The Resisting Christ of the Cosmos (Part 2)

Matthew Fox is concerned with matters that have received very little attention in modern Christology. Unlike many liberals who remain locked in battle with theological conservatives, Fox holds firmly to a belief in sin. Taking a distinctive approach, he calls conservatives out for their insufficient understanding of sin and accuses them of trivializing the concept. He seeks to avoid what he refers to as cheap guilt, and he also resists the idea that sin can be privatized; as if it could be restricted to the problems of individuals in isolation. For him, sin includes social injustice, the disruption of human social relationships, and the disruption of humanity’s relationship to the cosmos. Moreover, sin cannot be limited to the disruption of relations effected through domination and conquest. World conquering imperial nation-states continue to give way to transnational financiers, corporate colonialism and globalization; the very same indicators that are utilized by the beneficiaries of our contemporary empire to evaluate global progress. In identifying these things as sin, Fox has broadened Christ’s relevance and field of action, and introduced a major challenge to the status quo.

Fox has resurrected the old Christian concept of holiness, and defines it as being at the edge between order and chaos, and living at the margins. It is a quality which is demonstrated by a courage to engage in resistance against the status quo, the prophetic, curiosity, creativity and the creative use of anger. In holiness, Fox speaks forth a prophetic word against two foundational myths that contribute both to the prosperity of the empire, and to the oppression of marginalized peoples; the elitism of modernity (which still exists, though in a more hidden postcolonial form) and the assumption that grace is scarce (a key contemporary economic concept which leads to the hoarding of things by some to the detriment of the many). Fox’s brand of holiness, which is a plea for a very specific identification with the margins, provides us with a powerful prospect for resistance against the postcolonial empire, which builds its successes on the backs of the marginalized yet refuses to acknowledge them. Fox is also interested in the resurrection, although he does not have as much to say about it. He considers the resurrection to be the greatest revolutionary idea in the history of humanity. Its power is found in the fact that it enables people to overcome the fear of mortality, thus putting to rest our anxieties and the need to control. The need to control the world and other people is one of the chief motivating factors that drive empires and those who build them. Perhaps the resurrection could help to shut this engine down.

In the postcolonial empire, where suffering is either repressed or sedated, it is significant that Fox pays a great deal of attention to the cross. It is in the cross where God has chosen to make Himself visible. It reveals to us the pathos, anguish and anger of God who suffers when innocent victims suffer injustice. He notes that Jesus, even before He confronted His own death and darkness on the cross, had aligned Himself with those in society for whom death and darkness was an ever-present reality. Fox considers suffering to be redemptive, and furthermore constructive (as opposed to passive) for resistance and a new world blossom out of it. In conclusion, Fox shows a profound interest in the second coming. He believes that the coming of Christ is anticipated in new relations between the sexes, new respect for children, art, worship and the expansion of a deep ecumenism. Rieger notes the importance of viewing the second coming in terms of revolution in preference to evolution. The eschatological movement of redemption runs counter to evolution (from the future to the past) and while evolution builds on what is, revolution turns things around. The resisting Christ of the cosmos runs contrary to the cosmic Christ of evolution, especially when the latter is conceived of within a social-Darwinist framework. In this context, the coming Christ should not be identified merely with the development of what is or as the pinnacle of evolution, for He relates to the weakest points; challenging and rupturing the status quo.

The Resisting Christ of the Cosmos (Part 1)

The majority of theologians are unaware of the connections between Christology and empire. Matthew Fox is an exception to this. He is well aware of the fact that religion and empire have operated in solidarity all throughout history and that empire is regularly legitimized by religion. It is his hope that Christianity would become an instrument of profound social awakening and change for and by the multitudes. How might his Christology enable resistance against the postcolonial empire? Fox aspires to progress beyond the limited scope of the culture wars which sets liberal and conservative in juxtaposition. His concern for the margins and his critique of elitism are significant. Liberals and conservatives each have a concern for the margins, but the goal of both sides is to integrate the marginalized back into the system; liberals seek to support the marginalized through social programs and conservatives seek to teach those on the margins personal responsibility. Fox advocates for a leadership from the margins, and to the extent that his arguments advocate for this, he is successful in his endeavor to present us with a transcendent paradigm.

