Shall I Cling to the Old Rugged Cross?
Interrogating and Re-thinking the Power of the Cross
Muriel Orevillo-Montenegro1
Introduction
On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
What power does the cross have that it creates
an imagination of “laying down trophies” and exchanging
them for a crown? As a Filipina Christian who grew up in poverty,
with memories of shame and abuse, what trophies will I lay down? What
crown does an “emblem of suffering and shame,” a signifier
and embodiment of violence,2 offer to the
abused, exploited and marginalized? What trophies will the oppressed
lay down when they themselves are the trophies of wars, colonization,
slavery and capitalist globalization? How can those whose identity
and dignity have been stripped away from them love and cherish such
a symbol of violence?
Analysis of the power3 of
the cross and the “violent grammar”4
of atonement had been a neglected agenda in theology until very recently.
Church preaching and teaching about the cross over the centuries had
been influenced by classical formulations that are not only triumphalist
but also patriarchal and androcentric in character. Consequently,
church teachings on this ubiquitous Christian symbol tend to glorify
the cross and gloss over the violence for which it stands. Results
of a random survey I did recently among college students indicate
this tendency.5 The cross is understood as
necessary for the Christ’s saving work, to convey the message
of God’s eternal love and forgiveness, and to ward off evil.
Further study needs to be done to include opinion of other sectors
in Philippine society. However, I deem it safe to say that students’
responses reflect generally the plain Filipino Christians’ understanding
of the power and meaning of the cross. But does the cross really possess
the power to protect us from evil? Does it really have the power to
convey the message of God’s love? Does the cross truly possess
power necessary for the saving work of Jesus the Christ?
The cross has occupied a central place in Christianity’s
bloody efforts to expand the territory of Christendom. Eusebius of
Caesarea’s notion of the cross as an inspiration to conquer
and as blessed by God6 unleashed the church’s
blessing for the Empire’s crusades and inquisitions in Christ’s
name. Henceforth, the cross became an explicit inspiration of Western
conquests, genocides, colonization, slavery, and subjugation of indigenous
peoples and of Mother Earth. The cross continues to be the force behind
the contemporary Empire’s discourse on its fight against terrorism.
The Filipinos came to know the cross through the colonizers who came
in two big waves. These colonizers brandished the cross alongside
the sword and rifles to justify their conquest as an act of liberating
the so-called barbarian and heathen natives from the evil of paganism.
Echoing Eusebius of Ceasarea’s interpretation of the cross in
Constantine’s dream as a mandate to conquer in the name of Christ,7
prominent missionary voices hailed the conquest by force as necessary
to prepare the conquest for Christ, and the use of violence as “revelation
and prophecy” that was “baptized by the divine Spirit.”8
The purchase of the Philippines by the Americans from Spain9
without the knowledge of the Filipinos demonstrates the violent power
of the cross. Davianna Pomaika’i-McGregor cites an article in
a 1902 San Francisco magazine that tersely stated the interest behind
the act:
The purchase of the archipelago . . . would have
been cheap . . . but unfortunately, they are infested with Filipinos
. . . [It] is to be feared that their extinction will be slow .
. . Therefore, the more of them killed, the better . . . We don’t
want the Filipinos; we want the Philippines.10
Today, the system continues with a new mask. This leaves the ordinary
Filipino staggering under the cross of political and economic violence
caused by a system that is addicted to the lethal drug of neocolonialism.
Meanwhile, a stream of “save-the-soul” and “glorify-the-cross”
missionaries have entered the country to further induce hallucination
among the victims who are driven to self-destruction.
Interrogating the Power of the Cross
I have chosen to examine the discourse on the power of the cross
even if there are attempts to redeem the cross from its power to
perpetrate violence. Among Christians in the Philippines, a prevalent
notion is that the cross has salvific power and is the locus of
salvation. I contend that the cross merely points to the reality
of humanity’s worst and abysmal possibilities. The cross in
itself has no salvific power. Rather, it stands for humanity’s
stark failure to live out the potentials for goodness, beauty and
holiness. Whatever power is associated with the cross must be re-defined
for it to cease as an instrument of violence, especially the sacralized
rituals of violence. In her provocative work, The Curse of Cain:
The Violent Legacy of Monotheism,11 Regina
M. Schwartz examined the role of sacrificial rituals in shaping
the identity of the “chosen people” in the Old Testament.
