with God’s activity in the world, which is seen through the liberation of oppressed peoples.  The Passover event liberated Israel and established them as God’s people; Jesus Christ’s life, death, and resurrection extended God’s liberating work to all people.

This week we will be covering chapters 4 and 5, which deal with the role of God and the human being in black theology.

I gave this warning last week and will repeat it this week:  If you are a white person reading A Black Theology of Liberation and you are not uncomfortable, you’re not reading A Black Theology of Liberation.  This work will expose every raw nerve of white fragility in your entire being, but we must all do the work and get through this.  If what Cone says is true, then we are not in a good place and much that we have believed as white Americans and white Christians needs to change.

Up front, Cone addresses the risks of using God-language in black theology.  The primary risk is that God-language is almost thoroughly conflated with what white supremacist theology says about God.  Authentic theological speech is both dangerous and difficult:  dangerous because white supremacy has so conflated God-language and bent it to serve its own corrupt ends; under such circumstances authentic theological speech becomes both “anti-Christian” and “unpatriotic”.  It is difficult because all religionists in society claim to be for God and for humanity, in their own manner of speaking.  Certain people carry out violence against blacks and other undesirables because, in their way of looking at things, what they are doing is for God and thus for humanity.  Nevertheless, we must persist in using God-language because it points to a reality deeper than the corruptions and distortions of white supremacist theology.  Also the religious, and specifically Christian, dimensions of the struggle for liberation are so integral to the black community that it is foolish to attempt to divorce Christianity from the struggle for liberation.

It is not the task of black theology to remove the influence of the divine in the black community.  Its task is to interpret the divine element in the forces and achievements of black liberation.  Black theology must retain God-language despite its perils, because the black community perceives its identity in terms of divine presence.  Black theology cannot create new symbols independent of the black community and expect blacks to respond.  It must stay in the black community and get down to the real issues at hand (“cutting throats,” to use LeRoi Jones’s phrase) and not waste too much time discussing the legitimacy of religious language.

Cone’s big idea concerning God in black theology is that God is black.  What does this mean?  Does this mean that God is a literal black-skinned being?  No.  It means that God is for black people (and every other oppressed people group, for that matter) – not in the generic, seeker-sensitive way in which white evangelicalism loves to say that God loves you and God is for you – but in the same way that I am for Georgia.  Having spent the best four years of my life at Georgia, playing in the Redcoat Band and enjoying an up-close-and-personal view of Georgia football during that time, I now have a deep and long-lasting emotional investment in Georgia football.  In the same way, God has a deep, profound identification with and investment in the fortunes of black people (and every other oppressed people-group), or else he is not a God that black people want anything to do with.

There is no place in black theology for a colorless God in a society where human beings suffer precisely because of their color.  The black theologian must reject any conception of God which stifles black self-determination by picturing God as a God of all peoples.  Either God is identified with the oppressed to the point that their experience becomes God’s experience, or God is a God of racism.

…Blacks want to know whose side God is on and what kind of decision God is making about the black revolution.  We will not accept a God who is on everybody’s side–which means that God loves everybody in spite of who they are, and is working (through the acceptable channels of society, of course) to reconcile all persons to the Godhead.

Black theology cannot accept a view of God which does not represent God as being for oppressed blacks and thus against white oppressors.  Living in a world of white oppressors, blacks have no time for a neutral God.  The brutalities are too great and the pain too severe, and this means we must know where God is and what God is doing in the revolution.  There is no use for a God who loves white oppressors the same as oppressed blacks.  We have had too much of white love, the love that tells blacks to turn the other cheek and go the second mile.  What we need is the divine love as expressed in black power, which is the power of blacks to destroy their oppressors, here and now, by any means at their disposal.  Unless God is participating in this holy activity, we must reject God’s love.

In black theology, it matters immensely whose side God is on.  If God is not for black people, if God is for the Bull Connors, George Wallaces, and Donald Trumps of the world, then we want nothing to do with him.  If God would tell George Wallace and MLK to work it out among themselves, then we know whose side he is really on.

I hear the voices of Neo-Calvinist John Piper fanboys out there saying “You should not be asking whose side God is on.  “Is God on my/our side?” is the wrong question.  Instead you should be asking “Am I on God’s side?  Are we on God’s side?” “.  In this scenario it is perfectly clear whose side God is really on.  Any God who would respond that way to the cries of oppressed blacks is clearly on the side of the Bull Connors, George Wallaces, and Donald Trumps of the world.

Such a God deserves atheists.