There is a diversity of marginalized groups that Fox attempts to show solidarity with, all of whom he believes have something vital to communicate to the world. Commencing with the lower classes, he references the increasing gap between the rich and the poor, as well as the fact that the income of the 225 richest people in the world is equivalent to that of three billion poor people. In his pursuit to create a space for relationships of commonality, he remarks that the lower and middle classes are natural allies. It has been noted by others that the middle class is as much a part of the working class as the lower class in light of the fact that they are not in control of the means of production. This insight could fundamentally change the attitude of the middle class, which often feels as if it is “reaching down” to the poor. Additionally, the ever-widening gap between rich and poor in the postcolonial empire is a threat to the middle class and it is actually pushing it in the direction of the underside. Jointly, these observations could help to create relationships of mutuality between the classes, and begin to move us toward the goal of establishing a solidarity which includes those people who are consistently overlooked by and within the empire. This is not an attempt by Fox to inspire a hatred for the rich, in fact, it appears as if on some level he understands that liberation cannot be for the oppressed alone. The imperialists are also in need of liberation, for they too are controlled by the system.

Fox insists that the situation of children deserves a great deal of attention, especially since child abuse is so prevalent and also because one out of every four children under six lives in poverty in the United States. He directs our attention toward Jesus, who valued children and saw them as spiritual directors and sources of wisdom. Next, Fox adds the earth to his list of the marginalized. He notes that the voice of Mother Earth herself is not being heard where legislators gather, where judges preside, or where believers gather to worship. Another area where Fox’s concept of a leadership from the margins stands out is in his call for a democratization of wisdom. Democratization is not the same as pluralism, in which differing religious and wisdom traditions can run together side by side without ever crossing paths. As an alternative, Fox is anxious to see deeper relations and an intentional connectivity between these traditions, wherein mutual challenge and critique is not merely conceivable, but welcomed, and where leadership is provided by those who are at present the most silenced. Interestingly, the insights of non-Christian theologians can (and have) actually provided Christians with insights that are at the heart of the gospel message, but which have often been neglected throughout the history of the church. All in all, Fox’s focus upon the suffering of the powerless and his determination to listen to the voices of the voiceless provide us with ample provision for resistance against the empire.

The Cosmic Christ of the Postcolonial Mainline (Part 2)

The cosmic Christology of Matthew Fox is founded upon science (knowledge of creation), art (expression of our awe at creation) and mysticism (experiential union with creation and its unnameable mysteries). Fox’s supposition is that these three rudiments can provide the foundation for a deep ecumenism. As for the first element (science) he assumes that scientists are in fundamental agreement. Here we begin to see a metanarrative taking shape of the sort that postmodernism has taught us to be suspicious of. It is an origin story, and may perhaps amount to nothing more than a myth which serves to solidify the powers of the imperial status quo. Not all metanarratives are troublesome though. Their function actually varies depending on their relation to power. It is likely that what we actually need are counter-metanarratives which can challenge the stories of origin that the empire uses to justify its existence and its claims to power. Fox does provide such a metanarrative (the preferential option for the poor) but it must not be presented as a mere supplement to imperial stories of origin; it needs to be allowed to challenge and transform them if it is to be effective.