She advances a theory that collective identity and violence are
connected to each other. The most fundamental act of violence humanity
commits is the process of imagining and constructing identity as
“an act of distinguishing and separating from others, of boundary
making and line drawing” their territorial maps with blood.12
Schwartz traces this “notion of identity born in violence”
to the Judeo-Christian tradition, particularly in the biblical narrative
because of its great impact in the formation of the notion of identity
of Christendom and in secular thoughts. Indeed, stories of the past
called history/herstory have shown that collective identities have
committed horrible atrocities in the name of identities, be it religious,
ethnic, class, national, race and gender.13
Thus, it is important to interrogate and redefine the power of the
cross because for centuries, it has served more as a symbol that
reinforces the domination of the powerful over those who were considered
the weak “other.” Interrogating the power of the cross
inevitably means deconstructing the symbol. It means destabilizing
the truth claims about the cross by identifying unarticulated presuppositions
and demonstrating the failure of such claims to provide a stable
underpinning for the statements being made.14
Consequently, we need to reject theories of atonement and the cross
that reinscribe and reinforce the domination and subjugation of
the other. When those rendered as the “other” claim
the power to re-define the meaning of the cross in their lives,
they produce reality and rituals of truth and generate subversive
knowledge, or, in Michel Focault’s words, the “insurrection
of the subjugated knowledge.”15 In
paraphrasing Focault, Madan Sarup says “it is not possible
for power to be exercised without knowledge, and it is impossible
for knowledge not to engender power.”16
The church’s traditional interpreters of the cross in ancient
and contemporary times, such as Mel Gibson through his film, The
Passion of the Christ, have exercised power over the “others”
when they claimed singular authority and privilege of producing
“the” correct theological knowledge.
Power of the Cross as Manifestation of Violence
In times past, the power of the cross was located only in its function
as an instrument of execution, of political and military punishment.
In his book focused on crucifixion, the German scholar Martin Hengel17
asserts that the cross is a structure that signifies the most brutal
form of punishment that the Romans, Greeks, and barbarians used
in ancient times. In Rome, it was used to punish rebellious aliens,
violent criminals and robbers. Hengel notes that “crucifixion
was a punishment in which the caprices and sadism of the executioners
were given full reign.”18 It was
carried out publicly to serve supposedly as a deterrent, but in
reality crucifixion only victimized the powerless. The person to
be hanged was usually tortured and flogged before being nailed unto
the cross. Some were hanged with their heads down to the ground.
The victim was displayed naked in prominent places, such as the
crossroads, in the theater, on a high ground, at the place of crime
to humiliate the person. Death on the cross was very slow. In many
cases, the victim was refused burial to complete the humiliation.19
In his book Wars of the Jews, the Jewish historian
Josephus tells us that beheading and crucifixion were common ways
of punishing criminals or rebels before and after the time of Jesus
of Nazareth.20
Why and how did an instrument of torture and death become the venerated
symbol of salvation? Why did a symbol of violence replace the earlier
Christian symbol of the fish that is more organic and life giving?
Interpretation of the Cross in New Testament
Writings
It was said that the symbol of the cross was first used by Ignatius
of Antioch (c. 98- 117) to prove to the Docetists that Jesus was
truly human who truly died, and thus argued for the claim of the
new faith that Jesus is the resurrected Lord. The cross (sta????)
is the location of Jesus’ death (Matt. 27:32ff; Mk. 15:21ff.
Lk. 23:26; John 19:17 ff.). The Pauline material in the New Testament
is replete with discourse on the cross. The interpretation of Jesus’
sacrificial death on the cross (??ast?????, Rom. 3:25 literally
means, “propitiation” or “expiation;” also
Phil. 2:8; see also Heb. 12:2.) in Pauline writings had drawn from
the imagery of sacrificial offerings and the suffering servant in
the Old Testament. Paul speaks of the cross as a scandal and a stumbling
block (Gal. 5:11) for those who could not accept the idea that the
messiah would die a shameful death on the cross. Paul interpreted
the cross as the paradox of God’s wisdom and salvation (Col.
2:4; Eph, 2:16). Jesus “chose” the cross to show his
profound love for humanity. Thus, Paul declared the cross to be
the only basis of Christian hope (Gal. 6:14). Indeed, Paul spoke
of the unique power of the cross. In this light and in spite of
the brutality of the cross, it has acquired the status of being
the supreme symbol of Christian faith and hope. Today, however,
scholars understand Paul’s discourse on the cross and salvation
in light of Paul’s efforts to unmask the powers of the Empire
of his time. Yet, Paul stayed away from any discourse on the historical
modality of Jesus’ death. On the contrary, the gospels are
straightforward in warning the disciples that the risk of the cross
is a reality in the course of following the steps of Jesus (Matt.
