In an earlier issue of this publication, Eric Newberg broached the topic of Israel-Palestine, tackling the question of peace in the Holy Land from the perspective of renewal studies, and highlighting in particular the suffering of the Palestinian people; an injustice which must be addressed by any truly Christian theology.[1] In a similar vein, this paper will continue the Palestinian narrative, focusing on the response from Palestinian Christians whose collective voice is heard so clearly through the Kairos Palestine document.
This document presents us with a contextual theology, but raises issues which lie at the core of any Christian worldview. As such, we will furnish an overview of the document with discussion around the various theological themes raised therein. It is hoped that in then offering a critique of the traditional pentecostal approach to the topic, a consistent Christian response to the Palestinians’ plight will be developed – at least in broad outline – so as to inform a re-visioning of popular pentecostal attitudes toward Israel-Palestine.
Kairos Palestine
Written in 2009, Kairos Palestine represents a recent, definitive response from Palestinian Christians to the occupation of their country by Israel, and expresses their “word to the world about what is happening in Palestine.”[2] The document’s contributors include Christians from a range of traditions; having united in order to bring to light the reality of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, which has been the source of such “oppression, displacement, suffering and clear apartheid.” It is a call to Christians everywhere for their support “against injustice”, as it declares that “the military occupation of [Palestinian] land is a sin against God and humanity.”[3]
The document is largely inspired by the South African endeavour of the same name, which was prepared by black South African Christians during 1985 in response to the apartheid imposed upon their own people.[4] It, too, was addressed to Christians, imploring them to challenge the acquiescence of the churches in South Africa to the state-sanctioned apartheid, which brought with it so much discrimination and brutality.[5] It is the expressed hope of the Palestinian Christians that their own Kairos document will be similarly received, and equally effective. In following with the format of the South African document, Kairos Palestine is entitled A Moment of Truth. The word Kairos, of course, is Greek for ‘time’, but which carries a more nuanced meaning: perhaps better translated as ‘the appointed time’ or ‘opportune moment’.[6] Thus, the title reflects the writers’ belief in the timeliness of their efforts.
Kairos Palestine makes the bold assertion that “any theology that legitimizes the [Israeli] occupation is far from Christian teachings because true Christian theology is a theology of love and solidarity with the oppressed, a call to justice and equality among peoples.”[7] This is evidently a criticism of Christian Zionism, which we will explore in further detail later on, particularly as we offer a critique of traditional Pentecostalism’s appropriation of fundamentalist approaches to scriptural prophecy.
There is also a very clear political tone to the document, especially insofar as it asserts the “right and duty [of] all Palestinians” to engage in resistance; and this overtone is particularly obvious where attempts to influence policy through “political leaders and decision-makers” are discussed.[8] We will evaluate the interplay of theology and politics further on, as we enter into a discussion of liberation theology and explore its potential for the pentecostal approach, and where we will examine the Palestinian Christians’ claim that “liberation from occupation is in the interest of all peoples in the region because the problem is not just a political one, but one in which human beings are destroyed.”[9]
The Palestinian Predicament
The Kairos document begins by conveying “the reality on the ground”, through which the Palestinians’ suffering at the hands of Israel is described.[10] Confiscation of land, including vital resources, and discrimination of those Palestinians residing within Israel, are amongst the hardships outlined. And yet the Palestinian Christians proclaim that their “Christian word in the midst of all this, in the midst of our catastrophe, is a word of faith, hope and love.”[11] It is a word of faith because, as the document notes, “we [the Palestinian Christians] believe in a good and just God.”[12] Here, the Word of God is appealed to which, importantly, is identified as the Son: Jesus Christ. This unique understanding is at the centre of the Christian faith, and it is by such that we are able to see Jesus as the culmination of God’s promises to His people, beginning with the law and prophets of the Old Testament.
This Christology reveals Jesus’ role in fulfilling the Hebrew Scriptures, and the writers of Kairos Palestine recognize this accomplishment as having “provoked a revolution in the life and faith of all humanity…casting a new light on the Old Testament, on the themes that relate to our Christian faith and our daily lives.”[13] Many, however, speak of the ‘word of God’ more generally in reference to scripture: the Bible.[14] Has such an understanding had the effect of bestowing an authority upon the text which is in fact due only to Christ? In giving pride of place to the written word in scripture, the central importance of the incarnate Word, Jesus Christ, can tend to be de-emphasized. This is of deep concern, particularly when we consider the Old Testament, because it may result in the text being read and acted upon without reference to Christ. Where prophecy is concerned, this affects an understanding of God’s involvement in history whereby eschatological events are divorced from Christ’s salvific work.
It is along these lines that the Kairos document offers a criticism of “fundamentalist Biblical interpretation” which insists upon a literal reading of scripture. Such a hermeneutic, the Kairos document asserts, results in “death and destruction when the word of God is petrified and transmitted from generation to generation as a dead letter.”[15] It is this ‘dead letter’ that is promoted by those of the Jewish faith and their Christian supporters – including many pentecostals – who read it as divine sanctioning of the Israeli claim to their ‘Promised Land’. It would be appropriate here to take a departure into a deeper discussion of Zionism and, in particular, its support from Christian quarters.
