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A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, and Salvation
This is the credo and seminal text of the movement which was later characterized as liberation theology. The book burst upon the scene in the early seventies, and was swiftly acknowledged as a pioneering and prophetic approach to theology which famously made an option for the poor, placing the exploited, the alienated, and the economically wretched at the centre of a programme where "the oppressed and maimed and blind and lame" were prioritized at the expense of those who either maintained the status quo or who abused the structures of power for their own ends. This powerful, compassionate and radical book attracted criticism for daring to mix politics and religion in so explicit a manner, but was also welcomed by those who had the capacity to see that its agenda was nothing more nor less than to give "good news to the poor", and redeem God's people from bondage.
264 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1971
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About the author
Gustavo Gutiérrez
106 books130 followersGustavo Gutiérrez-Merino Díaz was a Peruvian philosopher, Catholic theologian, and Dominican priest who was one of the founders of liberation theology in Latin America. His 1971 book A Theology of Liberation is considered pivotal to the formation of liberation theology. He held the John Cardinal O'Hara Professorship of Theology at the University of Notre Dame and was a visiting professor at universities in North America and Europe.
Gutiérrez studied medicine and literature at the National University of San Marcos before deciding to become a priest. He began studying theology at the Theology Faculty of Leuven in Belgium and in Lyon, France.
His theological focus connected salvation and liberation through the preferential option for the poor, with an emphasis on improving the material conditions of the impoverished. Gutiérrez proposed that revelation and eschatology have been excessively idealized at the expense of efforts to bring about the Kingdom of God on Earth. His methodology was often critical of the social and economic injustice he believed to be responsible for poverty in Latin America, and of the Catholic clergy. The central pastoral question of his work was: "How do we convey to the poor that God loves them?"
Gutiérrez studied medicine and literature at the National University of San Marcos before deciding to become a priest. He began studying theology at the Theology Faculty of Leuven in Belgium and in Lyon, France.
His theological focus connected salvation and liberation through the preferential option for the poor, with an emphasis on improving the material conditions of the impoverished. Gutiérrez proposed that revelation and eschatology have been excessively idealized at the expense of efforts to bring about the Kingdom of God on Earth. His methodology was often critical of the social and economic injustice he believed to be responsible for poverty in Latin America, and of the Catholic clergy. The central pastoral question of his work was: "How do we convey to the poor that God loves them?"
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May 13, 2021
Who Should Read this Book – People who are interested in theology, especially those who have a desire to learn from writers outside the white, European tradition.
What is the Big Take-Away from this Book – God created humans as holistic creatures encompassing both body and soul so theology must not limit itself to so-called spiritual questions but also examine questions of nature, society, politics and economics. To do this well in America, American Christians like me need to read authors from outside our context.
And a Memorable Quote: “Consequently, when we assert that humanity fulfills itself by continuing the work of creation by means of its labor, we are saying that it places itself, by this very fact, within an all embracing salvific process. To work, to transform this world, is to become a man and to build the human community; it is also to save. Likewise, to struggle against misery and exploitation and to build a just society is already to be part of the saving action, which is moving towards its complete fulfillment. All this means that building the temporal city is not simply a stage of ‘humanization’ or ‘pre-evangelization’ as was held in theology until a few years ago. Rather it is to become part of a saving process which embraces the whole of humanity and all human history. Any theological reflection on human work and social praxis ought to be rooted in this fundamental affirmation” (91)
This is a key work in liberation theology. Gutierrez writes from his context as a Roman Catholic in Latin America. Thus, Catholic councils and theologians loom large. These were, for me, the least interesting parts of the book, and perhaps the most dated already. But when Gutierrez turns his focus to theology, he transcends his own context.
When I was in seminary we learned theology and then we took some time to study contextual theologies. Theology was the tradition of the church from early church councils to medieval scholastics to Reformers then on to modern theologians wrestling with a growing post-Christian context. Then we turned to black liberation theology, or Latin American liberation theology, or feminist or LGBTQ or whatever and it was often noted that these contextual theologies began with their experience.
To be fair, my seminary was quite open-minded and our professors recognized that all theology is rooted in some context. There is no pure theology. Over the years, I’ve learned to love and learn from all sorts of people. Gutierrez taught me a lot in this book. That’s what I mean by saying he transcends his own context. As he wrote about the situation in Latin America, I saw much overlap with the situation in North America. When he began developing a holistic, full-fledged theology that included both spiritual and material realities and concerns, I saw much in there that we Christians need to learn in the USA.
When I observe the Christian atmosphere here in the USA, I truly wonder if Christianity has actually ever taken root here (I’m reminded of a David Bentley Hart quote that asks that question). We say we’re Christian but we’ve made faith into mere belief, something right at home in our capitalist, consumerist, individualist society. I mean, a large portion of Christians I know would probably see I read a book on “liberation theology” and think I’m some kind of socialist because they’re more shaped by Rush, Beck, Hannity and those guys than anything distinctly faith-centered.
I’m not saying I have it all figured out; on my best days I am just as consumerist and individualist as the next guy. I am saying that we’d all do better off, if we believe in the universal church, learning from folks like Gutierrez. Theologians and Christians from other contexts - global and historical - have their own blind spots but at least they’re probably different than the blind spots we have in the US. For illuminating my blind spots, I am grateful.
What is the Big Take-Away from this Book – God created humans as holistic creatures encompassing both body and soul so theology must not limit itself to so-called spiritual questions but also examine questions of nature, society, politics and economics. To do this well in America, American Christians like me need to read authors from outside our context.
And a Memorable Quote: “Consequently, when we assert that humanity fulfills itself by continuing the work of creation by means of its labor, we are saying that it places itself, by this very fact, within an all embracing salvific process. To work, to transform this world, is to become a man and to build the human community; it is also to save. Likewise, to struggle against misery and exploitation and to build a just society is already to be part of the saving action, which is moving towards its complete fulfillment. All this means that building the temporal city is not simply a stage of ‘humanization’ or ‘pre-evangelization’ as was held in theology until a few years ago. Rather it is to become part of a saving process which embraces the whole of humanity and all human history. Any theological reflection on human work and social praxis ought to be rooted in this fundamental affirmation” (91)
This is a key work in liberation theology. Gutierrez writes from his context as a Roman Catholic in Latin America. Thus, Catholic councils and theologians loom large. These were, for me, the least interesting parts of the book, and perhaps the most dated already. But when Gutierrez turns his focus to theology, he transcends his own context.
When I was in seminary we learned theology and then we took some time to study contextual theologies. Theology was the tradition of the church from early church councils to medieval scholastics to Reformers then on to modern theologians wrestling with a growing post-Christian context. Then we turned to black liberation theology, or Latin American liberation theology, or feminist or LGBTQ or whatever and it was often noted that these contextual theologies began with their experience.
To be fair, my seminary was quite open-minded and our professors recognized that all theology is rooted in some context. There is no pure theology. Over the years, I’ve learned to love and learn from all sorts of people. Gutierrez taught me a lot in this book. That’s what I mean by saying he transcends his own context. As he wrote about the situation in Latin America, I saw much overlap with the situation in North America. When he began developing a holistic, full-fledged theology that included both spiritual and material realities and concerns, I saw much in there that we Christians need to learn in the USA.
When I observe the Christian atmosphere here in the USA, I truly wonder if Christianity has actually ever taken root here (I’m reminded of a David Bentley Hart quote that asks that question). We say we’re Christian but we’ve made faith into mere belief, something right at home in our capitalist, consumerist, individualist society. I mean, a large portion of Christians I know would probably see I read a book on “liberation theology” and think I’m some kind of socialist because they’re more shaped by Rush, Beck, Hannity and those guys than anything distinctly faith-centered.
I’m not saying I have it all figured out; on my best days I am just as consumerist and individualist as the next guy. I am saying that we’d all do better off, if we believe in the universal church, learning from folks like Gutierrez. Theologians and Christians from other contexts - global and historical - have their own blind spots but at least they’re probably different than the blind spots we have in the US. For illuminating my blind spots, I am grateful.
