Friday, June 15, 2007
The Holy Spirit in the Church
Each July, the Ecumenical Institute at Strasbourg hosts an Ecumenical Summer Seminar. This year, the topic is "Church-State Relations as an Ecumenical Issue." The topic last year (the 40th anniversary of the seminar) was "The Holy Spirit and the Church." In his paper, "Breathed, Justified, Anointed, Enlightened, Filled: The Churches' Life, Separation, and Hope in the Spirit," theologian Telford Work offers an interesting typology of the Church's distinct relationships with the Spirit. Other papers from last summer's seminar can be found by clicking on the "Summer Seminar" link to the left and scrolling to the bottom of the page.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Bishops in the Church
This was the theme of the 2007 Convention of the Catholic Theological Society of America (CTSA) which I joined a couple of years ago. In spite of the name, membership in this professional organization is open to Protestant as well as Catholic theologians. Although the flavor of the conversation is decidedly Catholic, there is also a clear commitment to ecumenical theology and dialogue (not to mention reform and renewal--which has not always been appreciated by all members of the church hierarchy. Click here for an anti-CTSA editorial written in June 1997 by Cardinal Bernard Law and here for a forum on the Cardinal's criticism.) For an idea of what topics were addressed at the 2007 convention, check out John Allen's "Daily Column" at the National Catholic Reporter.
One of the plenary addresses was given by Michael Root, Professor of Systematic Theology and Dean of Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary and fellow member of the U.S. Lutheran-Roman Catholic Dialogue. His presentation was entitled: “Bishops, Ministry, and the Unity of the Church in Ecumenical Dialogue: Deadlock, Breakthrough, or Both?” [As an aside, the person who introduced him quoted Bishop Richard Sklba (Auxiliary Bishop of Milwaukee and co-chair of the Lutheran-Roman Catholic Dialogue) who quipped to her that "Professor Root knows more about indulgences than most Catholics do." For those interested in a primer, check out Root's article, "Indulgences, Again."]
One of the plenary addresses was given by Michael Root, Professor of Systematic Theology and Dean of Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary and fellow member of the U.S. Lutheran-Roman Catholic Dialogue. His presentation was entitled: “Bishops, Ministry, and the Unity of the Church in Ecumenical Dialogue: Deadlock, Breakthrough, or Both?” [As an aside, the person who introduced him quoted Bishop Richard Sklba (Auxiliary Bishop of Milwaukee and co-chair of the Lutheran-Roman Catholic Dialogue) who quipped to her that "Professor Root knows more about indulgences than most Catholics do." For those interested in a primer, check out Root's article, "Indulgences, Again."]
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Being the Church in the Midst of Empire
I am working on a paper for a seminar of the Lutheran World Federation that will meet in St. Paul, Minnesota at the end of June. The theme of the seminar is "Confessing and Living out Faith in the Triune God: Being the Church in the Midst of Empire." This consultation is part of the larger theological initiative of the LWF, "Theology in the Life of the Church: Confessing and Living out Faith in the Triune God."
The purpose of this seminar is "to probe and further develop key theological motifs (especially as interpreted through Lutheran lenses) that are counter to the assumptions, power dynamics, and outcomes operating under empire and can nurture resistance to such, especially in and through local churches." Approximately 15 Lutheran theologians will participate, at least six from outside the U.S. My paper will focus on the subtitle "being the church in the midst of empire." Up this this point, my work on ecclesiology has focused more on mission and witness in terms of evangelistic outreach. These concerns, of course, are not unrelated to "being the church" in the midst of empire; even so, I am glad for the opportunity to think about ecclesiology more explicitly in light of this reality.
There is an increasing amount of material available on the theme of empire, much of it by biblical scholars. A couple of background articles were suggested to us in preparation for the seminar, including "Paul's Gospel and Caesar's Empire" by N.T. Wright and "Up Against Caesar: Jesus and Paul against Empire" by John Dart.
In my research for my paper, I also found this piece by William Cavanaugh: "The Empire of the Empty Shrine: American Imperialism and the Church." This was his keynote address to the 2005 annual gathering of the Ekklesia Project. [For those unfamiliar with Cavanaugh, he is part of the newer theological movement called "Radical Orthodoxy." Several of his articles can be found on-line via this link.]
