"And on that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves, but the Lord will not answer you on that day" (1 Samuel 8:18).

In many ways, last night's election results are a mirror that reflect our nation accurately. Lord have mercy. 

We are a nation divided in terms of political ideology, in terms of race and ethnicity, and in terms of socioeconomic status. But a substantial majority of the voting public has spoken. The question is no longer whether this or that candidate is more qualified or deserving. The question now is, How do we move forward with another four years of President Donald J. Trump?

To those like me on the losing side of the election now is the time to live out and embody our commitment to democracy and the common good—what historian Alexis de Tocqueville has called the great American experiment.

The next four years are a test of our ability to build community amid strife and let compassion guide our actions. There is a lot of real suffering, pain, and trauma coming. Will we stoke the fires of hate and division or heal the wounds of injustice? We must offer nonviolent resistance to the forces of authoritarianism and oppression but not at the cost of those trampled underfoot. To paraphrase Pope Francis, the world is a battlefield and the church is a field hospital. As Christians we ought to organize for social change but we cannot ignore the real  human suffering in front of us.

Sadly, not all those on my side of the political divide agree. Instead, they speak about organizing for anti-fascist resistance. To them I offer a word of caution from Friedrich Nietzsche: “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster.”

To reject totalitarianism is to trust the democratic process. The inherent risk is the possibility of a population swayed by populist rhetoric. As in matters of faith, there is no place for coercion in democracy—we must trust our fellow citizens and hope to persuade them. Once we cross that line where we apply force—be it legal, political, or martial—to control the outcome of an election, we have embraced fascism.

I would rather focus on the human side of the equation. Why are so many voting for Trump despite his obvious shortcomings? 

Clearly, he has connected on a visceral level with so many different subgroups across these United States, from white male working class voters to disaffected African American and Latino men to Catholic and Evangelical Christians, which to me suggests that Trump and the GOP have listened to their concerns in a more authentic way than has the Democratic Party.

What are we doing to reach out to these groups? Are we taking their concerns seriously? Or are we dismissing their concerns by casting them into Hillary Clinton's dreaded "basket of deplorables"?

​Not only is that not Christ-like behavior, it's a surefire way to continue losing elections.

The world mourns the death of Fr. Gustavo Gutiérrez (1928-2024), a priest and theologian who was one of the first to articulate a theology of liberation, and who is arguably the most influential theologian of the last fifty years. His works and his lived example have impacted practical ministry from the grassroots to the Vatican, theological education in Catholic and Protestant secondary schools, universities, and seminaries, and the disciplines of systematic theology and theological ethics within the academy. Fr. Gutiérrez gave voice to the marginalized, silenced, and oppressed masses because he challenged ecclesial and academic theologians to frame their theological reflections and observations around one simple question: "How do we convey to the poor that God loves them?” (Gutiérrez, We Drink from Our Own Wells, p. 28).

Yet, despite this enormous and unparalleled legacy, what remains constant  in the testimony of those mourning him is praise for his human warmth, abundant compassion, and genuine concern for others. To these praises I add my own. I only met Fr. Gutiérrez twice, both times on the campus of Princeton Theological Seminary. The first was a chance encounter walking from the Dinky, the shuttle train connecting Princeton Junction to the Princeton University campus, where I saw a small figure struggling with a large wheeled suitcase. I approached and offered to help only to be pleasantly surprised Gustavo Gutiérrez was standing before me. I introduced myself, told him how important his work was for my theological formation, then grabbed the suitcase handle and offered to walk with him wherever he was heading. By chance we were both heading to the same location, the library on the campus of Princeton Theological Seminary, so I rambled on and on about my dissertation while he listened patiently. I had so much to tell him I honestly can't remember if I ever let him speak!

Our second meeting several years later (by this time I was an assistant professor at Saint Louis University) took place at an academic conference on the campus of Princeton Seminary hosted by the Hispanic Theological Initiative, where I had the privilege of having breakfast with Fr. Gutiérrez. Soon the conversation turned to the work I was doing with U.S. university students who undertook a two-month immersion experience in a Christian base community outside of Managua, Nicaragua. When I told Fr. Gutiérrez that one of my students gave up his wealth and privilege to stay in Nicaragua to live and work among the poor of Ciudad Sandino, the kindly priest responded, “Great. Just what Latin America needs: one more poor person.”