Next Cone turns his consideration to the role of the human being in black theology.  He begins by referencing examples from American theology and existential philosophy.  Much of American theology is deficient, whether the fundamentalist variety that focuses on the inerrancy of scripture and on propositional truths that can be drawn from scripture, with no concern whatsoever for what an inerrant Bible or whatever propositional truths they care to draw from it might say to oppressed blacks, or the Barthian variety which focuses on the absolute sovereignty of God in self-revelation with no concern whatsoever for what this self-revelation has to say to oppressed blacks, or the liberal theologians who speak of God’s love yet do so from a white vantage point which, in effect, tells blacks to just shut up and turn the other cheek and go the second mile for their oppressors.  Likewise, existential philosophy and its pronouncement that “God is dead” is deficient because it is little more than an attempt by whites to find some meaning in life for themselves as they continue to oppress black people.

Just as black theology is deeply distrustful of any God who claims to love all people equally and is not specifically for black people, black theology is also distrustful of any universalized, idealized notion of humanity.  When Jesus Christ came to earth, he did not become some universal, generalized, idealized version of a man, instead he became an oppressed Jew.  Thus Jesus is not for all people in the general, but specifically for oppressed people; consequently anything that black theology has to say about the human being must be primarily concerned with oppressed peoples and their liberation.

Oppressors are ardent lovers of humanity.  They can love all persons in general, even black persons, because intellectually they can put blacks into the category called Humanity.  With this perspective they can participate in civil rights and help blacks purely on the premise that they are part of a universal category.  But when it comes to dealing with particular blacks, statistics transformed into black encounter, they are at a loss.  They remind us of Dostoevski’s doctor, who said, “I love humanity, but I wonder at myself.  The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular.”

The basic mistake of our white opponents is their failure to see that God did not become a universal human being but an oppressed Jew, thereby disclosing to us that both human nature and divine nature are inseparable from oppression and liberation.  To know who the human person is is to focus on the Oppressed One and what he does for an oppressed community as it liberates itself from slavery.

Jesus is not a human being for all persons; he is a human being for oppressed persons, whose identity is made known in and through their liberation.  Therefore our definition of the human being must be limited to what it means to be liberated from human oppression.  Any other approach fails to recognize the reality of suffering in an inhuman society.

After laying out what black theology’s view of humanity is not, Cone turns his attention to what it is.  His first consideration is that the human being is endowed with freedom.  He fleshes this out as follows:

  • Freedom as liberation:  Freedom is rebellion against every form of slavery and oppression.  No one is truly free until we are all free.
  • Freedom and the image of God:  The image of God refers to how God intends for humans to live in the world.  In a world in which human beings are oppressed, the image of God is expressed through rebellion against oppression, through humanity struggling against inhumanity.
  • Freedom as identification with an oppressed community:  In a world in which people are oppressed, freedom is more than just making choices according to your own individual tastes, it is taking sides with an oppressed community
  • Freedom and suffering:  To assert one’s freedom always brings one into contact with the structures in society that are promoting oppression.  There are consequences to this:  economic, social, and political.  Christians cannot be content when others are oppressed; we must suffer with them because freedom in Jesus Christ is freedom for the oppressed.
  • Freedom and blackness:  In contemporary American society, blackness is the ultimate symbol of degradation and humiliation.  Thus, to be free is to be black, that is, to be identified with the victims of this oppression and humiliation, and struggling with them for their liberation.

Cone’s next consideration is the human being as a fallen creature.  Human fallenness is expressed in the Bible as sin.  But sin is not some abstract idea related to generalized, universalized notions of proper and ethical behavior.  Rather, sin is a concept which flows organically from a community of people – it is rebellion against the values and ideals which make that community what it is.  For Israel, sin meant alienation from God’s covenant with Israel which arose from His liberating work via the Passover event.  With respect to black theology, the concept of sin is inseparable from oppression and liberation.  White Christianity defines sin in the abstract, in relation to some generalized, idealized vision of humanity.  Fundamentalist Christianity defines sin in terms of moral impurity which amounts to a failure to live by the rules of white society (though they won’t say this outright).  More liberal versions of white Christianity speak of our broken relationship with God, but that is as far as they go.  They have nothing to say about how any of this concerns the black struggle for liberation from oppression.

Now Cone lays out what black theology has to say about sin.  For white people, sin is leaning into their whiteness – not their literal skin color but their identification with the system of white supremacy that has oppressed black people here in America and all around the world.  For black people, sin is a refusal to be black – again, not a literal skin color but instead a refusal to own one’s place in the black struggle for liberation from white supremacist oppression, accepting the white supremacist view of things and attempting to carve out space for one’s existence in the world of white supremacy.

Because sin represents the condition of estrangement from the source of one’s being, for blacks this means a desire to be white.  It is the refusal to be what we are.  Sin, then, for blacks is loss of identity.  It is saying yes to the white absurdity–accepting the world as it is by letting whites define black existence.  To be in sin is to be contented with white solutions for the “black problem” and not rebel against every infringement of white being on black being.