Fox rejects the doctrine of original sin, but his creation spirituality is not devoid of a doctrine of evil. He calls for historical, sociological, political and economic analyses so that we might discern the paths of sin. He compares these paths of sin with drug addiction, and he is concerned that if we remind people of their participation in evil that it will inevitably produce low self-esteem and fear. Fox seems to want to treat every form of evil in an identical fashion, which is troublesome. First off, one wonders whether low self-esteem is an accurate descriptor of the powers in the postcolonial empire. Moreover, the addictions of imperial power to militarism and to the misuse of world resources are of a vastly different variety than that of an oppressed person’s addiction to drugs. Furthermore, an interrogation of the kinds of evil that come in the form of success and progress is vital, and this includes taking a closer look at the scientific and spiritual developments that Fox praises. It is possible that these things are more deeply related to the evils of empire than can be identified from a glance at the surface. Fox’s problematic approach to dealing with evil (linked to his understanding of repentance) also tends to blunt the force of his strong egalitarian impulses. His beliefs frequently incite him to assume that egalitarian relations exist where they do not, he often fails to address the deeper systemic entanglements of past empires which continue presently, and he seems to lack a sense that repentance might be related to restoration.

The trouble with Fox’s method for diagnosing and treating evil becomes even more evident once we survey his wholesale rejection of all images of God as judge. He falls in with the mainline of liberal Christianity by describing God as an essentially beneficient being who is eager to aid humanity, and by scrapping any notion of a punitive God (such as that which is portrayed in more conservative Christian circles). Fox’s arguments are Christological. He asserts that Jesus criticized the images of God as lawgiver and judge that His religion and culture took for granted. Fox justifiably challenges conservative Christianity’s depiction of God as punitive, but Rieger wonders if it is appropriate to dispose of the concept of God as judge altogether. It is at best highly questionable whether or not Jesus actually sought to jettison all images of God as judge. Matthew’s Jesus, after all, did speak about a judgment of the nations, and the Jesus of Luke’s Gospel voiced many “woes”. Furthermore, not all conceptions of judgment are primarily punitive. Judgment can be restorative as well; that is, it can be something which addresses the restoration of justice for those who have experienced injustice. Ultimately, the most important question that we must ask here is, who is it that really profits from the removal of God’s judgment? Those who do not benefit from the current system of oppression gain little from a benevolent God who coddles the perpetrators of injustice and who is unwilling to restore righteousness.

The Cosmic Christ of the Postcolonial Mainline (Part 1)

Unlike all of the other theologians that we have looked at, Matthew Fox unambiguously rejects the practice of empire building. He stands in opposition to militarism, the exploitation of poor people by the rich, and even the attitude of Western superiority. However, his Christology still fails to confront the less visible powers of empire. Fox believes that the challenge of our time is the survival of the planet. Only the cosmic Christ can save us from the predicaments which we ourselves have created and which presently threaten to obliterate us. His cosmic Christ is grounded in and balanced by the words, life, liberating deeds and orthopraxis of the historical Jesus. He maintains that Jesus struggled throughout His life against a patriarchal authoritarianism (which took the form of a religious fundamentalism) and also in opposition to a fragmentation and dualism which split things apart that are supposed to be joined together; for instance body and spirit, people and nature, men and women, heterosexuals and homosexuals, young and old, Christians and non-Christians, rich and poor.

The problem is that establishing interconnected peace alone is not enough to overcome the status quo in the postcolonial empire. An interconnectedness which fails to take account of existing power differentials or to address the underlying issues which produced the current tensions and caused the fragmentation in the first place will only serve to compound the problem. Indeed, it is important to note that what might look like fragmentation as a result of the invisibility of neocolonial power is in reality a form of relationship. The rich and the poor are never wholly disconnected, and the rich can even benefit from the propagation of the idea that there is a fragmentation because it enables them to believe and to spread with greater ease the myth of the self-made man who pulls himself up by his own bootstraps. Perhaps exploitation would be a more accurate term than either fragmentation or disconnect, due to the fact that the rich use the poor for their own purposes (building their success on the backs of the impoverished) and in light of the fact that there is a sense in which the poor are the most connected of all, because without them the one-third world could not function. Fox, by speaking of interconnectedness in exclusively optimistic terms, fails to overcome the problems of this distorted relationality (one that resembles social Darwinism and its conviction that only the fittest survive) which is actually causing the most substantial damage to humanity and the planet.

