Eliacin tagged me (though actually Steve beat him to it), so here goes. Exclusion and Embrace was the closest book; here’s page 123, 5th-8th sentences:

Forgiveness is no mere discharge of a victim’s angry resentment and no mere assuaging of a perpetrator’s remorseful anguish, one that demands no change of the perpetrator and no righting of wrongs. On the contrary: every act of forgiveness enthrones justice; it draws attention to its violation precisely by offering to forego its claims. Moreover, forgiveness provides a framework in which the quest for properly understood justice can be fruitfully pursued.

While I tend not to tag people, let’s try Helen, Jimmy, Aaron, and Daniel. Steve has already tagged Eugene, Eliacin already tagged Pat, and Pat already tagged Thomas.

Our current book group is studying Miroslav Volf’s 1996 book Exclusion and Embrace, and though I’ve only read the preface and introduction, I’m impressed.

Volf is a Croatian-born theologian who currently teaches at Yale. Hailing from a country torn by ethnic strife, he writes with a deep understanding of the concept of “otherness” and difference. From p. 20:

…”tribal” identity is today asserting itself as a powerful force, especially in cases where cultural heterogeneity is combined with extreme imbalances of power and wealth. It may not be too much to claim that the future of our world will depend on how we deal with identity and difference.

That’s certainly enough to keep you reading. Volf goes on to point out that, while societal conditions are surely relevant factors, he will focus on “what kind of selves we need to be in order to live in harmony with others” (p. 21).

Now, since Volf teaches at Yale, and has been cited by more liberal-leaning types for quite some time now, I was expecting a pretty touchy-feely-can’t-we-all-just-get-along volume of wishy-washiness. But that’s not at all what Volf delivers. Even before chapter 1, he delves into the question of the cross: “…what does it tell us about the character of the Christian self in relation to the other?” (p. 22). He cites Moltmann’s “solidarity” theory of the cross:

The sufferings of Christ are not just his sufferings; they are “the sufferings of the poor and weak, which Jesus shares in his own body and in his own soul, in solidarity with them” (Moltman 1992, p. 130). …On the cross, Christ both “identifies God with the victims of violence” and identifies “the victims with God, so that they are put under God’s protection and with him are given the rights of which they have been deprived (131).”
…
The theme of solidarity with the victims (129-131) is supplemented by the theme of atonement for the perpetrators (132-38). Just as the oppressed must be liberated from the suffering caused by oppression, so the oppressors must be liberated from the injustice committed through oppression.
…
As God does not abandon the godless to their evil but gives the divine self for them in order to receive them into divine communion through atonement, so also should we–whoever our enemies and whoever we may be. p. 23

This attitude toward our enemies is difficult to develop, especially in situations where our enemies are killing us. More on this soon.

Yes, you read that right: Emergent is promoting a contest to encourage creative thinking and expression about various theories of atonement.

Tony Jones explains:

We decided it would be fun to propose a contest to the highly creative Emergent Villagers out there, and Lent seems like the perfect time to do it. So we’ve collected an august panel of judges (who will remain anonymous), and we’re asking you to get creative:

• Think about the saving power of the cross and the resurrection.
• Maybe read one or two of the books mentioned above, or others, on the atonement. And try the Bible — it’s full of great stuff!
• Develop a written, graphic, video, or song depiction of your metaphor.
• Submit it by March 7 (that’s one month from today) to atonementmetaphors@gmail.com.

Sounds like a good exercise for Lent.

Whom do my beliefs affect? If I’m currently doing something, can I honestly read scripture and make an unbiased decision about the morality of my actions? Or do I have an inherent conflict of interest?

For example, Jesus criticized the man in his parable who tore down his barns to build bigger ones. If I move from an apartment to a house, or buy a nicer car, you could say I did the same thing. One you’ve done something, you tend to rationalize it, particularly if you benefit from it and enjoy it.

On the other hand, what if I’m not affected by a particular issue, yet I have an informed opinion on its morality? Let’s say I believe it’s wrong to own a yacht. It’s easy for me to judge those who have enough money to purchase yachts and choose to do so. But do I understand the motivations of the buyer, and the full consequences of the purchase? Probably not.

