J. Moltmann The Crucified God
J. Moltmann The Crucified God
J. Moltmann The Crucified God
Fortress Press
JRGEN MOLTMANN
Minneapolis
began to see things with the eyes of the Christ dying on the cross. I often used to sit for long periods of
time meditating before the crucifix in the Martinskirche in Tbingen. For me the crucified Christ
became more and more the foundation and criticism of Christian theology. And for me that meant,
whatever can stand before the face of the crucified Christ is true Christian theology. What cannot stand
there must disappear. This is especially true of what we say about God. Christ died on the cross with a
loud cry, which Mark interprets with the words of the twenty-second psalm: My God, why hast thou
forsaken me? This cry of abandonment is either the end of every theology and every religion, or it is
the beginning of a truly Christian theologyand that means a liberating theology. The criticism that
emanates from Christs cross exposes us theologians for what we are, like Jobs friends. We want to
produce an answer to the question about God with which Christ dies. But he dies with this open
question. So a truly Christian theology has to make Jesus experience of God on the cross the centre of
all our ideas about God: that is its foundation.
I began with an interpretation of the theologia crucis of the young Luther. I saw that when God
reveals himself to us godless men and women, who turn ourselves into proud and unhappy gods, he
does not do so through power and glory. He reveals himself through suffering and cross, so he
repudiates in us the arrogant man or woman and accepts the sinner in us. But then I turned the question
around, and instead of asking just what God means for us human beings in the cross of Christ, I asked
too what this human cross of Christ means for God. I found the answer in the idea of Gods passion,
which reveals itself in the passion of Christ. What is manifested in the cross is Gods suffering of a
passionate love for his lost creatures, a suffering prepared for sacrifice.
The idea of the passion of the passionate God contraverts the fundamental axiom of Aristotelian,
philosophical theology, which was Gods essential apathy. The impassibility of God was an idea
cherished by the Greek Fathers (with the exception of Origen) and by the mediaeval theologians. When
I began to get p xi beyond this axiom, I discovered links about which I had previously had no idea.
My first discovery was the Jewish concept of the pathos of God, which Abraham Heschel found in the
prophets; then my attention was drawn to rabbinic and kabbalistic ideas about Gods Shekinah in the
people of Israel, through which God becomes the companion-in-suffering of his persecuted people. I
owe these insights to Franz Rosenzweig and Gershom Scholem.
But it was not merely the experiences of the years between 1968 and 1972 that led me to this
theology of the cross. In addition, I experienced a very different dark night in my soul, for the
pictures of the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp and horror over the crimes in Auschwitz, had
weighed on me and many other people of my generation ever since 1945. Much time passed before we
could emerge from the silence that stops the mouths of people over whom the cloud of the victims
hangs heavy. It was Jewish survivors of the Holocaust and Jewish theologians who opened our lips.
The Crucified God was said to be a Christian theology after Auschwitz. That is true, inasmuch as I
perceived Golgotha in the shadow of Auschwitz, finding help here in Jewish theology after
Auschwitz and especially in Elie Wiesel. Ever since then, the question about God for me has been
identical with the cry of the victims for justice and the hunger of the perpetrators for a way back from
the path of death.
At the end of the war the theology of Gods suffering had already been outlined by the Japanese
theologian Kazoh Kitamori2 and by the theologian of the German resistance movement, Dietrich
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Bonhoeffer. Only the suffering God can help, wrote Bonhoeffer from his prison cell.3 It was only
after I had written The Crucified God that I discovered the intense discussion about the passibility or
impassibility of God that had been carried on in Anglican theology of the nineteenth and twentieth
centuries but had been completely ignored by German theology.
I found the positive influence of my theology of the cross especially in the christology of Jon
Sobrino, who deepened and sharpened it for the Latin American context. 4 I have learnt from his
theology of the cross, which he not only taught but suffered. A few days ago I received a letter from
Robert McAfee Brown, in which he told me the following moving story from San Salvador. p xii On
16 November 1989, six well-known Jesuits, together with their housekeeper and her daughter, were
brutally murdered in the university there. The rector of the university, Father Ignacio Ellacuria, was
one of them. Jon Sobrino escaped the massacre only because he happened not to be in the country at
the time. The letter continues, When the killers were dragging some of the bodies back into the
building, as they took one of the bodies into Jons room, they hit a bookcase and knocked a book on to
the floor, which became drenched with the martyrs blood. In the morning, when they picked up the
book, they found that it was your The Crucified God. This sign and symbol gives me a great deal to
think about. What it says to me is that these martyrs are the seed of the resurrection of a new world.
Like Archbishop Oscar Romero, they are the hope of the people: unforgettable, inextinguishable,
irresistible.
The translation of The Crucified God into many languages brought me into the community of many
struggling and suffering brothers and sisters. The book was read in Korean and South African prisons.
People working in slums and hospitals wrote to me, as well as people who were themselves suffering
under the dark night of the soul. I came into contact with Catholic orders vowed to poverty and the
mysticism of the cross, and with Mennonite congregations who are following the path of Jesus. I need
not tell it all. What I should like to say is this: even more than Theology of Hope, this book brought me
into a great company. I believe it is the company of people under the cross. Beneath the cross the
boundaries of denominations and cultures collapse. The community of the sufferers and the seekers is
an open, inviting community. It is about this community that I am thinking, now that this book appears
again, for it is there that I am at home.
Jrgen Moltmann
Tbingen, Germany
April 1990
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