Embrace

It´s nearly the end of the year - and in the last couple of weeks I´ve been keen to finish a few things before the New Year. One of which has been reading a book that I´ve had on the go for a long time; Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation, by Miroslav Volf. It´s a big book - and fairly heavy in every sense of the word, so it´s taken me more than a year to get through it - but given me lots of things to think on.
I began reading it, in one sense, seeking to reflect on the reality of living in a very violent society, and keen to explore more of what I learnt in Theology lectures about the 'myth of redemptive violence'. I guess I was already sold on the intepretation of Jesus as a passivist - as non-violent. But what did that mean in a society that suffers violence and lose on a daily basis. Now as I finish reading the book, the media is focused on the so-called 'right to bare arms' in the USA after another mass school shooting. (And for a really interesting take on that discussion have a look at.. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/shane-claiborne/what-would-jesus-say-to-the-nra_b_2360543.html)  I guess the issue doesn´t go away! The book is written out of real life conflict and loss as well, the author being a native Croatian and having taught in Croatia during the war in the former Yugoslavia.  His experience saw both (multiple) sides of the conflict in which generational hatred for the 'other' grew, each 'justified' by their own suffering and loss.

The motif of embrace is a very powerful one. In our world, we have essentially been taught that difference is bad. And in extreme cases, somebody who is different to us, in whatever way, can become the 'other', or 'them' - those who are not like us - and from whom we must defend ourselves. This happens as much in high school playgrounds as it does between neighbouring countries or people groups. The author addresses this issue with a clear understanding of the gospel  - salvation as reconciliation - with God and with others. And the way in which we can be reconciled to 'the other' is through embrace. It may sound a bit too warm and fussy - but there´s nothing weak or weedy about it -- vulnerable, definitely  - but weak no.

He explains the drama of embrace in 4 acts.
1. Opening the arms  - it´s a sign of non-self-sufficiency, it suggests a pain of the other´s absence and the joy of the anticipated presence. It´s a sign that I have created space in myself for the other to come in - and a willingness to enter the space created by the other. It´s a gesture of invitation.
2. Waiting - An embrace is not forced - it must wait for desire to arise in the other and for the arms of the other to open. For the drama to continue, it has to be reciprocal.
3. Closing the arms - each is both holding and being held by the other, both active and passive.
4. Opening the arms again - the embrace does not end with the two as one. The other is not neutralized or merged into myself. The embrace must end with a parting - a recognition that we are still two people - two different people with separate identities - but yet enriched by the traces that the presence of the other has left.

In one sense, it´s very simple, and yet it takes great strength and vulnerability. The first stage of opening the arms is not to be taken lightly. It involves us recognising our own need - our lack of self sufficiency. It is a huge risk - for the other might reject us - or even harm us. But it is a signal of us wanting to see 'the other' as they are - humans - as flawed and faulty and damaged as we are - not as the pure evil that we want to portray them as.

I was reminded of this recently in the girls prison. For a Christmas event, a friend of mine came along with me. She herself had been a victim of death threats and extortion gangs in the area where she lives. But as we left the prison she commented on the girls (who could well have been the perpetrators of the threats she herself had suffered) - 'they looked so young' she said  - we talked of some of the typical elements in their life stories - broken families, poverty, a culture of violence - and it was clear that she had begun to see them as real people - not just the type who had caused her own suffering. In one sense her visit with me, was a symbolic opening of her arms.

And that gave me hope.
And got me thinking more.
What do I do? What can I do to open my arms to 'others'?  - not the 'nice' people or the ones that are just like me - but to 'others'. What can I do to really listen and understand their lives? To recognise differences and be enriched by them?