Abstract
The Roman Catholic, once Jesuit, Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar (1905–88) retrieved beauty and drama for a constructive theology. His work had immense influence in Catholic and Protestant theology. While he was working, another important and influential Catholic theological movement was taking place in Latin America – liberation theology with its option for the poor. Walatka does not neglect Balthasar’s critical comments on liberation theology, but he persuasively demonstrates that, on his own theological grounds, Balthasar should have had more place for it. His case is persuasive, in part, because he draws on sermons Balthasar preached that share more than a resemblance with liberation theology (see pp. 1–3, 191, 208–9). Readers who interpret Balthasar as a traditionalist reactionary will be surprised to hear what he said about common ownership of property (p. 209, note 132) or his positive comments on Marxism (p. 160). Yet Walatka does not overstate his case; he acknowledges Balthasar’s reticence – even opposition – to liberation theology, offering positive and negative reasons for it. The positive reason is Balthasar’s worry about Prometheanism and a sociological reductionism in Christian theology. He was concerned that even if we accomplished an ‘ideal world here on earth’, it would be inadequate because it would neglect those who suffered and died prior to it, and for it. Injustice and suffering cannot be justified by interpreting their lives as ‘instrumental stages to the final stage’ (p. 57). But this does not translate into the lack of an adequate political theology in Balthasar’s work; Walatka demonstrates that Balthasar’s theodramatics cries out for something like a liberating politics. For this reason, he ‘extends’, ‘supplements’ and ‘corrects’ Balthasar’s project. As he puts it, the purpose of the book ‘demonstrates the power and flexibility of [Balthasar’s] theological vision’ (p. 212).
Walatka structures his book through three basic steps. He begins with Balthasar’s anthropology; the human person is oriented to truth, but truth comes about through a ‘dynamism of expression and receptivity’ (p. 30). This orientation warrants Walatka’s expansion of Balthasar’s vision because it requires an ‘eagerness to listen’. He asks Balthasar, and Balthasarians, to listen attentively to liberationists, and vice versa. The next step is a thorough assessment of Balthasar’s interpretation of liberation theology, an area in which Walatka’s research is first-rate. The third step is an extensive reading of Balthasar’s theodramatics, showing where it naturally leads to an expansion that incorporates liberation theology, especially as presented by Sobrino and lived by Oscar Romero. This third step begins with the aesthetics and Ignatian vision that animate Balthasar’s work and then looks at Christology, resurrection, pneumatology and the centrality of mission. One of Walatka’s more interesting conclusions is that Balthasar needed to be ‘more apocalyptic’ than he was, providing a better account of the ‘forces that oppose God’s will’ (p. 172). Liberation helps in becoming more apocalyptic. The final section, ‘Church as a sacrament of salvation’, brings Balthasar and liberation theology together through an insightful reading of Catholic ecclesiology. Few books chart new ways forward for theology that are unpredictable. Walatka has done just that because he does not work with tired, binary categories. This is a splendid work, well worth the read.