A Witness Becoming

Mission 21, Basel, Switzerland

April 2008

A Witness Becoming:

Women, Theology, and Testimony of Peace

The phenomenon of communal violence, including particularly religious conflict, indicates a greater challenge to the global communities where the response to the violent conflict has often been reduced to naming the other as “the evil other.” It is in the world where “religiously based conflicts continue to structure geopolitics ... of the world”[2] that the practice of listening to and letting local Christian communities speak their own become necessary to understand how Christianity is affected by, and may affect the transformation in the broader community.

Violence against Indonesian Chinese descendant women in Jakarta prior to the resignation of Indonesia’s second president, Soeharto, in May 1998 profoundly shaped my personal-political understanding as an Indonesian Christian feminist theologian that is to bear witness to women’s struggle for peace and justice.[3] Yet not until recently I re-captured the significance of the term “witness” in my theological vocabulary after looking at the way local Christian communities, particularly women, give meaning to their witnessing experiences of communal violence. [4]

Here I will not describe nor analyze the complexity of massive communal violence that took place in various areas in Indonesia following Soeharto’s fall.[5] Rather, I will focus on the way women and their narratives define a new task for doing theology in a multi cultural and multi religious Indonesia with its history of communal violence.[6] I will, thus, suggest that the women are themselves witnesses whose testimonies signify a contextual theological/missiological resource for Christian praxis of peace in the context of religiously pluralistic society.

Theology and Women’s Testimonies of Peace

Following are excerpts from some of the interviews[7] I conducted with 60 Christian women, members of the Christian Evangelical Church in Halmahera (Gereja Masehi Injili di Halmahera/GMIH), about their experiences of the violent conflict between Christians and Muslims in 1999-2002 in North Halmahera:

“Even after 5 years my body still feels the pain every time I remember the moment when the people I knew chopped and killed my husband before my very eyes.” (Voice of a widow left with 4 young children)

“I saw they burned my friend’s house and then threw him alive into fire. They did the same to his father … I hated them … I wanted to kill them, but now the hatred has disappeared. This must be because God has helped me to forgive them.” (Voice of a young woman)

“My husband was killed during the attack to our village. I suddenly became single parent with 2 dependent children. But God has helped me through the most difficult part of my life. I am now the coordinator of the Pemberdayaan Perempuan Kepala Keluarga (The Empowerment of the Female Head of Family) for both Christian and Muslim women in my area. It was started in the aftermath of the conflict to enable widowers like me to lead and support their families by giving assistance, for example, in making and distributing traditional foods in surrounding areas.” (Voice of a young widow)

“My daughter died behind the church … I still can’t go to see the site even after few years … But I have been working together with Muslim community to bring peace into our communities.” (Voice of a mother whose little daughter trapped and killed in the middle of the violence)

The last time I wore my robe was when I was standing between Christian and Muslim ‘troops’ who were ready to kill each other. It always reminds me of the fear and courage inside me when I had to calm down the angry crowds … I stop wore it ever since … I put it in my closet … I always smell scent of human blood every time I see it.” (Voice of a female minister)

“There was a song that I always sang those days … it tells about the Lord who always present in the midst of struggle… I knew the Lord was present when they killed my two adult sons.” (Voice of an old woman)

These excerpts highlight different layers of women’s narratives about communal violence and their hope for peace. The question, therefore, for Christian theologians and churches in Indonesia is that “what do we do with these kinds of narratives?” Furthermore, “have these narratives shaped our theological/missiological discourse of religious pluralism in the aftermath of communal violence in Indonesia?”

In responding to the above questions I looked at series of publication and archives from 1998-2007[8] by churches and Christian communities in Indonesia on the role of religions during and in the aftermath of the violent conflict.[9] Two identifications emerge: First, Indonesian Christian theological/missiological discourses of religious pluralism are not necessarily shaped by local Christian women’s experiences and understandings of communal violence. Second, only few Indonesian Christian feminist/woman theologians write and reflect on local women’s experiences of communal violence, its impact on inter-religious relations, and offer new perspectives on the meaning of suffering and on the question of God’s punishment. Yet they [we] do not critically engage missiological discourse of religious pluralism nor propose new mission theology of religions as a logical consequence of violence between religious communities. It is here, I believe, that Indonesian feminist/woman theologians’ contribution is crucially needed.

The question then remains, “what are we going to do with local women’s narratives of violence?” “Have their narratives pointed out to other dimensions of our theologies/missiologies, but are still being considered outside the framework of our theological discourse/theory?”