I’ve never been in the yacht-shopper’s shoes, and probably never will be, so my judgment of yacht-buying as wrong is both irrelevant to my own life and free from the questions that would arise if I were actually able to buy a yacht.

I say this to point out that we can’t depend entirely on ourselves to judge our own actions, and we can’t just judge others and expect our judgment to be fair. We need to make these determinations in community.

Today is the day we celebrate the incarnation of Christ, the Son of God. But let’s not stop with the Jesus that makes us feel good inside, because Jesus never limited his message or mission to our internal condition. He prayed:

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And do not bring us to the time of trial,
but rescue us from the evil one. Matt 6:9-13

When we think of the birth of Jesus, it’s not hard to focus on the heaven aspects of what Christ represents. But we all too easily forget that he mentions heaven not as a contrast to what we’re suffering through now, but as an example of what should be done on earth, in the present.

Tim Jolin has been kindling my thinking lately in regards to church, mission, and kingdom. Having found the congregation as a less-than-satisfying focal point for our work as Christians in Seattle, I’m looking for a concept to organize my efforts and thinking around, and I believe the kingdom of God may be just that concept. Jesus didn’t tell us to grow and multiply our churches, and he didn’t tell us to develop systematic theologies. He told us to pray that God’s will may be done on earth as it is in heaven.

May God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven this Christmas and throughout the year.

Ross over at LessTravelled.net is one of the great thinkers of the emerging church blogosphere, which lately has seemed like it’s in decline. But after reading Ross’ recent post on Jesus, I’m encouraged and hopeful that we’re reaching a good equilibrium, where we can share our insights without being obsessed with blogging to the exclusion of other faith-forming activities.

What’s so great about this post? First, Ross name-drops NT Wright, which is a sure way to get my attention. I recently finished the New Testament and the People of God, and while I haven’t finished digesting it and, as we said when I was a kid, “applying it to my life,” I’m confident that it will, in the long run, be one of the most influential books I read in my lifetime.

The main effect of NTPOG is that the reader is confronted with the undeniable Jewishness and first-century-ness of Jesus. This does not detract from our perception of Jesus as the son of God and the messiah, but it does impact another perception - namely, the Jesus who is either our heartthrob or our genie-in-a-bible. Savior and lord, yes, but feathered-haired dude with sheep? Hardly.

This insight from Wright bothers Ross:

The more I have thought about Jesus in his own context, and tried to understand him as his disciples would have, as his contemporaries would have, the more disconnected he has become from the Christ of my Christian youth. The more sense Jesus made as a 1st century Jew, the less plausible he became as a timeless big brother intent on undoing the litany of errors I am so gifted at making.

But perhaps Jesus needs to start sounding a little more strange to us, if we are to understand him fully:

Jesus became real for me in a very new way; suddenly when I read the gospels, I could imagine Jesus saying the words he was quoted as saying, and I understood what he meant. Suddenly Jesus had context. He left the stained glass window and entered into the real world, where he was concerned about Roman occupation and Jewish resistance and the Kingdom of God within the world of God’s creation.

It is rare that I read a blog post and get that feeling that you get during a really good time of worship. Doxological reading, you might call it. Thank you, Ross, for lifting my day, and motivating me to start the next volume in Wright’s series, Jesus and the Victory of God.

If you’ve never read NT Wright before, I recommend starting with The Challenge of Jesus: Rediscovering Who Jesus Was and Is.

I think bible study peaked in the last generation of evangelicalism. I can’t compete with that level of intensity, reading 5 chapters a day or what have you, and there’s more I want to read - and take into consideration - from the available Christian literature than the bible.

How do we keep the pendulum from swinging too far the other way, into ignorance and lack of concern for what our scriptures teach?

That’s all - thought it was time for a short post, possibly with a long discussion to follow. Cheers.

Quick but hopefully thought-provoking:

If “heaven” is not some other-worldly spiritual existence, but will be a physical reality on (a recreated) earth, what implications will this have for people with disabilities?

It seems as if more and more people are saying that heaven will be on earth, or at least have some substantial continuity with life as we know it. Somehow, getting new bodies seems to be rather disruptive to that continuity. What say you? Is this reason enough to NOT believe in a here-and-soon heaven?