Reflections on a Faith Embodied in the Lives of People
Paolo Cugini
Within the broad landscape of
contemporary theological thought, there is a growing awareness that theology
can no longer be constructed solely "from above," as an abstract
reflection disconnected from the concrete needs of people. The call for a theology
from below arises from the lived experiences of communities, of the
peripheries—stories often marked by marginalization, exclusion, suffering, but
also by hope and resistance. This need is not merely a passing trend in
academic or pastoral contexts; it emerges from a profound movement within the
history of faith, Christianity, and religions more broadly—a movement toward
rereading the experience of God starting from the real lives of believers and
seekers.
Theology from below stands in contrast to a theology from above,
which is often centered on doctrinal and dogmatic systems produced by religious
or academic elites, sometimes far removed from the everyday realities of
ordinary people. “From below” signifies a movement that begins with the people,
with concrete experience, and with reading the Word in dialogue with the
social, cultural, political, and economic realities of life.
This theology is nourished by
the stories, struggles, dreams, and wounds of people—especially those on the
margins: the poor, the excluded, victims of injustice, LGBTQ+ persons, and
women. It also includes those labeled by society as minorities: Indigenous
peoples, persecuted ethnic groups, the homeless, nomads, Roma communities.
There is an entire world living in the “underground” of history—systematically
excluded not only by a society that tells its story from the center, but also
by the Church and Christian communities trapped in a dominant theological
narrative. The goal is not to replace one vision with another, but to integrate
the perspective of lived experience into the reflection on God, the Church, and
the ultimate meaning of life.
The biblical tradition itself
shows how God often reveals Himself to those in the most difficult situations:
Abraham is called from the desert, Moses leads a people out of slavery, the
prophets speak for those who have no voice. The Gospel of Jesus is deeply
marked by encounters with the excluded—women and men who are sick, poor, or
foreigners. The cross of Christ is the supreme expression of a God who joins
wounded humanity.
Throughout Church history, the
tension between “official” theology and the popular faith lived in the
concreteness of daily life has always been present. One need only think of
popular devotions, reform movements, and struggles for social justice.
In recent decades, movements
such as liberation theology in Latin America have made it clear that reflection
on God must begin with the concrete experience of the poor and the oppressed.
Likewise, feminist theologies, queer theologies, Indigenous and postcolonial
theologies remind us that many often-silenced voices have something essential
to say about the mystery of God.
We live in an age shaped by
multiple crises—social, economic, environmental, and a profound crisis of
meaning. In many parts of the world, religious institutions appear distant from
the real needs of communities. In this context, a theology from below is not
only timely but urgent. It offers a renewed credibility to the Christian
message because it places the person—with their history, their suffering, and
their hopes—at the center. Through genuine listening to the questions,
anxieties, and longings that arise from real life, theological reflection
becomes more human, more accessible, and more prophetic. A theology from below
also creates space for the recognition of experiences that have historically
been excluded from theological production and decision-making—due to origin,
social class, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or economic condition.
Experiences of theology from
below have already borne extraordinary fruit: greater attention to inclusion, a
fresh rereading of Scripture, interreligious and intercultural dialogue, and
engagement in the pursuit of social justice and peace. Pastoral practices have
emerged that are more participatory and inclusive, valuing the richness of
diverse experiences. This perspective does not abandon the search for
theological truth; rather, it grounds it in the life of the community—in shared
experience, concrete service, and mutual listening. In this way, theology
ceases to be only words and becomes gesture, action, and daily commitment.
While theology from below
opens new horizons, it also brings challenges. The first is the risk of
fragmentation: listening to many voices is enriching, but it also requires
careful synthesis and discernment. Moreover, it is important not to radically
oppose “above” and “below,” but instead to foster a fruitful dialogue between
academic reflection and daily life. Another challenge is the risk of
relativism: placing experience at the center could lead to a loss of coherence
or meaning. Yet a theology from below that is rooted in Scripture, in living
tradition, and in communal discernment can maintain a clear and strong
orientation.
Looking forward, theology from
below must become ever more dialogical, plural, and attentive to the signs of
the times. It is a theology that hears the cry of the earth and the cry of the
poor, as Pope Francis has reminded us. It is capable of taking seriously the
questions of new generations, minorities, migrants, Indigenous peoples, women,
and LGBTQIA+ persons. It will become increasingly important to form communities
capable of discernment and deep listening, where reflection on God emerges from
encounter and shared experience—not just from authority or doctrine. Theology
from below is not a trend, nor merely one option among many: it is the response
to a deep need in our communities and societies. It is a way of restoring
meaning and strength to the Christian message, and of building more just, open,
and welcoming Churches and societies. Only by listening to those who walk at
the margins of history can theology truly become a living word—capable of
transforming the world.

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