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Reviewed by Andrew D. Kinsey, Senior Pastor of Community United Methodist Church, Vincennes, Indiana. Violence and Theology by Cheryl A. Kirk-Duggan What is violence? What is the connection between violence and theology? How do Christians understand the relationship between sacred texts and core practices? What happens when sacred texts fuel violent acts? How does the church proclaim the liberating power of the gospel in a world riddled with terror and genocide? How does the church come to grips with state-ordered war and punishment while advocating justice and practicing mercy? As the church moves into the Twenty-first century, these questions are not simply rhetorical but prescient with insight and importance. How to address them is the subject of much debate and discussion. That debate and discussion is part of a new work in the new Horizons in Theology Series by Abingdon Press. Written by Cheryl A. Kirk-Duggan, Professor of Theology and Women’s Studies at Shaw University Divinity School, Raleigh, North Carolina, Violence and Theology brings to the fore the pervasive reality of violence in Western culture. The book explores from an interdisciplinary perspective the unique links between the practice of theology and acts of violence (x). In a post-September 11, post-Vietnam, and post-Holocaust world, questions pertaining to the connections between religion and violence are becoming more and more acute (viii). From the “war on terror” to calls for jihad, from racism to sexism, from the role of religion in public to images of violence in fairy tales and video games – the impact of violence on our lives is real, if not omni-present. Therefore, how to face these realities and address them theologically is the central focus of Kirk-Duggan’s extended essay (xi). The book itself is broken down into an introduction and four chapters. Notes for each chapter are located at the end. Chapter One, “The Landscape of Violence,” provides Kirk-Duggan’s opening definitions on violence and the connection between violence and theology. It is the central chapter of the work. Stating that “violence is that which harms,” Kirk-Duggan outlines how violence affects our entire way of being in the world. In this sense, violence is always relational, as it affects us all (p. 2); and because it affects us all, it goes to the core of who we are as God’s children (p. 5). This is why theology matters: With the use of Rene Girard’s scapegoat theory, Kirk-Duggan demonstrates how theology can expose the factors that lead to the destruction of life (p.6) and how mimetic rivalry shapes behavior and rationalizes violence via religious rituals and myths (p. 7). As Kirk-Duggan argues, this Giradian tool is helpful, for it can assist us in understanding how the death of Jesus himself puts an end to the need for scapegoats as well as revealing our own complicity in violence itself (p. 8). Theology needs this kind of interdisciplinary approach. Kirk-Duggan continues this conversation with a lengthy discussion on various forms of violence later in the chapter (e.g., sexism, racism, terror, war, death penalty, natural disasters, and colonialism) and with the need to develop a Womanist theological ethics (p. 20), or an approach to theology from an African-American woman’s experience of oppression (p. 20). Such an “ethics,” Kirk-Duggan proposes, would provide a methodology for exposing the complicity of all people in violence and pursue the kind of liberative practices that honor the imago Dei in all humanity (p. 21). In addition, a Womanist theological ethics would supply the kind of hermeneutical principles for human flourishing that champion the cause of freedom among the oppressed (p. 23) as well as exposing the problems of violence inherent in many biblical texts and traditions (p. 22). A Womanist theological ethics would help to name the unjust realities to which the world has succumbed while also offering the prophetic vision of what the world can still become through God’s justice and grace (p. 19). It is an ethics critical to any vision of human thriving, if not surviving. Kirk-Duggan spends the rest of the book unfolding this argument as she uncovers the violence of several biblical texts (Chapter Two) and the way Western culture carries images of violence through a wide-variety of narratives and media (Chapter Three). In these chapters, she spends considerable time investigating and exposing the hidden dimensions of violence as they impact our lives at conscious and sub-conscious levels. This is especially the case in Chapter Four where she investigates the relationship between systematic theology and violence. Here, Kirk-Duggan engages in a double inquiry: first, she writes about the role of theodicy (or, How a good God can allow bad things to happen?); and second, she speaks to the way the church has understood the atonement of Christ through history (or, How can Christ’s violent death on the cross communicate salvation?). Her double-edged inquiry posits that through a Womanist’s interdisciplinary approach to theology it is the African-American Spirituals that will offer the prophetic hope to subvert violence and overcome it with a community of love and justice, or what Martin Luther King, Jr. called “the beloved community” (p. 77). It’s the kind of community African-American theologians Howard Thurman and James Cone have also advocated (p. 76ff). These exemplars