The purpose of this seminar is "to probe and further develop key theological motifs (especially as interpreted through Lutheran lenses) that are counter to the assumptions, power dynamics, and outcomes operating under empire and can nurture resistance to such, especially in and through local churches." Approximately 15 Lutheran theologians will participate, at least six from outside the U.S. My paper will focus on the subtitle "being the church in the midst of empire." Up this this point, my work on ecclesiology has focused more on mission and witness in terms of evangelistic outreach. These concerns, of course, are not unrelated to "being the church" in the midst of empire; even so, I am glad for the opportunity to think about ecclesiology more explicitly in light of this reality.
There is an increasing amount of material available on the theme of empire, much of it by biblical scholars. A couple of background articles were suggested to us in preparation for the seminar, including "Paul's Gospel and Caesar's Empire" by N.T. Wright and "Up Against Caesar: Jesus and Paul against Empire" by John Dart.
In my research for my paper, I also found this piece by William Cavanaugh: "The Empire of the Empty Shrine: American Imperialism and the Church." This was his keynote address to the 2005 annual gathering of the Ekklesia Project. [For those unfamiliar with Cavanaugh, he is part of the newer theological movement called "Radical Orthodoxy." Several of his articles can be found on-line via this link.]
Monday, May 14, 2007
More of what's new in pneumatology
In a recent article, "Poured out on all Flesh," Pentecostal scholar Amos Yong suggests that "Christian systematic theology itself can benefit from a pneumatological (as opposed to creational or christological) reframing, a ‘starting with the Spirit’, as it were." This move to "start with the Spirit" is not an idea that originated with him; he notes that it has been suggested in the works of Henry van Dusen (Spirit, Son and Father: Christian Faith in the Light of the Holy Spirit, New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1958), J.V. Taylor (The Go-between God: The Holy Spirit and the Christian Mission, Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1973), Clark Pinnock (Flame of Love: A Theology of the Holy Spirit, Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1996), and my dissertation advisor, Lyle Dabney (Starting with the Spirit: Task of Theology Today II, ed. Gordon Preece and Stephen Pickard, Adelaide, Australia: Australia Theological Forum, Inc., 2001).
A name that should be added to that list is Stephen Bevans, who in "God Inside Out: Notes Toward a Missionary Theology of the Holy Spirit," writes "I’ve come to see that it is indeed the Spirit that we know first, who precedes Jesus not only in our own lives but in the history of the world and in cultures which have not known him." [Props to Kelly Fryer for pointing me toward this article when I met her at the recent Southeast Michigan Synod Assembly where she was the keynote speaker].
A name that should be added to that list is Stephen Bevans, who in "God Inside Out: Notes Toward a Missionary Theology of the Holy Spirit," writes "I’ve come to see that it is indeed the Spirit that we know first, who precedes Jesus not only in our own lives but in the history of the world and in cultures which have not known him." [Props to Kelly Fryer for pointing me toward this article when I met her at the recent Southeast Michigan Synod Assembly where she was the keynote speaker].
Congratulations, Pastor Phetsamone Vannavong!
Two weeks ago, it was my honor to preach at the ordination and installation of Phetsamone Vannavong, who has been called to serve as pastor (alongside of Pastor Donna Brown--who is pictured to the right of Phetsamone and his wife, Inthaly in the photo) of St. Paul's Lutheran Church, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where I served from 2000-2005.
Phetsamone came to St. Paul's in the fall of 2001 with the desire to reach out with the gospel to the Lao immigrant population in Milwaukee. In 2002, St. Paul's voted to establish a Lao Ministry as part of their neighborhood outreach. Phetsamone was hired as part-time minister to the Lao community in Milwaukee while preparing for ordination in the ELCA through the TEEM (Theological Education for Emerging Ministries) process. It was wonderful to be a part of the beginning of this ministry at St. Paul's which under Phetsamone's leadership is steadily growing. My prayers are with him, Inthaly, Donna, and the Lao- and English-speaking members of St. Paul's as they continue to respond in faith to Jesus' command to "Go and make disciples of all nations!"