Fox has developed a great level of respect for other religions, but he cannot be accused of neglecting Christianity. He draws frequently from the stream of thought found in both the wisdom tradition and in the prophets which locates a divine presence in all things as well as in the suffering of all creation. He also pulls from Paul in order to illustrate the cosmic horizons of Christianity while remaining careful to show that this cosmic Christ is grounded in a history, a people and a real human person who died on a cross. He also seeks to emphasize the radical equality of all creatures, contending that even children and animals can have an impact on the entirety of created existence; a claim that is as political as it is ecological. Thus Fox appreciates and seeks to learn from the wisdom of premodern peoples, specifically focusing on indigenous groups whose religions and cultures have historically been considered inferior to those of the West and who were also the victims of modern imperial conquests. Despite Fox’s desire to be constructive, it remains problematic that he speaks of the postmodern concerns for diversity, relativity, and equality in unequivocally positive language; even these things can perpetuate postcolonial forms of empire. Moreover, his critique is leveled primarily against clearly hierarchical power relations which manifest themselves politically and militarily, and he underestimates the ways in which economic power can enable exploitation without overt force.

Postcolonial Empire and Relational Theology

We now enter into the twenty-first century, and the final theologian of interest in Joerg Rieger’s examination of the relationship between Christianity and the various expressions of empire that have developed throughout history is Matthew Fox. Fox’s creation spirituality and his progressive Christian awareness of the cosmic character of the Christian faith have the potential to enable resistance against contemporary manifestations of empire. In the end though, his theology proves to be ambivalent. It is quite possible for the cosmic Christ to be adopted by and to be utilized in the service of postmodern imperial organizations. Fox’s American heritage makes him all the more interesting, due to the fact that the United States is typically viewed as one of the major centers of empire in our own day. While Fox is extremely distrustful of the more obvious affiliation between conservative Christianity and the American empire, he seems to be far less attentive to the fact that progressive Christians (even those who disagree with the empire) are still affected by the influence of empire, and are therefore also in need of critique.

Rieger begins this chapter by addressing our current sociopolitical and theological situation in order to set the context for Fox’s theology. He asserts that even in our postcolonial era, empire building has not ceased. He correctly claims that it is easy to recognize the problematic promotion of empire by many Christian groups who with unquestioning patriotism unabashedly support even the most blatant colonialist policies of the United States. It is also simple to see that many popular Christian theologies offer little if any resistance to contemporary structures of empire. The prosperity gospel (as an example) assumes that those who are at the top (the empire) are the most blessed by God. Doomsday theologies also fail us because they not only insist that resistance to the empire is a futile pursuit, but also that the empire which threatens us is located somewhere else and is entirely unrelated to the ideology and politics of the United States. Furthermore, even those theologians who understand that evil affects us all and not merely our enemies typically fail to see that evil is regularly perpetuated by our best intentions. These conservative approaches are not Rieger’s central concern though. He is most interested in the ways that progressive theologies fail to challenge empire. His aim is to identify the often concealed origins of power imbalances and oppressions, and to expose the more subtle and most dangerous expressions of empire often missed by relational theology.

In our day and age, we have witnessed a division between political and economic powers. Moreover, the direct exercise of political power has been exchanged for less obvious and yet much stronger and extensive economic influences. As a result, the political powers of the nation-state have found themselves cast in a wholly different role within this new configuration; no longer working for the benefit of a particular nation but instead providing support for an emerging global economic power structure. The flow of power has become far less visible today than it was in pre-capitalist forms of empire due to the fact that imperialism of the capitalist variety endeavors to enforce its economic hegemony without direct political domination whenever possible. While political and military victories are far less necessary for the maintenance of power in this new arrangement, cultural and religious forces have become vital to the establishment and preservation of control in the postcolonial empire. This new manifestation of empire is expanding through the spread of a number of common aspects of postmodern life that are not only welcomed, but often rejoiced over by relational theologians like Matthew Fox. The problem is that egalitarian models of relationship and cultural as well as religious exchange often function on the basis of hidden power and thus wind up building upon, reproducing, and strengthening power differentials, rather than proffering a challenge to the status quo.

