This blog has been adapted from a talk that Niamh gave at Greenbelt in 2024 as part of SCM Young Voices. You can purchase this collection of talks on the Greenbelt website.
To be a disciple of someone is to learn from, and in some ways, imitate them. Think, for instance, what it would mean to be a disciple of Taylor Swift, of Elon Musk, of Tommy Robinson? To look at discipleship - to be a ‘learner’ - in a time that has been called ‘the age of culture wars’, we must examine what it is we are learning, and who we are learning it from.
Liberation theology has grown out of political and economic conditions very different to British contexts, and yet it is something that intrigues and energises many church goers and religious thinkers in this country today. It has hugely shaped my own faith and the way that I think and talk about it. Liberation theology emerged in the late 1960s, primarily within Latin American Catholicism, and the movement is rooted in the belief that Christian faith and teachings should be actively applied to fight against social, political, and economic oppression. For those who are interested, spiritually or academically, in liberation theologies, what does that mean for how we approach the topic of discipleship here in Britain? I think that, to develop discipleship informed by liberation theologies but within our own context, intergenerational community must be at the heart of our pursuit.
Let’s begin by looking at an example of intergenerational practice of liberation theology from an Eritrean perspective. In Negash and Woldemichael’s “African Liberation Theology: Intergenerational Conversations on Eritrea’s future” the authors discuss how the history of post-colonial Africa is not static and uniform, and they ultimately claim that African heritage, rooted in Eritrea’s unique cultural and religious traditions, can serve as the elixir that binds the multicultural, multilingual, and multi-religious society together. The book ultimately provides a hopeful outlook - that through intergenerational connection, Eritrea can be the country that Eritreans dreamed about, a country that can embrace its mosaic cultures, traditions, religions, genders, regions, tribes, and ethnicities.
Where discussions of national identity are the meeting point for unlikely connections to form in Eritrea, it could be tempting to borrow from this practice as the solution to the British problem. However to do so would not even begin to recognise the impact of oppression and colonisation on local and national identity in Eritrea. Many would argue that a British liberation theology is not possible, as it would need to be seriously critiqued as to what Britishness is, and what does it need to be liberated from?
For Liberation theologies to serve as a tool for true liberation and justice in Britain, they must have decolonisation at the forefront. Whilst liberation theologies undertake their work from the position of the marginalised in society, long-established British theology is largely determined by how it sets itself within a dominant culture that is now coming to terms with both the processes of decolonisation and increasing secularisation. Prior to liberation theology’s inception, theological propositions were once assumed to have a universal relevance, yet to the Western church it has now become evident that theology is contextually dependent, and bound up in right practice.
In the case of Eritrea, right practice looked like opening up conversations around the topic of national identity. And in the UK, we have seen national identity be used as a tool to try and unify young people specifically.
In the Conservative Party’s campaign for the most recent general election, Rishi Sunak proposed a plan for mandatory national service, with the explicit aim of promoting social cohesion. When discussing this proposal, the rhetoric from its proponents was that young people are lacking in a sense of duty, and that this mandatory national scheme would support a national identity. All schools are currently required by law to promote the fundamental British values of: democracy, the rule of law, individual liberty and mutual respect and tolerance of those with different faiths and beliefs. Ofsted inspectors even consider how well a school promotes British values when judging the effectiveness of leadership and management. Prevent is a component of the UK’s counter-terrorism strategy, and a distinct, and teachable British Identity is a core part of the program. Martin Thomas examines Prevent as a diagram of power and demonstrates that the urge to define and dictate a concise Britishness is highly problematic in practice.
If Britishness itself cannot be a plausible tool for liberation, I believe that the solution could lie in formation of authentic personal connections within communities. Places of Worship are perhaps some of the most intergenerational spaces in Britain today. By bringing together different generations, churches can create spaces where wisdom, traditions, and spiritual experiences can be shared, enriching the faith and benefitting the wellbeing of all members. These connections not only strengthen individual faith but also build a more resilient and inclusive community, where every member feels valued and supported. Whilst faith based spaces are certainly not the only places for this to happen, it is important to recognise the starting point that many faith communities naturally have, in order to build upon it.
So, how does intergenerational community further liberation? Age can be a dividing line that reinforces power dynamics, with younger or older individuals often marginalised or undervalued. Connection between generations brings recent history to life. A history textbook can describe what living and working conditions may have been like but hearing a testimony brings it to life in an intersectional way.
Ultimately, connection across age groups is a practice of liberation because it dismantles the societal barriers. It creates a space where wisdom, creativity, energy, and support for one another, are exchanged freely. As members of communities, we must frequently ask ourselves whose voices, and whose stories are we not hearing?
Intergenerational storytelling threatens the ideology of the ‘good old days.’ To tell a story that is unafraid of discussing the realities of poverty and injustice is to rebel against the narrative of the ‘good old days’ which is used to romanticise oppression through false nostalgia. It is beneficial to regularly assess who we are listening to, and what we are learning about from others.
I believe that it is our call as disciples, it is our duty - it is our national service - to be resisting the divisions sown between generations in pursuit of education and collaboration.
What would a promotion of discipleship across generations look like within your own context?
Written by Niamh Hardman. Niamh is a student of Religions, Theology & Ethics at the University of Manchester, Co-ordination of the Greater Manchester SCM, and Sunday School leader at Ascension Church, Hulme.