Sunday, May 6, 2007
What's new in pneumatology
In the recent issue of Trinity's alumni magazine, Te Deum, I was the featured faculty member to offer some theological book recommendations. Two of my recommendations were in the area of pneumatology--an often neglected topic in Lutheran theology and one of my particular scholarly interests. One is the important work by Michael Welker, God as Spirit. The basic outline of Welker's book can be found in his earlier article in Theology Today, "The Holy Spirit." The other is the excellent resource Advents of the Spirit: An Introduction to the Current Study of Pneumatology, ed. by Bradford Hinze and Lyle Dabney. Dabney was my dissertation director at Marquette University. For an introduction to his concept of a "theology of the third article," check out these on-line articles and papers: "Jürgen Moltmann and John Wesley's Third Article Theology," "The Church as a Community of (Un)Common Grace: Toward a Postmodern Ecclesiology," and "The Possibility of God: The Spirit in God’s Creation and in God."
For a helpful review of what is new in pneumatology, check out "Current Trends in Pneumatology" by LeRon Shults, professor of theology at Adger University in Kristiansand, Norway. This is a draft of a paper he gave at the Nordic Conference in Systematic Theology in January 2007. Shults is a prolific Reformed theologian whom I met at the Future of Lutheran Theology Conference in Aarhus, Denmark back in January 2003. I also recommend checking out his blog where you can read what he is working on (and much, much, more!). For a survey of feminist pneumatologies, check out "Feminist Voices on the Spirit of God" by Helen Bergin.
For a helpful review of what is new in pneumatology, check out "Current Trends in Pneumatology" by LeRon Shults, professor of theology at Adger University in Kristiansand, Norway. This is a draft of a paper he gave at the Nordic Conference in Systematic Theology in January 2007. Shults is a prolific Reformed theologian whom I met at the Future of Lutheran Theology Conference in Aarhus, Denmark back in January 2003. I also recommend checking out his blog where you can read what he is working on (and much, much, more!). For a survey of feminist pneumatologies, check out "Feminist Voices on the Spirit of God" by Helen Bergin.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Suggested reading for Holy Week
As we enter into the mystery of Holy Week, it seems appropriate to be thinking about atonement theories (that, and I've been teaching them in my systematic theology class!). Most seminarians are familiar with Gustaf Aulen's typology of atonement theories (the Latin theory (debt or penal satisfaction), the subjective theory (moral example) and the classic theory (ransom or Christus Victor); however, there are many newer theories vying for consideration. I've been interested to learn more about the non-violent atonement theory of Dennis Weaver and S. Mark Heim's interpretation of the Girardian scapegoat theory [and his critique of the classic theories]. Both authors have also published book-length treatments of their theories. Several other recent contributions are reviewed by David Heim in "Rethinking the Death of Jesus: Cross Purposes." One of the reviewed authors, Hans Boersma, offers a reappraisal of the penal substitutional theory. Anselm's debt satisfaction theory also is defended against its feminist critiques by Flora Keshgegian.
I have always thought Abelard's theory is worth revisiting, if for no other reason than it has been unfairly characterized as being "merely subjective." Richard A. Weingert, who while acknowledging a subjective element to Abelard’s understanding of the atonement, defends him against charges that his understanding is Pelagian in that it is merely subjective or exemplarist. He writes, “Abailard’s stress on reconciliation, the New Testament metaphor which best summarizes his consideration of Christ’s work, refutes both the charge of Pelagianism and any interpretation which makes his teaching Pelagian in character. . . It is God who reconciles men to himself, God who has eternally loved man, and acts in Jesus Christ to overcome the alienation that separates man from himself.” Cf. Weingart, The Logic of Divine Love: A Critical Analysis of the Soteriology of Peter Abailard (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970), 203. Thomas Williams makes the same point in his forthcoming entry, "Sin, Redemption and Grace in Abelard" in the new Cambridge Companion to Abelard.