August 16, 2017
I've been reading theologians associated with liberation theology for the past six years, and it wasn't until this point that I began to engage with one of the forefathers of it all. Early on, it was striking to me how distinctive Latin American liberation theology was from the predominantly African American strand I've grown much more familiar with. Within Gutiérrez's context, race is almost never mentioned and class is at the core of each argument and point. This obviously makes perfect sense for the context this was written from, and doesn't erase the critical reality that Gutiérrez is a Peruvian man himself, but there was still something that felt fresh about reading such a class-focused take on liberation theology for me.
What was also striking early on was the relative orthodoxy Gutiérrez remains rooted within. He does such a compelling and even beautiful job of continually bridging alleged ideological divides to explain that what he's arguing for isn't a break from faithful communion with God but rather a greater fulfillment of that. I've read a number of theologians whose writing comes across brilliant and academically adept yet sterile and detached from the subject at hand -- I was really struck by the way Gutiérrez consistently demonstrated scholarly excellence as well as a deeply moving sense of passion and vitality and adoration for the God he is writing so fervently about. It's just so clear to me that he genuinely believes with his whole heart what he is introducing and advocating for here.
The only thing that kept this from being a five-star read for me was my own biases against historical writing. Although I can absolutely see how necessary it was for him to thoroughly explicate on the context he is writing from and I did learn a lot from the first half of the book that almost entirely focuses on doing that, it wasn't enjoyable for me to read through. He does a good job of using an onslaught of scholars, but his voice gets lost amidst theirs and I found myself wanting to skim through until he was back at the center. With that said, the second half of the book ranges from terrific to downright breathtaking. He has an exceptional mix of relevant hermeneutical exegesis, exploration and expansion of other concepts in his field, and independent theological rumination. What I appreciated most, and what I found to be most central to his writings, was the emphasis on praxis that sits at the heart of everything he is saying. I love that his hope is not to add fodder to the abstract discussions of armchair theologians but rather to open eyes and catalyze hearts towards the enfleshed action of what he's presenting -- something relatively rare, and deeply appreciated.
What was also striking early on was the relative orthodoxy Gutiérrez remains rooted within. He does such a compelling and even beautiful job of continually bridging alleged ideological divides to explain that what he's arguing for isn't a break from faithful communion with God but rather a greater fulfillment of that. I've read a number of theologians whose writing comes across brilliant and academically adept yet sterile and detached from the subject at hand -- I was really struck by the way Gutiérrez consistently demonstrated scholarly excellence as well as a deeply moving sense of passion and vitality and adoration for the God he is writing so fervently about. It's just so clear to me that he genuinely believes with his whole heart what he is introducing and advocating for here.
The only thing that kept this from being a five-star read for me was my own biases against historical writing. Although I can absolutely see how necessary it was for him to thoroughly explicate on the context he is writing from and I did learn a lot from the first half of the book that almost entirely focuses on doing that, it wasn't enjoyable for me to read through. He does a good job of using an onslaught of scholars, but his voice gets lost amidst theirs and I found myself wanting to skim through until he was back at the center. With that said, the second half of the book ranges from terrific to downright breathtaking. He has an exceptional mix of relevant hermeneutical exegesis, exploration and expansion of other concepts in his field, and independent theological rumination. What I appreciated most, and what I found to be most central to his writings, was the emphasis on praxis that sits at the heart of everything he is saying. I love that his hope is not to add fodder to the abstract discussions of armchair theologians but rather to open eyes and catalyze hearts towards the enfleshed action of what he's presenting -- something relatively rare, and deeply appreciated.
August 14, 2009
Only 5 stars? 6 stars! 10 stars!
Finally, FINALLY, a worldview that matches my own. It was indescribably sweet to read a book that blends my views on faith and on society so wonderfully. It took me some time to read this one. I paused frequently just to think and reflect on what the author was saying. I felt like I was savoring the powerful statements sprinkling every page, rolling them around in my mind like some delectable treat. I can't even imagine how amazing it would be to see this book from an LDS perspective. Maybe that'll be my job. Or maybe I'm supposed to be Catholic? :P
Finally, FINALLY, a worldview that matches my own. It was indescribably sweet to read a book that blends my views on faith and on society so wonderfully. It took me some time to read this one. I paused frequently just to think and reflect on what the author was saying. I felt like I was savoring the powerful statements sprinkling every page, rolling them around in my mind like some delectable treat. I can't even imagine how amazing it would be to see this book from an LDS perspective. Maybe that'll be my job. Or maybe I'm supposed to be Catholic? :P
June 10, 2023
An absolutely jaw dropping text on the necessity as Christians to work to liberate people from their political and social oppression, with a special concern for the poor.
The first 8 chapters primarily provide context and situate the importance of this theology with respect to the ruling at Vatican II, and the last 5 chapters focus on the actual meaning of a liberation theology.
The fundamental idea of the book is we need to see salvation as something that is actively unfolding in history, and that there is a connection between Christ dealing with the root of all oppressions which is sin and our political actions. Beyond that, I can only quote Gutiérrez.
“This radical liberation is the gift which Christ offers us. By his death and resurrection he redeems us from sin and all it’s consequences, as has been well said in a text we quote against: ‘It is the same God who, in the fullness of time, sends his Son in the flesh, so that he might come to liberate all men from all slavery to which sin has subjected them: misery, oppression, and ignorance, in a word, that injustice and hatred which have their origin in human selfishness.’”
“To know Yahweh, which in Biblical language is equivalent to saying to love Yahweh, is to establish just relationships amongst persons, it is to recognize the rights of the poor. The God of Biblical revelation is known through interhuman justice. Where justice does not exist, God is not known; God is absent.”
“We find the Lord in our encounters with others, especially the poor, marginated, and exploited ones. An act of love towards them is an act of love towards God.”
“In history and only in history is the gift of the love of God believed, loved, and hoped for. Every attempt to evade the struggle against alienation and the violence of the powerful and for a more just and more human world is the greatest infidelity to God. To know God is to work for justice. There is no other path to reach God.”
The first 8 chapters primarily provide context and situate the importance of this theology with respect to the ruling at Vatican II, and the last 5 chapters focus on the actual meaning of a liberation theology.
The fundamental idea of the book is we need to see salvation as something that is actively unfolding in history, and that there is a connection between Christ dealing with the root of all oppressions which is sin and our political actions. Beyond that, I can only quote Gutiérrez.
“This radical liberation is the gift which Christ offers us. By his death and resurrection he redeems us from sin and all it’s consequences, as has been well said in a text we quote against: ‘It is the same God who, in the fullness of time, sends his Son in the flesh, so that he might come to liberate all men from all slavery to which sin has subjected them: misery, oppression, and ignorance, in a word, that injustice and hatred which have their origin in human selfishness.’”
“To know Yahweh, which in Biblical language is equivalent to saying to love Yahweh, is to establish just relationships amongst persons, it is to recognize the rights of the poor. The God of Biblical revelation is known through interhuman justice. Where justice does not exist, God is not known; God is absent.”
“We find the Lord in our encounters with others, especially the poor, marginated, and exploited ones. An act of love towards them is an act of love towards God.”
“In history and only in history is the gift of the love of God believed, loved, and hoped for. Every attempt to evade the struggle against alienation and the violence of the powerful and for a more just and more human world is the greatest infidelity to God. To know God is to work for justice. There is no other path to reach God.”
January 21, 2021
A (very dense) must read for anyone wrestling with questions about the purpose of the church in the face of social injustice.
May 20, 2024
“To conceive of history as a process of human liberation is to consider freedom as a historical conquest; it is to understand that the step from an abstract to a real freedom is not taken without a struggle against all the forces that oppress humankind, a struggle full of pitfalls, detours, and temptations to run away. The goal is not only better living conditions, a radical change of structures, a social revolution; it is much more: the continuous creation, never ending, of a new way to be human, a permanent cultural revolution.”
“To know Yahweh, which in Biblical language is equivalent to saying to love Yahweh, is to establish just relationships among persons, it is to recognize the rights of the poor. The God of Biblical revelation is known through interhuman justice. When justice does not exist, God is not known; God is absent.”