Zionism
‘Zionism’ has, in recent times, become an increasingly elusive term, and one which has such wide and varied usage that, in Sidney Schwarz’s view, is has become “a term without meaning.”[16] Broadly speaking, however, Zionism describes the aspiration of the Jewish people to a homeland. But there is a religious element inherent to this idea, for ‘Zion’ alludes to the Promised Land of the Hebrew Scriptures, which has been the object of Jewish hope from time immemorial; particularly since the Diaspora up until the modern period. The establishment of the state of Israel in 1948 in many ways marks the realization of this hope, as it forms the basis for a Jewish national identity, founded upon the land which means so much in their tradition.[17]
Perhaps the most notable contributor to Kairos Palestine is Naim S. Ateek, who leads the Sabeel Ecumenical Liberation Theology Centre, and has played an integral part in the development of the document.[18] He has written extensively on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and has given particular attention to Christian Zionism, which he regards as clear heresy.[19] In offering a definition, Ateek draws on Don Wagner, who describes Christian Zionism as “a movement within Protestant fundamentalism that understands the modern state of Israel as the fulfilment of biblical prophecy and thus deserving of political, financial, and religious support.”[20] Christian Zionism, then, supports the Jewish claim to their traditional homeland on apparently ‘Christian’ grounds. Ateek notes the inherent contradiction in the term ‘Christian Zionism’ however, asking, “How can one believe in Jesus Christ and his message of peace and non-violence and at the same time believe in a Zionist ideology based on violence and terrorism that robs the Palestinians of their land and negates their political rights?”[21] He outlines the basic tenets of Christian Zionism which, importantly, include the belief that the Jewish people are specially chosen by God, and that the land of Israel is their exclusive, eternal inheritance to which they must return in order to fulfil biblical prophecy. Pentecostalism has, it should be noted, by and large appropriated this view.[22] The ensuing tendency, although perhaps not conscious, has been to affirm the state of Israel’s Zionist pursuits, and even to condone all and any of their actions to this purpose, as necessary means to a prophesied end.[23]
The Kairos document makes abundantly clear that Palestinian Christians view such a theological basis for support of Israel’s action as erroneous, declaring that “any use of the Bible to legitimize or support political options and positions that are based upon injustice, imposed by one person on another, or by one people on another, transform religion into human ideology and strip the Word of God of its holiness, its universality and truth.”[24] In short, Christianity is an inclusive faith, but a theology which supports Israeli occupation of Palestinian land is only ever exclusive, and in favour of the aggressor who asserts their claim by force. In Stephen Sizer’s words, “Christian Zionism is an exclusive theology that focuses on the Jews in the land rather than Jesus Christ the Saviour of the world.”[25] Thus, the occupation is perceived to be “a sin against God and humanity”; and understandably so.
It is notable that the Palestinian Christians also recognize the importance of the land to those who inhabit it, “resonant with the connectedness of any other people to the land it lives in.” It should be pointed out, however, that this is a socio-cultural statement rather than a theological one; rooted as it is in “history and geography.”[26] As the Kairos document asserts, “the promise of the land has never been a political programme, but rather the prelude to complete universal salvation.” So, whereas the land was of central importance to the people of Israel in Old Testament times – and so also to Judaism in our own time – since Jesus’ issuing in of the new covenant, we realize that it was merely “the initiation of the fulfilment of the Kingdom of God on earth.”[27] Although God’s promise began with this land, it will continue far beyond it.
N. T. Wright has described the central importance of land in the Jewish expectation for a Messiah, who would achieve the restoration of Israel from exile.[28] He sees Jesus’ understanding of his own life as inaugurating this renewal, though on radically different terms: “Jesus warned his contemporaries that when the kingdom of God arrived it would be a doubly revolutionary event. Yes, it would overturn all the power structures of the world; but it would also overturn all the expectations about how that would happen. […] He was calling his hearers, quite simply, to a new way of being Israel, a new way of being God’s people for the world.”[29] Rather than Israel’s renewal being accomplished by national conquest, the coming kingdom – heralded as it was by Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection – is to be one founded through forgiveness. Indeed, as Wright observes, “Jesus believed that Israel’s whole destiny, to be the people of God for the world, to be God’s way of saving the world, was reaching its climax; and that his life, and ultimately his death, were to be the means of bringing that about.”[30] Here we see a crucial divergence between Judaism’s pre-Christic soteriology – which was tied to the people’s settlement in the land – and the Christian eschatological kingdom, which can be understood to have already been inaugurated through Christ, and yet to be fully consummated in the hoped-for future. It is to a discussion of Christian hope which we will now turn.
Christian Hope
Having expounded the basis of the Palestinian Christians’ faith, the Kairos document turns to a description of their hope, which, “despite the lack of even a glimmer of positive expectation…remains strong.”[31] Indeed, all human attempts at a solution to the conflict, though numerous, have come to naught; and yet hope remains because it is founded “in God.” Hope is described as faith in God, with the concomitant expectation for a better future. It is “the capacity to see God in the midst of trouble”, and from this vision is derived “the strength to be steadfast, remain firm and work to change the reality.”[32]
In discussing Jürgen Moltmann’s important contribution to an understanding of Christian hope, Richard Bauckham notes that “Moltmann’s turn to the cross brought with it the requirement of a political praxis of solidarity with the victims, which deepens the praxis of hope.”[33] It is important to note, then, that the outworking of hope is active rather than passive. It is founded solely upon God, but also depends on the conscious effort of His people. It is in this way that the Palestinian Christians see themselves as “co-workers with the Holy Spirit who is dwelling in [them].”[34] This effort is expressed collectively through the Church, which serves to guide the wider community toward their goal of peace. In this way, the mission of the Church – as the Kairos document asserts – is “prophetic, bearing the voice of God in the present and future.” This voice is raised against injustice, and speaks “the Word of God courageously, honestly and lovingly.”[35]
Interestingly, Kairos Palestine suggests that “if [the Church] does take sides, it is with the oppressed, to stand alongside them, just as Christ our Lord stood by the side of each poor person.”[36] Does this hint at a theologically-based plea for support of the Palestinian political agenda? Perhaps this is a disingenuous reading of the statement in question, as there is no doubt that the Palestinians have suffered greatly under Israeli occupation; and yet one cannot help but wonder if the Palestinian Christians are perhaps invoking the same theological justification of which they accuse the Israelis of appealing to in their Zionist pursuits. However, in discussing the Kingdom of God, the document takes on an eschatological air, and points to “a kingdom of justice, peace and dignity” which, importantly, “cannot be tied to any earthly kingdom.”[37]
This dichotomy between earthly and heavenly kingdoms raises some important questions, for there is a very real sense in which the kingdom of God must have implications for the here-and-now. Is it not unavoidable that Jesus’ work will have repercussions for our day-to-day life, and so find expression in every sphere through which Christians find themselves operating? We are forced, then, to decide what salvation means in social, cultural, and political contexts; and to ask what role we as Christians play in bringing Christ’s salvific work to bear upon them. Herein perhaps lies the central challenge to Christian life: if we are to be Christ to the world, are we to follow Jesus’ lead as exemplified by his earthly ministry, or to take on a more Spirit-inspired praxis of “greater works”?[38] We will tackle this question further on, as we consider the pentecostal paradigm, and explore the unique approach to this issue offered therein.