Abelard's critique is that Anselm seems to emphasize God’s justice at the expense of his love and mercy. Abelard wants to see the cross as a revelation of God’s love—a love that changed the very fabric of the universe and thereby changing us. It has always struck me that Ablelard at his best is very Johannine. Let me illustrate what I mean with this sermon I preached last year in Gloria Dei on the Fifth Sunday in Lent (John 12:20-33).
Grace to you and peace, from God our Father and from the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Our gospel lesson today begins with what appears to be an evangelism opportunity. Some Greeks want to meet Jesus so they seek out one of his disciples, Philip, with their request. What follows seems, well, a bit odd, as these seekers fall into the background (we’re not even sure they get to see Jesus!) and Jesus says what feels at first like a bunch of non-sequiturs.
And yet his words evoke all the major themes we’ve heard already in this season of Lent: discipleship and self-giving (“whoever serves me must follow me,” “those who love their life will lose it”), and the necessity of his death (“unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies”), even to the point of describing his death on the cross as “being lifted up” just as he did in the conversation with Nicodemus that we heard in last week’s gospel lesson.
But Jesus’ words are more than a summary: something new is happening here. This is a turning point in John’s gospel. The key is in Jesus’ statement: “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” Several times in John’s gospel, Jesus states that his house has not yet come, three times in fact: in chapter 2 (when his mother asks him for help at the wedding of Cana), and then later on in chapters 7 and 8, Jesus gets into trouble with the authorities but avoids arrest in each case because “his hour had not yet come.”
But now, Jesus says, his hour is here. His hour, of course, refers to the hour of his death—for he has just entered the city of Jerusalem, where he will be crucified. Although we don’t observe the event of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem until next Sunday (as we too, acclaim him with palms and shouts of “Hosanna!”), in John’s gospel, this happens right before the verses we read for today.
Jesus has entered the city of Jerusalem in order to die and it is at this point that some Greeks—outsiders to the Jewish faith—approach his disciples, wishing to see him. Now as I said a moment ago, at first it does not seem like he answers their question—that is, until you get to the last verse: “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” It is as if Jesus is saying, “So they want to see me? Tell them to look at the cross. Tell them to watch me suffer and die for the world. THAT is where I will be glorified. That is how I will draw all people to myself.”
Jesus describes his death as “drawing people” to himself. The Greek word for “draw” does not mean “draw” in the sense of attracting someone by beauty or power. It is much more forceful than that. It means physically compelling someone to go where they may not want to do (like the doctor’s office). It is used of “hauling” in nets full of fish (John 21:6, 11) and of “dragging” Paul and Silas before the authorities (Acts 16:19).
So how does Jesus’ death “draw” us to him? Being “drawn” to Jesus is probably not how most of us interpret the event of the cross. Most of us grew up learning an interpretation of Jesus’ death that goes something like this: when Jesus died on the cross, he took the punishment for our sins, he paid the penalty, so we would not have to. Salvation is defined in the negative—it means you WON’T get something (what you rightly deserve for your sin!)—sort of a “get out of jail free” card (only it’s hell, not jail, that you are spared!). That is still the most prevalent theory of Jesus’ death, as you probably know—theologians call it the penal substitutionary theory—Jesus stands as our “substitute,” taking our just punishment upon himself.
As you may have guessed by now, I have never liked this particular theory of Jesus’ death and so it seems, neither does the Evangelist John. There is no mention in John’s gospel of Jesus’ death being some sort of payment that buys us sinners freedom from the penalty of sin. Jesus is not presented as a victim whose death is understood as the sacrifice necessary to atone for human guilt.
Jesus speaks of his death in a very different way in John’s gospel. His death draws all people to himself. On the cross, Jesus draws to himself NOT our sins, not the punishment we deserve, but US. We are drawn (hauled, if you will!) to the cross, but for what, you ask? So that we—our whole selves—could die with him.
As St. Paul says in Romans chapter 6, “All of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into his death. Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.”
We are buried with him, not as an end in itself, but so that we might experience a new life. Kind of like the seed of grain Jesus talked about. “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” What is buried? Our old selves—including the sin that separates us from God and each other—but so for the purpose of being “put to death,” NOT punished. Salvation is not about being “off the hook” for wrongs we have done; it is about being given a chance to experience a new self and a new life in spite of our sin!