“To preach the universal love of the Father is inevitably to go against all injustice, privilege, oppression, or narrow nationalism.”
January 23, 2022
One of the best books of theology I have ever read and one that I will continue to re-read in the months and years ahead. Gutiérrez has given me so much to chew on--I have never been so convicted.
January 20, 2013
This is an incredibly scholarly but also radical kick up the backside for Christian ministry and the Church. It was written in the 70s and embedded in latin american politics and religion, but has huge relevance today with the increasing poverty of the poorest in the world, the complete dominance of capitalism, and the necessary Christian response to such oppression and political injustice. It is the church how I wish it to be. It champions the struggles of the oppressed, and urges utmost solidarity with oppressed people as the ONLY way to be fulfilling Gods love on earth (increasing the humanity of all people by hearing their voices and acting on their needs and struggles, and a move towards 'utopia' which is a vision of a just world). It has had a huge effect on Christian theology since it was written, and much more has been written since, but the praxis is sadly still lacking in the Church world over (even if more individuals are nowadays more likely to hold such a theology). It is thick with theory, and biblical stuff that is hard going at times, and I think would be particularly hard for a non-Christian to understand, but it is worth the effort.
December 4, 2019
“God has the freshest and keenest memory of the least and most forgotten.”
Bartolomé de los Casas
Bartolomé de los Casas
July 4, 2020
The social re-appropriation of the Word and of the World, by and for those oppressed by others... Always an amazing experience to read and rethink our steps in the long road for liberation.
December 29, 2024
For the past few years, I've taken to describing God as "communication," meaning that I see divinity most in the moments where people are engaged in discussions that nourish, uplift, inspire, and sustain.
I've read a few books this year leading up to this, but I wish I'd started with Gustavo Gutierrez, as he is considered one of the fathers of liberation theology. This book is a must read for almost anyone. It should obliterate Biblical literalism, heal the hearts of the formerly devout, and reconcile the concerns of the nonbeliever. For me, this book perfectly synthesizes what I have come to understand about Jesus and validates my hope for Christianity.
As much as I don't like to call myself a Christian because of the associations that identity has with white supremacy and prosperity gospel in the United States, I am thrilled that there has long been an alternative. It is not popular or well known, and it has been half a century since it was written and recieved violent back lash, but this theology's principles are enduring and all the more justified today. Christianity needs a revolution to survive. This book must inspire that.
I've read a few books this year leading up to this, but I wish I'd started with Gustavo Gutierrez, as he is considered one of the fathers of liberation theology. This book is a must read for almost anyone. It should obliterate Biblical literalism, heal the hearts of the formerly devout, and reconcile the concerns of the nonbeliever. For me, this book perfectly synthesizes what I have come to understand about Jesus and validates my hope for Christianity.
As much as I don't like to call myself a Christian because of the associations that identity has with white supremacy and prosperity gospel in the United States, I am thrilled that there has long been an alternative. It is not popular or well known, and it has been half a century since it was written and recieved violent back lash, but this theology's principles are enduring and all the more justified today. Christianity needs a revolution to survive. This book must inspire that.
July 23, 2020
Wow. This is a game-changer, or should be. It was written in the late 70s as a recognition of the role the Catholic church could, and should, play in easing the suffering of the poor in Latin America, and a critique of the church's status quo. Part withering critique on the oppression wrought from capitalism, part theological treatment of the responsibility of true disciples of Christ to actively fight against systems of political and economic oppression.
Gutierrez speaks with authority and empathy born of someone who is deeply familiar with these issues. His writing burns with righteous indignation and fury against a capitalist system that enriches the few at the expense of the majority of humanity. But this is more than a Marxist diatribe. His theology is rich and deep, and demonstrates in compelling fashion that true salvation is not at the disposal of the church, but is already happening as God has, and continues to reveal himself in history as the champion of the oppressed and poor and as the dispenser of social justice. Christians, and christian churches, have the choice of whether to be on the right side of the arc of history towards this justice.
Gutierrez argues that there is no apolitical dimension to religion, no personal conversion that denies our neighbor her basic humanity. There is only an outreach toward the oppressed that comes as we truly see the world through God's eyes, open our hearts to the suffering of others, and take our place in enacting a universal salvation and communion of love that is an ongoing historical fact, not a future eschatological event.
Gutierrez speaks with authority and empathy born of someone who is deeply familiar with these issues. His writing burns with righteous indignation and fury against a capitalist system that enriches the few at the expense of the majority of humanity. But this is more than a Marxist diatribe. His theology is rich and deep, and demonstrates in compelling fashion that true salvation is not at the disposal of the church, but is already happening as God has, and continues to reveal himself in history as the champion of the oppressed and poor and as the dispenser of social justice. Christians, and christian churches, have the choice of whether to be on the right side of the arc of history towards this justice.
Gutierrez argues that there is no apolitical dimension to religion, no personal conversion that denies our neighbor her basic humanity. There is only an outreach toward the oppressed that comes as we truly see the world through God's eyes, open our hearts to the suffering of others, and take our place in enacting a universal salvation and communion of love that is an ongoing historical fact, not a future eschatological event.
March 25, 2022
A Theology of Liberation is one of the foundational texts in Latin American liberation theology whose influence on liberation theologies more broadly has been immense. Influenced by the revolutionary witness of Catholic communities across Latin America, the Second Vatican Council, and the Medellin Conference of 1968, Gustavo Gutierrez, a Peruvian Dominican priest, offers here one of the first systemic treatments of the aims, presuppositions, and core concepts of liberation theology.
Gutierrez is influenced by Marxist philosophy in many respects, one of which is crucial to his entire project. For Gutierrez, like Marx, theory is consequent to forms of human action from which arise concepts or ideas, which seek in turn to make sense of that action and inspire further praxis. This basic observation influences how Gutierrez understands theology: while he affirms the classical conceptions of theology as a form of spiritual wisdom (as the Church Fathers would have it) and as rational knowledge (as the medieval scholastics would have it), theology is also, and more importantly in historical situations of unjust oppression, critical reflection on human action in society and the Church in view of the Word of God. As such, theology presupposes and examines “the lived faith that finds expression in prayer and commitment” (xxxiv) and, more specifically for Gutierrez, “the experiences of men and women committed to the process of liberation” in Latin America (xiii). Human experience and action, then, is fundamental, and the critical reflection of theology “follows [this experience]; it is the second step.” As Gutierrez explains further, “the pastoral activity of the Church does not flow as a conclusion from theological premises. Theology does not produce pastoral activity; rather it reflects upon it” (9). Theology therefore resembles a kind of a critical theory worked out in view of the Word of God accepted in faith that manifests in historical praxis.
If theology is a kind of critical theory, then, Gutierrez insists, theology must serve a prophetic function. As prophetic, theology interprets historical events to reveal and proclaim what they mean in view of the Word of God. That is, theology participates in “a political hermeneutics of the Gospel” to discern when and where unjust systems of oppression oppose the Kingdom of God. Theologians should, like the Hebrew prophets, vocally criticize this injustice and, by their work, empower nations, social classes, and peoples who seek to liberate themselves from domination by other nations, classes, and peoples. This prophetic function of theology means that theology is necessarily and inextricably tied to specific historical processes and social contexts, from which theology receives its data and to which it critically speaks. A Theology of Liberation therefore focuses on the Latin American perspective, even if Gutierrez also hopes “to contribute to the life and reflection of the universal Christian community.” For Gutierrez, theology can be both particular and universal; its attention to historical and social particularity does not condemn it to parochialism or provincialism (10-11). What is more, theology understood in this way combines “a freshness or newness that derives from attention to the historical vicissitudes of our peoples” and a “continuity that leads it to sink its roots deep in scripture, tradition, and the magisterium” (xliv). Gutierrez fully understands his project as situated within the tradition of the Catholic Church and, consequently, frequently cites papal encyclicals, conciliar documents, and several of the most prominent twentieth-century Catholic theologians. At the same time, A Theology of Liberation transcends the predominantly North Atlantic perspective of these theologians and radicalizes the propositions of the Second Vatican Council.