of the African-American Spirituals provide the kind of catechesis of a truly justice-focused praxis - a praxis identified with Jesus’ own suffering, death, and resurrection (p. 79). A Womanist’s interdisciplinary theological approach would incorporate these voices as well as advocate the justice of God’s new beloved community. Kirk-Duggan’s essay raises several issues about the relationship between theology and violence, issues that are becoming more and more critical in a world that continues to creep closer to the abyss of chaos. The challenge for Christians will be to think critically and act wisely in the face of numerous concerns over the rise of religiously justified violence and terror and the continuing mission of Christ’s church. What Kirk-Duggan offers is a step toward the kind of careful discernment the church will need as it wrestles with the complex structures of violence and religion throughout the world. The following comments, then, are meant to refine this act of discernment on how the practice of theology itself may speak to the issues that confront church and world alike. First, as a work of theology, we need to ask how Kirk-Duggan’s approach to theology and theodicy can become more interdisciplinary. Throughout her work, Kirk-Duggan brings together key aspects of systematic theology, anthropology, and biblical scholarship. The emphasis on Girard’s scapegoat theory is well-known in academic circles, for example. And yet, as an interdisciplinary approach to violence and theology, we can only wonder how Kirk-Duggan’s argument would have fared with other voices at the table: e.g., Reinhold Niebuhr, Albert Camus, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Mark Juergensmeyer, Susan Nieman, and Jean Bethke Elshtain, to name a few. In fact, it is odd that in a work addressing forms and structures of violence the thought of Hannah Arendt is not mentioned. To be sure, as Kirk-Duggan states, understanding the whole web of violence is complex; and there are many mind-boggling levels to it (p. 2). But there is also the question of method itself: We need to ask, How would her analysis have been deepened had she brought into the conversation other philosophical and theological perspectives, especially those perspectives that pertain to the relationship between power and morality, terror and religion, and church and state. At times, Kirk-Duggan’s analysis felt one-sided and defensive, particularly in relationship to terrorism and the Bush Administration’s response to it (not that there isn’t plenty to criticize here, but that any answer for or against such a response must come with a deeper understanding of evil and violence themselves and how states respond to this incredible challenge). A multi-leveled approach also demands a multi-level solution. (It is interesting here Kirk-Duggan mentions little to nothing about Islam and its relation to jihad.) Second, with the above in mind, it is curious how the role of violence in the service of revolution from oppression does not come into play in Kirk-Duggan’s analysis. We can certainly speculate where Kirk-Duggan would go in this area, as when she portrays Martin Luther King, Howard Thurman, and James Cone as key figures in the struggle for justice and freedom. And yet, we may also ask how the Spirituals themselves in this regard provide the kind of embodiment of faithful practice in the service of justice. Over and against other forms of liberative practices (e.g., the work of Franz Fanon comes to mind), how does the church come to grips with the role of violence in the service of freedom? While this question is probably beyond the scope of this book, it is definitely not beyond the conversation (Iraq, notwithstanding!). And, finally, while Kirk-Duggan’s work provides a creative contribution to theological ethics, it also raises questions about the role theology can play with respect to matters of violence and evil. As a Womanist theologian, Kirk-Duggan speaks out of the specific experience of Black Women in the American Diaspora. She raises issues of vital importance to church and society. But a question remains as to the role of theology in this context: How may the treasures of the canonical heritage of the church be brought to bear on the way the church confronts issues of evil and violence? While Kirk-Duggan gives passing reference to the Trinity and Incarnation, for example, she doesn’t really pursue these central doctrines throughout her thought-provoking essay. Again, how may her central argument have been strengthened had she developed more thoroughly the Spirituals of African-American slaves in light of the mystery of the Incarnation and Trinity? In this sense, we may want to ask: Is Kirk-Duggan in danger of failing to see the salvific role of the church’s canons, i.e., is she failing to see how the canons themselves can serve God’s liberative purposes as well? In other words, relying on a method of analysis alone, or on the experience of oppression alone, cannot fully encompass or embrace the heights and depths of God’s justice and freedom for all. Kirk-Duggan’s work is a much-needed step in the direction the church needs to go for the salvation of the world. What I wish, and what I want to advocate, is that in the future she and others simply take along for the journey more of the church’s theological resources. Our whole well-being and livelihood depends on it.
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