Here, I find Rebecca S. Chopp’s essay on reconfiguration of theology, as a critique to modern (Western) discourse on theology/theory, helpful. Chopp re-configures theology into a new discourse called “Poetics of Testimony”[10] that is, the “discourses – poetry, novels, theory, theology– which speak of the unspeakable, and tell of the suffering and hope of particular communities who have not been authorized to speak. … [T]estimony … mean[s] the discourse that refers to a reality outside the ordinary order of things.”[11] Her definition allows me to believe that the Halmaheran women’s narratives have spoken of the unspeakable and defined what truth is beyond any theological categories. They re-imagine the world without violence and, thus, re-create a new sense of reality where peace becomes real.

The questions, then, can our theological/missiological discourse of religious pluralism allow us to connect with the particularity of women’s testimonies of communal violence where religious symbols are used to legitimize violence against each other? Can our theologies reconfigure the theme of the “other” in our religious discourse through the eyes of those women? Moreover, how do we let go pain, hatred, and trauma, while embracing forgiveness and peace?[12] How do our theologies testify to the incomprehensibility of these experiences while remaining plausible in our theological/missiological construction of religious pluralism? Finally, can we witness the presence of God’s Spirit in the life and struggle of those witnesses?

What is needed is a new way of looking at the women not merely as victims/survivors but also as witnesses that is those who speak with authority about what they saw and experience. Therefore, even though I agree with Karlina Supeli’s, an Indonesian feminist activist and thinker, argument on the urgency to re-claim the subjectivity of victims/survivors in our solidarity and advocacy for women victims/survivors of violence,[13]but I also see the necessity of weaving the dimension of witness into this reclaiming. The women are witnesses whose testimonies challenge us to look to even beyond the unspeakable. Their testimonies challenge us not only to listen to silent voices, but even more to let the voices re-shape our theologies and re-imagine new ways of doing theology.

A Witness Becoming: Not an Epilogue

The Christian community in Duma, a Christian village[14] in Galela sub district, one location of my research, commemorated the death of its members during the conflict by burying the bodies in the church court yard and marking every cross on the grave with the same inscription: “Martyr of the congregation” (Indonesian: martir jemaat) and “Do not waste our struggle” (Indonesian: jangan sia-siakan perjuangan kami).[15] Thus, it is crucial to explore how the community’s understanding of martyrdom informs its way of dealing with the conflict and its aftermath.[16] The community also maintains the remnants of the old church building while erecting a new one next to it.

Chopp beautifully offers a new understanding of testimony in comparison to the traditional meaning of martyrdom, as she stated:

If, traditionally, we may have made testimony say “this is the truth, I tell it even if I have to die,” testimony now becomes “I will live to tell this story. I will survive for an hour, a day, however long I can … These testimonies are discourses of survival for hope and of hope for survival.”[17]

The women I interviewed made real what Chopp was talking about. They live to tell their stories so women like me would be empowered to stand before the ultimate face of violence that was committed against humanity and would never give up on hope for a better world, a world of peace. They live to testify to hope and to the possibility of creating and maintaining peace out of their encounter with the ultimate power of death. Their testimonies overcome public-private dualism and create a web of “collective and social”[18] testimonies, which connects the entire community’s narratives of violence and of peace.

The collectiveness of the women’s testimonies was reflected in most of the interviews I conducted in Duma. Almost all the women made reference to June 19, 2000 when asked about the most remembered part of their experiences of the violence. It was the day when the village was attacked and hundreds lives brutally taken away. Their experience on the day is then defined as their “common existential experience.”[19] It is the experience that determines the way they define themselves as a Christian community that has gone together through the brink of death. Furthermore, their now common experience has become their common ground or “point of reference” in creating a “common language” to express their new understanding of living as a Christian community with a history of communal violence. They define a new understanding of martyrdom by emphasizing the legacy of peace, instead of violence, that has been inherited to young generation in the village. Thus, peace becomes their “common language” and “point of reference” that determines their effort to never let such catastrophe happens again.

The women particularly reflect this commitment by pointing towards the need to re-look at the “other,” i.e. Muslim neighbors, not as their enemy, but as their own sisters/brothers. Both communities have gone through the traumatic experience. There is a strong need to create a new web of peace by visiting each other, by creating programs that re-connect both communities even though fear and distrust are still common in their daily activities. I also observed that women are the ones who are very active in connecting two communities and re-building a new sense of trust and hope.