With this definition of theology in hand, Gutierrez turns to examine a set of interrelated problems for the Latin American context. The first is the practical political problem of material poverty that so many Latin Americans find themselves in, the consequence of a neocolonial situation of dependence on wealthier nations that systematically exploit Latin American nations. Gutierrez repeatedly stresses that the underdevelopment of poor countries is not a mere accident, but the by-product of the capitalist development of other countries. In view of this systematic exploitation, reformist policies are not, he claims, sufficient. Gutierrez severely critiques what he pejoratively calls “developmentalism,” which refers to a set of reformist socioeconomic policies that have not only failed, but have also preserved the unjust political and economic order on which the oppression of Latin American countries is based. This is, of course, no coincidence, since wealthy North Atlantic nations promoted these developmental policies in the first place, policies which merely reinforce their superior political and economic status. Concomitant with this situation of oppression is a second, theological problem. Poverty, Gutierrez acutely states, “means death.” It “destroys peoples, families, and individuals” as the product of “institutionalized violence” (xxi). As such, material poverty is contrary to the will of God whose salvific love redeems us from death and promises new life. It can be neither idealized nor justified from a Christian perspective (171). Yet if this is the case, then “how is it possible to tell the poor, who are forced to live in conditions that embody a denial of love, that God loves them?” (xxxiv). Theology must be able to answer this question.
Gutierrez proposes a theology of liberation in response to both these interrelated problems. Most basically, liberation refers to freedom from unjust oppression and the creation of a just society in which there is “complete communion” between humans and between humans and God (104). In effect, liberation leads to what Josiah Royce—and later, Martin Luther King, Jr.—called the “beloved community.” More specifically, Gutierrez understands liberation at three, interrelated levels: first, there is a political or socioeconomic liberation “from social situations of oppression and marginalization that force many . . . to live in conditions contrary to God’s will for their life.” Second, there is liberation qua “personal transformation by which we live with profound inner freedom in the face of every kind of servitude.” Finally, there is liberation from sin, understood as a breach of friendship with God and other human persons, which “cannot be eradicated except by the unmerited redemptive love of the Lord whom we receive by faith and in communion with one another” (xxxviii). Because social injustice is the product of sin, liberation from sin is the most fundamental form of liberation that each of the two other levels presupposes.
For Gutierrez, the idea of liberation also corrects for the deficiencies of developmentalism. First and foremost, it more accurately “expresses the aspirations of oppressed peoples and social classes” and more appropriately emphasizes the “conflictual aspect of the economic, social, and political process which puts them at odds with wealthy nations and oppressive classes” (24). By the same token, whereas developmentalism promotes a top-down approach, liberation denotes the need for and desire of the oppressed to participate in their own emancipation from oppression. Third, unlike developmentalism, liberation demands the systemic transformation of unjust structures rather than superficial policies that maintain the status quo. And fourth, liberation is more appropriate theologically: it reflects the salvific action of God in human history as described in the Bible that culminates in the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ. As Gutierrez writes, “Christ the Savior liberates from sin, which is the ultimate root of all disruption of friendship and of all injustice and oppression. Christ makes humankind truly free” (25, my emphasis).
Gutierrez advocates that the Church should promote liberation understood at these three levels. Yet to defend this kind of pastoral activity, he must reassess how the Church understands its mission in the world, a perennial question even more frequently debated in the wake of the Second Vatican Council. Gutierrez takes aim at what he calls the distinction of planes theory, which, with recourse to basic natural law ideas, posits a relatively autonomous realm for the temporal sphere with its own norms and principles as differentiated, if not entirely separated from the spiritual realm of the Church. There are several virtues to this theory, not the least of which is that it more or less corresponds with certain liberal notions about the separation of church and state. On this picture, the Church “has two missions: evangelization and the inspiration of the temporal sphere. . . . The planes are thus clearly differentiated. The Kingdom of God provides the unity; the Church and the world, each in its own way, contribute to its edification” (37). The problem with this theory, Gutierrez explains, is that it can practically function as an ideology that validates an oppressive status quo by way of a sharp distinction between the natural and the supernatural. Put differently, the distinction of planes theory implies that the Church is more directly concerned with the heavenly reward of the faithful than their temporal oppression and material poverty, and hence withholds prophetic denunciation of social injustice.
At the heart of the problem with the distinction of planes theory is the presupposition that salvation is confined to the supernatural realm. Yet salvation, Gutierrez insists, is not otherworldly, with respect to which “the present life is merely a test.” Salvation refers to the communion of human persons with God and one another and, as such, “embraces all human reality, transforms it, and leads it to its fullness in Christ” (85). At the same time, sin is not merely “an individual, private, or . . . interior reality” which necessitates an otherworldly “spiritual” redemption unconcerned with temporal existence, but “a social, historical fact, the absence of fellowship and love in relationships” between humans and between humans and God. It manifests “in oppressive structures, in the exploitation of humans by humans, in the domination and slavery of peoples, races, and social classes” (102-3). Insofar as salvation denotes liberation from sin, then, when sin is properly understood in this way, salvation must also imply a political liberation from social injustice. Gutierrez therefore states that because any effort to build a just society is liberatory, “it is a salvific work,” even if it cannot be equated with the totality of salvation. “As a human work it is not exempt from ambiguities . . . but this does not weaken its basic orientation or its objective results” (104). Gutierrez also frames this point in relation to the Kingdom of God; he takes seriously the idea that the Kingdom of God is “already but not yet,” i.e. partial and relative, yet incomplete. “We can say that the historical, political liberating event is the growth of the Kingdom and is a salvific event; but it is not the coming of the Kingdom, not all of salvation. It is the historical realization of the Kingdom and, therefore, it also proclaims its fullness” in the future (104). Political liberation is not then identical with the realization of the Kingdom, nor is it possible without the grace of God. In a complete rejection of any form of Pelagianism, Gutierrez insists that salvation is “God’s unmerited action in history, which God leads beyond itself” (xxxix). The realization of the Kingdom, however partial, is always and everywhere an unmerited divine gift (104).
When salvation is understood in relation to temporal liberation and not exclusively in supernatural terms, it compels the Church to rearticulate its mission in the world. To defend his own theory of what this mission should be, Gutierrez hones in on Vatican II’s notion of the Church as a sacrament, which he calls “undoubtedly one of the most important and permanent contributions of the Council” (146). The term sacrament refers to the fulfillment and manifestation of the salvific plan of God (as Paul would have it, with his term mysterion, translated as sacramentum) and an efficacious sign of divine grace (as the medieval scholastics would have it). Consequently, to call the Church a sacrament “is to define it in relation to the plan of salvation, whose fulfillment in history the Church reveals and signifies to the human race. A visible sign, the Church imparts to reality ‘union with God’ and ‘the unity of all humankind,’” as Lumen gentium states. And this means, Gutierrez contends, that “the Church can be understood only in relation to the reality which it announces to humankind. Its existence is not ‘for itself,’ but rather ‘for others.’ Its center is outside itself, it is in the work of Christ and his Spirit” (147). In short, as a sign of salvation (understood as liberation) that communicates what it signifies, the Church must be a place of liberation. Its mission must be articulated in relation to this task.
One of the most important ways in which the Church can be a place of liberation is to embody God’s preferential option for the poor. When A Theology of Liberation was published, the preferential option for the poor was still a new concept that, since then, has become central to Catholic social doctrine. For Gutierrez, the idea of a preferential option refers to “God’s predilection for the weak and abused of human history,” to which the entire Bible testifies (xxvii). That God shows special attention to and concern for the poor in the Bible does not undermine the universality of God’s love, which Gutierrez stresses excludes no one. Preference is not synonymous with exclusion, but merely indicates who comes first with respect to divine love. “The universality of Christian love is,” Gutierrez writes, “incompatible with the exclusion of any persons, but it is not incompatible with a preferential option for the poorest and most oppressed” (160). Because imitatio Dei necessitates that Christians imitate this divine, preferential love for the poor, the Church should similarly exhibit this preference in its mission in the world. In fact, with an eye to the Gospel of Matthew and the First Letter of John, Gutierrez equates the love of God with this preferential love of the oppressed. “God is revealed in history,” Gutierrez writes, “and it is likewise in history that persons encounter the Word made flesh. . . . We find the Lord in our encounters with others, especially the poor.” Consequently, “an act of love towards them is an act of love towards God” (115).