Christus Victor of the Marginalized

Gustaf Aulén’s Christus Victor model of the atonement might help us to develop resistance to contemporary manifestations of empire in some important ways. Less concerned with the question of whether or not God exists, Aulén was interested in posing the question, “which God are we talking about”? Are there any alternatives to the God of the empire (he who upholds the status quo and guarantees the success of powers that be)? In neocolonial theology, God has become a function of the system, so much so that God and the triumph of the neocolonial empire are inextricably intertwined. At first, it would appear that Aulén’s Christology from above might line up closely with the hierarchical designs of neocolonialism, where victory and achievement are expected to be a top-down phenomena; but this is not necessarily true. To begin with, Aulén argued that Christianity’s relevance lay in its inherent opposition to the immense powers that threaten to enslave or perhaps to engulf humanity. Of course, these powers would need to be named specifically if the victorious Christ is to be seen as one who resists empire.

It should be noted as well that Aulén’s Christology from above was not entirely incompatible with a Christology from below that begins from the place where Christ actually did; in unity with those who suffer oppression at the hand of the empire and who struggle for liberation. It is vital to remember that Jesus came to gather what is low and despised in the world (1 Corinthians 1:28) and that His victory was won in the depths of humiliation. Additionally, it was because of the fact that Christ resisted the empire that He ended up dying on one of the empire’s crosses. When we understand that His victory was achieved in the depths, it should force us to reconsider our former understanding of God and His power, which should no longer be viewed as operating from the top-down. Aulén furthermore managed to challenge the Christology from below of modern liberal theology; which was still effectively an approach from above even though it began with humanity, due to the fact that the human Christ was defined and controlled by the middle class powers that be. Aulén’s Christology from above (on the other hand) could actually be considered an approach from below if we are careful to point out that the triumphant Christ, who was engaged in the struggle against sin and evil, lived in solidarity with society’s marginalized, died in resistance to the Roman empire, and attained to victory through suffering. In this light, victory can no longer be equated with neocolonial successes.

Surprisingly, Aulén’s dualism between good and evil might provide us with means whereby we might counter and even overcome a common tactic of the neocolonial empire, which itself uses dualism as a means of exclusion. When early Christian dualism is viewed in its proper historical context (it developed during a period of extreme pressure and suffering) it can produce resistance because it announces a struggle, which throws a wrench into neat rational systems and seemingly secure ideas. Still, it differs from the absolute dualism of empire in that the struggle which it refers to is not everlasting; a suggestion which can stimulate hope and encourage resistance. Aulén’s critique of liberal humanism was also significant because, as it developed from the Enlightenment onward, modern liberalism was a driving force for colonialism. The energy for its allegedly salvific activism and optimism was actually derived from colonial forms of empire, and its power was developed in relation to the colonial other. Aulén desired to eliminate the modern liberal self (understood as the closest thing to a universally ideal human nature, and thus Christ) altogether, but ultimately this was deficient. The self which is the object of Christ’s salvation needs to be restructured, the principalities and powers need to be named, and salvation itself needs to be redefined in relation to the perspectives of poor and oppressed peoples lest an imperial presence be allowed to fill in the gaps.

Christus Victor of the Winners

It was the goal of Gustaf Aulén in his book “Christus Victor” to emphasize the exclusivity of the work of God in salvation. He was convinced that humanity did not and could not contribute in any way, shape or form to Christ’s victory. He was also persuaded that the two dominant models of the atonement in his day (the moral influence theory common to the theology of the Enlightenment and the satisfaction/penal substitution theory characteristic of medieval theology and conservative Protestantism) were too anthropocentric, failed to preserve a single-minded stress upon God’s salvific labor, and were a departure from the bible as well as Patristic theology. He deemed his own model the classical model, and in his construction, God in Christ was presented as the sole actor in salvation; God was not only the one who reconciles but also the one who was reconciled in the atonement. Aulén’s model, which presented Christ as having been victorious over the powers of darkness (specifically sin, death, and the devil) was also rife with images of liberation. How could Aulén’s Christ possibly support structures of empire?