And yet something IS buried—our old self, our old way of doing things. The seed that does not fall into the earth and die stays pretty much the same. An attitude of many people (not to mention congregations!) is that they want things to get better, but nothing to change (thus fulfilling the old saying, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over again and expecting different results”). But lest you think I am proposing that being a Christian is about “self-improvement,” let me share tell you a story.
A London businessman was trying to sell a warehouse property. The building had been vacant for months and was sorely in need of repair. Vandals had damaged the doors, smashed the windows, and strewn trash around the interior. As the businessman showed a prospective buyer the property, he took pains to say that he would replace the broken windows, bring in a crew to correct any structural damage, and clean out the garbage. “Forget about the repairs,” the buyer said, “When I buy this place, I am going to build something completely different. I don’t want the building. I want the site.”
The good news, sisters and brothers, is that because we have been buried with Christ by baptism, we already belong to God. We already have been given a new life. We don’t need to go looking for one. We don’t need to write up a list of things we might do to improve our lives. We have been given the blueprint in Jesus’ own life, death, and resurrection: it’s called forgiveness.
What was put to death on the cross was the old way of keeping track of grudges, the way of retaliation, the way of an eye for an eye. What is offered to us on the cross is a new life that we can experience by being forgiven by God and learning to forgive others as we ourselves have been forgiven. THIS is what we are “drawn into” – and it is much more than “seeing Jesus.” It is receiving new life in him. Amen.
I have always thought Abelard's theory is worth revisiting, if for no other reason than it has been unfairly characterized as being "merely subjective." Richard A. Weingert, who while acknowledging a subjective element to Abelard’s understanding of the atonement, defends him against charges that his understanding is Pelagian in that it is merely subjective or exemplarist. He writes, “Abailard’s stress on reconciliation, the New Testament metaphor which best summarizes his consideration of Christ’s work, refutes both the charge of Pelagianism and any interpretation which makes his teaching Pelagian in character. . . It is God who reconciles men to himself, God who has eternally loved man, and acts in Jesus Christ to overcome the alienation that separates man from himself.” Cf. Weingart, The Logic of Divine Love: A Critical Analysis of the Soteriology of Peter Abailard (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970), 203. Thomas Williams makes the same point in his forthcoming entry, "Sin, Redemption and Grace in Abelard" in the new Cambridge Companion to Abelard.
Abelard's critique is that Anselm seems to emphasize God’s justice at the expense of his love and mercy. Abelard wants to see the cross as a revelation of God’s love—a love that changed the very fabric of the universe and thereby changing us. It has always struck me that Ablelard at his best is very Johannine. Let me illustrate what I mean with this sermon I preached last year in Gloria Dei on the Fifth Sunday in Lent (John 12:20-33).
Grace to you and peace, from God our Father and from the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Our gospel lesson today begins with what appears to be an evangelism opportunity. Some Greeks want to meet Jesus so they seek out one of his disciples, Philip, with their request. What follows seems, well, a bit odd, as these seekers fall into the background (we’re not even sure they get to see Jesus!) and Jesus says what feels at first like a bunch of non-sequiturs.
And yet his words evoke all the major themes we’ve heard already in this season of Lent: discipleship and self-giving (“whoever serves me must follow me,” “those who love their life will lose it”), and the necessity of his death (“unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies”), even to the point of describing his death on the cross as “being lifted up” just as he did in the conversation with Nicodemus that we heard in last week’s gospel lesson.
But Jesus’ words are more than a summary: something new is happening here. This is a turning point in John’s gospel. The key is in Jesus’ statement: “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” Several times in John’s gospel, Jesus states that his house has not yet come, three times in fact: in chapter 2 (when his mother asks him for help at the wedding of Cana), and then later on in chapters 7 and 8, Jesus gets into trouble with the authorities but avoids arrest in each case because “his hour had not yet come.”