Gutierrez stresses that God’s preference for the poor as demonstrated in the Bible underscores that divine love is also just. That is, God’s preferential love for the oppressed is a just love insofar as oppression constitutes a social injustice that God seeks to rectify. On this picture, divine love and justice are not opposed, but closely united. In fact, because to love God is to love as God loves, and because divine love is just, to love God ultimately means to do justice for the poor and oppressed. Moreover, Gutierrez, with a cue from the Hebrew Bible and in particular the prophetic tradition, claims that just love serves a crucial epistemic function: works of justice toward others help us know God more fully. Put schematically, to know God is to love God, to love God is to love as God does, and because God loves justly (evident in his preferential love for the poor), to love God is to love justly; therefore, to love justly is to know God or, as Gutierrez puts this point, “the God of Biblical revelation is known through interhuman justice. When justice does not exist, God is not known; God is absent” (111). If the Church is to promote communion between humans and between humans and God (which amounts to salvation), then it must, on this account, promote interhuman justice. Liberation must therefore be its foremost aim.
A Theology of Liberation offered one of the first systematic articulations of liberation theology, but certainly not the last. Since its publication, liberation theology has exploded into a diverse ecumenical and cross-cultural discourse that is more intersectional and in many ways more radical than Gutierrez’s initial presentation of it. Nevertheless, because A Theology of Liberation so boldly confronts and criticizes the mostly irenic theological milieu of Europe and North America, it remains a critical touchstone in liberation theological studies. Even a half-century later, Gutierrez remains a prophetic voice within Roman Catholicism.
Gutierrez is influenced by Marxist philosophy in many respects, one of which is crucial to his entire project. For Gutierrez, like Marx, theory is consequent to forms of human action from which arise concepts or ideas, which seek in turn to make sense of that action and inspire further praxis. This basic observation influences how Gutierrez understands theology: while he affirms the classical conceptions of theology as a form of spiritual wisdom (as the Church Fathers would have it) and as rational knowledge (as the medieval scholastics would have it), theology is also, and more importantly in historical situations of unjust oppression, critical reflection on human action in society and the Church in view of the Word of God. As such, theology presupposes and examines “the lived faith that finds expression in prayer and commitment” (xxxiv) and, more specifically for Gutierrez, “the experiences of men and women committed to the process of liberation” in Latin America (xiii). Human experience and action, then, is fundamental, and the critical reflection of theology “follows [this experience]; it is the second step.” As Gutierrez explains further, “the pastoral activity of the Church does not flow as a conclusion from theological premises. Theology does not produce pastoral activity; rather it reflects upon it” (9). Theology therefore resembles a kind of a critical theory worked out in view of the Word of God accepted in faith that manifests in historical praxis.
If theology is a kind of critical theory, then, Gutierrez insists, theology must serve a prophetic function. As prophetic, theology interprets historical events to reveal and proclaim what they mean in view of the Word of God. That is, theology participates in “a political hermeneutics of the Gospel” to discern when and where unjust systems of oppression oppose the Kingdom of God. Theologians should, like the Hebrew prophets, vocally criticize this injustice and, by their work, empower nations, social classes, and peoples who seek to liberate themselves from domination by other nations, classes, and peoples. This prophetic function of theology means that theology is necessarily and inextricably tied to specific historical processes and social contexts, from which theology receives its data and to which it critically speaks. A Theology of Liberation therefore focuses on the Latin American perspective, even if Gutierrez also hopes “to contribute to the life and reflection of the universal Christian community.” For Gutierrez, theology can be both particular and universal; its attention to historical and social particularity does not condemn it to parochialism or provincialism (10-11). What is more, theology understood in this way combines “a freshness or newness that derives from attention to the historical vicissitudes of our peoples” and a “continuity that leads it to sink its roots deep in scripture, tradition, and the magisterium” (xliv). Gutierrez fully understands his project as situated within the tradition of the Catholic Church and, consequently, frequently cites papal encyclicals, conciliar documents, and several of the most prominent twentieth-century Catholic theologians. At the same time, A Theology of Liberation transcends the predominantly North Atlantic perspective of these theologians and radicalizes the propositions of the Second Vatican Council.
With this definition of theology in hand, Gutierrez turns to examine a set of interrelated problems for the Latin American context. The first is the practical political problem of material poverty that so many Latin Americans find themselves in, the consequence of a neocolonial situation of dependence on wealthier nations that systematically exploit Latin American nations. Gutierrez repeatedly stresses that the underdevelopment of poor countries is not a mere accident, but the by-product of the capitalist development of other countries. In view of this systematic exploitation, reformist policies are not, he claims, sufficient. Gutierrez severely critiques what he pejoratively calls “developmentalism,” which refers to a set of reformist socioeconomic policies that have not only failed, but have also preserved the unjust political and economic order on which the oppression of Latin American countries is based. This is, of course, no coincidence, since wealthy North Atlantic nations promoted these developmental policies in the first place, policies which merely reinforce their superior political and economic status. Concomitant with this situation of oppression is a second, theological problem. Poverty, Gutierrez acutely states, “means death.” It “destroys peoples, families, and individuals” as the product of “institutionalized violence” (xxi). As such, material poverty is contrary to the will of God whose salvific love redeems us from death and promises new life. It can be neither idealized nor justified from a Christian perspective (171). Yet if this is the case, then “how is it possible to tell the poor, who are forced to live in conditions that embody a denial of love, that God loves them?” (xxxiv). Theology must be able to answer this question.
Gutierrez proposes a theology of liberation in response to both these interrelated problems. Most basically, liberation refers to freedom from unjust oppression and the creation of a just society in which there is “complete communion” between humans and between humans and God (104). In effect, liberation leads to what Josiah Royce—and later, Martin Luther King, Jr.—called the “beloved community.” More specifically, Gutierrez understands liberation at three, interrelated levels: first, there is a political or socioeconomic liberation “from social situations of oppression and marginalization that force many . . . to live in conditions contrary to God’s will for their life.” Second, there is liberation qua “personal transformation by which we live with profound inner freedom in the face of every kind of servitude.” Finally, there is liberation from sin, understood as a breach of friendship with God and other human persons, which “cannot be eradicated except by the unmerited redemptive love of the Lord whom we receive by faith and in communion with one another” (xxxviii). Because social injustice is the product of sin, liberation from sin is the most fundamental form of liberation that each of the two other levels presupposes.
For Gutierrez, the idea of liberation also corrects for the deficiencies of developmentalism. First and foremost, it more accurately “expresses the aspirations of oppressed peoples and social classes” and more appropriately emphasizes the “conflictual aspect of the economic, social, and political process which puts them at odds with wealthy nations and oppressive classes” (24). By the same token, whereas developmentalism promotes a top-down approach, liberation denotes the need for and desire of the oppressed to participate in their own emancipation from oppression. Third, unlike developmentalism, liberation demands the systemic transformation of unjust structures rather than superficial policies that maintain the status quo. And fourth, liberation is more appropriate theologically: it reflects the salvific action of God in human history as described in the Bible that culminates in the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ. As Gutierrez writes, “Christ the Savior liberates from sin, which is the ultimate root of all disruption of friendship and of all injustice and oppression. Christ makes humankind truly free” (25, my emphasis).