Finally, I came to North Halmahera as a researcher. But I returned with a new sense of becoming a witness. I felt the need to let those women speak with their own definition of truth, of what they saw and experience through which other women, theologians, church leaders, religious communities, and our theological discourse and theory are summoned to testify to life and to engage their “reverence for life.”[20] This is not an epilogue for this reflection, rather, a beginning of a journey ahead where theology/missiology should first of all be interrogated for their moral responsibility to preferentially opt for peace amidst daily reality of violence in our world today. Theology/missiology in Indonesia should be reminded of its legacy to serve “those who suffer and hope, those whose voices testify to survival, those who imagine transformation.”[21]

STT Jakarta, Maundy Thursday (March 20, 2008)

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[1] Ordained minister of the Protestant Church in South East Sulawesi (a reformed church) Indonesia, faculty member of Jakarta Theological Seminary, and is completing her doctoral program in Missiology in the Boston University School of Theology, U.S.A.

[2] Nancy T. Ammerman, "Introduction: Observing Religious Modern Lives," in Everyday Religion: Observing Modern Religious Lives, ed. Nancy T. Ammerman (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2007). P.4.

[3] This was reflected in my oration at the Jakarta Theological Seminary 67^th Dies Natalis (2001) on Menuju Masyarakat Transformatif: Sebuah Visi Misiologis Feminis tentang Indonesia [Toward a Transformative Society: A Feminist Missiological Vision of Indonesia]

[4] I use the term “communal violence” as a synthesis of the analyses that have been developed regarding the political character of social conflict in Indonesia, 1998-2003. It emphasizes the violence that was committed by religious/ethnic communities against each other while acknowledging its complexity due to the communal character of the Indonesian people that hides the danger of communalism. Frans M. Suseno identified the threat of communalism through the strengthening of certain identities such as ethnic, religious, etc., that can endanger the plurality of Indonesia. See his essay on “Kekerasan Atas Nama Agama: Sebuah Refleksi Interkultural Terhadap Fenomena Terorisme” [Violence in the Name of Religion: An Intercultural Reflection on Terrorism Phenomena] in Jurnal STT Intim, 9 (2007), pp. 17-18.

[5] There have been series of publication on the complex dimensions of the communal conflict in Indonesia both in English and in Indonesian. Among others are, Jacques Bertrand’s Nationalism and Ethnic Conflict in Indonesia (2004), Paul Tahalele’s The Church and Human Rights in Indonesia (1997), Jan S. Aritonang’s Sejarah Perjumpaan Kristen dan Islam di Indonesia [The History of Christianity and Islam Encounter in Indonesia] (2004), Ahmad Suaedy’s Politisasi Agama dan Konflik Komunal: Beberapa Isu Penting di Indonesia [The Politicization of Religion and Communal Conflict: Some Important Issues in Indonesia] (2007).

[6] This is based on my interview with a group of Christian women late last year in two areas in North Halmahera, a majority Christian island in eastern Indonesia.

[7] The interviews, which were conducted in the Indonesian language (Bahasa Indonesia), were part of my dissertation research.

[8] I considered this period of nine years as significant since it includes the years of massive communal violence and its aftermath in various areas in Indonesia.

[9] I only looked at publications/archives by the Communion of Churches in Indonesia (Persekutuan Gereja-gereja di Indonesia) and by 3 ecumenical/reformed seminaries: Jakarta Theological Seminary in Jakarta, Eastern Indonesia Theological Seminary in Makassar, and GMIH Theological Seminary in Tobelo, which was directly affected by the conflict in North Halmahera. Included in this study is the publication by the Association of Indonesian Theologically Trained Women (PERUATI) i.e. journal SOPHIA, and by Indonesian feminist/woman Protestant theologians. One recent, if not the first, publication by Zakaria J. Ngelow, et. al. (eds.) Teologi Bencana: Pergumulan Iman dalam Konteks Bencana Alam dan Bencana Sosial (2006) [Theology of Disaster: Faith Struggle in the Context of Natural Disaster and Social Disaster] discusses the reality of natural catastrophe and social disaster and its affect to theological thinking of Theodicy in Indonesia. It is a good one to start with in looking at the development of theological thinking in Indonesia in the aftermath of, though not exclusively, communal violence. Some feminist/women theologians also wrote on issues of suffering and grace as critical reflections on social and natural catastrophe. Another recent one is Ruddy Tindage’s published research on conflict and reconciliation in Tobelo, the capital of North Halmahera. It is a good reference to see how local voices both women and men, Christians and Muslims, were included in the proposal for the significance of reconciliation in the aftermath of the conflict. Damai yang Sejati: Rekonsiliasi di Tobelo – Kajian Teologi dan Komunikasi [True Peace: Reconciliation in Tobelo – a Theological and Communicational Explorations] (2006).

[10] See her essay with the same title in Criterion 37 (Winter 1998).

[11] Ibid., p.