In the Palestinian context, then, what is the Christian response to oppression by those who are suffering? We might well consider Jesus’ own response to foreign occupation: that of the Romans in 1st century Palestine. Did he advocate any form of resistance? The Palestinian Christians would suggest that he did, though it is not clear where in his life they recognize this as occurring.[39] Indeed, Christ’s earthly ministry again reminds us of the divergence of Jewish and Christian views. As we have seen, the Jewish expectation of the Messiah was for a political saviour; a king who would restore the people of Israel to their land.[40] The fact that he didn’t achieve this largely explains why Jesus was rejected by his own people.
As Christians, then, to accept Jesus as the Christ means also to reject the Jewish vision of the political Messiah, who would conquer by force. But to speak of a ‘kingdom’ at all is to recognize the involvement of some form of governance, and therefore politics. Thus, there is a definite political dimension to Christ’s kingdom, however unfamiliar a form it may take. If Christ’s salvific work is to be brought to bear upon every facet of human life, then a Christian response to the politics of the day is demanded.[41] The question, then, is not ‘if’ but ‘how’ the political is to be outworked in Christian life. But should such response in itself constitute ‘political’ action? We will now explore the political dimension of Christian hope as it is outworked in the Palestinian context, as we engage in a discussion of liberation theology.
Liberation Theology
Rebecca Chopp and Ethna Regan describe liberation theology (though in the context of Latin America) as “a reflection on God’s activity and transforming grace among those who are the victims of modern history.”[42] Important to note is that, in their view, liberation theology is not “an interpretation, a second-level reflection on common human experience” but rather, “an interruption, an irruption of how God is active, life is lived, and Christianity is practiced among the poor.”[43] They recognize the importance of Vatican II in the development of liberation theology, as the council served to establish Catholic social teaching, which concerns itself with human dignity under a broader understanding of justice and peace.[44]
Of particular relevance to our discussion is political theology, developed by such theologians as Johann Baptist Metz and Moltmann, who we have already mentioned. The former, according to Chopp and Regan, “offered a new anthropology that was social and political” whilst the latter “constructed an understanding of God in and through the reality of suffering.”[45] It should be noted that political theology informs, or contributes to, liberation theology; and so they are not to be understood as being synonymous. Thus, we cannot reasonably charge liberation theology with being a “politicization” of theology;[46] although there are, no doubt, certain groups which appear to do just this – but which might be better understood as political movements, attempting to justify themselves theologically. It is in this vein that Bauckham qualifies Moltmann’s political theology, observing that he “has never reduced the gospel to its political aspect, but he has consistently emphasized it.”[47] He sees Moltmann’s “explicitly political theology” describing “a politically critical theology aiming at radical change in society.”[48]
What is perhaps one of the most controversial tenets of liberation theology, as we have already alluded to, is the assertion that God ‘takes sides’ with the poor. As Gustavo Gutiérrez claims, “the love of God is a gratuitous gift”, and that by “Loving by preference the poor… God reveals that gratuity. And by consequence as followers of Jesus Christ, we must also do this preferential option for the poor.”[49] The writers of the Kairos document would seem to concur with this view; indeed, this understanding is prevalent amongst most liberation theologies, despite the fact that many believe it constitutes “a re-reading of the historical Jesus (contending that Jesus was on the side of the oppressed).”[50]
Besides those who would “dismiss liberation theology as inadequate theological reflection”, or “a form of politics using religion”,[51] there are several other concerns which it would be appropriate to discuss here. As Chopp and Regan note, “the debate has been centred in three broad areas: liberation theology’s equation of liberation and redemption, its turn to the political as the primary locus of human life, and its theoretical arguments in relation to ethics and social theory.”[52] It is the first of these three which is pertinent to our discussion, as the equation of redemption and liberation “tempts a kind of temporal messianism, a heralding of the reign of God on the side of one political cause.”[53] Schubert Ogden, for example, has criticized liberation theologians for equating redemption and emancipation.[54]
The problem with views such as these is that they lead to an ideal which in turn tends toward totalitarianism: the oppressive political propensity which much of liberation theology is in reaction against. “It is also considered unbiblical, as it seems to place God on the side of the poor, in opposition to the rich.”[55] Gutiérrez offers an important qualification of the relationship between liberation and redemption. He notes that the ‘siding’ with the poor is “a statement [of] God’s gratuitousness and not a romanticization of the poor.”[56] Bauckham also differentiates between a “romantic vision of revolution or of confusion with the ideological optimism of the affluent” with a “real solidarity with the victims of society… rooted in their actual interests.”[57]
Whilst we have argued that liberation theology has not “reduced human life to the political realm”,[58] it is important to note that we have pre-supposed a distinction which is perhaps not necessary, and may in fact be quite unhelpful. This consciousness of separate ‘political’ and ‘religious’ realms, if suspended, opens our minds to the idea that, in fact, “politics is intrinsic to the definition of the human subject, not merely a secondary expression.”[59] Indeed, as Chopp and Regan note, “liberation theologians hold a broad understanding of the political as the basis of life”, so that “politics is not simply concerned with the managing of the state, but also with how our lives are organized and expressed and how we fulfil our subjectivity.” Thus, “the gospel… is not political in offering a particular theory of political management, but is political in terms of its promise and demand for the fulfilment of human life.”[60] We will engage this broader understanding of the political further on, as we discuss the pentecostal approach.