Gutierrez advocates that the Church should promote liberation understood at these three levels. Yet to defend this kind of pastoral activity, he must reassess how the Church understands its mission in the world, a perennial question even more frequently debated in the wake of the Second Vatican Council. Gutierrez takes aim at what he calls the distinction of planes theory, which, with recourse to basic natural law ideas, posits a relatively autonomous realm for the temporal sphere with its own norms and principles as differentiated, if not entirely separated from the spiritual realm of the Church. There are several virtues to this theory, not the least of which is that it more or less corresponds with certain liberal notions about the separation of church and state. On this picture, the Church “has two missions: evangelization and the inspiration of the temporal sphere. . . . The planes are thus clearly differentiated. The Kingdom of God provides the unity; the Church and the world, each in its own way, contribute to its edification” (37). The problem with this theory, Gutierrez explains, is that it can practically function as an ideology that validates an oppressive status quo by way of a sharp distinction between the natural and the supernatural. Put differently, the distinction of planes theory implies that the Church is more directly concerned with the heavenly reward of the faithful than their temporal oppression and material poverty, and hence withholds prophetic denunciation of social injustice.
At the heart of the problem with the distinction of planes theory is the presupposition that salvation is confined to the supernatural realm. Yet salvation, Gutierrez insists, is not otherworldly, with respect to which “the present life is merely a test.” Salvation refers to the communion of human persons with God and one another and, as such, “embraces all human reality, transforms it, and leads it to its fullness in Christ” (85). At the same time, sin is not merely “an individual, private, or . . . interior reality” which necessitates an otherworldly “spiritual” redemption unconcerned with temporal existence, but “a social, historical fact, the absence of fellowship and love in relationships” between humans and between humans and God. It manifests “in oppressive structures, in the exploitation of humans by humans, in the domination and slavery of peoples, races, and social classes” (102-3). Insofar as salvation denotes liberation from sin, then, when sin is properly understood in this way, salvation must also imply a political liberation from social injustice. Gutierrez therefore states that because any effort to build a just society is liberatory, “it is a salvific work,” even if it cannot be equated with the totality of salvation. “As a human work it is not exempt from ambiguities . . . but this does not weaken its basic orientation or its objective results” (104). Gutierrez also frames this point in relation to the Kingdom of God; he takes seriously the idea that the Kingdom of God is “already but not yet,” i.e. partial and relative, yet incomplete. “We can say that the historical, political liberating event is the growth of the Kingdom and is a salvific event; but it is not the coming of the Kingdom, not all of salvation. It is the historical realization of the Kingdom and, therefore, it also proclaims its fullness” in the future (104). Political liberation is not then identical with the realization of the Kingdom, nor is it possible without the grace of God. In a complete rejection of any form of Pelagianism, Gutierrez insists that salvation is “God’s unmerited action in history, which God leads beyond itself” (xxxix). The realization of the Kingdom, however partial, is always and everywhere an unmerited divine gift (104).
When salvation is understood in relation to temporal liberation and not exclusively in supernatural terms, it compels the Church to rearticulate its mission in the world. To defend his own theory of what this mission should be, Gutierrez hones in on Vatican II’s notion of the Church as a sacrament, which he calls “undoubtedly one of the most important and permanent contributions of the Council” (146). The term sacrament refers to the fulfillment and manifestation of the salvific plan of God (as Paul would have it, with his term mysterion, translated as sacramentum) and an efficacious sign of divine grace (as the medieval scholastics would have it). Consequently, to call the Church a sacrament “is to define it in relation to the plan of salvation, whose fulfillment in history the Church reveals and signifies to the human race. A visible sign, the Church imparts to reality ‘union with God’ and ‘the unity of all humankind,’” as Lumen gentium states. And this means, Gutierrez contends, that “the Church can be understood only in relation to the reality which it announces to humankind. Its existence is not ‘for itself,’ but rather ‘for others.’ Its center is outside itself, it is in the work of Christ and his Spirit” (147). In short, as a sign of salvation (understood as liberation) that communicates what it signifies, the Church must be a place of liberation. Its mission must be articulated in relation to this task.
One of the most important ways in which the Church can be a place of liberation is to embody God’s preferential option for the poor. When A Theology of Liberation was published, the preferential option for the poor was still a new concept that, since then, has become central to Catholic social doctrine. For Gutierrez, the idea of a preferential option refers to “God’s predilection for the weak and abused of human history,” to which the entire Bible testifies (xxvii). That God shows special attention to and concern for the poor in the Bible does not undermine the universality of God’s love, which Gutierrez stresses excludes no one. Preference is not synonymous with exclusion, but merely indicates who comes first with respect to divine love. “The universality of Christian love is,” Gutierrez writes, “incompatible with the exclusion of any persons, but it is not incompatible with a preferential option for the poorest and most oppressed” (160). Because imitatio Dei necessitates that Christians imitate this divine, preferential love for the poor, the Church should similarly exhibit this preference in its mission in the world. In fact, with an eye to the Gospel of Matthew and the First Letter of John, Gutierrez equates the love of God with this preferential love of the oppressed. “God is revealed in history,” Gutierrez writes, “and it is likewise in history that persons encounter the Word made flesh. . . . We find the Lord in our encounters with others, especially the poor.” Consequently, “an act of love towards them is an act of love towards God” (115).
Gutierrez stresses that God’s preference for the poor as demonstrated in the Bible underscores that divine love is also just. That is, God’s preferential love for the oppressed is a just love insofar as oppression constitutes a social injustice that God seeks to rectify. On this picture, divine love and justice are not opposed, but closely united. In fact, because to love God is to love as God loves, and because divine love is just, to love God ultimately means to do justice for the poor and oppressed. Moreover, Gutierrez, with a cue from the Hebrew Bible and in particular the prophetic tradition, claims that just love serves a crucial epistemic function: works of justice toward others help us know God more fully. Put schematically, to know God is to love God, to love God is to love as God does, and because God loves justly (evident in his preferential love for the poor), to love God is to love justly; therefore, to love justly is to know God or, as Gutierrez puts this point, “the God of Biblical revelation is known through interhuman justice. When justice does not exist, God is not known; God is absent” (111). If the Church is to promote communion between humans and between humans and God (which amounts to salvation), then it must, on this account, promote interhuman justice. Liberation must therefore be its foremost aim.
A Theology of Liberation offered one of the first systematic articulations of liberation theology, but certainly not the last. Since its publication, liberation theology has exploded into a diverse ecumenical and cross-cultural discourse that is more intersectional and in many ways more radical than Gutierrez’s initial presentation of it. Nevertheless, because A Theology of Liberation so boldly confronts and criticizes the mostly irenic theological milieu of Europe and North America, it remains a critical touchstone in liberation theological studies. Even a half-century later, Gutierrez remains a prophetic voice within Roman Catholicism.
August 3, 2025
This was quite a read. Radical, visionary, and deeply impactful, I’m so glad I picked this book up. Essentially this is a call to action for the Catholic Church, particularly in Latin America, to actively advocate for what is referred to as “a preferential option for the poor”, which is explained as the elimination of poverty and the unjust and degrading conditions that so many impoverished people live under. Written by a Peruvian priest and theologian, this is in my opinion an important text detailing the direction the church needs to take in a modern, hegemonic world, arguing that it is the church’s responsibility as an institution to adopt a politico-theologic stance to align itself with the eradication of injustice and the degradation of human rights.
To me, this work was far beyond its time, anticipating contemporary problems with society. It knocks down the too frequently employed Christian rhetoric of “blessed are the poor” which places the poor in a passive position, instead citing this as a narrow understanding of justice. It takes the church outside of a timeless, solely faith-based lens and instead presents it to the reader as a historical actor that can interpret the signs of the times and act accordingly, capable of aligning itself with good. Gutierréz skillfully applies the ideas of thinkers such as Che Guevara to the topic of Latin American development. He references the clerical conferences at Medellín and Puebla as massive turning points in conversation on the role of the church, explaining that from now on the church must be an agent of social praxis, and that theologians “will be engaged where nations, social classes, and peoples struggle to free themselves from domination and oppression” (10).
The theology presented in this book is unlike any I have seen before in its acute reaction to the political economy of the time. It employs Marxist ideology in the context of the Bible and the Sacraments, asserting that only a society without exploitation or a private property system can be aligned with a Christian theology. What really struck me was the book’s rejection of passivity, emphasizing personal culpability in acceptance of hegemonic systems even in conjunction with the Christian idea of forgiveness. It rejects the distinction of planes (separation of church from political activity), stating “The protection which the Church receives from the social class which is the beneficiary and the prevailing defender of the prevailing capitalist society in Latin America has made the institutional Church into a part of the system” (151). Despite Marx’s well-known criticisms of organized religion, I think he would have enjoyed this book. A few more strikingly forward-thinking positions of the work include it’s revolutionary interpretation of the Bible, advocation for breaking with one’s social class, a restructuring of the clergy which allows them greater freedom and institutional choice through outside employment, and the idea that the ruling classes should not just be advocating for the poor, but rather advocating for a system in which the poor can self-advocate and fully claim leverage in society.