[12] Cf. Ruddy Tindage’s identification on the lack of church’s constructive approach to the reality of trauma as a consequence of violence. Damai yang Sejati, p. 173

[13] See her essay “Mendengarkan Suara Kesunyian” [Listening to Silent Voice] in Eddy Kristiyanto (ed.) Etika Politik dalam Konteks Indonesia: Pesta 65 Tahun Romo Fagnis. (2001) [Ethics of Politic in Indonesian Context: The Celebration of Fr. Magnis’ 65^th Year]. Pp. 39-68

[14] Duma is considered important in the history of mission in North Halmahera because the first missionary, Hendrik van Dijken (1866), arrived and built his base in Duma.

[15] In the interviews the women explained that the phrase “Jangan Sia-siakan Perjuangan Kami” [Do not Waste Our Struggle] was intended to remind younger generation about the lives that were taken away for peace. Thus, it is their responsibility to work for peace and to never let the violence happen again.

[16] Maurice Barth, "Basic Communities Facing Martyrdom: Testimonies from the Churches of Central America," in Martyrdom Today, ed. Johannes Baptist Metz; Edward Schillebeeckx (Edinburgh; New York: T & T Clark; The Seabury Press, 1983).Pp.43-47

[17] Chopp, Poetics of Testimony. P.7.

[18] Ibid.,

[19] Deshi Ramadhani, SJ. “Membangun Ruang Spiritualitas Dalam Dunia Akademis?” [Building Spiritual Space in Academic World?] Tanggapan atas Orasi Dies Natalis STT Jakarta: Berteologi dengan Nalar dan Spirit [A Response to Jakarta Theological Seminary’s Dies Natalis Oration: Doing Theology with Spirit and Logic] (Jakarta, 27 September 2007).

[20] Chopp. Poetics of Testimony. P. 7.

[21] Ibid. p. 8

On Rodney Stark's The Rise of Christianity

September 19, 2003


The Rise of Christianity: How the Obscure Marginal Jesus Movement Became the Dominant Religious Force in the Western World in a Few Centuries

1. In the beginning of his book Stark clarified his position.
He wrote it not as an historian nor a New Testament scholar. Rather, as a sociologist who was trying to contribute to studies of the early church by using social science. He then provided formal method of analysis as well as tremendous historical resources of the picture of early Christianity in order to focus on at least two basic questions that he addressed throughout his book: first, how did conversion effect the rise of (early) Christianity? Second, what kind of circumstances that motivate conversion to (early) Christianity? Conversion is seen as a main factor in the phenomenal rise of Christianity in the period covering the first five centuries. (107)

2. In the first 6 chapters in his book Stark did not define his understanding of
conversion. Rather, described it as a “normal process” without supernatural action. This is exactly his standing point as a sociologist in tracing the issue of conversion by strongly stated that “... we are not forced to seek exceptional explanations. Rather, history allows time for the normal processes of conversion, as understood by contemporary social science, to take place.” (7). Accordingly conversion identified as taking place through some social circumstances namely: “social networks, interpersonal attachments, dynamic population models, social epidemiology, and models of religious economies.” (xii). Social relationship becomes predominant in Stark’s analysis of conversion to Christianity where he identified some aspects that lead people to convert to Christianity.

a. The personal bonding or attachment to other people that allows conversion to proceed along social network. (18) Such attachments identified after describing the hierarchical relation within the local cultures that categorize Christianity as a cult movement, out of its deviancy from Judaism, which points toward the type of Christianity in the earlier centuries as a none proletarian movement. (chp.1)
b. The cultural continuity in the case of the encounter between Christians and the Jews at the diaspora. In such a situation Christianity seems to provide a sense of continuity in which the Jews at the diaspora can retain their cultural continuity being themselves marginalized where they were no longer accepted as Jews and not really assimilated as Gentiles. (52) ”Jews were caught on the cleft of marginality, to which Christianity offered an appropriate resolution. (69) Such identification allows Stark to conclude that Jews were significant source for Christian growth, until as late as the fourth century (49)
c. The encounter of Paganism and Christianity described in several variables :
 the crisis (epidemics) creates “revitalization movement of Christianity”. The shifting of the social network because of the mortality rate during the crisis reveals the crucial opportunity for Christianity to grow because of its ability to confront the crisis socially and spiritually (93-94)
 the place and role of women rooted in the Christian subcultures which developed a very significant figure of female surplus comparing to the pagan world (male surplus). This figure based on the Christian prohibitions against infanticide and abortion as well as the sex biased practices in marriage relationship vis-à-vis women’s leadership position in the church. (128) The significant of identifying women as appropriate variable in early Christian growth is that it directs to two social aspects: first, the exogamous marriage which provides the early church with a flow of secondary converts (the pagan husbands). Second, higher birthrates. Both contributed to the rise of Christianity
 the demographic change through the acute disorganization of Greco Roman cities which, in general, eased the rise of Christianity. In such a situation Christianity proved itself as a “revitalization movement that arose in response to misery, chaos, fear, and brutality of life the urban Greco-Roman world.” (161). In the last chapters of this book the picture of Christianity becomes stronger as an immediate basis for interpersonal attachment which provides “a new and expanded sense of family” which virtually opened up a new basis for social solidarity.