Palestinian Liberation and the ‘Logic of Love’
Samuel J. Kuruvilla makes an important comparison between the liberation theologies of Latin America and Palestine, noting a number of differences which mean that “liberation theology cannot simply be transposed from one situation to another.”[61] For instance, in Latin America, most of the poor are Christian; whereas in Palestine, Christians represent a very small minority – only 2% of the population.[62] In Latin America, the question relates to class; whilst in Palestine, all Palestinians are oppressed. Kuruvilla also notes that Leonardo Boff’s “Exodus paradigm” does not apply to the Palestinians.[63] This, in terms of Latin American and other contexts, was how “the poor were seen as engaged on a journey from slavery to freedom, escaping the bondage of class and debt.”[64] The Palestinians instead find themselves as the dispossessed people.
So how is Palestinian liberation theology practically outworked? In a discussion of love, Kairos Palestine cites Jesus, as well as saints Paul and Peter, in relation to how Christians are to treat their enemies. Though we are not to “repay anyone evil for evil”,[65] and are in fact to “repay with a blessing”,[66] the document makes certain to defend the concept of resistance, and indeed takes the necessity for resistance as a foregone conclusion; but the authors apply love to such action. Bauckham observes that, for Moltmann, the idea of human rights is rooted in the fact that we are in some sense created in the image of God; and this imbues humanity with an undeniable dignity.[67] For the Palestinian Christians, too, “love is seeing the face of God in every human being”, though this does not entail “accepting evil or aggression on their part.”[68]
The Palestinian Christians’ resistance seeks, then, through love, “to correct the evil and stop the aggression.” Resistance is the responsibility firstly of the Palestinians, but also of the international community. The Kairos document asserts that “resistance is a right and a duty for the Christian”, but is careful to stress that this is not to employ violence as a means; rather it has “love as its logic.”[69] Here we can recognize an unashamed liberation theology, but one which is carefully conscious of Christ’s example. As Kuruvilla observes, “in this situation of conflict, their emphasis is on peace and reconciliation, although they recognise the importance of the struggle to be free. For them, non-violence and dialogue are the way to liberation.”[70] In concluding, the Kairos document offers a plea to Christians; a call to solidarity with those who are experiencing hardship: “if my brother is a prisoner I am a prisoner; if his home is destroyed, my home is destroyed; when my brother is killed, then I too am killed.” This requires repentance, away from “silence, indifference, lack of communion… [and] concern with our institutions”; which all serve to detract from, or ignore, the Christian mission. [71]
An appeal is also given to the “religious and spiritual leaders” of Judaism and Islam to “together try to rise up above the political positions”; this, on the basis that those of both religions “share the same vision that every human being is created by God and has been given equal dignity.”[72] On the foundation of this understanding, the document calls upon the Palestinian and Israeli people “to see the face of God in each of God’s creatures”, and so to “overcome the barriers of fear or race in order to establish a constructive dialogue” which will lead to a resolution of the seemingly endless conflict. Kairos Palestine also cautions against “a religious state”, that necessarily “practices discrimination and exclusion, preferring one citizen over another.” Such divisions, it is observed, “weaken all of us and cause more suffering.” In this vein, Jerusalem is heralded as “the foundation of our vision and entire life.” Of note is that “the city is inhabited by two peoples of three religions.” This, it is asserted, is a “prophetic vision” upon which “any political solution must be based.” For the Palestinian Christians, the centrality of Jerusalem to the lives of all concerned parties means that it can be “a source of inspiration towards finding a solution to the entire problem.”[73]
Imam A. Rashied Omar sees these ecumenical efforts, as well as the inter-faith dialogue which contribute to this end, as a particular strength of the Kairos initiative. He notes the effect it had in the South African context, where it “galvanized all faith communities and strengthened the broader liberation movement.” Kairos Palestine may well indeed be recognized as “a watershed moment in the history of the Palestinian struggle.”[74] For in all of this, the Palestinian Christians stand on their belief in “God, good and just”, and hold to the hope that “God’s justice will finally triumph over the evil of hate and of death that still persist.” It is their vision to see “‘a new land’ and ‘a new human being’, capable of rising up in the spirit to love each one of his or her brothers and sisters.”[75]
The Pentecostal Position
It is at this juncture that a more in-depth consideration of the pentecostal orientation would be appropriate, for it is the Spirit’s function in the life of believers that holds special significance for pentecostals. At the heart of Pentecostalism is the conviction that the Holy Spirit has empowered us to participate in the ushering in of God’s kingdom, through our witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ.[76] Pentecostal Christianity is therefore understood to be consciously Spirit-inspired; in thought, word, and deed. If, as we have suggested, Christian praxis cannot help but be expressed politically at some level and in some form, we must then consider what a pentecostal political response might look like, and how such a response is to be outworked in our approach to the Israel-Palestine situation.