As one can probably tell by the length of this review, I found this work to be very interesting. While there are still many questions and directions to be addressed by this theology, and I felt it did not adequately discuss the possible consequences of a political church, it does pose essential modern questions and showcases a Catholic liberalism not often observed even today.
To me, this work was far beyond its time, anticipating contemporary problems with society. It knocks down the too frequently employed Christian rhetoric of “blessed are the poor” which places the poor in a passive position, instead citing this as a narrow understanding of justice. It takes the church outside of a timeless, solely faith-based lens and instead presents it to the reader as a historical actor that can interpret the signs of the times and act accordingly, capable of aligning itself with good. Gutierréz skillfully applies the ideas of thinkers such as Che Guevara to the topic of Latin American development. He references the clerical conferences at Medellín and Puebla as massive turning points in conversation on the role of the church, explaining that from now on the church must be an agent of social praxis, and that theologians “will be engaged where nations, social classes, and peoples struggle to free themselves from domination and oppression” (10).
The theology presented in this book is unlike any I have seen before in its acute reaction to the political economy of the time. It employs Marxist ideology in the context of the Bible and the Sacraments, asserting that only a society without exploitation or a private property system can be aligned with a Christian theology. What really struck me was the book’s rejection of passivity, emphasizing personal culpability in acceptance of hegemonic systems even in conjunction with the Christian idea of forgiveness. It rejects the distinction of planes (separation of church from political activity), stating “The protection which the Church receives from the social class which is the beneficiary and the prevailing defender of the prevailing capitalist society in Latin America has made the institutional Church into a part of the system” (151). Despite Marx’s well-known criticisms of organized religion, I think he would have enjoyed this book. A few more strikingly forward-thinking positions of the work include it’s revolutionary interpretation of the Bible, advocation for breaking with one’s social class, a restructuring of the clergy which allows them greater freedom and institutional choice through outside employment, and the idea that the ruling classes should not just be advocating for the poor, but rather advocating for a system in which the poor can self-advocate and fully claim leverage in society.
As one can probably tell by the length of this review, I found this work to be very interesting. While there are still many questions and directions to be addressed by this theology, and I felt it did not adequately discuss the possible consequences of a political church, it does pose essential modern questions and showcases a Catholic liberalism not often observed even today.
November 10, 2025
Had to rate this three stars for two reasons.
I didn't want to rate it lower because I absolutely love the fundamental shift that's occurring in the church today based on this theology or derivatives of it. Anytime an elitist/exclusionary institution can be changed to better serve the people, it's a win in my book. Also, every part of the theology is well-grounded in scripture and in alignment with the actual teachings of Jesus of Nazareth, if you consider that a positive.
I couldn't bring myself to rate this four stars because it is just so dense. I guess that's probably the case with any theological treatise (I don't make a habit of reading them), or maybe it's just a translation issue, but I found each section very difficult to slog through. Maybe a theology or philosophy student would take it in stride, but I have a hard time seeing why people need such complex rationalizations for doing the right thing.
I didn't want to rate it lower because I absolutely love the fundamental shift that's occurring in the church today based on this theology or derivatives of it. Anytime an elitist/exclusionary institution can be changed to better serve the people, it's a win in my book. Also, every part of the theology is well-grounded in scripture and in alignment with the actual teachings of Jesus of Nazareth, if you consider that a positive.
I couldn't bring myself to rate this four stars because it is just so dense. I guess that's probably the case with any theological treatise (I don't make a habit of reading them), or maybe it's just a translation issue, but I found each section very difficult to slog through. Maybe a theology or philosophy student would take it in stride, but I have a hard time seeing why people need such complex rationalizations for doing the right thing.
April 12, 2025
Truly a phenomenal book.
Gutierrez has an understanding of God's grace and God's preferential option for the poor.
I am gonna try to come back and write a longer review at some point because this one really has me thinking.
4/5
Gutierrez has an understanding of God's grace and God's preferential option for the poor.
I am gonna try to come back and write a longer review at some point because this one really has me thinking.
4/5
January 11, 2026
reading for whelan’s classes are my favorite readings, tbh! it’s a classic read for a reason
January 13, 2024
This is, perhaps, the most important and influential book I have read that attempts to conceptualize a dynamic, radical, and hopeful response to the rampant poverty and injustice of the most recent age of human society. Its language and call to action will be most resounding with those who are comfortable and take inspiration from biblical language and themes. However, its most fervent and accessible messages of radical love and action on behalf and in concert with the oppressed will appeal to anyone, Christian or non-Christian, who desires to play a part in the building of a new and more just world.
August 14, 2014
I started reading this with basically no knowledge of catholic theology and emerged with a glimmer of understanding and respect for Gutierrez' arguments so I'll count reading this book as time well spent despite the fact that I just could not follow some of Gutierrez' lines of thought. (His lack of clarity? My unfamiliarity? Probably both)
April 12, 2012
Interesting to pair his thought with Freire's theories of liberation for education.
September 23, 2020
Suite à ma lecture de Laudato Si, j'ai voulu relire avec plus d'attention la Théologie de la Libération de Guttierez, car j'avais détecté un langage et des idées semblables chez le Pape François. Il s'avère que j'ai été un peu sévère dans ma première recension, et que même si je n'approuve définitivement pas le libérationnisme, Guttierrez mérite tout de même le respect en tant qu'auteur.
Dans la partie 1 il définit ce qu'il entend par "théologie" (chap 1) et par "libération" (chap 2)
Dans la partie 2, il définit le problème auquel il essaie de poser son problème: quel est le lien entre le processus de libération humaine (philosophie marxiste de l'histoire) et le salut (théologie de Vatican 2)? (chap 3) Il présente différentes interactions romaines précédentes (chap 4) et critique l'approche de Maritain, qui est la rivale de la sienne (chap 5)
Dans la partie 3, il décrit comment les églises sud-américaines ont été amenées à intégrer libération et théologie et les questions auxquelles elles essaient de répondre, les problèmes qu'elles rencontrent.
La partie 4 est la plus théologique de tous: il explicite dedans sa sotériologie universaliste (chap 9) son anthropologie (universaliste) (chap 10), son eschatologie (immanente et libérale) (chap 11) et enfin son ecclésiologie (ch 12) avec sa définition de "Pauvre" (ch 13)
Guttierez est un penseur soigneux et érudit. Son style est dense et sans fioritures, ce qui oblige à lire soigneusement chaque paragraphe (mon tort est de l'avoir lu trop rapidement dans ma première lecture). Bien évidemment, je trouve que le résultat est une hérésie horrible, mais elle mérite quand même d'être lu avec attention, si l'on souhaite comprendre et interagir avec ses idées.
Dans la partie 1 il définit ce qu'il entend par "théologie" (chap 1) et par "libération" (chap 2)
Dans la partie 2, il définit le problème auquel il essaie de poser son problème: quel est le lien entre le processus de libération humaine (philosophie marxiste de l'histoire) et le salut (théologie de Vatican 2)? (chap 3) Il présente différentes interactions romaines précédentes (chap 4) et critique l'approche de Maritain, qui est la rivale de la sienne (chap 5)
Dans la partie 3, il décrit comment les églises sud-américaines ont été amenées à intégrer libération et théologie et les questions auxquelles elles essaient de répondre, les problèmes qu'elles rencontrent.