10:38; 16:24; Mark 8:34; Lk. 14:27; Mk. 10:21), thereby not romanticizing
the cross. The risk of the cross is there when one commits, just
as Jesus did, to resist the evil powers of this world that impose
the cross of suffering on the people.
The Cross in the Minds of the Church’s
Classic Interpreters
I would like to believe that Paul understood the cross both as
a symbol that unmasks the powers of evil embodied by the Roman Empire
in his time and as a symbol of sacrifice that the struggle of resistance
against such powers requires. His discourse, however, is ambivalent
in some parts. Unfortunately, the interpreters amplified the notion
of the cross as a symbol of sacrifice only. The discourse of the
early church fathers interpreting Paul had complicated the notion
of the cross. It seems to me that in their attempt to explain the
meaning of the cross, they had brought us farther from the meaning
Paul made. To Irenaeus of Smyrna (130-202 C. E.), the cross was
necessary to ransom humanity from Apostasy.21
It was a necessary evil, according to Origen, to overcome
the devil. It should be our model to usher in the hope of resurrection
that Christ’s death brings to believers.22
Origen’s notion of necessary evil is dangerous because it
may be used to sanction violence to advance the interest of some
people who falsely claim to be the sole agents and custodians of
God’s truth. One could argue that violence is not necessary
for the work of redemption, but redemptive work demands that believers
of the Christ resist violence – be it in the form of discrimination,
sickness, and brokenness (Ml. 7:24-30), hunger (Mk. 8:1-10), patriarchy
(Jn. 8:1-11), corruption (Mk. 11:15-18), and the violence of the
cross. Almost encouraging masochism and invoking Galatians 6:14,
Augustine of Hippo (354-430 C.E.) believed in the “sweetness”
of the cross that “drags” Christians towards it and
inspires piety among them for desires and loves are shaped according
to the cross.23 Following the Pauline discourse,
Augustine insisted that Jesus chose voluntarily to his humiliation
and death, “for he was to have that very cross as His sign;
that very cross a trophy, as it were, over the vanquished devil.”24
Augustine’s view of the cross has served the patriarchal church
well in disempowering women while it endorses the glorification
of the cross. Mary Daly rightly points out that the image of a meek
Jesus easily “reinforces the scapegoat syndrome for women.”25
Like Daly, I find it ludicrous to imagine that Jesus meekly volunteered
to be tortured and killed. Instead, Jesus actively resisted the
evil of violence by refusing to use violence in retaliation, but
it does not mean he volunteered to die on the cross. Jesus became
the sign of God because of his commitment to live fully and give
life abundantly through his praxis of ministry. Certainly, such
praxis implied challenging the life-denying, death-dealing powers
and structures of his society. Thus, the risk of death lurked. Jesus’
death was a consequence of this praxis of his life-giving, life-affirming
ministry. The “point of the risk is not to invite death,”
Rita Nakashima Brock asserts. Rather, “the risk is a profound
affirmation of the possibility of life beyond oppression.”26
Instead of addressing horrors of the crusades launched by the European
church that killed thousands of Muslims in the name of Christendom,
thinkers constructed theologies that focused on sacrifice and on
the cross. Anselm (1033-1109) of Canterbury’s discourse on
the cross in his Cur Deus Homo (Why God Became Human) reflects the
feudal system of his time. In his theory of satisfaction, a male
God demanded justice in form of blood payment to be done by an equally
powerful but human being to restore his offended honor. Knowing
that there was no one qualified to offer that satisfactory payment,
this proud male God acted to become human in Jesus to die on the
cross as humanity’s substitute to serve as bait for the devil.