3. Stark’s book appears to be a reminder to see another picture of Christianity. It does not offer specificity in terms of definition for conversion rather provides an open space to dialogue with a part of Christian history namely the Western side of early Christianity. Therefore, in terms of our course “History of Christian Mission,” this book may be read as a history of conversion to Christianity which shows that “[c]entral doctrines of Christianity prompted and sustained attractive, liberating, and effective social relations and organizations” (211) in such a specific time and space. It is a history that shows the effectiveness of Christianity in shifting the marginal Jesus movement to become the dominant religious force in the Western world only in a few centuries.

After a year ...

It took me about a year to finally realize that I actually had created a bit serious blog that aimed at connecting "Christian feminist theology" and "Mission Theology" in a more constructive way. So, this blog, that I just returned to last week was intended to provide a space where we could discuss issues related to this "academic and spiritual" search.

I am trying to avoid discussion merely on definitions, rather prefer more on substantial themes or issues. I have another blogs/sites where I post my poems, journals, etc (septemmy.multiply.com) and where I have a gallery for photos I took from several occasions and places in some corners of the world (picasaweb.google.com/septemmy). I enjoy the variety of these blogs/sites where I can be as creative as I want to be, and can invite people to join in the adventure of respecting and celebrating differences.

For this blog, I decided to share my views on issues related to mission theology and feminist theology by posting my most recent views on the matter, posting my paper and/or articles that I wrote on the related topics elsewhere, as well as short stories, etc.

Hopefully through our encounter we can create an alternative way of looking at the two subjects comprehensively and correlatively. Just to remind you ... this is a serious issue but it doesn't mean that smile, laughing, and creativity is impossible. They are necessary elements in discussing this topic. So, smile ... because the creative journey just started ... and enjoy the ride!

On Anthony J. Gittins' Ministry at the Margins

March 18, 2004 – TM 815

A Reading on Anthony J. Gittins’ Ministry at the Margins: Strategy and Spirituality for Mission

I. Mission - from the Passing Over to the Coming Back: A Summary

Central to Gittins’ book, Ministry at the Margins, is his thesis that mission is “a movement from the center to the margin” (xi) that involves not only a “centrifugal movement”, but more basically the humane encounter. Such movement and encounter reveal a whole new understanding of mission as ministry, more specifically, ministry at the margins. This newly discovered context of mission refers to mission as a process of life. It is a process that takes place from the passing over to the coming back that requires a new mission spirituality, namely “… humble faithfulness to the example of Jesus [and] service in the style of Servant” (xi). It is a spirituality that is based on the missionary nature of Christian baptism.

The passing over refers predominantly to Gittins’ theological and historical characterizations of those who commit themselves to mission works outside their own (geographical) boundaries. It is interdependently defined by the coming back that makes the two characterize the continuity of Christian mission, and thus constitute holistically to the “missionary adventure” as “the greatest religious adventure of our time”(5). The continuity is taking place in the three parts of movement, namely: the homeland (the locus where one’s identity is forged and rooted culturally), the wonderland (“the world of others”), and the newfoundland (the rediscovery of one’s own land where the challenges of [one’s own] culture shock, discontinuity, and disjunction may emerge) (6-7). These movements require not only theological, but also anthropological understandings of mission as a cross-cultural adventure. Gittins primarily emphasizes the importance of the linguistic-anthropological approach. By referring to Sapir and Whorf’s hypothesis on the deterministic role of language in shaping the habitual thought and certain world-view of its speakers, he argues that “language study and practice are intrinsic to mission” (81).

Mission as ministry at the margins creates a new image of “Christlike missionaries” (154) that is based profoundly on the biblical reflection of stranger. By differentiating the two concepts of stranger (nokri and gêr), Gittins proposes his biblical analogy of gêr (143) as an authentic model of how to be a Christlike-missionary. A gêr defines the identity of a missionary as a liminal person, a person in-between, a person at the margin that shifts radically the missionary self-paradigm from self-centeredness to other-centeredness.

“Missionary as stranger” thus implies the potentiality of every Christian to be an incarnated servant that is called to repent and convert, as much as is demanded to call others to repentance and conversion (151). This call defines the viability and visibility of mission as ministry at the margins where the compassionate encounter with the poor and the needy remains relevant and authentic. The viability and visibility of this mission thus creates another way of communicating, of “good-news-ing” the gospel message through the use of the language of the margins. It is the language that is developed through the humane encounter between the strangers, between every baptized Christians and their own Matthew 25-neighbors, at the margins of life.