He must have seen the look of shock on my face because over breakfast he then explained that my students need to realize that their wealth and privilege are gifts from God that ought to be used in solidarity with the poor to transform the social realities that cause and perpetuate poverty. Voluntary poverty, despite students' romantic visions of a stark-naked Francis giving all his clothes to a beggar, is best understood as solidarity with the poor by employing the resources at one’s disposal to humanize and liberate those in need. After all, when done properly, a life in political and economic solidarity with the poor will appear just as foolish from the perspective of modern capitalism.

I was blown away. And humbled. So much wit, wisdom, and compassion in one human being, without compromising his guiding commitments as a liberationist.

Every few years at scholarly conferences one inevitably runs across a panel discussion on the future of liberation theology. Scholars have proclaimed the death of liberation theology before, and they will do so again. As I reflect on the influence Gustavo Gutiérrez has had on my discipline, I recall his words at a plenary session during the 2001 annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion marking the thirtieth anniversary of the publication of A Theology of Liberation. Fr. Gutiérrez was asked, "Is there a viable future for liberation theology?" To which he calmly responded, "So long as the material conditions exist that give rise to dehumanizing poverty and perpetuate a culture of death, there will be a need for a theology of liberation, whatever we choose to call it."

Thank you Gustavo for all you have given the world. My prayers are with you as you enter into glory, and I am assured knowing you have now joined that eternal cloud of witnesses whose prayers uphold the world and guide us on that same path.

​ Fr. Gustavo Gutierrez, ¡Presente!

Romans 13:1-7 has been weaponized by various efforts to recreate the United States of America in the image of White Christian nationalism. Christian pastors across the confessional and political spectrum must not remain silent as the Bible is twisted for ideological ends. My latest publication is a reflection on Romans 13:1-7 in light of the coming presidential election that is dividing our nation.

You can read the full text here:
https://journals.sagepub.com/eprint/I3HFFRKZPU53JF3PTQIK/full

​In the essay, I reflect on the conflation of conservative politics and nationalism with Christianity, and urge readers to ask themselves why the apostle Paul—on the eve of being executed by the state—would demand blind obedience to the state. 

Traditionally, Romans 13 has been used to garner Christian support for the state by asserting that temporal governments are instituted by God to maintain the social order: “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God” (Rom 13:1). Considering that these arguments—from Augustine to Aquinas to Calvin to Niebuhr—were made in the post-Constantinian era when Christianity was the law of the land, it is important to acknowledge that Paul’s words were written when Christianity was illicit under Roman law, and Christians were often the victims of state persecution. Given this reality, why does Paul encourage Christians to submit to the state?

One reason is that Paul believed that the state has power only in this world, a world that is passing away (1 Cor 7:31). In the epistle to the Ephesians, Paul says that temporal governments are a proxy for a more insidious power, the demonic powers at war with God, and so God instructs believers to accept the state’s authority rather than incite political revolution because Christ has already triumphed on the cross: “For our struggle is not against blood and flesh but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph 6:12).

The New Testament’s exhortation to believers to submit to the state are not the same thing as condoning every action of the state. Even as they submit to the state, Christians are called to non-violence and to a higher authority (Acts 5:29). The New Testament’s most persistent command is to love others and take care of others’ needs (e.g., John 13:34, 15:12; Rom 12:9; Phil 2:3–4; 1 John 3:16–18), including enemies (Luke 6:35–36). Therefore, when balancing the biblical demand for the rule of law— “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities” (Rom 13:1)—with the apostle Peter’s exhortation, “We must obey God rather than any human authority” (Acts 5:29)—it is best to err on the side of Christ-like love and compassion.

The empirical evidence is lacking, and centuries of enslavement, abuse, rape, and murder of Black lives by the dominant white culture of the United States suggest not. Instead of demonstrating how Black lives matter, far too many white Christians offer up a supposedly gospel-tinged counternarrative that says that “all lives matter.”