In that way, God deceived the devil that could not snatch away the
soul of Jesus because Jesus was not only perfectly human but also
perfectly divine. Anselm’s understanding of the cross that
projects a sulking male God who demands blood sacrifice has inevitably
reinforced the patriarchal church’s demand for blood sacrifice
from women who were burned at stake or imprisoned for transgressing
male norms. Furthermore, it reinforced Christianity’s construction
of the “other” and demonization of anyone who is different
as Satan who must be subdued.27 To Darby
Kathleen Ray, Anselm’s location of God’s salvific act
on the cross is “one more tool of theological violence, of
power-as-control, which results in the ideological and/or physical
domination of some by others.”28 While
moving away from Anselm’s notion of satisfying a male God’s
self-gratifying scheme of deceiving the devil to recoup his honor,
Peter Abelard (1079-1142) of France considered the cross as necessary
sacrifice to express God’s love and to set humanity free from
sin. The purpose of the cross was to evoke repentance in humanity
and a loving response to God. However, like Anselm, Abelard glossed
over the violence of the cross and ignored the system of state violence
that prevailed in Jesus’ context. Instead, he glorified the
cross and mystified the death of Jesus as unique, thereby making
contemporary Christians forget that Jesus was one among thousands
who were tortured on the cross during that period.29
I can almost hear the hymn that says, “In the cross of Christ
I glory!” as an echo of Abelard’s theology. Martin Luther’s
theologia crucis proposes that one can see and know God
fully in the suffering of Christ on the cross. Believers must embrace
the cross for it is there that we bend in humility and see our nothingness
apart from God.30 For women, however, to
regard oneself as nothing apart from a male God is difficult if
the self is already crushed, and victimized by powerful male persons
and systems perpetrated, endorsed, and perpetuated by patriarchal
institutions.
In his analysis of myths and rituals, René Girard jolts
us with his conclusion that violence is at the core of the sacred,
and that this thread of violence inextricably runs through human
nature and culture.31 Human beings’
mimetic desire manifests as acquisitive desire that leads to violence.
However, Girard attempts to redeem the cross by saying that it is
the locus of rejecting violence. On the cross, Jesus as the scapegoat
refuses to be entangled with mimetic violence and embraced suffering
without any thought of reprisal. In this way, Jesus breaks the cycle
of violence.32 Yet, in the course of time,
we have seen that the model of sacrifice does not necessarily stop
the perpetration of violence. Instead, violence continues to escalate
as modern technology rises to its peak, and as churches perpetuate
the theology of sacrificial suffering.
Re-thinking the Power of the Cross:
Making Sense of the Cross as a Pinay33
In that old rugged cross, stained with blood
so divine, a wondrous beauty I see,
For ‘twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died, to
pardon and sanctify me.
Aruna Gnanadason of India notes, “One of the
most pernicious aspects of Christian teaching has been this imposed
theology of sacrifice and suffering.”34
The theories of atonement that define the power of the cross hardly
make sense to Asian people. Kwok Pui Lan points out that the idea
of the son dying on the cross to save the world is “unintelligible
to the average Chinese.”35 To Stella
Baltazar of India, the idea of God sending his son to death on the
cross has “been used to justify any unjust suffering as permissible,”36
and negates the understanding that God truly cares about humanity.
By browsing the pages of the collection of case studies from India,
one can see the heavy cross that patriarchal culture, reinforced by
Christian teachings, imposes on Indian women.37
The cross is the suffering of women who are prostituted by an oppressive
patriarchal capitalist society, and who are rejected by the righteous,
“moral” church. The cross and the violent grammar of atonement
make various images of child abuse “acceptable as divine behavior
– cosmic child abuse.”38 These
gross realities reflect what womanist theologian Delores Williams
calls “defilement” and “willful desecration.”39
Williams points to the image of Jesus naked on the cross as a mockery
of Jesus’ “ministerial vision” of righting relationships.
The image is a derision of his teachings to offer a coat to the naked,
feed the hungry, and comfort the lonely. This reading projects the
picture of human sin in its most desecrated form:
The cross is a reminder of how humans have tried
through history to destroy visions of righting relationships that
involve transformation of tradition and transformation of social
relations and arrangements sanctioned by the status quo.40
Many sections of the institutional church continue
to glorify the cross, but this must stop. The church must tell the
truth that Jesus’ death is a political event that points to
the social and political evils of his society. The harsh realities
of violence that patriarchy and oppressive society have brought to
women and to powerless people in society only remind us that the cross
of Jesus is just one of the many crosses of his time. It is not unique.
It is not a thing of beauty. Crucifixion was a form of death penalty
commonly practiced by the Roman Empire. I agree with Catholic theologian
Ivone Gebara of Brazil who says that today we can only speak of the
cross in plural form. The cross of Jesus is one among many. If one
argues for the uniqueness of that cross on the basis of Jesus’
innocence,41 one just needs to look at the
suffering of so many innocent people in this world. Yet, women and
men must acknowledge their complicity in the imposition of different
forms of crosses on others, especially those that “are not even
present in the immediate field of our consciousness.”42
Complicity may include one’s silence in the face of production
of war machines, the creation of institutions of greed, and destruction
of the ecosystem, and many others that are usually justified in the
name of God and for the benefit of the privileged people.