Amos Yong’s In the Days of Caesar presents a thorough-going dialogue between Pentecostalism and political theology. Adopting the wider definition of politics, which we have introduced above, Yong notes three broad categories describing the interface of pentecostals with politics: “apolitical”, “political”, and “alternatively political”. He sees Pentecostalism as traditionally assuming an apolitical posture which, he posits, has often been a result of our appropriation of the dispensationalist perspective. Christ’s claim that “my kingdom is not of this world” is then taken to describe a necessary separation between what is ‘of God’ and what is ‘of the world’; forcing a dichotomy which decisively places ministry over politics.[77] To put it perhaps a little simplistically: history is ultimately shaped by God, thus negating any need of our involvement. However, Yong hints that it is in fact not possible to be entirely detached from politics, since “pentecostal apolitical rhetoric actually serves as a prophetic critique of the existing political order” so that, consciously or not, “pentecostal ecclesial practices function performatively to engage the domain of the political.”[78] Elsewhere, Pentecostalism has engaged politics without any apparent reservations. Particularly in the global south, pentecostals have consciously pursued political influence, and in fact understand such involvement in politics as constitutive of Christian mission. Alternative politics, in an entirely different vein, transcends this intuitive choice (of either engaging politics, or not) and offers instead a “prophetic politics… [which] is manifest in the kinds of counter-cultural and counter-conventional communities shaped by pentecostal spirituality and piety.”[79] Thus, Pentecostalism is able to remain “discursively and rhetorically non-political”, in such a way as to be “structurally and practically counter-political”.[80]
Indeed Pentecostalism, Yong argues, “invites not one but many forms of political, economic, and social postures and practices.”[81] His concern is to discover whether this fact is incidental, or integral to the movement: whether it is simply descriptive of Pentecostalism, or if there are legitimate theological reasons for promoting such a nuanced stance. In keeping with the theme set out in his previous work, Yong see the many tongues of Pentecost as framing Pentecostalism’s involvement in the world.[82] Thus, he describes our interaction with the political in terms of “many tongues and many political practices,” recognizing that our engagement with the public sphere occurs through several and varied expressions.[83] In the same way that the Spirit enabled the apostles to speak in different languages on the Day of Pentecost, so that the gospel could be received by everyone present, so too does the Spirit work through a multitude of political expressions toward the same end. Yong develops this thesis alongside an explication of the five-fold gospel – the “theological heart” of Pentecostalism – which centres round Christ as saviour, sanctifier, Spirit baptizer, healer, and coming King.[84] His method is to deal with each ‘thread’ of this paradigm in turn, whilst fielding dialogue between pertinent political themes and related theological developments; and so to develop a political theology informed by, as well as informing, pentecostal perspectives.
In this five-fold framework, Jesus as saviour speaks to the deliverance from powers, and Yong recognizes the political dimension of such; Jesus as sanctifier prompts a discussion around the theology of culture, and the redeemability of human institutions; Jesus as Spirit-baptizer suggests a prophetic action within society; Jesus as healer opens up a theology of economics; and Jesus as coming king sparks debate around Christian hope, and the development of a political theology of history and the eschaton. Importantly, Yong recognizes this five-fold framework as soteriological in nature. Although in its formulation it can be understood as primarily Christological, pneumatological, eschatological, and so on, the underlying theme is inherently salvific. For example, Yong observes that the pentecostal doctrine of Spirit baptism serves a wider missiological – and therefore soteriological – purpose.[85] The centrality of this theme is crucial, because it reveals the pervasiveness of soteriology in and through the pentecostal worldview. In the context of our present discussion this means that the gospel – as we have already indicated – has salvific implications in every sphere of human society; there is an “incontrovertible this-worldliness to pentecostal spirituality that is focused on the present redemption of human life in all of its domains.”[86] And this, of course, includes politics.
Particularly pertinent to our discussion is the fifth and final thread: Jesus as coming king. Here, Yong develops what he terms an “eschatological theology of the political”, which culminate the previous four elements, and whereby he makes a number of important conclusions.[87] Firstly, the dispensationalist tendencies visible within Pentecostalism are not consistent with pentecostal commitments as a whole. For, “the apocalyptic insistence on the obliteration of the world in the end is not only incompatible with a theology of a new heavens and a new earth, rightly understood… it also undermines central pentecostal convictions about the theological value of the body, the materiality of the human condition, and the social dimensions of salvation.”[88] Secondly, Yong asserts, Jesus as coming king should prompt us to reconsider our eschatology in pneumatological terms: given the ‘this-worldly’ dimension to pentecostal spirituality demands a recasting of priorities in this area. Such pneumatological interpretation opens up, thirdly, an eschatological politics of hope. Thus, Yong highlights the performative nature of eschatology.[89] A significant contribution here is Yong’s suggestion that legitimate eschatology must involve not only time, but also space. He notes the application of the term eschatou tes ges – describing the Spirit’s empowering of mission to the ends of the earth, and the initiation of “salvation to the ends of the earth”in Acts 1:8 and 13:47, respectively – which suggests that the eschatological element inherent to salvation is not limited to some far-off event in the future, but present here, insofar as salvation has been, and is being, outworked over the earth.[90] Pentecostal political theology, then, can be understood as the out-working of pentecostal eschatology; which is itself an aspect of soteriology. In broad terms, it involves “modelling a viable and alternative form of life in the footsteps of the Messiah, as empowered by the Holy Spirit.”[91]
The Pentecostal Prospect
We now turn to the question of what the pentecostal approach to the political contributes to a truly Christian response in Israel-Palestine: what does this “alternative form of life” entail for Christian praxis in the Palestinian context? Here is a central concern of any contextual theology which, by necessity, holds two elements in dialectical tension: one’s context, and one’s theology. On the one hand is an inescapable sitz im leben; the setting in which life is lived, and which provokes a response, as well as informing such response from out of one’s cultural traditions. On the other hand is our knowledge of God, and a faith by which life is ordered in accordance with what we understand as an appropriate, resultant praxis. Pentecostalism is perhaps uniquely suited to dialogue with contextual approaches because it is largely born out of an experiential worldview, with an inherent recognition that theology – and therefore Christian praxis – is always, already contextual.
