hesitated. Hector noticed, and gave him a gentle push. “Did he have any enemies?”
“Everyone has enemies, Delegado . Even priests.”
Hector sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. His instincts told him Father Gaspar was holding something back. “Could his death have had something to do with ah . . . an intimate relationship?”
Father Gaspar looked confused.
Hector was forced to explain.
“Women, perhaps? Or boys?”
“Certainly not,” Gaspar said, reddening.
“Money, then? Was he particularly fond of money?”
The priest shook his head. “To him, money was only an instrument, an instrument he employed to help the less fortunate. And to celebrate the glory of God.”
“You’re not giving me much to work with, Father. In my world, unless they’re insane—and, believe me, I’m not ruling out that possibility—people kill each other for revenge, jealousy, money, and very little else.”
“And do you think, Delegado , that your world is so very different from his or, for that matter, from mine?”
“Frankly, I hope it is. Mine can get pretty ugly at times. But, if he wasn’t killed for revenge, or for jealousy or for money. . . .”
Hector let the unasked question hang in the air.
Father Gaspar folded his hands over his ample stomach, and blinked. It made him look all the more like a frog. Then he nodded, as if he’d made a decision.
“Are you familiar with liberation theology, Delegado?”
“Familiar with it? No. I’ve heard the term, that’s all.”
“The expression liberation theology comes from the title of a book, a book written more than forty years ago by a Peruvian priest named Gustavo Gutierrez. He entitled it The Theology of Liberation .”
“I don’t see—”
“Bear with me, Delegado . I don’t know any other way to explain this, and I think it’s something you should be made aware of.”
Hector inclined his head.
The priest continued. “Liberation theologians believe the church should be involved in what they call ‘the struggle for economic and political justice.’”
“Struggle?”
“That’s the word they use. Struggle.” Father Gaspar lifted a forefinger like a teacher anxious to make a point. “They maintain that there are two kinds of Christianity: their kind, liberation theology, which proposes radical change, and another kind, one that favors the status quo.”
“And by the ‘status quo,’ they mean?”
“The current distribution of wealth, more specifically of land.”
“What’s land got to do with theology?”
“For them? Everything! They maintain that rural people who don’t own at least a small piece of land are doomed to live as an underclass. On the other hand, they say that the ownership of vast tracts of land defines membership in a group that exploits and oppresses the poor.”
“And you, Father? Do you subscribe to that?”
The priest looked shocked, as if Hector had just accused him of something morally repugnant. “Of course not! But all liberation theologians do. They also believe that priests who defend the status quo, priests like Dom Felipe and myself, are lackeys to the rich. They say we’re brainwashing the poor.”
“Brainwashing?”
“Brainwashing. Their phrase, not mine. They accuse us of convincing the landless that they should be patient here on earth because that’s what God wants. Then, when they die, they’ll get their reward in heaven.”
“Land in heaven?”
Hector smiled, but the priest didn’t.
“Unfortunately, some of the simpler people interpret it exactly that way. It’s a lie! We don’t teach them that. We teach that paradise awaits for all good men, both rich and poor. Liberation theologians, on the other hand, postulate that everyone has a God-given right to a certain degree of wealth in this life . They want to force radical change. They propose redistribution of wealth, redistribution of land, here and now.”
“Sounds like Marxism.”
“Similar, but different. The concept
“Everyone has enemies, Delegado . Even priests.”
Hector sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. His instincts told him Father Gaspar was holding something back. “Could his death have had something to do with ah . . . an intimate relationship?”
Father Gaspar looked confused.
Hector was forced to explain.
“Women, perhaps? Or boys?”
“Certainly not,” Gaspar said, reddening.
“Money, then? Was he particularly fond of money?”
The priest shook his head. “To him, money was only an instrument, an instrument he employed to help the less fortunate. And to celebrate the glory of God.”
“You’re not giving me much to work with, Father. In my world, unless they’re insane—and, believe me, I’m not ruling out that possibility—people kill each other for revenge, jealousy, money, and very little else.”
“And do you think, Delegado , that your world is so very different from his or, for that matter, from mine?”
“Frankly, I hope it is. Mine can get pretty ugly at times. But, if he wasn’t killed for revenge, or for jealousy or for money. . . .”
Hector let the unasked question hang in the air.
Father Gaspar folded his hands over his ample stomach, and blinked. It made him look all the more like a frog. Then he nodded, as if he’d made a decision.
“Are you familiar with liberation theology, Delegado?”
“Familiar with it? No. I’ve heard the term, that’s all.”
“The expression liberation theology comes from the title of a book, a book written more than forty years ago by a Peruvian priest named Gustavo Gutierrez. He entitled it The Theology of Liberation .”
“I don’t see—”
“Bear with me, Delegado . I don’t know any other way to explain this, and I think it’s something you should be made aware of.”
Hector inclined his head.
The priest continued. “Liberation theologians believe the church should be involved in what they call ‘the struggle for economic and political justice.’”
“Struggle?”
“That’s the word they use. Struggle.” Father Gaspar lifted a forefinger like a teacher anxious to make a point. “They maintain that there are two kinds of Christianity: their kind, liberation theology, which proposes radical change, and another kind, one that favors the status quo.”
“And by the ‘status quo,’ they mean?”
“The current distribution of wealth, more specifically of land.”
“What’s land got to do with theology?”
“For them? Everything! They maintain that rural people who don’t own at least a small piece of land are doomed to live as an underclass. On the other hand, they say that the ownership of vast tracts of land defines membership in a group that exploits and oppresses the poor.”
“And you, Father? Do you subscribe to that?”
The priest looked shocked, as if Hector had just accused him of something morally repugnant. “Of course not! But all liberation theologians do. They also believe that priests who defend the status quo, priests like Dom Felipe and myself, are lackeys to the rich. They say we’re brainwashing the poor.”
“Brainwashing?”
“Brainwashing. Their phrase, not mine. They accuse us of convincing the landless that they should be patient here on earth because that’s what God wants. Then, when they die, they’ll get their reward in heaven.”
“Land in heaven?”
Hector smiled, but the priest didn’t.
“Unfortunately, some of the simpler people interpret it exactly that way. It’s a lie! We don’t teach them that. We teach that paradise awaits for all good men, both rich and poor. Liberation theologians, on the other hand, postulate that everyone has a God-given right to a certain degree of wealth in this life . They want to force radical change. They propose redistribution of wealth, redistribution of land, here and now.”
“Sounds like Marxism.”
“Similar, but different. The concept
Similar Books