Asian male theologians have redefined and looked
up to the cross as the site where God and humanity see each other
face to face in suffering and hope. According to C.S. Song of Taiwan,
the cross proclaims that in Christ there are no strangers, for “to
suffer and to hope is human.”43 George
Soares Prabhu of India points to the cross as a symbol of conflict
with the powerful and it is “the natural outcome of a life of
solidarity with the poor and outcasts” for death is the “appropriate
fulfillment of a life lived out with and for the poor and outcast.”44
This view is still rooted in the notion of salvific sacrifice. Some
Asian feminists try to redeem the cross and redefine its power. Virginia
Fabella of the Philippines understands the suffering of Jesus on the
cross as an act of solidarity with those who are suffering.45
Yet somehow, this view seems inadequate and still leaves a lacuna.
An attempt to redeem the cross by retrieving the Augustinian notion
that it is a “beacon of light” that endows suffering “with
meaning and dignity”46 only continues
to mystify the cross, and makes us turn our gaze away from the deep
roots of abuse, violence, and oppression. It even provides the abusers
of power a curtain behind which they can hide and get off the hook.
Flora A. Keshgegian of Armenian background offers
a possibility of making sense of the cross. She suggests that the
cross can be rescued as a redeeming memory only if Christianity confronts
the crucifixion “as a traumatic event, embedded in a web of
relations.”47 This tragic heuristic
is helpful because it offers us a lens through which we see suffering
and tragedy as “conflicted context where we must create what
right and reason we can.”48 A tragic
heuristic makes us face the reality of tragedies and pain in our lived
contexts and challenges theology to acknowledge that not all suffering
finds redemption. With tragic consciousness, one will be able to see
the cross as a reminder or anamnesis (???µ??s??) of the ugliness
of humanity’s evil deeds. As such, the cross does not need to
be solved, or glossed over, or decorated with convoluted words and
doctrines as are usually done in Christian churches. The cross cannot
be anything but a symbol of violence. It does not give life. It only
takes away life. It has no power in itself to transform life. Yet,
tragic consciousness allows us to retrieve what the androcentric theologies
have suppressed: to see suffering as it is, to grieve over it, and
to rise above it. In other words, it allows us to face the reality
of Jesus’ brutal death, and to mourn his death49
and accept that Jesus’ death does not redeem suffering.
Jesus’ death only challenges us to struggle against evil. In
a straightforward way, this approach draws out hope from women (and
men also) when they see the cross as the starting point of the struggle
against all symbols of evil power, and a challenge to bring down the
crosses that are erected over time and space. Tragic heuristic challenges
the moral agency of women to claim not the cross, but the endangered
memory of the violence of the cross. This will make women focus on
Jesus’ teachings and works as powerfully salvific. Jesus said,
“The one who believes in me will also do the works that I do
and, in fact, will do even greater works than these” (Jn. 14:12).
The Eucharist confronts the Christian with this dangerous memory (???µ??s??),50
and with Jesus’ words of challenge: “Do this in memory
of me.” Keshgegian insists that the “memory of the cross
must be preserved as tragic,”52 because
such memo0ry will keep us attentive to possibilities of danger. Acknowledging
the memory of the violence of the cross is “a necessary condition
for empowerment and transformation” because it kindles the fire
and passion of anger against injustice. The hope for life and salvation
lies in the resistance against evil that is provoked by the dangerous
memory of the cross. If the cross has any power at all, I can only
affirm Flora Keshgegian and Rita Nakashima Brock who locate such power
in its memory. It is the memory that “refuses to ignore the
terrorizing and afflictive power of patriarchal empires” that
are bent to dominate and destroy others.53 Christians
who glorify the cross and do not recognize its dangerous memory will
fall back to abstract discourse about God and Christ. When this happens,
evil is kept alive. Relationships will be neglected and people will
deceive themselves with the idea of the “tragic necessity of
doing evil and accepting evil”54 rather
than taking a commitment to persistently resist it.
Conclusion
Shall I cling to the “old rugged cross”?
My answer is no. I refuse to cling to the mystified and romanticized
symbol of violence that had for centuries endorsed the subjugation
of peoples and reinforces the suffering of women at the intersection
of patriarchy, sexism, classism, racism, and ethnocentrism. To cling
to the old rugged cross is to erase the memory of women’s suffering
over past centuries.55 I will, however, keep
alive the dangerous memory of the cross when I survey the scars and
wounds inflicted on the bodies and spirits of people and of the Earth.