II. Reflection: The Language of the Margins

Joel C. Kuipers, an anthropologist, discovered the dominant role of Indonesian national language (Bahasa Indonesia) in the forming of a particular Sumbanese Christian identity in West Sumba. I use his story of Mbora Kenda, a local practitioner who converted to Christianity and then changed his name to Daud (Indonesian version of David), to reflect on Gittin’s presupposition about the intrinsic relation between language/culture and mission (89-94).

After his conversion, Mbora Kenda finds that his local and ritual language of Weyewa Highland cannot fully represent his ‘new identity’ as Christian. This is due to the fact that the use of Bahasa Indonesia determines his new (higher) social status in the predominantly Sumbanese Christian community, which uses it as as a way to distinctively define itself as an integral part of the Indonesian nation. This lies back to the history of Christianity in West Sumba in the late nineteenth century. This part of history reveals a particular relation between the communication of the Gospel message and the use of superior language. Whereas in the case of the Dutch missionaries Dutch is superior to local languages, in the postcolonial context of Indonesia in the late twentieth century, Indonesian national language, Bahasa Indonesia, marginalizes the local languages, such as Weyewan ( 1998, xii, 1-7).

In Mbora Kenda’s case, the shift in his use of language results in the shift of his respected role as a local practitioner. His demand in using Bahasa Indonesia in his ritual speech ignores the local world-view that can only be comprehended by his Weyewan language. For Mbora Kenda, therefore, even though the use of Bahasa Indonesia will affirm his new receptive identity and higher social status, but it will alienate him from his own cultural root, the root of his very own identity as a Sumbanese.

Mbora Kenda’s story posses critical questions to Gittins’ argument of mission as ministry at the margins: How can Mbora Kenda become an authentic and relevant missionary in his own cultural setting if his use of Bahasa Indonesia alienates him from his own cultural root? Yet, can he become a relevant missionary in using the Weyewan language if it will result in his coming back to his previous marginal status in the predominant Christian community? What then is the margin for him? How one can witness linguistically to a person like Mbora Kenda the meaning of mission as incarnational in the situation where he does not have to choose to be a stranger since he himself is already a stranger. Therefore, the central question for Gittins’ book from such a particular story is, should a real stranger become another (more) stranger in order to become a relevant Servant? And, in relation with Gittins’ ideal of preferential option for the poor, should the poor become poorer in order to become a humble witness of Christ?

Gittins’ concept of passing over and coming back also reminds me of my experiene with a muslim friend, Farha Ciciek. Early last year Farha Ciciek and I published an article, in a top leading news paper in Indonesia, based on the story of Hagar (Siti Hajar). We identified Hagar’s story, as it is revealed in our religious texts, as a simbolic story of women victims in our communities. We claimed that through this particular story, we could create an open space for the encounter of victims accross religious and ethnic boundaries. We used Hagar’s language, as a language of victim, to identify the experiences of the marginalized in our own religious traditions. Yet, it is the same language that provides us the possibility to see the seed of transformation in the life of the victim. From my theological point of view, Hagar’s naming of God as “God who sees” is the source of such a transformation. Such interreligious cooperation reflects our own process of passing over and coming back through the language of the margins without having to be “lost in translation” (61) of our own traditions.

The two stories above while affirming Gittins’ understanding of the both-ends of mission as

a life process, also recognize the different definitions of margins that depend on one’s own historical, socio-economic and cultural situation. Therefore, in reading Gittins’ book, one needs to be in constant dialogue with such differences. And, one of another good stories to begin with is also the story of missionaries themselves. One of them is the story of E. Stanley Jones in his book The Christ of the Indian Road, where he touchingly described his experience with an Indian student who presented him a lotus, as a symbol of respect and honor.

I had come there a stranger and a foreigner... I had come openly with another faith, and I wondered how I would be received, but when this student gave me this lotus flower before all, then I knew I was accepted as friend and brother – and teacher. To be accepted as teacher was the goal of my hopes. But I felt myself as much a learner as a teacher. I had come to India with everything to teach and nothing to learn. I stay to learn as well, and I believe I am a betterman for having come into contact with the gentle heart of the East (1925, 222)

He continued to say, that his task in India “... to trust India with the Christ and trust Christ with India. We can only go so far – he and India must go the rest of the way. India is beginning to walk with the Christ of the Indian Road. What a walk it will be” (1925, 223) Is not this story about the passing over and the coming back missionary?

The above stories reflect the meaning of “life in paradox” as it is shown by the way Jesus lives his life in the paradox of Matthew 25 and Luke 4. It is the life that creates it own language of margin, the language of the fellow-sufferer and transformer.