Such dialogue, then, stimulates an inter-contextual dynamic; for consideration of the Palestinian context also reveals an area within Pentecostalism which, as we have seen, requires serious revision: eschatology – particularly as this relates to politics. Furthermore, in the subsequent development of an approach to politics which is truly resonant with central pentecostal commitments, a number of points are raised which also speak back to the Palestinian context. This dialogical relationship presents something of a hermeneutical circle – as one informs the other, which in turn then speaks back to the former – which is so crucial to an authentic contextual theology. The question of the pentecostal prospect is thus two-fold: what can pentecostals hope to learn from the Palestinian Christians’ consciously-lived theology, and what does Pentecostalism’s unique approach offer the Palestinian context?
The Palestinian Christians’ adoption of liberation theology in their reaction to the Israeli occupation of their land constitutes a contextual theology which consciously seeks an application of Christ’s salvific work within their situation. Such a response challenges the traditional pentecostal dispensationalist paradigm, in that it reveals the theo-political nature of Zionism. Apolitical dispensationalism would, no doubt, readily acknowledge the theological element of Zionism, but may have difficulty in accepting the political dimension inherent to the idea. However, in illustrating the unavoidability of the political in human existence, Palestinian contextual theology – in necessarily overcoming any aversion to politics – prompts a re-evaluation of Pentecostalism’s acceptance of Zionism, as the deeply concerning ramifications of such a ‘theology’ are revealed. Indeed, the theological aspect assumed by dispensationalist pentecostals is rendered illegitimate in light of the Palestinian’s plight. Though aware of the terrible injustices suffered by the Palestinians, dispensationalist pentecostals seem to have taken solace in the fact that these events are all in the interest of prophecy’s fulfilment, and an attitude that is willing to ‘let the end-times roll’ has then been adopted; resulting in a socio-political quietism that goes against not only a truly Christian approach, but also betrays an integral belief in the work of the Holy Spirit in the world. To put it succinctly, on this issue pentecostal pneumatology and has failed to inform our eschatology; which has then in turn undone any authentic soteriology, thus negating the Spirit-led praxis that is so essential to pentecostal identity. The theological bankruptcy of Zionism (at least as it has been appropriated by dispensationalist-leaning pentecostals) prompts two important concessions: Israel’s occupation of Palestinian land cannot be justified on Christian grounds; and a legitimate Christian response to this injustice must include action along theologically-informed political lines.
In acknowledging the need for political response, however, we must be cautious not to embrace all and any politics unquestioningly. For to speak of political theology is not to describe Christianity itself as a political alignment; nor is it to convey the idea that a political option, since it is practiced by Christians, somehow ‘Christianizes’ that option. To draw an analogy from Yong’s “many tongues, many political practices” framework, individual languages are not deemed to be either ‘of God’ or not. Indeed, God’s purposes can be achieved through “many tongues”, as the Day of Pentecost narrative attests to. So it is with political practices. To discount a particular political orientation in its entirety is akin to claiming that the gospel cannot be preached in, say, Spanish; just as to insist upon a particular political approach is analogous to contending that the gospel must only be preached in Greek. But again, this is not to baptize all and any political options, and so slide into relativism: there are obviously elements to any human endeavour (speech or action) that present a hindrance to God’s purposes. What is important here, however, is that the gospel – in transcending political options – can be brought to bear upon any of them. To revert again to our linguistic analogy, though the divine truth of the gospel is beyond words, yet we must use language to convey it. It is, then, a matter of finding the right words in any language, and so the right practice in any political context. The question then becomes, which political ‘tongue’ is appropriate to this particular situation? Thus, liberation theology must not be uncritically embraced. Its political dimension must be explored and critiqued, just as the Palestinians themselves have examined Zionism’s political characteristics.
Despite all effort to the contrary, liberation theology remains a political response which by and large makes use of – and is therefore in a sense, subordinated to – the existing politics of the day. Indeed, liberation theology might even be understood as more socialist than Christian, in that it seems to assume the zero-sum economic theories of Marxist tradition; whereby one’s position is better or worse in correlation to the ‘other’. On this understanding, prosperity comes at the expense of the other; and so also is one’s own poverty inevitable if the other is to prosper. The ensuing ‘class struggle’ epitomizes this notion, and can be observed in much of liberation theology’s application, whereby local Christians take sides with the poor in their efforts to dethrone the wealthy; presumably with the aim of distributing wealth ‘fairly’.[92] It is questionable, however, whether any truly equitable arrangement can be reached in reality, whilst one group is favoured over and against another. This same danger lurks in the context of Israel-Palestine, where the Jews have largely been favoured over and against the Palestinians. Perhaps the most obvious indicator of this can be seen in the land that has been claimed by Israel over the years, at the Palestinians’ expense. But as the Palestinians then find themselves with less and less, and so become the poor, we witness a role reversal; one which – on the terms of an uncritically-appropriated liberation theology – might be accompanied by a change in allegiance, whereby Palestinians then become favoured over and against the Jews.
Indeed, the problem with liberation theology’s tendency to equate liberation with redemption is that this is essentially to repeat the Zionist fallacy, and see God’s salvation enacted in one’s success at the price of another’s failure; whether this is in the form of Israel’s conquest of land, or sought in assigning priority to the dispossessed Palestinians. If we are to reject Zionism, and so reframe the idea of the Jewish political Messiah, we must also reframe this tenet of liberation theology. A legitimate theology, in recognising the universal nature of Christ’s salvific work, will not assume such favouritism in aid of one group, or political cause, over and against another; and it is therefore not simply a matter of siding with the Palestinians. What is needed is a theology of politics born out of a holistic soteriology, which dissolves any simplistic dichotomies. The “many tongues, many political practices” paradigm, as an expression of the pentecostal five-fold gospel, presents such a possibility which includes, but is not limited to – or by – the political. Here is a framework which preserves pentecostal commitments, whilst positively engaging the political world through Christological praxis.