The memory of Jesus’ cross is very real in everyday life of
many Asian peoples who suffer the grind of poverty and multifarious
forms of violence. The dangerous memory of the cross will only have
the power to keep me vigilant so that I may not be co-opted by the
masked powers of evil. Thus, the memory of the cross reveals the obstinate
evil that is the “abuse of power,” be it in the form of
the “use of power to dominate and violate, or the relinquishment
of power so as to avoid the hard work of moral struggle.”56
In this light, I agree with Ray’s redefinition of the cross
as resistance to the obstinacy of evil. Resistance encompasses struggle
against patriarchy, sexism, homophobia, classism, ethnocentrism, racism,
xenophobia, and all forms of “othering” that dehumanize
people and denigrate life. The memory of the violence of the cross
should bring Christians to repentance and deep lamentation over the
perpetuation of all forms of violence against life. Moreover, such
memory will also lead them to do concrete, though dangerous, work
of compassion: to stop the violence of crucifixions and bring down
the crosses that socio-economic and political structures of empires
continue to erect.
I will also cling to the memory of Jesus whose life demonstrated
the use of power to enhance life, and to restore balance and harmony57
among peoples, and of the Earth. The memory of Jesus’ suffering
will keep one vigilant about one’s propensity to greed and complicity
in inflicting violence, and make the struggle for the fullness of
life endure. The memory of the cross will move us to ensure that the
work of making Jesus’ salvific praxis of love, celebration of
friendship, and justice-making will flourish.?
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Joy, Elizabeth, ed. Lived Realities: Faith Reflections
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Keshgegian, Flora A. Redeeming Memories: A Theology
of Healing and Transformation. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2000.
Kwok Pui-Lan. Introducing Asian Feminist Theology.
Cleveland, Ohio: Pilgrim Press, 2000.
Luther, Martin. "Disputation at Heidelberg, 1518." In Luther:
Early Theological Works, edited by James Atkinson, 274 - 307. Philadelphia:
Westminster Press, 1962.
Metz, Johann Baptist. A Passion for God: The Mystical-Political
Dimension of Christianity. Translated by J. Matthew Ashley. New York
and New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1998.
Nakashima Brock, Rita. Journeys by Heart: A Christology
of Erotic Power. New York: Crossroad, 1988.
Noddings, Nel. Women and Evil. Berkeley, Ca.: University of California
Press, 1989.
Origen. "On Relation of God and Evil" in
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UK and Cambridge, US: Blackwell, 1995.
Pagels, Elaine. The Origin of Satan. New York: Random
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Pomaika'i-McGregor, Davianna. "1889-1998: Rethinking
the U.S. In Paradise." Rethinking the U.S. in Paradise Newsletter
1, no. 1 (July 1998): 1-3.
Rasmussen, Larry L. "Power Analysis: A Neglected
Agenda in Christian Ethics." The Annual (1991): 3-17.
Ray, Darby Kathleen. Deceiving the Devil: Atonement,
Abuse and Ransom. Cleveland, Ohio: The Pilgrim Press, 1998.
Sands, Kathleen M. Escape from Paradise: Evil and
Tragedy in Feminist Theology. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994.
Sarup, Madan. An Introductory Guide to Post-Structuralism
and Postmodernism. 2nd edn. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1993.
Schwartz, Regina M. The Curse of Cain: The Violent
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Press, 1997.
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A Christological Contribution to an Ecumenical Third-World Spirituality."
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Song, Choan-Seng. The Compassionate God. Maryknoll,
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NOTES:
1 Dr. Muriel Orevillo-Montenegro
holds a Ph.D. in systematic theology and now teaches theology at Silliman
University Divinity School in Dumaguete City, Philippines.
2 Robert Audi, ed., The Cambridge Dictionary
of Philosophy, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999),
815-16. According to Ferdinand de Saussure, the basic unit of the
linguistic sign has two sides, the signifier and the signified. The
signifier conveys a particular meaning, or the “signified concept.”
Together, the two become the “positive” fact of the sign.
3 Larry L. Rasmussen, "Power Analysis:
A Neglected Agenda in Christian Ethics," The Annual (1991): 3-17.
This article was his presidential address during the thirty-second
annual meeting of the Society of Christian Ethics.
4 Anthony W. Bartlett, Cross Purposes: The
Violent Grammar of Christian Atonement (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania:
Trinity Press International, 2001).