Reference:

Jones, E. Stanley. 1925. The Christ of the Indian Road. New York, Cincinnati, Chicago: The

Abingdon Press.

Gittins, Anthony J. 2002. Ministry at the Margins: Strategy and Spirituality for Missions.

Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.

______________. 1999. Reading the Clouds: Mission Spirituality for New Times.

Liguori, Missionary: Liguori.

Kuipers, Joel C. 1998. Language, Identity, and Marginality in Indonesia; The Changing

Nature of Ritual Speech on the Island of Sumba. United Kingdom: Cambridge University Press.

On Kosuke Koyama's Water Buffalo Theology

April 1, 2004

A Reading on Kosuke Koyama’s Water Buffalo Theology

I. Water Buffalo Theology - Theologia Crusis in Asia: A Summary

Reading Koyama’s Water Buffalo Theology thirty years after it was first published requires the recognition of the radical changes that have taken place in the Asian context from which Koyama drew his reflection. In his preface to the twenty-fifth anniversary edition Koyama re-affirmed his original preference of Water Buffalo theology as a “theology in Asia,” and not “tribal theology,” to recognize Asia as it is “webbed-with the whole oekumene [sic!]”(x). Water Buffalo theology, thus, is Koyama’s definition of doing theology in Asia, meaning re-rooting theology in the life of Asian people, that is shaped by two integrated characters: historical and missiological.[1]

The starting point of doing theology in Asia must be the clear recognition of Asia’s own history, which is located in “the historical perspective of the West ‘gun’ (wounding) and ‘ointment’ (healing)” (32) that implies Asia’s missiological understanding through her participation in such history. Thus, Water Buffalo theology is Koyama’s way of doing theology in the “living [Northern Thailand people] in [their] concrete historical situation”(151). Accordingly, it is a theology that emerges out of Koyama’s life story as a missionary in Northern Thailand.

Central to Water Buffalo theology is the intertwined questions of: “who we [Asian people] are” and “who God is”(160-162). Koyama affirms vividly that God is “the Crucified God” and, therefore, Asian people are “the crucified-Christ-with us” (160). This, for him, is the Asian new identification that is rooted biblically in the theologia crusis and historically in the theological situations in Asia. Thus, similar to other Third World theology Water Buffalo theology begins by raising issues (76), specifically, the “ten key theological issues facing theologians in Asia: interdependent world; the Bible; proclamation, accommodation, and syncretism; people of other faiths and ideologies; the West; China; the haves and have-nots; the animistic world; spirituality; doctrinal clarity” (76).

Such identification implies the new understanding of being-in mission through “three-modes of Christian presence”: stumbling presence, discomforted presence, and ‘unfree’ presence (163-170). These three modes reflect profoundly the paradox of the two realities: the reality that “in [Christ] all things hold together” and the reality of the brokenness of the world (162). Thus, being-in mission means being in the paradox of these realities as Christ lived in the paradox of being the Crucified Lord (ibid). It is also the paradox that characterizes the saving act of God in the history of “lost-found” and “dead-alive”.

Living the “life in paradox” requires the “crucified mind.” It is the mind that
appreciates the complexity of people and history, and that imitates Christ in the way he participates in the paradoxical history of the cross and the resurrection. Thus, it is neither a pathological, nor neurotic, nor, obviously, “crusading mind” (159). The crucified mind must be the mind of all missionaries and all Christians (157-159). It is the mind that defines the identity of a missionary as “anyone who increases by participation the concretization of the love of God in history” (158). A missionary is a communicator who lives out the message that s/he communicates. Thus, the message is incarnated in the life of the messenger. It is a radically different life in which the messenger participates in the life of the Crucified Christ. It is a life-in mission that requires the new mission paradigm: mission as the movement from the center to the periphery. It is a radically different life since it employs the self-emptying process that “will give us [Asian people] a perspective in which we can look at, and participate in, the suffering of humankind” (162).

In conclusion, Water Buffalo theology is a theology of the cross that communicates with Asian language(s). It enables Christians to live the comforted-discomforted life as they experience the presence of the crucified God in the lives of their neighbors (167). It listens to the “frog croacking” and “mosquito humming” of the paddy field in northern Thailand. It responds boldly to the imperative task of communicating the Word of God while recognizing humbly the critique towards the noisiness of Christian proclamation (160). It is translatable in the language of northern Thailand people since it “begins and grows in northern Thailand, and nowhere else” (xvi). However, its particularity “can flourish only if it maintains its ecumenical linkage” (ix).

