The fumes rising from the dust, the cries of infants piercing the sky, mutilated bodies, hidden weapons, forgotten names—a starving generation’s suffering is not a tale from our past. It is our present—a haunting chronicle of a deeply scarred humanity. From Ukraine to Palestine, from the tears of Yazidi women to countless others, our world is gripped by an unrelenting cycle of hatred, retaliation, and exclusion.

Miroslav Volf’s Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation birthed from the ashes of Balkan ethnic cleansing and religious wars, offers us a radical counter-narrative. Volf calls us to confront the pain of exclusion with the humble love and warmth of an embrace. The book wrestles with a crucial question: Does the “other” have the right to belong with us? 

When religious identity becomes a marker of exclusion, conflict shifts into the sacred realm, turning faith into a weapon of destruction.

Volf recounts a deeply personal moment when Jürgen Moltmann asked him, “But can you embrace a Četnik?” For Volf, the Četniks—Serbian fighters—were the ultimate “other,” the “evil other,” an embodiment of terror and enmity. They were the perpetrators of unspeakable violence against his people. To embrace them felt unthinkable. But the question lingers: What does it mean to embrace one’s tormentor? Where does one find the strength to do so? What justifies such an act?

When markers like colour, ethnicity, religion, or politics define our identities, they imprison us, erecting rigid boundaries of “us” and “them,” creating an inability to love and embrace the other. Dostoevsky describes what he considers hell as the suffering of being unable to love.

Exclusion and Embrace is the product of Volf’s wrestle between two forces: the cry for justice from the blood of the innocent and the call for forgiveness through the blood of the Lamb, crucified with open arms. This tension urges us to reimagine justice—not as retribution, but as reconciliation and forgiveness.

Volf argues that the strength to embrace the “ultimate other” comes from the cross. Christ’s crucifixion is an expression of reconciliation and an emblem of self-giving love. On the cross, Christ breaks the cycle of enmity, choosing forgiveness over violence. His outstretched arms invite both victims and perpetrators into a space of mutual reconciliation. Justice, here, does not culminate in forgiveness, but it leads to embrace. Christ, the victim, refuses to be defined by his tormentors. Instead, he makes space within himself for his enemies.

Volf outlines a four-step movement of embrace as a practical framework for reconciliation:

  1. Opening the Arms: A willingness to welcome the other and create space within oneself for them.
  2. Waiting: Respecting the autonomy of the other, without coercion.
  3. Closing the Arms: Embrace proper! Here, the guest becomes the host, the host becomes the guest, and both hold each other…
  4. Opening the Arms: Allowing the other to be fully themselves, without control or assimilation.

This sequence mirrors the sacrificial love of Christ, who, on the cross, embraced humanity without annihilating our uniqueness.

Dostoevsky gives a compelling insight into confronting suffering with humble love: “One stands perplexed at the sight of human sin–and wonders whether one should use force or humble love. Always decide to use humble love.” Humble love does not see the enemy as a faceless oppressor but as a fellow bearer of brokenness. It bridges the chasm between “us” and “them,” turning exclusion into embrace. 

Volf argues that justice itself becomes unjust if it doesn’t lead to mutual embrace. True reconciliation is costly, yet it is redeeming! It is rooted not in retribution, but in the transformative power of a loving embrace.

_________________________________________

Written by Shubra Christy