At the outset, we should point out that even though Aulén refused to conform to either conservative or liberal approaches, he was also unconcerned with the relationship of either Christological model to the various stages of empire formation. His strong emphasis on the top-down movement of Christ created other problems, and even carried with it a triumphalistic tone. Christ’s victory over sin, death and the devil apparently occurred without much of a struggle and did not bear any relation to the suffering and defeat of the marginalized. It is as though God in Christ simply overpowered his enemies and subsequently celebrated his victory over them. God’s power thus seems to be in sync with colonial power. While Aulén did reject some of the more extreme notions of omnipotence which insist that everything that ever occurs is derived from God’s omnipotent arm, and instead maintained that God exercises his power only in opposition to the anti-God elements at work within the world, he never explained what those anti-God elements were. On top of this, while he greatly stressed the reality of sin, he only did so at a very abstract level, never having given us a concrete definition of the word by engaging in conversation about the very specific sins of his own day which were enslaving and killing humanity. Ultimately, it would be rather easy for the imperial victors (who’s success often determines by default the definition of these terms) to co-opt the terminology for their own purposes.

Additionally, Aulén held to a strict dualism between good and evil. The church was always on the side of the good, and would without question end up victorious over evil. While the church could at times be found in the wrong, this was never because it was mistaken with regard to its understanding of what exactly constituted good and evil, but rather, it was because it was failing to put into practice what it already knew. It appears as if the idea that the church itself might be incorrect with regard to its beliefs and/or unconsciously influenced by the powers of darkness was a thought that never entered his mind. It should be obvious why this sort of dualism could be dangerous, however it does not lead necessarily to the support of empire. Nevertheless, it can be extremely oppressive when placed into the hands of those in power and when it is then linked to triumphalism; the very attitude often reflected in Aulén’s ecclesiology. In conclusion, although at first glance Aulén’s critique of modern anthropocentrism appears to challenge the mindset of the colonial oppressors (who considered themselves autonomous and superior) he never actually gets around to informing us what (exactly) is wrong with humans cooperating with Christ in salvation; except to say that Christ’s work is more effective than that of humans. In the end, since Christ is merely quantitatively distinct from the victors, and not necessarily qualitatively distinct, neither colonial nor neocolonial inclinations are confronted.

Theology between Colonialism and Neocolonialism

Joerg Rieger has chosen the twentieth century Swedish theologian Gustaf Aulén as the next subject in his examination of the relationship between theology and empire, primarily because it was he who made famous the Christus Victor model of the Atonement and additionally because of his strong emphasis upon the top-down movement of Christ. Aulén is an intriguing character with respect to our current study because his Christology largely transcended the old liberal/conservative divide (he discarded what he identified as modern liberalism’s anthropocentrism, its downplay of sin, and its dismissal of great portions of the church’s tradition, while simultaneously denouncing the narrow rationalism of fundamentalist and foundationalist approaches, which he believed wrongfully limited Christianity’s radical nature). This created a surplus which enables resistance against colonialist structures of empire. However, as a result of his failure to address the political and economic contexts of Christian theology and mission during the time in which he wrote, he often ends up supporting empire by default.

The conclusion of World War II is very often regarded as the point at which a shift began to occur in the West; a colonialist frame of mind was steadily being exchanged for a neocolonialist mentality. The principle difference between colonialism and neocolonialism resides in the way in which power is organized within each of the respective systems. While power was gained and maintained through direct political control over colonized territories in the colonial system, in a neocolonial system, power is attained and preserved through economic, cultural, and other less visible networks, even long after direct political control has been surrendered (multinational companies represent a key way in which power operates within a neocolonial organization). A fundamental supposition of the emerging neocolonial point of view was that non-Western peoples would benefit greatly if they could only be trained in the values of Western civilization. It was this particular attitude which replaced some of the more severe attitudes and actions that are typically associated with colonialism. While it is certainly true that many of the more explicit manifestations of empire theology were disappearing during Aulén’s lifetime, theology which lent support to imperial structures had not vanished altogether. The colonial mindset was still lingering beneath the surface, functioning in a much more subtle manner, having seeped into the political, economic and cultural unconscious.