However, in our attempts to follow in Christ’s footsteps, it should be recognized that Jesus’ engagement with the political is also to be understood as a result of his empowerment by the Spirit. Importantly, such engagement was directed – by the Spirit – in a style appropriate to the time and culture. To follow in Christ’s footsteps, then, does not mean to respond to the politics of our time in an identical fashion. Our drastically different context should signal caution. Indeed, to follow Jesus is not to simply ‘do what Jesus did’, but rather to ‘be as Jesus was’ (and is); that is, living life in constant communion with the Spirit, even whilst engaging the world – in every sphere. Such a pentecostal prospect for a reframing of Christological praxis leads us to consider the ontological heart of Pentecostalism, and to the development of what might be termed an ‘onto-pneumatological’ approach. This terminology emphasizes the pentecostal self-understanding as ‘being-in-the-Spirit’; affirming the Spirit as our starting point, for it is at the heart our very identity. Far from being merely functional in and through the life of the believer, the Spirit becomes the ontological impetus of our very existence. All else then flows from this, and so inspires our context-based response in, and to, the world.
To apply this general idea to a particular case, we might consider the Palestinian ‘logic of love’, employed in their resistance to Israel’s injustices. What enables such love? Christ’s example would at once seem the obvious source, but recognition of Christ’s love is not the same as practicing such love: to know is not necessarily to do. Delving deeper than a surface understanding, we might propose that this love begins in onto-pneumatological praxis: that is, how we love (practically) is informed by the Spirit’s central presence in our lives – and so is outworked in every sphere: political, social, and so on. It should be noted that such a formulation is not to de-emphasize Christ’s example, but rather to understand what lies at the centre of his example: Spirit-empowerment. This marks the difference between promoting Christian ideas or doing Christian things, and being Christian – that is, Christ-like – at the most foundational, ontological level. Love, then, is more than the choice not to hate, or not to repay evil for evil. It is even more than seeing God’s face in the face of the other.[93] Indeed, it is quite beyond any ‘logic’, as the Kairos Palestine authors suggest. So whereas the Palestinian contextual theology of liberation is careful to apply love in their resistance, a specifically pentecostal onto-pneumatological approach is more concerned with seeing the underlying creative stimulus of the Spirit allowed to work; which will, necessarily, embody this sought-after exemplification of Christian love at its most authentic.
Conclusion
Through Kairos Palestine we see the Palestinian Christians’ response to a political issue, but one which is predicated theologically, insofar as Zionism is concerned. Such response is therefore also grounded on theology, but consciously expressed politically. Whilst pentecostals have traditionally assumed an apolitical posture toward matters of state and nation, we have seen how such a separation of ‘worldly’ and ‘Godly’ domains is to undermine the very heart of the Christian message, and relegates faith to esoteric abstraction, whilst failing to properly address the question of Christian praxis. On the contrary, a self-consistent understanding of Christ’s salvific work plays out in every arena of human life. In the Palestinian context this fact is realized through the appropriation of liberation theology, whereby freedom from Israeli oppression is pursued as just one expression of Christian faith in action.
However, liberation theology – it could be argued – is not so much founded upon faith in God, as it is upon human political activism (though, admittedly, invoking recourse to God). Although not to be understood primarily as political activism, liberation theology unavoidably tends toward emphasizing human effort in the struggle against injustice. The ensuing political action, it should be noted, is not necessarily in and of itself inappropriate; as the “many tongues, many political practices” paradigm affirms. An intrinsically Christian response, however, should be founded first and foremost upon Christ, with any resultant political action constituting legitimately Christian praxis. The eschatological politics of hope that Yong posits as the backbone of a pentecostal response recognizes the priority of the Spirit in working for a future of justice and peace. We are left, then, with the task of practically outworking our faith in politically-oriented situations: prophetically embodying Christological praxis as is appropriate within a given context.
In the pentecostal approach, such action takes on a uniquely onto-pneumatological dimension, as we have intimated. On this view, the word of “faith, hope and love” advocated by Kairos Palestine can only truly be Christian insofar as it is practically outworked through empowerment by the Holy Spirit. For this is the same Spirit who birthed and empowered Jesus’ earthly ministry; the same Spirit who rose him from the dead; and the same Spirit who now inhabits Christ’s followers, involving us in the continuation of his mission today.
[1] Eric N. Newberg, “Pentecostals and Peace in Palestine/Israel,” Australasian Pentecostal Studies 13(2010): 41-58.
[2] “A Moment of Truth: A Word of Faith, Hope, and Love from the Heart of Palestinian Suffering,” Kairos Palestine, accessed January, 2012, http://www.kairospalestine.ps/sites/default/Documents/English.pdf, 3.
[3] Ibid.
[4] See Samuel J. Kuruvilla, “The Invention of History: A Century of Interplay between Theology and Politics in Palestine,” Holy Land Studies 8.2 (2009): 238. Kuruvilla describes the International Centre of Bethlehem Conference in March 2009, at which the South African delegates were consulted in preparation of Kairos Palestine’s release in December of that year.
[5] “Kairos Study Guide,” Kairos Palestine, accessed January 2012, http://www.ncccusa.org/pdfs/kairosstudyguide.pdf.
[6] “Come and See,” Kairos Palestine, accessed January 2012, http://www.kairospalestine.ps/sites/default/Documents/Guidelines%20for%20Christians%20Contemplating%20a%20Pilgrimage%20to%20the%20Holy%20Land.pdf, 6.
[7] “A Moment of Truth,” 3.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Ibid., 4.
[10] Ibid., 5.
[11] Ibid., 6. The use of the word “catastrophe” here is notable, as it is used by Palestinians generally to describe the war in 1948 which precipitated Israel’s establishment as an independent state.
[12] Ibid., 7.
[13] Ibid., 8.
[14] One need only examine the doctrinal statement of any pentecostal church to see that this idea is of foundational import to Pentecostalism generally.
[15] “A Moment of Truth,” 8.
[16] Sidney H. Schwarz, “Redefining Zionism,” Judaism 35.3 (1986): 316.