5 Students of ten Religion classes, each
with 45-50 students, were asked to answer the questions: “What
comes to your mind when you see a cross? What does the cross, as a
Christian symbol mean to you?” 97.4 per cent of the students
associate the cross with “Jesus who died to save us from our
sin.” The cross is a “symbol of our salvation and of God’s
eternal love and forgiveness of our sins.” 2.6 per cent had
varied responses: some associate the cross with suffering, others
note that it replaced the earlier Christian symbol of the fish, and
to some, it has no meaning at all. 70 per cent said they wear a cross
as a pendant or as an accessory to their attire, to show that they
are Christians and “to ward off evil” or to have a “protection
from evil.”
6 Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History,
Complete and Unabridged, trans. C.F. Cruse, Updated Edition of Reprint
ed. (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson Publishers, 1998), 9.9.10-11.
7 Ibid., 343-45, 79. In 9.9.10-11, Eusebius
explained that the cross was an inspiration to conquer and that the
Roman Empire’s territorial expansion was also the expansion
of God’s kingdom on earth.
8 Gerald H. Anderson, "Providence and
Politics Behind Protestant Missionary Beginnings in the Philippines,"
in Studies in Philippine Church History, ed. Gerald H. Anderson (Ithaca
and London: Cornell University Press, 1969), 279-300.
9 The negotiation and purchase was done through
the Treaty of Paris signed by Spain and the United States in December
19, 1898. Under the treaty, Spain also ceded Puerto Rico to the United
States and relinquished control over Cuba. See Renato Constantino,
The Philippines: A Past Revisited (Pre-Spanish - 1941) (Quezon City:
by the author, 1975), 219. Between 1898 to 1914, the U.S. forces killed
1.4 million Filipinos.
10 Davianna Pomaika'i-McGregor, "1889-1998:
Rethinking the U.S. In Paradise," Rethinking the U.S. in Paradise
Newsletter 1, no. 1 (July 1998): 1, 3.
11 Regina M. Schwartz, The Curse of Cain:
The Violent Legacy of Monotheism (Chicago and London: The University
of Chicago Press, 1997).
12 Ibid., 5-6.
13 Ibid.
14 The postmodern approach of deconstruction
has been espoused by Jacques Derrida.
15 Michel Focault, Power/Knowledge, trans.
Colin Gordon (New York: Pantheon Books, 1980), 81.
16 Madan Sarup, An Introductory Guide to
Post-Structuralism and Postmodernism, 2nd ed. (Athens: University
of Georgia Press, 1993), 74.
17 Martin Hengel, Crucifixion in the Ancient
World and the Folly of the Message of the Cross (Philadelphia: Fortress
Press, 1977).
18 Ibid., 23-32.
19 Ibid., 86-88.
20 Flavius Josephus, The Works of Josephus:
Complete and Unabridged, trans. William Whiston, New Updated Edn.
(Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1987), 2.75. According to Josephus,
a Roman governor named Varus has crucified two thousand Jews who were
charged with sedition.
21 Ireneaus of Lyons, "The Refutation
and Overthrow of the Knowledge Falsely So Called," in Early Christian
Fathers, ed. Cyril C. Richardson (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1996),
385.
22 Origen, "On Relation of God and Evil,"
in The Christian Theology Reader, ed. Alister E. McGrath (Oxford,
UK and Cambridge, US: Blackwell, 1995), 96.
23 Saint Augustine, Sermons, ed. John E.
O.S.A. Rotelle, trans. Edmund O.P. Hill, vol. III/4, The Works of
Saint Augustine: A Translation for the 21st Century (New Rochelle,
New York: New City Press, 1992). Augustine, Sermons. Sermon 131.2.
Cited in John Cavadini, "The Tree of Silly Fruit: Images of the
Cross in St. Augustine," in The Cross in Christian Tradition:
From Paul to Bonaventure, ed. Elizabeth A. Dreyer (Mahwah, New Jersey:
Paulist Press, 2000), 160-61.
24 Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel of
John, 36.4. Cited in Cavadini, "The Cross in Christian Tradition,"
152.
25 Mary Daly, Beyond God the Father (London:
Women's Press Ltd., 1975), 77.
26 Rita Nakashima Brock, Journeys by Heart:
A Christology of Erotic Power (New York: Crossroad, 1988), 94.
27 Elaine Pagels, The Origin of Satan (New
York: Random House, 1995).
28 Darby Kathleen Ray, Deceiving the Devil:
Atonement, Abuse and Ransom (Cleveland, Ohio: The Pilgrim Press, 1998),
127.
