By Cecilia González-Andrieu, Ph.D.
In last month’s column, I invited us to notice the trials of our world. This is not difficult to do because we are so inextricably interconnected by instantaneous global communications. Yet, although many of us may be familiar with the term “doom scrolling,” which means we’re glued to our phones and the awful stories served up by algorithms, this is not what a theological engagement with the world looks like.
It’s not enough for us to be outraged by war or environmental destruction. Instead, we need to do the hard work that will allow our hearts to be moved so deeply that we may become coworkers in God’s project. In other words, religious faith is a way for us to say yes to the living God who walks with us and invites us to walk with each other toward a particular destination.
Instead of simply reacting to the constant stream of bad news, we are called to engage with the world on a deeper, theological level. Theology is not about ideas imprisoned inside dusty library books, but a living task that everyone who longs to discover the traces of God in their life is involved in doing.
In its simplest definition, theology means speaking of God, or more accurately trying to speak of God, knowing that everything we say is limited by the fact that we are creatures. So, a theological engagement with the world means living in a way that pays attention to the possibility that God is revealing God’s self in history and trying to engage with what that means for us and for others.
The emphasis on history may be difficult for us because humans seem to have a strikingly short capacity to keep events present before us. If we enjoyed it, we might remember our last birthday even as we reconstruct it from bits of scattered images. However, if it was less than enjoyable, we might recall very little, and have it fade even more, the less we think of it. Either way, a memory has a patina over it that quickly removes its immediacy and urgency.
If we do this with our own recent past, imagine how difficult it is for us to try to grasp the possibility that God has revealed God’s self to humanity in actual history? Without a conscious effort on our part, the foundational events of our 2,000-year-old faith are reduced to romanticized stories that lose the shocking realization that encounters with the Divine should retain.
How do we recover God’s presence in history? One way is for us to practice meeting God in our present la realidad, which theologian Jon Sobrino uses to describe the raw, unfiltered reality of life as it confronts us. To accompany la realidad means cultivating a practice that sees life as it is, not as we wish it was, but as what actually confronts us in the everyday. In practicing this way of being, we walk with la realidad with intention.
One of the best examples in Scripture is the last chapter of the Gospel of Luke (24:13-35). Two travelers are returning from Jerusalem following events that have truly broken them. On the dusty and sad road, they meet a stranger. The stranger is Jesus, but the travelers don’t recognize him. The Gospel then recounts the process of encountering la realidad with fruitfulness.
We note Jesus walks alongside them; he accompanies them and begins a dialogue to help them process what is happening. The stranger asks them questions, he points them to the wisdom of their Scriptures, he listens to their grief, he accompanies them in their disbelief. It is through this that he helps them see what has happened and he does so with so much warmth and compassion that they invite him to stay with them for supper.
God had broken decisively into history, but they had to make room in their hearts. The stranger gave them the courage to confront la realidad of the moment and, in doing so, they opened their eyes to what was revealed.
In accompanying la realidad, we might be completely surprised by how all of reality is theological as it begins to speak of God. Who needs you to walk on the road with them?
Theologian Cecilia González-Andrieu, Ph.D., is a professor at Loyola Marymount University.