[17] Nur Masalha, “Reading the Bible with the Eyes of the Canaanites: Neo-Zionism, Political Theology and the Land Traditions of the Bible (1967 to Gaza 2009),” Holy Land Studies 8.1 (2009): 55.
[18] “Ecumenical Liberation Theology Centre,” Sabeel, accessed January, 2012, http://www.sabeel.org.
[19] Naim S. Ateek, “The Theology and Politics of Christian Zionism,” in A Palestinian Christian Cry for Liberation (New York: Orbis, 2010), 78.
[20] Cited in Ateek, “The Theology and Politics of Christian Zionism,” 79.
[21] Ibid.
[22] See, for example, “Fundamental Truths,” Assemblies of God USA, accessed January 2012, http://ag.org/top/Beliefs/Statement_of_Fundamental_Truths/sft_short.cfm. This document states, “We believe in the millennial reign of Christ when Jesus returns with His saints at His second coming and begins His benevolent rule over earth for 1,000 years. This millennial reign will bring the salvation of national Israel and the establishment of universal peace.” Note the reference to ‘national’ Israel.
[23] See Newberg, “Pentecostals and Peace in Palestine/Israel,” for a thorough-going account of the typical pentecostal attitude, which need not be recapitulated here.
[24] “A Moment of Truth,” 9.
[25] Cited in Ateek, “The Theology and Politics of Christian Zionism,” 80.
[26] “A Moment of Truth,” 8.
[27] Ibid.
[28] N. T. Wright, The Original Jesus: The Life and Vision of a Revolutionary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996).
[29] Ibid., 32, 48-49.
[30] Ibid., 63.
[31] “A Moment of Truth,” 9.
[32] Ibid.
[33] Richard Bauckham, “Jürgen Moltmann,” in The Modern Theologians, ed. David Ford (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005), 157.
[34] “A Moment of Truth,” 9.
[35] Ibid., 10-11.
[36] Ibid., 11.
[37] Ibid.
[38] John 14:12-13.
[39] “Ecumenical Liberation Theology Centre.”
[40] This idea can be seen clearly throughout the Old Testament, especially in Isaiah 9:6-7; 11:1-10.
[41] See John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972). The basic thesis here is that, whilst Christianity is not formally involved in statecraft, is does have political consequences.
[42] Rebecca S. Chopp and Ethna Regan, “Latin American Liberation Theology,” in The Modern Theologians, ed. David Ford (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005), 469.
[43] Ibid.
[44] Ibid., 470.
[45] Ibid.
[46] Dennis McCann, “Practical Theology and Social Action,” in Practical Theology: The Emerging Field in Theology, Church, and World, ed. Don S. Browning(San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1983), 105–25.
[47] Bauckham, “Jürgen Moltmann,” 157.
[48] Ibid.
[49] Gustavo Gutiérrez, “Theology and Spirituality in a Latin American Context,” Harvard Divinity Bulletin 14 (1984): 4.
[50] Chopp and Regan, “Latin American Liberation Theology,” 475.
[51] Ibid., 478.
[52] Ibid,. 478-9.
[53] Ibid., 479.
[54] Schubert Ogden, Faith and Freedom: Toward a Theology of Liberation, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1979).
[55] Chopp and Regan, “Latin American Liberation Theology,” 479. Emphasis added.
[56] Ibid.
[57] Bauckham, “Jürgen Moltmann,” 157.
[58] Chopp and Regan, “Latin American Liberation Theology,” 479.
[59] Ibid.
[60] Ibid.
[61] Samuel J. Kuruvilla, “Theologies of Liberation in Latin America and Palestine-Israel in Comparative Perspective: Contextual Differences and Practical Similarities,” Holy Land Studies 9.1 (2010): 57.
[62] Although estimates differ, most statistics arrive at, or around, the 2% figure. See, for example, “Christian - Muslim Relations in Palestine,” Middle East Monitor, accessed January, 2012, http://www.middleeastmonitor.org.uk/resources/briefing-papers/1208-christian-muslim-relations-in-palestine.
[63] Kuruvilla, “Theologies of Liberation in Latin America and Palestine-Israel,” 58.
[64] Ibid., 54.
[65] Romans 12:17
[66] 1 Peter 3:9
[67] Bauckham, “Jürgen Moltmann,” 157.
[68] “A Moment of Truth,” 12.
[69] Ibid.
[70] Kuruvilla, “Theologies of Liberation in Latin America and Palestine-Israel,” 68.
[71] “A Moment of Truth,” 13-14.
[72] Ibid., 15.
[73] Ibid., 16.
[74] A. Rashied Omar, “Kairos Palestine – The Voice of Palestinian Christians,” The Ecumenical Review 63.1 (2011): 122.
[75] “A Moment of Truth,” 16.
[76] See Stephen J. Land, Pentecostal Spirituality: A Passion for the Kingdom (Cleveland: CPT Press, 2010).
[77] John 18:36
[78] Amos Yong, In the Days of Caesar: Pentecostalism and Political Theology (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2010), Kindle edition, 243-44. References to this volume correspond to location numbers.
[79] Ibid., 255.
[80] Ibid., 171.
[81] Ibid., 539.
[82] See Amos Yong, The Spirit Poured out on All Flesh: Pentecostalism and the Possibility of Global Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005).
[83] Yong, In the Days of Caesar, 1355.
[84] See John Christopher Thomas, “Pentecostal Theology in the Twenty-First Century,” Pneuma 20: 1 (1998): 3-19.
[85] Yong, In the Days of Caesar, 1372-1373.
[86] Ibid., 3651-3652.
[87] Ibid., 3531.
[88] Ibid., 3649-3651.
[89] Ibid., 3868.
[90] Ibid., 3675.
[91] Ibid., 4033.
[92] See especially Gutiérrez, “Theology and Spirituality in a Latin American Context.”
[93] Cf. “A Moment of Truth”, 12.