Aulén’s contribution will serve as a fantastic representation of the theology of this transitional period; he himself to some degree reflecting the unconscious shift from a colonial to a neocolonial frame of mind. On the one hand, he resisted the more obvious dangers of the colonial outlook of modernity as well its parallel confidence in the modern self which tended to supply the foundation for global expansionism. He was also a part of the resistance against the extension of German National Socialism (to the point at which his life was eventually threatened by members of Germany’s secret police). He believed (and articulated) that the cause of Nazi Germany was immoral, and that it violated even the most elementary claims of justice. Furthermore, he challenged self-centered nationalism which could often motivate colonial efforts, and had a great appreciation for diversity and multiplicity which colonialism (in many ways) sought to squelch. On the other hand, Aulén had little (if anything) to say concerning the neocolonial maneuverings of his homeland which had invented and pioneered multinational companies. Moreover, his rejection of self-centered nationalism in favor of worldwide international relationships, as well as his positive view of difference and variety, do not necessarily overcome neocolonial dynamics in their entirety, for neocolonialism also seeks to break down national borders and has an appreciation for diversity to some extent as well.

Resisting Prophet, Priest, and King

Having observed a few of the ways in which Schleiermacher’s Christology lent support to and was affirming of nineteenth century colonialism, we now proceed to examine aspects of his work which might supply us with a challenge to imperialist structures. Interestingly, Schleiermacher did not promote the rugged individualism that was typical of modern colonialism, early capitalism, and the pioneer spirit of the expanding United States. His stress upon relatedness and community was surely a step in the right direction, but there was still no place for suffering and little concern for the outsider in his model. However, his hope for a universal salvation, when tied to his understanding of Christ as high priest, allows for the possible expansion of this community. For Schleiermacher, no person was to be rejected, and nobody could claim that salvation was entirely (or even mostly) for the colonizers, the Europeans, or the Christians. All that said, he can still be read in support of empire. Rieger suggests that an explicitly anticolonial Christ, or an understanding of colonialism as worldly, might enable us to overcome the ambivalence.

Schleiermacher considered Christianity to have been polemical through and through; even within its own borders. He viewed it as a higher form of religion which had as its goal to expose the world’s pervasive Godlessness. In addition, he believed that the infinite could be seen in all finite things, which opened up the possibility of locating God in unexpected areas; even unexpected areas within the colonial enterprise. Together, these insights could provide a potential surplus. Rieger asks, what if colonial Christianity were not the foremost stage of religion? Conceivably, the impoverished and those oppressed by and within the colonial system could issue a legitimate challenge against colonial Christianity. Perhaps Christianity would experience a rebirth of sorts as a result of this critique, and (emerging out of the corruptions of colonialism) consequently develop in to a much stronger and more beautiful form of religion? Another aspect of his thought that might challenge colonialism was his awareness of Christ as the common root of theology and ethics. Christological statements (i.e. “Jesus is Lord” and “Jesus is redeemer”) can be used in order to shore up imperial hierarchies if they are not understood as inherently ethical or if the ethics implied by the declarations are not clearly defined. An understanding of Christ which refuses to ignore attributes such as His Jewishness and His solidarity with the poor might be the initial step on the pathway of resistance.