​The current historical moment, in which white Christians continue to allow bigots to hijack the language and symbols of the Christian religion to endorse their hateful ideology and then employ the language of love and forgiveness to undermine the radical urgency of antiblack racism exposes the morally compromised state of white Christianity. Therefore, I will continue to agree with James H. Cone that so long as Black lives continue to be exploited, brutalized, and destroyed with impunity, God is most clearly revealed in the suffering of Black men and women. 

If, as Christians, we profess the Incarnation—in becoming human God has made the suffering of the oppressed God’s own—then we must be able to affirm that Christ is Black. I just published a book chapter entitled, "Rethinking Radical Nonviolence: Romero, Catholic Social Teaching, and Racism" published in a new collection edited by Todd Walatka, Óscar Romero and Catholic Social Teaching (University of Notre Dame Press, 2024), in which I compare the views of St. Óscar Romero and James H. Cone on liberative violence in conversation with Catholic Social Teaching.

My goal is to find common ground between Romero’s and Cone’s understandings of revolution as prioritizing nonviolence yet allowing for self-defense in the context of unrelenting racial injustice. I hope you will read it.

undpress.nd.edu/9780268208752/oscar-romero-and-catholic-social-teaching/

​After 20 years of teaching at a private religious university, one challenge I face is the fact that more and more students come to my Ultimate Questions in Theology course—required of all undergraduate students—with little to no knowledge of Christianity, the Bible, or even religion in general. 

Given that the majority of undergraduate students at Saint Louis University come from US midwestern states, the shift in religious affiliation from Christian to None at SLU follows national patterns for Gen Z students. Since an overwhelming number of SLU undergraduates, even those who claim “no religious affiliation,” at one time identified as Christian, understanding the dissatisfaction with and exodus from Christianity by young people age 18–29 is a pressing concern for Christian institutions.

Digging deeper into the data gathered by the Pew Research Center and the Public Religion Research Institute, changes in attitudes toward institutional religion are often grounded in some ideological disagreement or personal disappointment with the church. As a church theologian and a minister of the Word and Sacrament active in the mission and life of the Presbyterian Church (USA), my own experiences confirm that the church’s own actions have contributed to its demographic demise, which is why so many—including many Christians—no longer consider the church an institution worth defending.

But amid the church’s panic over the rise of the religious Nones there is reason for hope. According to the Pew Research Center, “one-third of Americans say they do not believe in the God of the Bible, but that they do believe there is some other higher power or spiritual force in the universe. A slim majority of Americans (56%) say they believe in God ‘as described in the Bible.’ And one-in-ten do not believe in any higher power or spiritual force.” Most telling, a predominance (72%) of the religiously unaffiliated—a group that brings together those who identify as atheist, agnostic, or “nothing at all”—still “believe in a higher power of some kind, even if not in God as described in the Bible.”

​Therefore, instead of focusing on what the church can do to bring Millennials and Gen Z back into the fold, the church ought to listen to what these Nones are saying, in order to take spiritual inventory and get its own house in order. In the words of the late Rachel Held Evans, popular ex-evangelical author, "Most young adults I know aren’t looking for a religion that answers all of their questions, but rather a community of faith in which they feel safe to ask them." 

Millennials and Generation Z, the largest subset of religious Nones, attribute their exodus from institutional religion to the church’s hypocrisy, lack of intellectual rigor, and politics of intolerance. A new Christian apologetics—one that leaves coercion behind and seeks to attract believers via appeals to beauty and compassion—demands a high degree of humility, recognizing that what Christian faith offers the postmodern world is a series of theological fragments whose efficacy rests not with the church or its institutions but solely on the work of the Spirit. 

One such fragment, informed by the Trinitarian theology of the Eastern Fathers, can be found in the theology of Fr. John Zizioulas who reminds us: “There is no way to God which does not pass through the human being, as there is no way for God’s love to reach each of us except through the love of human beings.”

​ Jesus might have said it first and more concisely: "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12:31).