La partie 4 est la plus théologique de tous: il explicite dedans sa sotériologie universaliste (chap 9) son anthropologie (universaliste) (chap 10), son eschatologie (immanente et libérale) (chap 11) et enfin son ecclésiologie (ch 12) avec sa définition de "Pauvre" (ch 13)
Guttierez est un penseur soigneux et érudit. Son style est dense et sans fioritures, ce qui oblige à lire soigneusement chaque paragraphe (mon tort est de l'avoir lu trop rapidement dans ma première lecture). Bien évidemment, je trouve que le résultat est une hérésie horrible, mais elle mérite quand même d'être lu avec attention, si l'on souhaite comprendre et interagir avec ses idées.
June 30, 2022
"The God who makes the cosmos from chaos is the same God who leads Israel from alienation to liberation."
I work in the public policy field and I am constantly looking for inspiration in theology. As I hope my work contributes to social change, these books and people remind me of a vision beyond myself and a kingdom that is coming.
What makes A Theology of Liberation unique is that it is borne out of the experience of Latin America in the 1960s. It is distinctly Latin American, and you can see how clearly the struggle against injustice led to an understanding of God's work in Jesus Christ as true freedom from oppression. This is theology from the bottom up.
What I loved most about Gutierrez is the insistence than man is destined for communion with God and with man. God's work in history, our history, is purposeful and intentional to achieve this end. “Salvation—the communion of men with God and the communion of men among themselves—is something which embraces all human reality, transforms it, and leads it to its fullness in Christ.” On the other hand, sin is refusing to love one's neighbors and the Lord. It is a breach of communion with others. Sin is fundamentally relational!
This isn't to say I don't have my disagreements with the book. I am most definitely not a universalist, and I think we can underestimate the degree to which human hearts can be hardened. I also would have loved more scriptural analysis, but that's just the evangelical in me (cue John Piper saying, "Where is it in the text? Show me in the text!"). Also, the chapter on poverty was fire.
You're gonna have a bad time with this book if:
- You're coming from a really strong Reformed or Evangelical background in which theology comes before life experiences and practice.
- You don't like Marxist analyses
- You don't like dense books
I work in the public policy field and I am constantly looking for inspiration in theology. As I hope my work contributes to social change, these books and people remind me of a vision beyond myself and a kingdom that is coming.
What makes A Theology of Liberation unique is that it is borne out of the experience of Latin America in the 1960s. It is distinctly Latin American, and you can see how clearly the struggle against injustice led to an understanding of God's work in Jesus Christ as true freedom from oppression. This is theology from the bottom up.
What I loved most about Gutierrez is the insistence than man is destined for communion with God and with man. God's work in history, our history, is purposeful and intentional to achieve this end. “Salvation—the communion of men with God and the communion of men among themselves—is something which embraces all human reality, transforms it, and leads it to its fullness in Christ.” On the other hand, sin is refusing to love one's neighbors and the Lord. It is a breach of communion with others. Sin is fundamentally relational!
This isn't to say I don't have my disagreements with the book. I am most definitely not a universalist, and I think we can underestimate the degree to which human hearts can be hardened. I also would have loved more scriptural analysis, but that's just the evangelical in me (cue John Piper saying, "Where is it in the text? Show me in the text!"). Also, the chapter on poverty was fire.
You're gonna have a bad time with this book if:
- You're coming from a really strong Reformed or Evangelical background in which theology comes before life experiences and practice.
- You don't like Marxist analyses
- You don't like dense books
July 23, 2020
Une théologie de la libération est le livre fondateur de la théologie du même nom, écrit par Gustavo Gutierrez. Son influence est énorme en réalité, car une grande partie du discours politique et social de l'église aussi bien romaine que protestante emprunte des éléments à ce livre.
Le livre est bien structuré, et assez bien écrit. Mieux vaut avoir quelques notions de marxisme avant de le lire, autrement on aura du mal à comprendre le chemin emprunté. En effet, le début et le coeur de la démarche de Gutierrez est marxiste à un stade très avancé. Toutes les doctrines chrétiennes, même la sotériologie et l'ecclésiologie sont réinterprétées avec cette philosophie.
L'étude biblique n'arrive qu'à la fin, quand tout est tellement redéfini que la Bible n'a tout simplement aucun pouvoir correcteur. On remarquera que dans son zèle d'orthodoxie marxiste, non seulement la Bible est malmenée, mais la théologie historique aussi: Son traitement de la sotériologie est scandaleusement malhonnête. Il est clair que Guttierrez a largement lu tout ce qui relève de la théologie contemporaine, mais il ignore cruellement même sa propre tradition, et réinterprète le reste.
Cela dit, je confirme que cet ouvrage est fondateur, et qu'il n'y a pas besoin de nombreuses lectures complémentaires. Il est également utile pour se prémunir contre cette théologie marxiste, qui -comme je le disais au premier paragraphe- est très répandue sur toutes les réflexions de théologie politique.
Le livre est bien structuré, et assez bien écrit. Mieux vaut avoir quelques notions de marxisme avant de le lire, autrement on aura du mal à comprendre le chemin emprunté. En effet, le début et le coeur de la démarche de Gutierrez est marxiste à un stade très avancé. Toutes les doctrines chrétiennes, même la sotériologie et l'ecclésiologie sont réinterprétées avec cette philosophie.
L'étude biblique n'arrive qu'à la fin, quand tout est tellement redéfini que la Bible n'a tout simplement aucun pouvoir correcteur. On remarquera que dans son zèle d'orthodoxie marxiste, non seulement la Bible est malmenée, mais la théologie historique aussi: Son traitement de la sotériologie est scandaleusement malhonnête. Il est clair que Guttierrez a largement lu tout ce qui relève de la théologie contemporaine, mais il ignore cruellement même sa propre tradition, et réinterprète le reste.
Cela dit, je confirme que cet ouvrage est fondateur, et qu'il n'y a pas besoin de nombreuses lectures complémentaires. Il est également utile pour se prémunir contre cette théologie marxiste, qui -comme je le disais au premier paragraphe- est très répandue sur toutes les réflexions de théologie politique.
March 5, 2025
Love for the other becomes the telos of Christian life, not an option or a mere spiritual discipline. Moreover, love becomes a social responsibility one bears in obedience to God’s Word, not an abstract feeling without any concrete moral and social implications. Such an understanding of love is easy to underestimate in the conversation on liberation and justice. Gutiérrez, however, is quite clear that social justice is not possible until one realizes his/her freedom as the call to love the other. Gutiérrez is so serious about this that he even goes so far in his discussion of love in chapter 10 by proposing that God’s love can only be understood and experienced through communal relationships – love between human beings. While this theological statement can be subject to discussion, there is no reason to doubt that love must be the driving force behind social justice.
February 23, 2018
I agree with the theology here, but there seems no need for this quantity of jargony, abstract sociological blather. Full of impenetrable sentences which, after re-reading, said something obvious and would have been much more forceful if more plain and terse. I found myself looking up Bible passages in the index and reading just the exegetical parts, which were pretty good. I might continue doing that a little longer since I just can't stand this prose. Maybe it's an effect of translation from Spanish, or maybe that I take liberation theology for granted as it's been around for a long time. The section about Utopia was especially exasperating.
May 25, 2021
I think that this was written foremost for people with an understanding of scripture and the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. That said, very strongly and coherently stakes out the argument for a god who has a preferential option for the poor and what that means. Having grown up in the Anglican church and feeling it to be so distant from the questions of my life, and to be so obsessed with punishment, it's a genuine joy to read such a humanistic and liberatory interpretation of the gospel.
July 28, 2018
My interest in Liberation Theology peaked when I returned to the Catholic church after my mom passed away. I had no idea that this side of catholicism existed when I was young living in the United States. I read this book while I was traveling throughout Latin America. It's academic but a good history lesson.
December 11, 2018
A book that looks to pave a radical path for the Church to follow very much connected to the Latin American experience but still relevant today. The book provides a strong argument for why Christians should give preference to the poor and work towards establishing justice and the Kingdom of God on earth. Gutiérrez provides a truly unique outlook, combining traditional theology with left wing and Marxist ideas. In this way this book is revolutionary not only because of its proposals for change but also in its ideological impact on politico-religious thought.
July 11, 2021
Eye-opening read, but unfortunately it is based on a doctrine of universal salvation (which is certainly unbiblical)
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