Rieger identifies a relationship between the three offices of Christ and the three categories of action which structure Schleiermacher’s “Christian Ethics”; each of which puts forward a critique of empire. In each one of these actions, the equality, the freedom of judgment and expression, and the participatory role of every individual within the church (regardless of class) was recognized which hence broadened the power base across more democratic lines. Furthermore, these three actions operated on the basis of attraction rather than brute force. The purifying action (priest) began with the supposition that the church was imperfect, and therefore allowed for the possibility of progress (both theologically and ethically) within it. Related to this was the broadening action (prophet) which centered upon Christian mission and expansionism. Here, the prospect for progress within the church was also duly noted, and beyond this, the prospective value of the contributions of those who were less educated in the ways of western civilization was also taken into account. The third and final category was the representational action (king) which stressed the extent of Christ’s rule. At this point, even non-Christians were included due to the fact that the difference between outsiders and insiders was merely temporal; they had not-yet received the Spirit. Schleiermacher did not wholly transcend the colonial mindset, nevertheless he did leave us with some prospect for resistance.

Prophet, Priest, and King, Colonial Style

The writings of Friedrich Schleiermacher will be of significant interest to us in our study. There is no doubt that he resisted the most violent and overpowering techniques and constructs of nineteenth century colonialism. Still, it is apparent that the characteristic colonial assumptions of his day were at work in the deep recesses of his mind, profoundly contributing to the formation of his Christology. Rieger is persuaded that the colonial dynamics that were at work behind Schleiermacher’s theology, though certainly less brutal, actually ended up generating a much more potent brand of colonialism. In order that we might catch a glimpse of Schleiermacher’s underlying colonial presuppositions, Rieger has determined to lead us through an investigation of his interpretation of the classical Reformed doctrine of the three offices of Christ. While his writings do provide us with potential avenues of resistance, we must not fail to recognize that the colonial impulses inherent within his Christology are also very strong. In this section, our stress will be upon those aspects of his theology which are affirming of the imperial status quo.

Schleiermacher understood Christ to have been both the climax and the end of all three offices. He considered European Christianity to have been far closer to Christ than the rest of the world, and he also presumed that Christ was overwhelmingly supportive of European colonial Christianity. In fact, he judged the Protestantism of Europe to have been the intermediary between Christ and the world. As prophet, the challenge of Christ came in the form of European colonial Christianity, and was directed at those whom he viewed as less powerful and less civilized. In addition, he believed that the power and civilization of the European Christian culture provided the substantiating evidence which authenticated its claim to prophetic authority. As priest, Christ supplied comfort and security to the European Christians by confirming them in their colonial enterprise, by justifying their neglect of voluntary suffering, and by authorizing their ambitions for self-preservation. Furthermore, European Christendom (itself indistinguishable from Christ) became the ideal to which humanity was destined to attain, as well as the mediator between God and the world (as the priest is to the laity). Finally, as King, the power of Christ was exercised through European Christianity. It was limitless, irresistibly attractive, and effective towards the goal of moving people on to higher stages of humanity (specifically the universal ideal of Christ, manifested most fully in European Protestantism).

Following right along with modernity’s universalizing propensity, Schleiermacher described Christ as the completion of the creation of a generalized humanity (which had been abstracted from any and all signifiers including race, gender, and social location). To put it a different way, Christ was the quintessential representative of a universal human nature. This despite the fact that universal humanity is never truly universal, and in fact only exists in the minds of those in power. The void that was created by Schleiermacher’s lack of specified definition for this universalized humanity was conveniently filled in by the up-and-coming middle class of German-Prussia (those who were most able with regard to intellectual and economic affairs). These were deemed to have been the closest to universal humanity, as well as ambassadors of the superior civilization and power that the European Christians possessed over colonized non-Christian people groups. Schleiermacher also presumed that the rest of humanity needed to adjust and (in due course) evolve in the direction of the middle class Protestants of Prussia. By and large, for him, Christ’s redemptive work did not present a challenge to or a critique against the softer colonialist mentality of Europe. Rather, the work of Christ supplied a source of encouragement for the colonial minded Europeans as they set out to enlighten underdeveloped (and thus sinful!) non-European, non-Christian cultures around the world.