But now, Jesus says, his hour is here. His hour, of course, refers to the hour of his death—for he has just entered the city of Jerusalem, where he will be crucified. Although we don’t observe the event of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem until next Sunday (as we too, acclaim him with palms and shouts of “Hosanna!”), in John’s gospel, this happens right before the verses we read for today.
Jesus has entered the city of Jerusalem in order to die and it is at this point that some Greeks—outsiders to the Jewish faith—approach his disciples, wishing to see him. Now as I said a moment ago, at first it does not seem like he answers their question—that is, until you get to the last verse: “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” It is as if Jesus is saying, “So they want to see me? Tell them to look at the cross. Tell them to watch me suffer and die for the world. THAT is where I will be glorified. That is how I will draw all people to myself.”
Jesus describes his death as “drawing people” to himself. The Greek word for “draw” does not mean “draw” in the sense of attracting someone by beauty or power. It is much more forceful than that. It means physically compelling someone to go where they may not want to do (like the doctor’s office). It is used of “hauling” in nets full of fish (John 21:6, 11) and of “dragging” Paul and Silas before the authorities (Acts 16:19).
So how does Jesus’ death “draw” us to him? Being “drawn” to Jesus is probably not how most of us interpret the event of the cross. Most of us grew up learning an interpretation of Jesus’ death that goes something like this: when Jesus died on the cross, he took the punishment for our sins, he paid the penalty, so we would not have to. Salvation is defined in the negative—it means you WON’T get something (what you rightly deserve for your sin!)—sort of a “get out of jail free” card (only it’s hell, not jail, that you are spared!). That is still the most prevalent theory of Jesus’ death, as you probably know—theologians call it the penal substitutionary theory—Jesus stands as our “substitute,” taking our just punishment upon himself.
As you may have guessed by now, I have never liked this particular theory of Jesus’ death and so it seems, neither does the Evangelist John. There is no mention in John’s gospel of Jesus’ death being some sort of payment that buys us sinners freedom from the penalty of sin. Jesus is not presented as a victim whose death is understood as the sacrifice necessary to atone for human guilt.
Jesus speaks of his death in a very different way in John’s gospel. His death draws all people to himself. On the cross, Jesus draws to himself NOT our sins, not the punishment we deserve, but US. We are drawn (hauled, if you will!) to the cross, but for what, you ask? So that we—our whole selves—could die with him.
As St. Paul says in Romans chapter 6, “All of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into his death. Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.”
We are buried with him, not as an end in itself, but so that we might experience a new life. Kind of like the seed of grain Jesus talked about. “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” What is buried? Our old selves—including the sin that separates us from God and each other—but so for the purpose of being “put to death,” NOT punished. Salvation is not about being “off the hook” for wrongs we have done; it is about being given a chance to experience a new self and a new life in spite of our sin!
And yet something IS buried—our old self, our old way of doing things. The seed that does not fall into the earth and die stays pretty much the same. An attitude of many people (not to mention congregations!) is that they want things to get better, but nothing to change (thus fulfilling the old saying, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over again and expecting different results”). But lest you think I am proposing that being a Christian is about “self-improvement,” let me share tell you a story.
A London businessman was trying to sell a warehouse property. The building had been vacant for months and was sorely in need of repair. Vandals had damaged the doors, smashed the windows, and strewn trash around the interior. As the businessman showed a prospective buyer the property, he took pains to say that he would replace the broken windows, bring in a crew to correct any structural damage, and clean out the garbage. “Forget about the repairs,” the buyer said, “When I buy this place, I am going to build something completely different. I don’t want the building. I want the site.”
The good news, sisters and brothers, is that because we have been buried with Christ by baptism, we already belong to God. We already have been given a new life. We don’t need to go looking for one. We don’t need to write up a list of things we might do to improve our lives. We have been given the blueprint in Jesus’ own life, death, and resurrection: it’s called forgiveness.
What was put to death on the cross was the old way of keeping track of grudges, the way of retaliation, the way of an eye for an eye. What is offered to us on the cross is a new life that we can experience by being forgiven by God and learning to forgive others as we ourselves have been forgiven. THIS is what we are “drawn into” – and it is much more than “seeing Jesus.” It is receiving new life in him. Amen.
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