II. The Mission of the Crucified God: A Reflection

When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.… I led them with cords of human kindness, with bands of love. I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks. I bent down to them and fed them. (Hosea 11. 1-2, 4) (NRSV)

Hosea’s interpretation of the liberation of Israel from Egypt resonates with the image of the crucified God in Koyama’s Water Buffalo theology.[2] Hosea’s picture of God as a God who liberates the suffering people of Israel under the yoke of Egypt creates a radically different picture of God’s power of love and liberation (cf. the Exodus’ image). It is the “love that is based on the pain of God” (83) that makes the nonviolent liberation for God’s people is possible. Hosea’s image of God as a liberator, thus, reveals another way of looking at the history of God’s people in the Bible. It is the history of the people under the yoke of oppression (like “a herd of water buffaloes grazing in the muddy paddy field in Thailand”) who are liberated by the God who bends and feeds them (like a mother who breast feeds her child). The vulnerable God liberates God’s people. In the liberation we find the suffering God. What a paradox!

Water Buffalo theology, as one of Koyama’s early writing, needs to be read with his latter writings in order to see the process in which Koyama himself re-discovered some issues that were already dealt with in this book. Such a re-discovery points toward the implication of his theology of the cross, which pictures Jesus as the person who has gone from the center to the periphery, in the interreligious encounter. Here his christology of the peripheral Christ implies a critical dimension in such an encounter, as he states “this [peripheral Jesus] will give us a new possibility in our encounter with the people of other faith and ideologies. We can be critical about them because we are critical about ourselves.”[3]

The same criticism applies to the other way of looking at the meaning of suffering in Asia. As an Indonesian woman I find Water Buffalo theology provides an open place to affirm Asian women’s experience as an authentic starting point to respond to the question of “who we are” and “who God is,” which is rooted in the question of justice and transformation in Asia. Despite their common experience of suffering, poverty, and transformation, Asian women define such commonality from the experience of sexism. Thus, Asian women’s experience of sexism becomes a particular basis for their interpretation of justice and transformation in the midst of the “overwhelming poverty” and the “multifaceted religiosity”[4] in Asia.

A feminist interpretation of justice is needed to accompany Koyama’s theology of the cross in Asia. Such an interpretation rejects the absolutized and universalized masculine norm that results in the oppression of women in all areas of life. Asian women’s experience of the overwhelming poverty and religious diversity in Asia will challenge every criterion for universalization which, thus, makes the question of “who defines justice” is parallel to the question of “who defines God” vis-à-vis the question of “who defines Christ.” From such a perspective, thus, the mission of the crucified God that “heals our history by giving it hope and life”[5] means also the mission that heals the brokenness of human dignity under the patriarchal power. It heals and embraces the full humanity of women and men. Here the movement from the center to the periphery should be in constant dialogue with the movement from the periphery to the center, meaning the other-ness of women becomes the self-ness which creates open spaces for the silenced, the marginal voices within Christianity to voice their authentic images of God. Thus, Koyama’s argument about “suffering [as] the point of indigenization” (17) needs to be read in relation with other claim that states that “liberation is the point of contextualization” (cf. Robert Shcreiter’s definition of contextualization).

Finally, Water Buffalo theology is still relevant in the early twenty first century of Asia

Its authenticity and relevancy lies in the profound re-affirmation that Koyama makes in the epilogue of this book:

“We need to remember that theologia crusis is a doctrine of love, not of sacrifice… the primary duty of theologia crusis is to confront violence and destroy it…My New York theologia crusis began to have the two themes simultaneously: grace and violence (178).

Water Buffalo theology remains authentic in the Western soil since it is rooted in the concrete human’s struggle in the concrete history. As a theology of the cross, thus, Water Buffalo theology, which speaks in and through Asia, is also an authentic missiology of the cross that defines mission as the Crucified God’s mission in “[bringing] forth the wholesomeness of abundant life to all upon the earth” (179).

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[1] This definition resonates with the formulation of the term contextual theology at the Theological Education Fund in 1970 (15). Thus, in his new preface, Koyama recognizes the three challenges to his Water Buffalo theology, one of which is contextualization of theology, which is intertwined with the dialogue between Christians and Buddhists, and the commitment to the protection and maintenance of ecological health and justice (xiii-xiv).

[2] This is true if it is compared with one of Koyama’s later writings, Mount Fuji and Mount Sinai: Critique of Idols (Maryknoll: Orbos Books) in which he discussed Hosea’s concept of the “agitated mind” of God (11.8) as the starting point of his theology of the cross (1984, 241).

[3] Ibid., 244-5.

[4] These identification provided by Aloysius Pieris, a Sri Lankan theologian of liberation. While the “overwhelming poverty” constitutes a commonality shared with the rest of the so called Third World countries, the second points to the unique character of Asia.

[5] Ibid.