29 John Dominic Crossan, The Birth of Christianity:
Discovering What Happened in the Years Immediately after the Execution
of Jesus (New York: Harper SanFrancisco, 1998), 541-45. See also Hengel,
Crucifixion in the Ancient World. Furthermore, in his book Wars of
the Jews, Josephus wrote that beheading and crucifixion were common
ways of punishing criminals or revels before and after the time of
Jesus. A Roman governor named Varus, for example, has crucified two
thousand Jesus charged with sedition. See Flavius Josephus, The Works
of Josephus, 2.75.
30 Martin Luther, "Disputation at Heidelberg,
1518," in Luther: Early Theological Works, ed. James Atkinson,
The Library of Christian Classics (Philadelphia: Westminster Press,
1962), 277-79.
René Girard, Violence and the Sacred, trans. Patrick Gregory
(Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1977).
31 René Girard, The Scapegoat, trans.
Yvonne Freccero (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1989).
32 René Girard, The Scapegoat, trans.
Yvonne Freccero (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1989).
33 Pinay is a colloquial term for Filipina,
feminine form of Filipino. It is used both positively and negatively.
In the mid-1990’s, Oxford English Dictionary had an entry that
define the word “Filipina” as “domestic helper,
one who cleans the house, an entertainer, a nanny.” Protests
forced the publishing company to recall copies of the dictionary from
the shelves.
34 Aruna Gnanadason, ed., No Longer a Secret:
The Church and Violence against Women (Geneva: World Council of Churches
Publications, 1993), 50.
35 Kwok Pui-Lan, Introducing Asian Feminist
Theology (Cleveland, Ohio: Pilgrim Press, 2000), 90.
36 Stella Baltazar, "Domestic Violence
in Indian Perspective," in Women Resisting Violence: Spirituality
for Life, ed. Mary John Mananzan, et al. (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis
Books, 1996), 59.
37 Elizabeth Joy, ed., Lived Realities: Faith
Reflections on Gender Justice (Bangalore: CISRS Publications Trust
for Joint Women's Programme, 1999).
38 Nakashima Brock, Journeys by Heart, 56.
39 Delores S. Williams, Sisters in the Wilderness:
The Challenge of Womanist God-Talk (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books,
1993), 66.
40 Ibid., 67.
41 Ivone Gebara, Out of the Depths: Women's
Experience of Evil and Salvation, trans. Anne Patrick Ware (Minneapolis:
Fortress Press, 2002), 120-21.
42 Ibid.
43 Choan-Seng Song, The Compassionate God
(Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1982), 141.
44 George Soares Prabhu, "The Jesus
of Faith: A Christological Contribution to an Ecumenical Third-World
Spirituality," in Spirituality of the Third World: A Cry for
Life, ed. K.C. Abraham and Bernadette Mbuy-Beya (Maryknoll, New York:
Orbis Books, 1994), 159-60.
45 Virginia Fabella, "A Common Methodology
for Diverse Christologies?," in With Passion and Compassion:
Third World Women Doing Theology, ed. Virginia Fabella and Mercy Amba
Oduyoye (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1988).
46 Elizabeth A. Dreyer, "Afterword:
'Behold, the One You Seek Has Been Lifted Up'" in The Cross in
Christian Tradition: From Paul to Bonaventure, ed. Elizabeth A. Dreyer
(New York and Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2000), 251.
47 Flora A. Keshgegian, Redeeming Memories:
A Theology of Healing and Transformation (Nashville: Abingdon Press,
2000), 174.
48 Kathleen M. Sands, Escape from Paradise:
Evil and Tragedy in Feminist Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press,
1994), 32.
49 Wendy Farley, Tragic Vision and Divine
Compassion: A Contemporary Theodicy (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster
John Knox Press, 1995). See also Nel Noddings, Women and Evil (Berkeley,
Ca.: University of California Press, 1989).
50 Johann Baptist Metz, A Passion for God:
The Mystical-Political Dimension of Christianity, trans. J. Matthew
Ashley (New York and New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1998). Metz discusses
the crucial place of memory in Christian faith and in society.
51 Keshgegian, Redeeming Memories, 174.
52 Ibid.
53 Nakashima Brock, Journeys by Heart, 100.
54 Noddings, Women and Evil, 33.
55 Gebara, Out of the Depths, 118. Gebara
notes that “To cling to the cross of Jesus as the major symbol
of Christianity ultimately affirms the path of suffering and male
martyrdom as the only way to salvation and to highlight injustice
toward women and humanity. All the suffering of women over the centuries
of history would be deemed useless by such a theology of history.”
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